#this wasn't supposed to be long

[dribs-and-drabbles]

This is a little something (she says and then writes nearly a thousand words) about Kawi and intimacy and his behaviour towards Pisaeng's affections in Be My Favourite ep 9. I've been thinking about it all week but wasn't sure if I wanted to use my precious free-time to make a post. However, on the cusp of the new ep, I realise I do want to get these thoughts out.

I realised from reading other people's perspectives of the ep that my initial assessment of how Kawi was behaving was perhaps clouded by the 'old lenses' that I was subconsciously watching the show through. For context, I wasn't sure that I liked that Kawi kept pushing Pisaeng away and I even mentioned the dreaded Blushing Maiden trope. After some thought, I realise that my initial judgement was very much influenced by a couple of things carried over from ye olden bl times (which may not have been done away with completely but seem to be on their way out in present times).

First, from having seen so many bl/qls with the blushing maiden trope, subconsciously I guess I still expect to see it because it had been so prevalent. And second, despite the re-wiring my brain has undergone when it comes to Krist, I think I still fell back on the earlier presumptions that Krist was either averse to skinship (particularly with men) and/or wasn't a good enough actor to convey physical intimacy (this, of course, mostly stems from his portrayal of Arthit in SOTUS, which for all we know was how he was specifically directed to act - and which many have interpreted as demi- or asexual, which absolutely has a place at the table).

My conclusions to these realisations is that I need to learn to trust these newer bl/qls that they really aren't going to rehash the old questionable tropes of yesteryear.

I remember some discourse before the last three eps of My School President - when we were worried about the ending - about how Bad Buddy taught us that we can feel safe watching it - "safe in the knowledge that tropes were being subverted, that the usual angsty triggers actually got resolved pretty quickly, that the ep 11 curse wasn't actually a curse at all". And we needed to take that knowledge to help assuage our fears about the ending of MSP. And I think I'm in a similar situation here with Be My Favourite and Kawi in particular.

Staying with Bad Buddy for a bit longer (because, really, when can I ever not talk about it in relation to something else?), I remember feeling a similar disappointment with how Pran was being portrayed in ep 9. I felt he too bordered on the blushing maiden with how he shied away from Pat's advances in his room before Korn came in, before the rugby game, and even when washing up after the hotpot date. I don't see that now because, of course, we know Pran isn't a blushing maiden at all - I mean he's not known as Feral Musky Scented HOE Pran for nothing.

Yes, it took time for Pran to get used to Pat's affections but that was probably because he had pined over this man for so long it was all a bit overwhelming at first. Pran probably needed to ease into letting down his walls, to be vulnerable around Pat, and to believe it was all real. And in the end, when he had gotten used to it all, Pran holds back because he likes to make Pat work for it...because Pat also likes to work for it, because they get off on role-playing - as I've said before, it's like foreplay to them.

I'm not saying this is the same for Kawi but it's a similar situation. I knew this about Pran, and that I was wrong in my interpretation of him, and yet I didn't think to approach Kawi and Pisaeng with the same lens. The lens that so many of you have helpfully pointed out - Kawi is a 30-year-old virgin. This is all so new to him, not only to be intimate with someone but also with a man whom he hadn't even contemplated being with. He's spent 12 years only thinking of Pear (emphasis on 'only thinking' as well as 'only thinking').

@burntsuncomet said it well in their tags: "touch gets very very difficult if you don't interact with people much, so intimacy of normal affectionate touches are tough. Kawi would have to start slow and let Piseang just smack a kiss, maybe hold hands, hug a bit, it's a lot of work before intimacy from touch will be like second nature in Kawi's case." @rocketturtle4 also added that Kawi's "general uncertainty could be very well tied in with his loneliness and, especially, his fear of losing Piseang if he does the wrong thing".

@waitmyturtles offered a slightly different perspective, that almost "everything in this show is totally intentional, and...that [Kawi's] discomfort is totally meant to reflect those accusations from Krist’s past about his clear discomfort in acting out intimacy (especially juxtaposed with how much better he’s done with the intimacy in this show)".

So, all of this is to say that I need to start trusting this new wave of bl/qls - a message I obviously forgot from My School President and which has been proven by several other series this year.

And I need to trust Be My Favourite especially, because, as @williamrikers said, "they've swerved and avoided every other trope so far I believe that they're working towards something here". And I agree. Every episode has been fantastic and I haven't disliked a single thing about the show so far.

On top of that, I need to trust my newfound belief in Krist's acting, because he has pulled out some absolutely brilliant performances in this show so far - so why should I think ep 9 is any different?

[smokin-salmon]

HAPPY (very, very late) BIRTHDAY MIRABELLE!!

[boopeey]

I miss him

OG pic:

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 4.5: Morning Period.

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5)

[tcustodisart]

Don't mind me I'm just being cringe.

