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#did not see coming until suckerpunched me

allwaswell16 · 2 months

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This is a fic rec of One Direction marking fics where a character is marked in some way by another character (drawing, tattoos, bites, etc) as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

🖊️ got the sunshine on my shoulders by @hattalove

(E, 124k, drawing) five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn't have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.

🖊️ 2012 'Verse (series) by @ashavahishta

(E, 102k, marking) Louis would be embarrassed by how his voice goes all low and husky, but it’s no secret between the two of them that he likes to leave marks.

🖊️ Until I Found You by dimpled_halo / @comebackassholes

(E, 45k, love bites) What happens when the opportunity that Louis has been waiting for finally comes, but at the price of having to share the stage with one Harry Styles?

🖊️ through walls of trees by @ineverateakiwi

(T, 41k, bond mark) Elesdon is a country divided into five kingdoms and had long been considered peaceful. After a coup in the heart of the country, Lady Sulia ascended to the throne and imprisoned the four courts, stripping them of their powers. With the exception of King Louis Tomlinson, who submitted to her favors.

🖊️ little wings on my shoes by @juliusschmidt

(M, 39k, love bites) The American High School AU in which no one is cool (except Niall) and Harry wears a rainbow bracelet.

🖊️ some things fade (some never do) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(T, 25k, magical tattoos) Three years after their break up, Harry calls.

🖊️ It's Been Ages by @2tiedships2

(NR, 13k, love bites) “We need to talk,” Niall said as he plopped down on Louis’ bed. “It’s you and Harry. You like him, he likes you, it’s a match made in heaven and you will one day be mates."

🖊️ where your lips land by BriaMaria / @briannamarguerite

(E, 12k, drawing & tattoos) the Tyler Knott Gregson-inspired AU where Louis is a poet who lives in Montana and Harry is a photographer passing through.

🖊️ Just a touch of your love by @thegirlontheblackhoodie

(E, 12k, love bites) Harry is a touch starved omega trying to get through it on his own. Louis happens to be the only alpha around to realize it and offers to help.

🖊️ See You When I Get Home by @fournipplesau

(E, 10k, love bites) "What are you thinking about?" He repeats Louis' question from earlier. "You." Louis' reply comes out in a moan. It shocks Harry, and his brain scrambles for the right thing to do, the right thing to say. He doesn't even know how to feel, or if he even heard Louis correctly. "Me?"

🖊️ Drawn to You by @lululawrence

(NR, 8k, soulmarks) Through the years, the random drawings had evolved and changed. There was a period in sixth form when his soulmate must have gotten shy or something, because the drawings only happened after school hours and in places that others wouldn’t be as likely to see.

🖊️ don't let nobody touch it (unless that somebody's me) by stylescantstop

(E, 8k, love bites) the one where harry dances with other men and a jealous louis reminds him he's the only one who can make him come completely apart.

🖊️ You can remain unaware (if you want) by harryanthus

(NR, 7k, soulmarks) the au where soul marks get coloured when they realise they’re in love with their soul mate and Harry has a coloured soul mark, Louis doesn’t.

🖊️ Sex Drunk Suckerpunch by thinlines / @thinlinez

(E, 7k, marking) Sugar Baby Louis did what any sugar baby should avoid doing but (clichely) end up doing anyways, that is, failing for his sugar mama.

🖊️ Hello Darling by zanni_scaramouche / @zanniscaramouche

(E, 5k, love bites) A city wide blizzard warning, a power outage, and a dismal lack of tea leaves him hours away from what he expects to be one of the more pathetic Christmas mornings of his life. That is, until the new bright eyed intern scares the living crap out of him.

🖊️ Now When I Think of Love it's Redefined by Moriartied / @adidasandangelwings

(E, 3k, marking) The love story of Harry and Louis. (From the XFactor up through their first big fight.) Part 4 of Group Dynamics

🖊️ can't stop lookin' at you by runaways

(E, 2k, love bites) Harry wears little red shorts. Louis is quite fond of them.

- Rare Pairs -

🖊️ Make Your Mark by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 3k, Liam/Louis) When one of Liam's classmates isn't getting the hint that he's not interested, Louis suggests they make him look unavailable.

#ficrec #1dficvillage #marking #trackinghome #trackinghappily #hltracks #hlcreators #hljournal #larry fanfiction #lilo fanfiction

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wingedquill · 7 months

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soulscream

whumptober day 1 | alternative prompt: "broken" | word count: 1572

fandom: Stranger Things | characters: Steve and Robin | cw: daemon-related torture, major character death (ish) | tags: daemon au, unhappy ending (for now)

Robin will hate herself forever for it, but part of her sees the whole “getting kidnapped and slapped around by Russian guards” thing as a big fucking adventure, a wild story that she’ll be able to tell people when they ask her how she spent her summer, right up until they start beating Steve’s daemon.

And then everything gets really real, really fast.

Her ears start ringing after the first hit, like it’s her they’ve just suckerpunched instead of Steve’s fucking soul, and all of her clever plans of a glorious escape turn to static in her brain. Steve screams, short and agonized, and she can feel his whole body spasming against her.

They’re tied back to back. She can see Estella but he can’t, he couldn’t even see the blow coming.

This isn’t happening. This isn’t—this isn’t something that happens.

The guard draws back his arm again. The baton comes back down. Steve screams again, somehow louder.

“Who do you work for?” the guard asks, swinging the baton back and forth like a batter getting ready to hit a home run. He sounds almost bored. Like this is something he does every day. Like this is normal.

“I—I don’t—” Steve gasps. “I don’t—please—please no—”

Another whistle of air, another crack. Estella whines, high and animal-like, like she’s a real dog. The general laughs from somewhere behind her.

“They start leaking Dust, after a while,” he says. “I’ve always found it a pretty sight. Most disagree. I will not have my men stop when you start to dissolve, Butterscotch. Who. Do you. Work. For?”

“No one,” Steve sobs. “No one, please—”

Another swing. Another. Another, another, another, too fast for Robin to track, too fast for her to distinguish them.

“Stop!” she hollers. “Stop, we don’t know anything, we’re just kids, he doesn’t…he didn’t do anything to you, stop!”

“Would you rather we ask your hummingbird?” the general snorts. The guard lifts his foot, lets it hover over Estella’s paw. “You did spit at me, after all. You did something.”

Achilles curls up against her chest, whole body vibrating like a tiny heart. God if they started…if they started hitting him…one strike of that baton would be enough to kill him, to kill her.

The guard crushes his foot down. Gold starts to seep out from underneath it, pooling over the floor like dry ice smoke. Steve’s whole body contracts, jolting so hard that for a moment Robin thinks he’ll knock them both over.

“Please,” Robin whispers, watching helplessly as Steve’s soul bleeds all over the cold tile floor. “Please.”

It’s all either of them can say for the next—hour she thinks? Longer? Steve stops screaming at some point, stops struggling against her. If it weren’t for the feeling of his breaths, and Estella’s long, continuous whimpers, she’d think he was dead.

“Stop,” the general says eventually, when there’s a veritable pool of Dust around Estella, bright and gleaming as a firework. Fuck, they were supposed to be watching the fireworks today, they were supposed to steal a gallon of ice cream out of the freezer and lug it up the big hill behind the mall, they were supposed to be goddamn children about it—

“You are very good at keeping quiet,” he says, and there’s rustling behind her. Steve’s warmth disappears from her back, and then she’s being hauled upwards, hands gripping her arms. She doesn’t fight them. She doesn’t want to give them any more excuses to—god there were knives on the fucking table, and pliers, and a fucking bonesaw, and she doesn’t know if the Russians are planning on using them on her, or Steve, or Estella, and—

“Most men would have spilled everything by now,” the general continues as his men bully Robin forward, and she can finally, finally make eye contact with Steve.

He’s conscious. Standing. But there’s something horribly, horribly wrong with his eyes.

They’re shuttered. Or empty. Or gone, or—

“Steve,” she croaks, trying to reach for him. One of the men yanks her arms back, hissing a command in Russian in her ear.

“But you’d let us break you without answering the most basic question. So either you are a better spy than any man I’ve ever trained, or you truly are just a know-nothing child.”

He tuts, almost sympathetically. Behind Robin, there’s a rattling of chains, a loud whine, the sound of a body being dragged over the floor. Steve twitches, tears slipping from his empty eyes as he’s finally able to see what they’ve done to him. Estella makes a noise like a sob, legs twitching as she tries to gather them underneath her.

She fails. They keep dragging her like a sack of meat, smearing gold across the tiles. Bile sloshes in Robin’s stomach.

“For what it’s worth,” the general says, shoving Steve towards the door. He stumbles over his own feet, whole body hunched over in pain. “I do hope it’s the former. I truly do. But either way…either way we are out of time to ask you things. But worry not. We will learn something from you nonetheless.”

“What are you gonna do to me?” Steve croaks.

Me. Not us. Robin wonders if the thought of them hurting her is so unthinkable Steve hasn’t even considered it, or if he’s trying to keep them from realizing it's a possibility.

“You have seen our accomplishments, yes?” the general says. He parades them out of the cell, one hand on Steve’s shoulder like he might try to run. Like he wouldn’t get a bullet in the soul for trying. “You have seen the rift. We believe there is another world on the other side, and we would like very much for our scientists to explore that world. But there are many possible dangers that we do not yet know how to prepare for.”

“So you wanna throw me in?”

Steve doesn’t sound like he’s discussing the concept of being thrown into a fucking hellworld with his torturer. He sounds like he’s asking his fucking basketball coach if he really wants him to play the second half.