[inkskinned]

you have to be sexy but you have to be sexy in a way that's kind of bloody. you learn this early because you are wearing a ruffled skirt and the snow around your ankles kicks little sand particles against your calves. baby's first catcall. welcome to sexiness! welcome to the eyesore of your own body!

you have to be sexy like high heels. like sculpted eyebrows. like lean stomach and highly treated hair. you have to be sexy like youth is sexy, which means you have to be sexy like boxtox and plastic. a 30 year old can be sexy but she's not going to be bloody, and they like the bloodiness of it. a 30 year old is sexy when she is a whiskey glass and a wooden desk.

but you need to be sexy like an open mouth. you need to be sexy like a bitten apple. like plucked skin and white-knuckling the waxing kit.

so sex is a performance, not an enjoyment. for a while, you just assumed everyone else was also in on the joke - nobody actually likes sex that much, right? like, some men probably do, but why would you? it is like a gender - your gender is sexy. your gender is the performance of sex. you are thigh highs and garter belts. which, to be fair, do make you feel sexy.

part of what does make sex good is that you can tell that other people want you, which means the performance of sexiness is both bloody and wanted, which is good, which means you are winning at having a body. being wanted is the prize. being wanted is the thing you are searching for, not hope. you think you are looking for a soft grave in easy loam, but that is bloody but not sexy. to be sexy you must be bloody like a red open sign. bloody like a handprint. this will make you wanted.

any wanted or unwanted body is subject to supply and demand, which is to say that the more demand, the better you are valued. you must be highly demanded to be valued. this is stated in matter-of-fact by some men. sometimes it is a priest that says it, and sometimes it is a podcaster, and sometimes it is the 45th president of the united states of america.

(if you do not have any experience with being told your value, i want you to grab the nearest bird to you and i want you to crush it into a thin paste in your hand. spit into the center, and then hold your fingers closed tight around it for days and days, long after the rot has set in. feel bones itch inside of your fist. this is only a fraction of what it actually feels like, but it will suffice for a moment.)

good sex feels like you have earned their desperation. you have earned your own value. for a while you operated under the understanding that everyone knew about the power structure, even him. that their desire to take you - the violence of it - means that you must desire to be caught. little prince, guardian fox - you would rather have cut your own arm off. you liked the secret, cunning little voice you keep tucked into a box. you think you are fucking me. i am not even here right now. you are fucking what i conned you into perceiving. this is a painting, not a person. dominion over the body before all things.

so you bend your body like a wheat shaft and learn the steps so perfectly that it almost seems graceful. (if you do not have experience faking your own connection to your body and sexuality, cut each of your articles of clothing just a little bit incorrectly. pour fishbones into each of your meals. this way, you will experience the average noon on a tuesday.)

you have to be sexy like light spilled over a desk, but not desperate. not a noose. you can't be sexy like an electric guitar, you are the acoustic. you have to be on top of the bull but you can't have control over the animal.

okay, okay. the little rabbit of your heart went to sleep so long ago that winter has ravaged your concept of the human soul. there's something very-bad inside you, something that has taken over, a little fetid and rabid animal, angry and hurting and willing to bite first.

oh but even that's a pain that's sexy. open your mouth. be careful not to let the canines show.

[starmocha]

*crying screaming squealing kicking my feet* BRAT TAMER ZAYNE!!!! dude i need to calm down fr. mc caught red-handed, his little smirk---13 slaps later he's back to soothing her, he's impossibly hard and when he sees how wet she got from the whole ordeal he knows he's not coming back to the hospital that day. his wife will be the end of him but she's so pretty and asking for a baby, he can't deny her anything ❤️ but seriously, your fic was amazing 😍😍

🫵 Y’all need to stop scratching that part of my brain, I have wips I have not looked at for many moons now 😭 /lh …continuation of the previous ask because IDK. WHY AM I DOING THIS. WHY IS THIS OVER 1K. I miss Zaynie. 😔

Lesson Learned (?)

“Thir…thirteen!” she gasps, nearly sobbing, after the final slap landed on her reddened bottom. She whines into the couch cushion, feeling a mixture of emotions from pain to pure arousal, the ache between her legs had worsened with every slap as Zayne reprimanded her, that soft but firm voice of his was able to lure her into a state of lust with just a few choice words.

Zayne hums softly as he leans over, his mouth close to her ear again as he apologizes while his hand rubs soothing circles on her bottom. “Was I too rough just now?”

Before she could even register his words to answer him, Zayne chuckles softly and kisses her neck. “You’re not supposed to enjoy your punishment,” he scolds her, his fingers slipping into her slick folds experimentally to see just how aroused he had gotten her with his punishment, but this action alone is enough to have her bucking against him crying out for more. He immediately pulls out, his fingers coated in her essence, and she whines in frustration at the loss of him. He tsks at her, chiding her again as he pulls her panties back up.

“N-no, Zaynie, please…”

He peers down at her flushed face with a raised brow. The same haughty smile remains on his handsome face as he teases his frustrated wife. “Please what? Use your words, my love.”

She couldn’t even bring herself to glare at him for his taunt, needing him so badly now, she is willing to do whatever he asks of her. “Please…fuck me,” she says quietly with tears in her eyes. “Please…I need your…your cock…inside…inside me.”

He laughs softly, amazed by her brazen plea. He settles down on the couch, laying on his side behind her. He pulls her flushed to him, her back pressing to his toned chest. She squirms in his embrace, but Zayne’s arm around her middle keeps her trapped to him.

“Such lewd words,” he murmurs, his tone more amused than disappointed, “Now when did my lovely wife learn to say such obscene things?”

She grinds back against him, feeling his bulge against her ass and hearing his instant hiss before his hand grabs her hip, holding her in place again. Before she could even whine at him to satisfy her needs, she hears the sound of his pants zipper and then his fingers were dragging her panties to the side and she moans long and slow as he fills her instantly, his cock stretching her just deliciously so as she clenches around him.