“No,” the general laughs. “No. We do not want to see what you might get up to unmonitored. But there is a test you may help us with.”

If she were a hero, Robin would tell them to do it to her. She would tell them that Steve had had enough. She would tell them that they’d already broken him.

But she’s not a hero. She’s not a hero, and she’s watching a daemon bleed on the ground, and this doesn’t fucking happen. So her vocal cords stay frozen shut, and Achilles stays safe against her heart, and she does nothing to stop whatever’s about to happen to Steve.

They push through another set of doors and there’s the rift. Most of it looks just as it had before, a violent mess of red and black spreading over the wall like a disgusting fungus, but there’s an opening right in the middle. Not quite big enough for a person.

“I’m told we finally broke through while we were having our…discussion,” the general says. He inclines his head, and the two men holding Estella start dragging her over to a massive cage on the end of a chain. “And so you get to assist us with our first, and most important test. To make sure the daemonic bond can survive unscathed between dimensions.”

“No,” Steve whispers, glancing between the cage and the rift. “No, you—what’s that gonna do?”

“We don’t know,” the general says. “Hopefully nothing.”

Steve looks at her wildly as the guards bundle Estella into the cage. Help me. Do something. She can read that as clear as if he said it.

But she can’t move. She can’t speak. Her feet are frozen to the floor and her tongue is glued to her mouth. She’s a bug encased in amber, and she can do nothing but watch as the two guards hoist Estella’s cage between them.

“Steve,” the daemon groans, Dust spilling from her mouth like vomit. “I love—”

The guards hurl the cage forward, right through the opening in the rift.

Robin stands there.

Steve’s knees buckle.

“Get her out,” he gasps. “Get her out, get her—get her out, get her out, fucking get her out of there!”

The general barks an order and the two guards scramble for the chain. Steve collapses entirely, limbs jerking and thrashing against his binds.

“Get her out!” he wails. “Please, dear God, get her—”

And he just…stops.

All at once, like the power’s been cut to his brain. His limbs stop jerking, his eyes stop rolling. He goes completely and utterly still.

Robin stands there.

The general leans down, presses his fingers against Steve’s jugular. Frowns.

“Playing dead will not work with me, Butterscotch,” he says.

Robin stands there.

The two guards haul the cage back out of the void. It’s empty.

Everything freezes for a minute. The general stares at the cage, and for the first time in this entire fucked-up ordeal, Robin thinks she catches a flash of guilt in her eyes.

He murmurs something under his breath.

Robin will spend the next week pouring over Russian dictionaries and anthropological texts to learn both the phrase and the meaning behind it. When she does, it won’t tell her anything she doesn’t already know.

Living broken.

Severed.

Steve is severed. His soul is dead. He'll be an empty shell for the rest of his life.

And Robin just stands there.

#whumptober2023 #no.1 #Broken #altprompt #stranger things #fic #torture #major character death #my writing #st daemon au #sorry guys this is a sad one #i have a whole-ass au for it in my head (shocker) that ends happily though

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amarriageoftrueminds · 11 months

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"he wouldn't judge a person pre-emptively just by their Nationality" True! I probably truncated that thought a bit too much; I've always assumed Steve, based on how he grew up, would have reason to be wary of monied people like Howard. Not assumed right off the bat that he's an asshole, but be (consciously or unconsciously) giving Howard less leeway until he proves himself.

And if that was true (which I admit, is a headcanon) then with Peggy it would just be adding some of the nationality conflict along with wealth.

I don't think Steve is biased in the "let prejudice affect how he treats people" way, but everyone grows up with biases, and I like the idea of Steve being aware of that, and deliberately treating people the same even as he's internally wary or cynical or judgmental or whatever. Like, actions are the important part, both theirs and his.

And in that version of Steve, yeah it'd be how you described, "Steve would wait and see before he decides that- yeah, her class privilege and nationality have corrupted her, specifically."

Yeah given the significance of Steve being Irish + a NYer at a time when there was a lot of prejudice among Irish NYers he'd be especially on the watch for unconscious biases, slipping in and tainting his worldview. He'd make a concerted, self-disciplined effort to eradicate any of that kind of thing in himself. (Doubly so if you hc Bucky as Jewish!)

As an Irishman he'd probably be coming at Peggy with an attitude of 'let's see if this [member of group that are usually bastards] is a bastard' rather than thinking 'I assume they're fine' lol. Like he's definitely not shocked when they turn out to be horrible, is he? 🤨

The monied-people angle is interesting...

Cuz you can definitely see Steve's not interested or impressed by Howard, at the Expo, (warming up to him later), and in A1 he's got a pissy face on 'im at the very mention of Tony.