“F-fuck,” he gasps, those rare curses he would say somehow the most erotic thing she has ever heard. He grips her leg, raising enough so he could have an easier access before he starts rocking into her with a steady pace, his pants and her moans intermingling in tandem to the lewd sounds of his thrusts. “So fucking wet…it’s like you’re swallowing me…”

Every stroke she feels has her moaning and whining, her nails dragging into the fabric of the couch. Zayne slips his arm under her head to rest and she instantly grabs at his hand, his thumb in her mouth. The young doctor is groaning as he watches his pretty wife sucks on his thumb as he fucks into her at an increasingly brutal pacing.

Her moans and whines were the sweetest noises he has ever heard, each sound spilled from her lips is making him want to drive into her harder just so he could lure out more of her heavenly voice. He roughly pulls his thumb out of her mouth, smirking when she protests but her words die just as quickly when that same hand reaches around for her breast, grabbing and squeezing tightly while he leaves rough love bites along her shoulder, his hips still moving, still not relenting until he makes sure she cums around him.

The overstimulation is too much, her mind unable to focus, her entire body has submitted to be used by him, trusting him to bring her over the edge.

“…Za-Zayne! …Gonna…gonna cum…oh god…I’m gonna cum…!”

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing her neck soundly as he groans softly, “I’m close, too…”

“In-inside me! Please, Zayne, please…!”

“Bu—”

“I want you to knock me up, Zayne!”

His breath hitches. His hand lets go of her breast, reaching lower to rest on her flat belly. They have been fucking recklessly so much lately, he wouldn’t be surprised if she is already pregnant right now, already carrying his baby in her body. Still, he is already imagining a small swell forming, his baby resting in her womb, growing day by day bigger.

She would show off her cute belly in all of the pretty dresses he would buy for her. People would congratulate the doctor and his wife for their growing family, not knowing that he has been actively breeding her every chance he could, but most importantly, when he knows for certain she is ovulating, her body just begging for him to impregnate her with his child.

“Zay-Zayne, you’re so rough! I’m cumming, I’m cumming!”

The perverted thoughts in his head coupled with watching his wife climaxing has Zayne spilling obscenely into her, his thought focused entirely on making sure every last drop fill her, needing his seed to take, wanting her to get bred like the good little wife he knows she is for him.

“You’re going to be even more pretty,” he groans into her ear before he nips her earlobe as he continues to empty into her. He husks, his breath hot against her skin, “So fucking pretty knocked up with my baby…”

She is moaning helplessly, her hand reaching down to grasp at his arm around her middle. He is saying all of the right things with that sweet voice of his, she wants nothing more than to get drunk on his words. “Zayne…Zayne…”

When the euphoric haze passes, Zayne finally pulls out, laying flat on the couch on his back, his wife resting on top of him, her head resting on his chest as his hand rubs her up and down soothingly. They both enjoy each other’s company, basking in the sweet afterglow of this afternoon delight while their breathing evens out.

“Are you still sore?” he asks after a moment, the haughtiness he has displayed earlier gone, replaced by genuine concern for her.

She lifts her head, smiling mischievously again. “What would happen if I say ‘no’?”

He blinks in confusion before he gasps, feeling her grinding against him. His hands rest on her ass to still her and he lightly glares at her, unsurprised by her audaciousness.

“I left the hospital earlier because you needed a lesson for your teasing.”

“I’m sorry, Zaynie,” she says with not a trace of remorse in her voice. She leans up to kiss his lips, pulling away to brush her nose against his playfully. “I’m a bit of a slow learner…can we have another lesson?”

Zayne chokes back his moans when she rubs against him again. He watches with flushed cheeks as she slips off her soaked panties and unbuttons his shirt she is wearing completely, her breasts on full display for him to see. He is panting heavily as she teases his cock, her impish smile brightening as he hardens again.

His eyes roll to the back of his head as this time she seems to want to be the one to overstimulate him. “Nngh—I’m going to lose my mind because of you…”

[bora-panda]

The Dark King and his lieutenant 👑⚔️

I read the Dark Rise books and they're taking over my entire brain - so I had to draw Sarcean and Anharion

[cosmicstarlatte]

i love all your monster fucker posts. size kink makes my head go BRRRRRRR

so ok ok ok. hear me out,,,

i’ve seen some monster lucifer fan art and just ,,, HIM

monster luci pumping you full with such a huge load your belly gets all distended…. all proud and smug seeing it leaking back out

LORT HAVE MERCY IM BOUT TO BUST

lucifer is already a big dude, but like, the thought of him like 3/4/5 times my size. bruh

sorry to drop in randomly. just wanted to share these thoughts with somebody that wouldn’t think i’m weird about it LMAO

nsfw 18+ // size difference, cum, belly bulge

*crawls from out the sewer* did you say MONSTER LUCIFER???

monster lucifer that lays back in bed & sits you on top of his mouth, holding your legs wide open & listening to your soft moans as he ravishes your hole with his tongue getting you prepped. your poor hands are barely able to hold onto his horns as he makes you come rather quickly.

monster lucifer that wraps his large hands around your waist & easily lifts you off his face as you let out a small whine, he places your sloppy hole directly over the tip of his leaking cock, rubbing his slick against you before finally squeezing his tip in, breathing out a small sigh of relief.

monster lucifer that can't believe how tiny you are compared to him; proud of his little human for being able to take as much of his demon cock into that tiny body. he grunts as he feels you clench around him... always so greedy.

monster lucifer that helps his little human bounce onto his fat demon cock, falling in love harder every time he watches half of it disappear between your legs, being able to see the bulge within you. his thrusts get rougher, faster, as he tries to reach that blissful high. thinking about how much he wants to fill you to the brim.

monster lucifer that groans knowing he won't be able to take much longer of your sinfully tight hole. he continues rocking your hips onto his cock & finally let's out a low moan as he reaches his peak, his eyes stay open just enough to see his cum filling you up, your tummy expanding from the sheer amount of it. he drains his balls completely before sliding out, watching the excess spill & the little small triumphant smile on your tired face.

monster lucifer that smirks & dips his fingers between your legs, trying to shove his seed back into your completely stuffed hole, "my little lamb, what did i tell you about wasting?" ♡

[caffichai]

@praxinas warlock Harlow, for the very last day of Artfight 2023!

I love the Eliksni armor from Season of Splicer and the aesthetic, just in general

[vaguely-concerned]

fun detail I only put into context after seeing the post-fade jail romance scenes with all the companions: lucanis is the only one where rook is surprised when they realize he's there as he starts talking, because they didn't hear him come in haha. (Bellara and Neve knock before entering, like relatively normal people fhsda. Harding's scene starts in medias res but from the staging my vibe is that she and Rook entered the room together. Taash walks into the room ahead of Rook. Davrin comes in through a door left open for him -- Rook is standing with their back turned but they clearly expected him, they just smile a bit and don't seem surprised. Emmrich of course takes you to the Grand Necropolis for the top goth hookup since Mary Shelly fucked on her parents' graves, the man quite simply never misses.)

lucanis has also closed the door behind him without rook noticing. old assassin habits die hard I suppose lol. he totally still accidentally jumpscares the others without meaning to all the time because he moves around quietly when he doesn't think about it, I know this in my heart. I wonder if he was just... looking at them for a while before he spoke up.

[mmso-notlikethat]

Bucktommy Ι WC: 3k Ι cw: Blood, Gunshot, Major injury

[read below or on ao3]

Buck’s world came back in flashes.

Pain—sharp and burning, radiating through his arm. Muffled voices. The distinct smell of metal and blood. A whisper—no, a voice he knew. A voice he loved.

“Come on, Buck. Come on, wake up.”

Dammit Tommy, it’s Evan, he thought.

The words were low and urgent, threading through the pain, pulling him toward consciousness.

“Hey, Hey, just open your eyes for me. You’re fine. You’re good—just wake up, okay?”

A hand pressed against his arm, steady and firm, keeping him anchored. The pain sharpened, burning through the fog in his mind.

Buck groaned, blinking against the blinding overhead lights. His throat felt raw, his limbs heavy. He heard a sharp exhale of relief.

“—What happened?” Buck barely managed to ask, his throat dry, words slurring.

Tommy’s face hovered above him, eyes sharper than usual, scanning him like he was an emergency call. His hands were pressing something—his own flannel, bundled tightly—against Buck’s arm. Blood soaked through.

“Just stay here,” Tommy whispered. His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it—controlled tension. “You’ll be okay, just don’t move now. I called 911. Help is on the way.”

Buck tried to shift, but Tommy’s grip on his injured arm tightened, keeping him still.

“Don’t move,” Tommy murmured, his voice quieter now but firm. “You got shot, but it’s not bleeding too bad. No exit wound, so the bullet’s still in there.” His gaze flicked over Buck’s arm, assessing quickly. “I don’t think it hit anything major, but I can’t be sure. Probably just the muscle.” He adjusted the pressure, tightening the fabric over the wound. “You’re stable, but you need to stay still, okay?”

Buck swallowed hard, trying to process the words through the throbbing in his skull. Shot. Bullet still inside. Probably just the muscle. That meant it wasn’t that bad, right?

His eyes flickered past Tommy, and that’s when he saw the gun in the distance—the shooter, pacing erratically near the overturned tables and shattered glass.

Buck’s breath caught, but then his gaze dragged back to Tommy, to the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders were squared, body coiled tight like he was ready to move at any second.

His throat felt raw, but he forced the words out. “Are you okay?”

Tommy didn’t look at him. His focus remained locked on the shooter, assessing, calculating.

“I’m fine,” he murmured, voice even. Too even. His grip on Buck’s arm didn’t loosen, though—steady, grounding, a silent reassurance.

The man was yelling. “Where is she? Where the fuck is she?!” His voice cracked with unhinged desperation.

Tommy inhaled slowly and got up.

This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. They were supposed to meet up, talk—just talk. Buck had been anxious, uncertain, but then Tommy walked in—steady, put together, looking good, he always did. And when Tommy smiled— small, warm, genuine—hope flickered to life in Buck’s chest. Maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as he thought. But now, none of that mattered.

Buck blinked. “Tommy—” His fingers barely caught at Tommy’s wrist, but Tommy had already straightened up, stepping forward with careful, measured steps.

“What’s her name?” Tommy asked, voice low but steady.

The shooter’s head snapped toward him. “You—You know her? You her new boyfriend?”

Tommy didn’t flinch. “No, I don’t know her,” he said simply. “But I know you don’t want to do this.”

The man’s breathing was ragged, his grip on the gun unsteady. “She won’t even talk to me! After everything I— I just want to see her. I just want her to listen.”

Tommy nodded, keeping his hands visible, his body loose. “I hear you, man. Feels like she shut you out, right?”

The shooter’s lip curled. “She’s been ignoring me for months! Like I don’t even exist! And then I come here, and—and she’s not even—” His voice cracked, his eyes darting around wildly.

Tommy took a slow step forward. “That’s gotta be frustrating. You came here to talk, and now all this happened instead.”

The man’s jaw twitched. “Yeah. Yeah, this—this ain’t what I wanted. But I just—” He exhaled sharply, voice shaking. “I just want to know why. Why she left. Why she won’t answer me.”