So could that shared disapproval be based on their shared wealth, or their shared sleaziness in regards to women? or both? 🤔

In Peggy's case, she was attacking a subordinate for questioning her authority (so, behaving in an authoritarian way) while being called Queen Victoria(!) within seconds of being introduced.

So that shouldn't bode well for the view of her held by a properly Irish and in-character Steve.

IMO, Steve smiling at that suckerpunch was waay OOC just so they could cram in a comphet spin even when it's antithetical to his values.

Because Peggy was telling Hodge to brace himself ready to be punched, before he made a sexist remark...

Meaning she's actually attacking him for (as it happens, correctly) questioning her authority, not -- or not just -- because he was sexist.

And Steve is supposed to believe that a) questioning authority is good, actually (but especially if he's Irish and the 'authority' in question is the Crown!), b) suckerpunching someone (just like bullies do to him!) is a Lil Bitch move, and c) that the punishment is supposed to come after the crime.

Plus, that whole Hodge thing was such a transparent 'men are scum and punching them is feminism!1' strawman for StrongFemaleCharacter Woman to knock over, it just makes me cringe.

Like Peggy is acting like the bully in the alleyway did to Steve ('how dare you, an inferior, question me?' BAM!) But it's fine because she's female? Not on Steve Rogers' watch!

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thehumanarkle · 2 years

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(Shared from my own Facebook page; some spelling and grammar errors corrected for this post)

You can't reason with people like this. You can't defeat people like this with ideas and speeches. The Liberal doctrine of "non-violence always," something that even Dr. King himself wasn't as fanatical about (he had guns in his home, he just didn't carry them in public) has failed. The GOP needs to pay a price higher than insults on social media or "strongly worded letters" from the Democrats or they *will* keep doing this, and it *will* get worse. We know this because we have been seeing them do it for over 40 years; gradually at first, but Trump emboldened them so now the floodgates are open. It doesn't need to escalate to bloodshed, at least not yet, but car tires and windows don't have feelings, and a lot of the fascist trash behind this legislation has more than enough money to replace them many times over. And rocks and screwdrivers are cheap. Just remember not to have your phone on you, and don't take credit for it. We still don't know who the guy who suckerpunched Richard Spencer was, and that Nazi fucker is about to be bankrupt and his wife left him and he doesn't invited to big Conservative events anymore. When it comes to Fascists, not only does violence work, if you don't shut them down early enough it's the only thing that works. Just don't go after their pets. No one blames Hitler's dogs for the Holocaust. Don't be gross.

There are people on my side, on the Left, who will make the claim that Liberals and Fascists are one and the same. I reject this. That said however, Liberals, at the end of the day will never do what it takes to fight Fascism until the worst case scenario is already in effect. Why? Because fighting Fascism before it takes power in a country requires Liberals to break, or sometimes simply just bend their own principles.

It's counterintuitive, I know, but so is bodybuilding. You have to basically rip your muscles (in a certain way) in order to make them stronger. They are kind of unique in that way; most things in the human body only get weaker when you damage them. And Fascism is a unique kind of evil in the world. It cannot be defeated by conventional means (boycotts, protests, elections, etc.)

Liberals wanting to prevent Fascists from taking over a nation with exclusively non-violent means is like a bodybuilder trying to put on muscle with only light exercise. It might feel better in the short term, but in the long term, at best, accomplishes nothing BUT feeling better.

Non-violence certainly has it's place, and I don't reject it outright. I am, to use a term I learned on Tumblr, an Institutional Pacifist; I do not want my country starting wars, especially without justification and I also oppose capital punishment as the State should not be in the business of executing people, especially people who may not have even done anything and were screwed over by police incompetence and prosecutorial misconduct (John Oliver just did a whole thing about that; it's on YouTube).

But Liberals have a rose-colored glasses take on non-violence. They think it has always worked (it hasn't) and that it wasn't a tactic that was used in tandem with other forms of protest (it was). As Kwame Ture said, non-violence only works when your opponent has a conscience. Fascists not only do not have a conscience, they view a conscience as a weakness, and actively exploit that weakness to get their way. Fascists are actually pretty open some times about they know they can get away with things because Liberals will simply be too polite to do what it takes to stop them. And yet, even knowing this, Liberals will still stick to non-violence. And I do not understand it.

Lib: "I don't want to be violent." Fash: "Cool. I'm gonna use your non-violence against you in order to hurt as many people as possible. But you can totally stop me. Just punch me in the face and I'll fold because this is still the early stage and I don't have a large group of thugs backing me up yet." Lib: "... Dammit." Fash: "Just what I thought. Anyway, off the shoot up a synagogue, Talk to ya later." Lib: "*sigh* If only there were something I could've done to prevent this."

How many people have to suffer before you'll even admit that maybe some people using violence even if you personally choose not to partake it for reasons that could be perfectly valid (physical limitations for instance, lack of experience coupled with a fear of accidentally harming a non-fascist, etc.) is at the very least a tactic that can be left on the table?