Tommy’s hands were still up, his body still calm, every movement carefully controlled.

“I get it,” Tommy said. “I really do. It’s hard when someone walks away and you don’t get answers.” His tone softened, but not too much. He had to keep the shooter engaged, not coddle him. “But, listen—hurting people in here? That’s not gonna get you those answers, man.”

The shooter’s jaw clenched, his hand twitching around the grip. “It’s not fair,” he muttered. “It’s not fair.”

Tommy didn’t break eye contact. He took another slow step forward, careful, controlled. “I hear you. You didn’t come here to hurt anyone, right?”

The shooter hesitated, breath still ragged. “No, I— I just—” His fingers flexed around the trigger, shoulders tensing. “She won’t even listen to me. After everything I did for her—”

“I believe you,” Tommy said smoothly, voice steady. “I believe you just wanted her to hear you. And you deserve that. But this?” He nodded slightly toward the shattered glass, the overturned tables. “This isn’t gonna bring her back, man. You know that.”

For a moment, the shooter wavered. His grip on the gun loosened—just barely.

Buck barely heard the rest. His arm throbbed, blood seeping through the makeshift bandage Tommy had left behind. The coppery taste in his mouth made his stomach churn, but then—

A whimper.

Buck turned his head slightly, vision still hazy. A kid—barely five, maybe six—curled up behind an overturned chair, shaking, tears streaking his cheeks. His small hands clutched his knees, and he was whispering, repeating the same words over and over.

“Mommy, I want Mommy.”

Buck swallowed, forcing himself to focus.

“You’ll see her soon,” The kid’s eyes darted to him—red rimmed, terrified. “I know it’s scary, buddy, but we’re gonna be okay. See that guy?” Buck nodded toward Tommy, who was still keeping the shooter talking. “He’s strong. He’s gonna get us out.”

The kid’s lip wobbled. His small body trembled. “You’re… you’re dying.”

Buck forced a small, pained smile. “Nah. Just got a scratch.”

Tommy’s voice was still steady, but something about the way he was holding himself didn’t sit right.

His movements weren’t as sharp as before. His breathing—was it slower?

Buck frowned, barely able to focus through the haze in his head. His own arm pulsed with pain, but somewhere beneath the chaos, something felt wrong.

The kid didn’t believe him. His little hands clenched into fists. “I don’t wanna die. I want Mommy!” He hiccupped, panic rising, his breaths coming too fast now, too sharp. His small frame shook violently.

No.

Buck saw it an instant before it happened.

The kid snapped, bolting forward, little feet slapping against the floor, toward the chaos.

Straight toward the danger.

Buck’s stomach sank.

“Wait—!”

The shooter snapped toward the movement, instincts kicking in. His expression twisted, something between panic and rage flashing in his eyes.

“HEY!” His grip tightened on the gun—

Buck barely had time to react, his injured arm slowing him down as he lunged forward to grab the kid. The shooter lifted the gun. Buck saw his finger twitch on the trigger.

A flicker of movement.

A blur of motion.

Gunfire.

A choked sound.

Buck flinched, expecting pain—expecting the worst

But it wasn’t him.

Buck barely registered the body colliding with the shooter, the gun clattering to the floor, Tommy’s grunt of pain as he twisted, bringing the man down hard against the shattered glass.

Then—sirens.

The piercing wail cut through the air, growing louder, flashing red and blue outside. Someone shouted, but Buck didn’t hear the words.

Tommy wasn’t moving.

Buck struggled to sit up, adrenaline forcing him through the pain. “Tommy?” His own voice sounded distant, the rush in his ears deafening.

Tommy was on his side, breathing shallowly, fingers still twisted in the shooter’s jacket, keeping him pinned even as his strength faded.

His other hand—Buck’s stomach dropped.

Blood.

Pooling beneath his fingers. Dark. Spreading.

Buck sucked in a sharp breath, his vision narrowing. No. No, no, no—

He scrambled closer, ignoring the fire in his own arm, pressing his good hand against Tommy’s.

It wasn’t just pooling—it was creeping outward, slow at first, then faster, seeping into the cracks of the floor, staining everything it touched. The warmth of it spread beneath Buck’s palm, slick and wrong. He pressed harder, but it kept coming. Too much. Too fast. The coppery scent thickened in the air, curling in his throat, making it harder to breathe.

“Tommy,” Buck rasped. “Hey, Hey.”

Tommy’s fingers twitched weakly against the shooter’s jacket, his breath uneven. His eyes barely opened, unfocused.

Then, voice barely above a whisper— “The guy?”

Buck swallowed hard, blinking through the sting in his eyes. “Yeah, out. He’s out. I think he hit his head.”

“…Good.” Then his fingers slipped from the fabric of the shooter’s jacket. His body sagged, the last of his strength givingout.

“Shit—Tommy.”

Buck shifted quickly, his free hand moving from the wound to ease Tommy onto his back, trying to keep him steady as his body went slack.

Tommy grimaced, a sharp, pained inhale slipping through his teeth.

“I got you,” Buck murmured, his hand pressing down firmly on the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. “Just stay with me, okay?”

Tommy gave a slow, unsteady nod.

Then his eyes fluttered open, and for the first time, Buck saw it—the pain breaking through the steel.

“…Fuck,” Tommy muttered, voice weak, a bitter, almost amused breath leaving him. “Didn’t—didn’t even feel that one.”

Buck barely breathed. His hand pressed harder against Tommy’s side, warm blood slick against his fingers. Too much blood.