I'll be generous here; you, yourself, reading this, do not have to participate in violence against Fascist persons. I mean it. You don't. In all honesty some of you would probably fuck it up if you tried. Let's be real, *I'd* probably fuck it up if I tried. The closest thing I have to combat training is having done some Laser Tag in my teens. But you and I can't get in the way of the people who will and can. Because you aren't helping them when you do that. You're helping the Fascists. Who will stab you in the back as a reward for your efforts to protect them from violence.

As I've said before, the epithet on the tombstone of Liberalism in America in the 21st Century will read "But at least we were polite."

#trans rights #liberalism #fascism #political commentary #discussion of violence #sorry for how rambly it got. i didn't write all of that at once plus it was all kind of stream of consciousness

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pigeonfancier · 2 years

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Medical grousing wrt food below the cut! For context of new people: I usually tag this disordered eating, because it's a hissy fit about micromanaging meals, but it's not eating disorder shit directly..? Probs still not fun to read if you are triggered by that material, though.

First up, grouching about everything else:

I've had a fever for the past.. three or four days? Not a high one, and my body is overreactive, this is standard for sinus infections, so I can safely say: no risk of covid, lol. So standard protocol is feed a fever, starve a cold, so whatever. Take NyQuil, eat as much as I can tolerate, sleep as much as I can manage, ride it out in a vegetative state.

Do I remember shit about this week? Absolutely not. Do I need to? Absolutely not, this is what careful note-taking, keeping everything in text rather than on call, and the email sent-box is for. It works out. Until my pancreas throws a shitfit about eating, as it did yesterday, and now it's grousing over every piece of food I shove into it.

Which leads to food grouching:

Fuck food, man. It's been a fun balancing act lately of -

Okay, I need to watch how much sugar I'm processing, because my pancreas isn't handling the hummingbird diet well anymore, because my immune system won't stop suckerpunching it. Sure!

Oh, that's a lot of calories to drop. So, okay, I need to balance out fats better - my ratio of 10% daily fat is below what nutritionists recommend, with the energy/general problems that come with that, so try to increase it to 20-30% daily fat to prevent fucking malnutrition and see how that goes! Pancreas freaking out? It's fine, just wind it down again, and then try winding it back up, but slower.

Tired? It's probably low iron. Eat more meat! Can't process meat worth a damn? Well, you still need it, so try cooking it longer so your body doesn't flip a lid. Incorporate meat stocks into your meal! But not too much, because it might push you past your fat ratios.

Did we mention you need more salt? You need way more fucking salt, what are you doing? If everything tastes like shit with more salt in, just drink more water. But don't drink too much water, because you need electrolytes, and drinking like three gallons of water a day is 1) washing those out or some shit, and 2) a sign that your diet is still too high in sugar. Have you tried cutting the sugar down more?

Oh, you're losing weight, because you cut down the sugar? Have you tried eating more of everything else? Oh, your pancreas is throwing an extended tantrum and has started trying to fucking digest itself again? Take a break for a week or so and just drink liquids! Let it recover!

But don't drink sugary liquids, because remember..

The medical consensus is apparently switching from "just drink liquids for a week or two until your pancreas calms down after an attack" to "just eat normal food as soon as you can physically manage it, so it either triggers another attack or it gets the fuck over itself", which is fine, because.. that's what I've just switched to doing, for the most part? I don't have time to baby this shit, lol, and I can't actually afford the weight loss of waiting for it to calm down.

But on the other hand: maybe that's why my pancreas is being a pissant about sugars now? Or maybe people are correct and this is just a natural progression of damage accumulation over time. IDKKK. It'd be wonderful to have more direct medical guidance on this shit, but even people who've been going to the same gastros for 13+ years report that their gastros generally just shrug. Or shrug, and ask if they want the fucking whipple procedure. Like anyone wants the fucking whipple procedure except for the hospitals getting paid for it.

I'm not actually very sore today, I'm just grouchy and feverish and nauseous as shit, lol, which is a killer combination of personal outrage for me. I will feel better in a day or two - sinus infections follow a very traditional, expected projectory for me, and I can tell that I'm on the tail end. Just GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP in the meanwhile.

#the mysterious fainting waif disease #trying to learn to drink tea with no milk and with stevia instead of sugar #and having to cut down my caffeine because my fucking heart #and having this stupid cold on top of everything is a killer combination for absolutely murdering my mood lol #who could've guessed? who could've known!#but I will be over this in a few days and less of a grouchmeister #SOON #SOOOON #disordered eating cw

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seasidefallenangel · 4 years

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Hallo! can i ask for satan s/o hiding their temper like he does? and one day they explode? Thank you 😘 (sorry for English)

mod r: for a religious person i sure do like writing about demons. and your english is perfectly fine, hun<3

⟢ satan’s s/o having a temper like him

The Devildom truly took whatever expectations you had of hell and threw them right out the window. Sure, there was a demon who tried to subjugate you here and there, but the demon brothers never allowed such activity to go further than a harsh word or two before they stepped in to clean up shop. Speaking of, the demon brothers also trashed your expectations, especially your boyfriend. For the demon of wrath, Satan wasn’t that angry of a dude.

… Most of the time.

You had only seen him fly off the handle once or twice, and both times scared you shitless and made you wanna crawl into your room for three days. Besides that though, he was insanely good at hiding his temperament, just as you were. Or, as you usually were.

“Does the sky blue or baby blue shirt look better?” Satan looked up from the book he was reading as you compared the two shirts in the store’s dressing room mirror. Did the color really matter this much?

“They look the exact same to me.” You let out a huge groan and slumped into one of the chairs. “Asmo’s gonna have a fit if I come back empty handed. He’s been whining about us color coordinating outfits for the past two weeks and I’m gonna explode if he brings up complimentary colors one more time.”

Your boyfriend gave a sympathetic smile and helped you out of the chair. “Just buy both of them.” “I don’t have enoug-” “I’ll foot the bill if it means we get out of here quicker.”

You gave a small cheer and quick peck on the lips before going over to the counter and checking out. Satan grabbed your hand as the two of you walked out to head home, you babbling about some new anime Levi had you watch with him. It wasn’t until you passed some sort of interior design store that Satan asked you to wait outside for a moment while he went to take a look at a new bookshelf he’d been thinking about purchasing.

Messing around on your D.D.D. as he roamed around inside, you barely took notice of the decently tall demon making its way toward you until you saw a shadow covering your surroundings.

“Uh, can I help you?” The demon only smiled creepily in return which irritated you. “Dude, speak the fuck up or get away from me.”

“Oh? The little human has spunk, eh?” Man, this guy’s breath reeked. “Yeah, and the human has a boyfriend too so beat it.” The demon was annoying but not necessarily a problem until he put his hand (talon?) on you. Then, you really got pissed.

Grabbing his arm and kicking him right in the groin, he let out a noise of pain as you put your leg behind his knees and forced him to get on the ground. Twisting his arm back until you heard a sickening “pop”, you got in his face and started to yell.

“What part of FUCK OFF isn’t clicking in your tiny ass brain? Get the hell away before I decide to rip your arm off your entire fucking body and hang it up on my wall. Got it, numbnuts?”

The demon didn’t waste a second before hauling ass away, holding his arm. You watched him go as you felt arms wrap around your stomach and immediately swung your arm back to suckerpunch the idiot who tried testing you right after that altercation. Thankfully, your boyfriend had quick reflexes and caught your hand before you sent him to the next layer of the Devildom. “My, my. Have you always been this irritable?”

You took a step back and pouted upon seeing his impressed grin. “I didn’t really want you to see stuff like that.” He put his arm around you and pinched your cheeks while you scrunched up your face in displeasure. “Why not? It’s cute how you’re so similar to me.”

He stopped his supposedly loving ministrations for a moment while you gazed into his eyes. “You don’t think it’s too aggressive of me?” Satan simply laughed and grasped your hand in his. “Of course not, it’s not as if you have that opinion of me?” You simply shook your head and started back on your walk back home.

“Besides, it’s not like you’d ever best me in a fight, so there’s nothing to worry about.” “We’ll see about that one, you dweeb.”

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* 　　 *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

#obey me x reader #obey me imagines #satan x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #scenarios #fluff #anonymous

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dhaaruni · 3 years

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i know you’ve recced romance novels before, but do you have any you’d recommend specifically to someone who theoretically wants to get into the genre but has hated it every time they tried? i love kissing and stories about feelings, and while i do love literary fiction & certain Classics, i am not a genre snob! i read fanfiction (partly because it is so often about kissing and feelings) and used to say i loved YA until its popularity kinda ruined the genre (but a genuinely good YA book can still make it onto my list of faves). but every time i’ve attempted to read a Romance Novel i’ve just been… bored. any suggestions for someone like me?

Hmm okay, I see your issue, I'll try to pick books that I consider especially fun.

A Lot Like Adiós by Alexis Daria: This comes out today and it's the sequel to You Had Me At Hola. I describe Daria's books as Jane the Virgin without the annoying parts aka without Jane herself lol.

The Kiss Quotient by Helen Hoang: Easily one of the best contemporary romances I've ever read, and one of the first as well! I've always been into romance as a concept but I didn't get into bonafide romance novels until the summer of 2018, and I'm extremely glad I did.

A Rogue of One's Own by Evie Dunmore: I would die for Lucie and Tristan, and I cried so much reading this book like he just loves her so much!!!!!! Dunmore's other books are great too but this one just suckerpunched me in the best way possible.