Tommy exhaled sharply, shifting just slightly—and then he winced. His brow furrowed, like he was noticing something for the first time.

He blinked down at himself. "...Huh." His voice was almost puzzled, like the thought barely registered.

Buck followed his gaze and froze.

A second patch of blood—darker, smeared along Tommy’s jeans. His thigh.

Not from the gunshot just now. From before.

Buck’s stomach dropped. “Are you—” His voice broke, panic surging through him. “You were already shot?”

Tommy let out a breathy chuckle, dazed. “Guess so.” His fingers weakly gripped Buck’s wrist, half-hearted reassurance. “Didn’t notice.”

Didn’t notice.

Buck wanted to cry. "Okay, okay, you're okay—just breathe."

Tommy’s lips twitched—or maybe they were just trembling now. “Didn’t I t-tell you not t’ move?”

Buck let out a strangled laugh, something close to a sob. “Jesus Christ, Tommy.”

A noise outside. Help was here. But so was the blood pooling beneath Tommy.

Buck leaned closer, grip tightening, his pulse hammering in his ears. “You stay awake, okay? Help is here. Just—just please stay with me.”

Tommy’s fingers curled weakly into Buck’s sleeve, his grip barely there, but there.

“Bu—Evan…” His voice was thin, broken by a sharp inhale. His body shuddered.

Buck’s breath caught in his throat. “I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

Tommy’s hold tightened for just a second.

“Evan, I—” His voice cracked, a faint wheeze threading through his words. “I wanted… I wanted to apologize—”

A cough tore through him, wet and weak. His breath hitched, and Buck felt the tremor beneath his hands.

“Tommy, stop,” Buck pleaded, panic thick in his throat. “You’re gonna be fine, just save it, okay? You can tell me later.”

But Tommy shook his head—just barely.

“Had to say it,” he murmured, voice slipping. His eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open. “Was h’rd the…’thout you…”

Buck swallowed hard, eyes burning. “I know,” he whispered.

Tommy’s lips barely moved, but Buck caught it.

“…Loved…” It was barely more than a breath—a whisper, slipping between them.

The word faded on his tongue, unfinished. His grip on Buck’s sleeve slackened.

“Tommy?” His voice cracked, sheer terror ripping through him. “Tommy, hey, no, stay with me—”

“Tommy!” Buck’s voice rose.

But Tommy wasn't answering.

Buck pressed harder against the wound, his palm slick with blood, his hands shaking.

“Tommy,” Buck rasped, shaking him slightly. "Come on, open your eyes baby, just—just look at me."

Nothing.

No response.

The flashing lights flooded the room, red and blue bouncing off shattered glass. Boots pounded against the floor, heavy and fast. Someone was shouting orders.

A hand gripped Buck’s shoulder, trying to pull him back. but Buck fought them, twisting, shoving—he couldn't let go.

"No—wait, wait—he's not—Tommy!"

But the world was spinning, voices blurring together, hands forcing him away.

But all Buck could see was Tommy, unmoving, eyes slipping closed, blood staining his shirt, and the word echoing in his mind over and over.

Loved.

Loved you.

Loved me?

Loved.

-

The world swam back into focus slowly, thick and disoriented—white lights, the steady beeping of a monitor, the distant murmur of voices. Buck sucked in a sharp breath, his chest tight, lungs struggling to expand properly.

A hand pressed gently against his shoulder. “Easy, easy, Buck. You’re fine.”

Buck’s head turned sluggishly. “…Chim?”

“Yeah, you got me,” Chim said. “Maddie was just here—she’s coming back in a minute.”

Buck barely processed it. His body felt heavy, numb, like he was floating—but then—

Tommy.

Buck’s pulse spiked. "Tommy—? TOMMY!"

“Breathe, Buck—”

“No, Chimney, Tommy, he was—he was—”

“Buck.”

A new voice.

Buck whipped his head toward it, eyes still bleary but instantly locking onto Maddie as she entered the room.

“He’s fine, Buck.”

His heart stuttered in his chest. "Fine?"

Chim nodded, his tone light. “He’s alive, Buck. Just got out of surgery about an hour ago. Woke up for a minute, but then drifted back off. Surprisingly, you’ve been out longer than he has.” He gave Buck a teasing grin, trying to lift the mood.

Buck sucked in a breath, his throat tight, burning. “I need to see him.”

Maddie exhaled, already knowing there was no point arguing. “Buck, you just had sur—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chim cut in, sighing as he got up. “He won’t listen. Let’s take him to his room.”

"You need to be checked first,” Maddie insisted.

The minutes the nurse checked him, and the surgeon explaining his injury, felt like a lifetime.

-

Tommy was awake.

He lay still in the bed, his face pale, but he was breathing, his chest rising and falling slowly. When he turned his head and saw Buck, a faint smile tugged at his lips, weak but sincere.

“Hey, Buck.”

Buck sucked in a sharp breath, something tight, angry, relieved twisting in his chest.

“Tommy, if you try to leave me again in any way, I’m gonna kill you myself.”

Tommy huffed out the smallest, breathy laugh. “Violence? Really? I just woke up.”

Buck’s throat burned,, a mix of worry and relief. His hands curling into fists. “And it’s Evan!”

Tommy blinked at that, lips twitching like he wanted to say something smart, but all he did was nod, slow.

Before either of them could say more, the door swung open.

“Oh, you’re up.”

“Sargent grant.” “Athena.”

Tommy’s gaze sharpened immediately. “The guy?”

“He’s in custody.”

Tommy exhaled, half-relief, half-exhaustion.