West End Earl by Bethany Bennett: it was like Shakespeare's Twelfth Night but somehow even better.

Anything by Tracey Livesay, whose books do interracial romances in a way that feels extremely organic and not at all performative cough cough. Also, I just want to get coffee/cocktails with all her heroines, they seem SO much fun!!

Sarah MacLean, Tessa Dare, and Joanna Shupe are all A++ historical romance writers, and their books are like a gateway to historical romance if that makes sense? I wouldn't start new romance readers with a Lorraine Heath or a Kerrigan Byrne, I'd ease into them lol. I'd put Lisa Kleypas as somewhere in the middle, but as we all know I'm the #1 Devil In Winter stan lol.

Lauren Layne: I liked the Sex, Love & Stiletto books a lot, especially The Trouble With Love because of how prickly Emma and Cassidy both were. I've read the rest of her work as well, but honestly the first series has stuck with me the most.

Elle Kennedy’s new adult novels are infinitely better than one would expect based on the genre, my favorite is The Risk, but they’re all worth checking out.

Nora Roberts' Bride Quartet is a bit older, but I stand by my statement that it blows pretty much every contemporary romance novel out of the water since it's way more organic emotionally and actually stays with you after you close the book.

Elizabeth Hoyt's Maiden Lane series is great because it's a true mystery/thriller romance series, so if you're not ecstatic about like romcoms and light humor, this is the series for you. Plus, Hoyt writes some of THE best sex scenes in the romance genre bar none, and I wish I could write like her lol.

Hopefully that gets you started!!

#answered #anonymous #romance novels #book blogging #book recs

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bordeleaubeau · 4 years

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our last summer - jack hughes

wc: 1279 i got this idea while watching total drama island. don’t ask.

dear y/n,

hi y/n/n! i think lacey said we’d get these when we turn 16 so the next time someone will see this we’re gonna be 16 years old. that’s crazy to think about! but it’s also sad. we won’t see each other when we’re 16 years old.

i hope by that time i’m getting ready to go to the nhl! i want you at my first ever nhl game. because lacey said to write this letter to our favorite person and you’re my favorite person y/n. i’m going to miss you i hope you know. i haven’t told you this yet but my parents are talking about moving back to the united states if quinn goes to a special hockey program. i don’t want to leave, y/n. i hope you know that. i hope you aren’t mad at me if i have to leave.

like i said, i’m really going to miss you. i’m going to miss everything we did every year. even when you glued glitter all over my arm. or the water balloon toss and we’d always be each other’s partner and we’d always win! and how we’d always make smores together at the fire and you’d say how much marshmallow i got all over my face and how you’d always burn your marshmallow! i can hear you right now. “because it tastes better!” i still disagree with you there y/n/n. no one likes burnt marshmallows. i’m going to miss chasing each other around the pool after the ice cream social every year and pushing each other in and then getting into trouble. and sneaking out of our cabins with jason and patrick to explore. i don’t want us to leave y/n. it hurts me to think that we might never see each other again.

please don’t ever forget me. i won’t ever forget you i can promise you that. we’re gonna make sure we find each other again, okay y/n? i’m not going to lose you and you’re going to be at my nhl draft and you’ll be at my first ever nhl game. i can’t do that without you.

i love you,

jacky

by the end of jack’s letter you have tears streaming endlessly down your cheeks. you don’t know how many times you re-read the ten year old boy’s letter, his scribbles he called handwriting, and before you knew it there were teardrops on the faded lined paper. it had been four years since you last saw jack - as soon as you got your first phone and gotten instagram the first thing you did was try to find jack - and you did. but it seemed your follow to him got lost in the thousands of other girls following him a day and he didn’t follow you back. so to say the least, you were heartbroken.

but you were able to see how successful he was - he was playing for the national development program and by the looks of it, he was having a blast with all his new friends. and you had known you had been replaced. part of you had even wondered if jack cared enough to even read your letter.

dear jacky boy,

i tried so hard to think of what to say. so hard that it’s probably two in the morning and i’m writing this in my cabin. i really don’t know what to say jacky. i don’t know what’s going to happen after we leave next summer. i’ll be in north bay and you’ll be all the way in toronto with your family. all i know is that i loved every second we spent together the past few years. you always gave me something to look forward to jacky, even if it meant i spent my summer away from my normal friends because i knew i always had you. but now jacky our time is coming to an end. what am i supposed to do without you?

i’m going to miss everything. from swimming in the lake and you pushing me in, sneaking into the kitchen to make milkshakes just because we felt like it, catching fireflies, huddling around the fire together, the paint war we had last year! that was my favorite. i found purple paint on my clothes even when i was back home. what i’m saying is, jacky. i’m going to miss you so much. i hope we find each other after this. i hope you get to the nhl and i get to say that’s my best friend! but until we get there we have to cherish the time we have left.