“He was on drugs,” Athena continued, arms crossing over her chest. “Apparently, his ex-wife used to come here a lot. He must’ve been high, looking for her.”

“Anyone else?” Tommy asked.

Athena shook her head. “Just you two.” She paused. “Because you were sitting closest to the door.”

Tommy shifted slightly, trying to sit up, but winced, the movement clearly uncomfortable. “Huh.”

Buck studied him. “Huh?”

Tommy looked at him with half-lidded eyes, his voice slow and groggy. “Nothing,” he muttered. “Just thinking.”

Athena watched them both carefully, then sighed. “I’ll be back later for your statements, and I’ll let the nurses know you’re awake. And—” she shot Buck a pointed look “—that you snuck in here before you were cleared.”

Buck didn’t even react, his focus locked on Tommy.

A nurse came in to check Tommy’s vitals, adjusting the IV and making sure everything was steady. After a moment, she helped him sit up, propping him against the pillows. Then, she stepped back, nodding to the surgeon who entered next.

Then the surgeon explained Tommy’s surgery— The first shot, the one in his thigh, hadn’t gone deep—just a graze, but deep enough to bleed. The kind of wound that looked worse than it was. The kind of wound Tommy had barely even noticed at the time.

The second bullet had hit his spleen, causing major blood loss. The surgeons had been able to repair the damage, but in the end, they had to remove it.

He’d be okay. It would take time, but he’d be okay.

And then they were alone.

Tommy let out a breath, then huffed out something resembling a laugh. “No appendix, and now no spleen. What’s next?”

“Not funny.”

Tommy blinked at him, then shrugged one shoulder weakly. “A little funny.”

Buck didn’t even bother responding. This wasn’t funny. None of this was. And then the words slipped out before Buck could stop them— “You said loved.”

Tommy blinked. “Did I?”

Buck didn’t waver. “You loved me.”

Tommy opened his mouth—then closed it.

Then, slowly, he sank deeper into the bed, exhaling softly. His gaze flickered away for just a second—like admitting it would make it impossible to take back.

Then, barely above a whisper—raw, honest, a little tired— “I did… still do.”

Buck let out a slow, shaky breath. The weight of the last few hours, the last few months, settling all at once.

His fingers moved before his mind could catch up.

His fingertips ghosted over Tommy’s knuckles, tracing along the edge of his hand, before finally curling around it.

Warm. Steady.

For a moment, Tommy stayed still—then, with a quiet inhale, he shifted his hand, palm turning slightly, fingers twitching before curling weakly around Buck’s. Holding on.

Buck swallowed, held Tommy’s gaze, and nodded once.

“Good.”

[flamestar126]

Don't let the robot teach you Irken

(Click for better quality)

[foxylovey]

// minor spoilers for the suckening!! (also cw: blood)

Twins of flesh and bone

(Boneless and fleshless version under the cut!!)

[soveryanon]

What about eating your own beanie, Mr Clown.

EAT YOUR OWN BEANIE

[zigrethsnotebook]

[PASSIONATE KISS]

Ford x Reader

words: 1,850

tags: sfw, angst, fluff

a/n: realized i never wrote a proposal story for Ford so here you go<3

Ford had been out on an expedition for three days. He’d told you it would be too dangerous for you to come along and even though you had strongly protested he would not budge. So now here you were, waiting for your boyfriend to return from his trip that he’d assured you would take no more than 24 hours.

“Either I find them immediately or I won’t find them at all.” Was what he had told you. But knowing this and that he considered the whole endeavor extremely dangerous had left you incredibly anxious. What if something happened to him? You’d never be able to find him in those woods.

Stan tried his best to reassure you, told you: “Hey, the guy’s been running around different dimensions for thirty years. Give him some credit. He won’t go down that easily.” It helped. But today you could hear in Stan’s voice that he was beginning to feel a little uncertain about it as well.

You couldn’t sleep that night. You were restless, turning from side to side and trying to shut your thoughts out with music and podcasts and anything you could turn the volume up enough to drown them out. The fears of Ford not coming back.

Eventually, you got up, walked aimlessly around the shack, stared out a window for an hour and then turned to head back to bed, giving sleep another shot. Except your feet didn’t walk you to your bed but instead downstairs into Ford’s lab.

As if you were guided by invisible strings you walked straight to Ford’s desk, sitting down on his chair and wrapping yourself in the lab coat he had thrown over the backrest of the chair. It smelled like him. You pulled it around you and up to your nose. This was the closest to him you’d felt since he left.

You pulled the chair closer to his desk and took his third journal out of its place on the shelf. Ford was carrying the fourth edition with him right now. You flipped through it, chuckling at all the entries the kids had left in it. Then you got the part where Ford got it back. Right around the time you two met.

Amongst his stories of different dimensions and discoveries about the world as it was now, thirty years after he had left it, there were sketches of your face scattered between. Always with little annotations about how gorgeous he thought you looked that day or something new he learned about you. Your favorite Ice-cream flavor, your least favorite beach boys song or whatever he had found the guts to ask you that day.

The memories brought tears to your eyes. What if all of that would now be forever in the past? What if he won’t ever be back?

You turned the page again and found a picture of you both dancing together at the kids’ fourteenth birthday party this year. Mabel had taken the photo and given it to Ford. Seeing you both so happy was too overwhelming. Some tears slipped from your eyes and onto his coat.

You flipped the page once more, not able to keep looking at that photo of you both. The next page had just one sentence that Ford had written. It was the last page of this journal.

To be continued in Journal 4… hopefully with wedding pictures ♡

Your breath hitched. What? No. This… You two had never spoken about marriage. In fact, when did he write this? You didn’t remember this being in here. Your thoughts raced a million miles an hour.

So much so, that you didn’t even hear Ford entering the Lab and walk up behind you. When he saw your hunched up trembling form and the page of the journal you were looking at he softly called out your name. You jumped in surprise and quickly turned around.

“Ford!” You called out, stood up and fell around his neck, hugging him tightly. “I was so worried for you, Ford.” You mumbled into his shoulder, but he understood, hugging you tighter as well. “I know, love. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for this to take so long.”

After a moment you pulled back slightly and placed your hands on either side of his face. With a stern face you told him: “Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me? 24 hours… you were gone for three whole days!” Ford chuckled sheepishly. “Four days, actually. It’s already past midday, love.” Flabbergasted, you stared at him. “That’s even worse!”

Only now did Ford look at you. Like, really look at you. And his face fell as he saw the state you were in. Heavy bags under your eyes, tear lines staining your cheeks that haven’t even dried. You were still in your pyjamas with just his dirty lab coat protecting you from the cold of the lab. And it wasn’t doing a particularly good job - you were shivering.

Guilt flooded Ford’s systems at the sight. He raised one of his hands from your waist to your cheek, wiping away the remaining tears with his thumb. You immediately leaned into his touch. “I am so very sorry, love. I shouldn’t have taken so long. I’m so sorry.” He whispered the last part as he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.

You sighed. Just having him here with you again felt like a heavy weight was lifted off of your shoulders. In a much softer tone you told him: “Just don’t leave me like this again. If something takes longer than expected, find a way to let me know. I know you can.”

Snaking your arms back around his neck, you pulled his body closer to yours, your own seeking the warmth of his. “I felt so helpless. If something had happened to you, I-” Your voice broke off, unable to finish the sentence. “I know, love.”

After a few moments just enjoying being able to hold each other again, Ford let the hand from your cheek fall to his coat pocket, fumbling around in it. He chuckled, the noise sounding a little bittersweet, when he found what he was looking for. He pulled back from you slightly and looked into your eyes.

“I also know that this is probably the worst moment to bring this up, but: Do you know what I was looking for out there?” You shook your head ‘no’. This better not be about some creature right now. Now was not the time.

“Well, I only told you that the expedition would be dangerous, because I didn’t want you to come along and I knew that would be the only way to get you to stay home.” He smiled warmly at you, your stubbornness being something he loved so much about you.

“But it really wasn’t all that dangerous at all. Because, what I was really looking for was something that would complete… something. Something I’ve been meaning to give to you for a while now and… something I felt wasn’t worthy of being yours yet… It needed something special.”

You furrowed your brows at him, confusion taking over you. Ford softly let his hands wander to your arms, unwrapping them from himself as he continued. “And… I was looking for this something in that spaceship that sits under the town and also in the cave systems beneath the mountain. Well, two somethings really.” You felt him drift off into some sort of story as you saw his eyes start darting around the room.

“Ford. What are you talking about?” His eyes landed back on you. “Right.” He cleared his throat, trying not to freak out. His hand wandered back into his coat pocket and as soon as he found this mysterious object, he got down on one knee.

Your eyes widened in shock and you gasped. Ford didn’t know this, but with him returning you had completely forgotten about the last page of his journal.

He pulled a little black box out of his pocket and held it in front of him. “Right. I went to the spaceship to find the rarest metal in the solar system. Then I went to the cave systems to find the shiniest crystal on the planet. With those I went to visit Fiddleford, who graciously helped me weld the metal into a shape that could hold the crystal.”

Ford took a deep breath and opened the box revealing a marvelous silver ring, welded into intricate patterns that surely held some sort of meaning, holding a deep blue crystal that looked like it reflected the universe itself. You gasped again and let your hands cover your open mouth as you continued to stare at the man in disbelief.

“I couldn’t let you come along because I wanted this to be a surprise for you. I… You deserve the universe and all the good within it and I am more than willing to give it to you. So here I am. Asking you,” then he said your full legal name. “Will you please marry me?”

By now there were new tears running down your cheeks, but this time they were tears of joy and happiness. You nodded your head as you sobbed out a “Yes! Of course, I’ll marry you, Ford!” and fell into his arms again. Ford hugged you tightly, all the worries that had plagued him for taking so long washing away in an instant.

You pulled away again slightly, giving Ford the opportunity to slide the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, like it was made to be there. That’s because it was.

Ford held the hand that wore the ring in both of his, cradling it like it was made of glass. He looked at it with so much love and affection that you felt your own heart swell with love as well. When he looked up at you again, you leaned in for a kiss.

Your first kiss in four days and also your first kiss as an engaged couple. You basically devoured the man. Ford wasn’t any better. Both of you took this kiss and put all the emotions of the past four days into it. All the stress and worries. All the hope and love.

Ford was first to turn his head slightly and deepen the kiss, one of his hands wandering to the back of your neck, holding you close. Not that you wanted to leave. You parted your lips slightly and nibbled on his lower lip. This caused Ford to moan softly and his tongue to leave the confines of his own mouth and instead explore yours.

While this was happening you both moved your bodies so that Ford and you fully sat on your legs. You didn’t sit on his lap like this because you knew his legs would fall asleep immediately. It had happened before.

After a while you broke the kiss, panting slightly. Ford let his forehead rest against yours again. “I don’t think I’ll leave you again any time soon.” You chuckled. “Yeah. You better not.”