i love you my jacky boy,

y/n/n

except, jack never got your letter.

he was right. when he was fourteen his parents finally broke the news: they’d be moving to michigan so quinn could play for the national team. and then eventually him, and then even luke. so to you? it felt like jack hughes had completely forgotten about you. but who was to blame?

you couldn’t help it. there were days you couldn’t help but scroll through jack’s instagram page looking back on the old photos he had posted and he had no clue you had even followed him. but today, today was different. jack had posted a photo, a pretty blonde perched in his lap, a soft smile adorning his face. and it felt like a suckerpunch right to the heart. jack hughes: the boy you spent all your summers with goofing around was happy without you. the boy you kissed during a dumb game of truth or dare when you were eleven. sure you were young - but there was something there. all of your friends teased you about it every single summer before then, and the rest of the summer for your last year at the camp.

as much as your heart is screaming at you not to, you double tap the photo that had been posted only a few hours prior, then turning off your phone with your eyes blurry with your tears.

jack almost never looked at his notifications - they were always filled with comments from girls that knew nothing about him other than his name and the fact he played hockey. but he refreshes his activity page, and his heart nearly stops seeing the familiar name on the screen. your name.

“luke!” jack yells, nearly jumping up from his spot on the couch to go into the kitchen where his little brother was. “does this say what i think it says?”

he shoves the phone in luke’s face so much he has to pull his head back a little bit. “that says y/n l/n- JACK!” luke’s eyes go wide and he does double takes looking from jack’s phone to jack’s face. “that’s y/n! like, your childhood sweetheart y/n!”

“i know it is! oh my fu- oh my god,” jack lets his hand run down his face. “how can i be so stupid? i never even tried to find her, or, or to contact her or anything! she follows me, luke. how long has she been following me but i didn’t know it? and-and the photo i see she liked? with fucking chelsea!”

“jack you gotta dm her. or follow her. or something. she’s literally your soulmate, there’s no way she isn’t.” luke looks at his older brother who’s clearly in distress.

“but what about-”

“i don’t care about chelsea and neither should you. now suck it up and follow her.” jack nods affirmatively, clicking on your profile.

your phone screen lights up, along with the words, ‘jackhughes_ has requested to follow you.’

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #nhl #hockey #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #this was supposed to be longer than this #but its okay #quinn hughes #new jersey devils

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nerdgenie · 4 years

Text

Vermish musings

I don't really write fics. I wouldn't know where to begin, but this thought has been swirling in my head, and I wanted to get it out. Soooo, here goes:

Vera and Hamish are still together. They divide their time between Vera's home and Hamish's apartment. They've settled into a steady routine and have basically built a life together. Feelings are still not being said out loud because they're idiots who don't know how to function without the defective defense mechanisms they've developed through all the pain they've endured.

Cassie is alive because magic. She wasn't really dead, and another werewolf group found and took care of her. Apparently, there are more werewolves and hides out there. She got another hide and has been fighting bad magic with the other group. She did not go back to Belgrave and to Hamish because reasons.

Belgrave is under threat by another magic group. Cassie and her group had been tracking said group and ended up in Belgrave.

Hamish and Vera are being sweet and in love when Cassie revealed herself to them. Cue confusing emotions from everyone. Emotions needs to be set aside because of threat.

Vera decides to break things off with Hamish. She knows how much Cassie meant to Hamish, and now that he has her back, she was not going to stand in the way. She thinks Hamish was just too much of a gentleman to end their "purely physical" relationship so she does it for him. She also realizes she's in love with him, but love means doing what's best for the other person. She will keep her mouth shut if it means Hamish gets to be happy.

Hamish is understandably confused, but because of the threat they were facing, he had not had a moment to process his feelings. When Vera broke things off with him, he was not able to react. He just kinda.. stood there. Vera left. He finally snapped out of it, and felt bad for how he handled their talk. He's also still really confused. Everyone else assumed he and Cassie would get back together. Now, Vera breaks up with him so he can go back to Cassie. He's happy Cassie is alive and back, but thinking about being in a relationship with her doesn't feel right. He's a different person now. Cassie is different. They don't really know each other. He's confused. Also, apparently Vera doesn't really have feelings for him. It's a "convenient hookup that lasted longer than it should" Those words coming from Vera hurt more than he expected they should.

Everybody works together. Vera and Cassie are formidable together and have a mutual respect. They are both bad ass, and they know it.

They win against the threat. Happy hugs and high fives. Hamish is looking for Vera in the commotion. He sees her leaving. He realizes how much it hurts to see her leave. He's missed her. He's been staying in his apartment instead of the den because that's where Vera's scent still lingers. Her toothbrush and the coffee mug that still has her lipstick stain from the morning they hurriedly left without doing the dishes are still there. Vera's favorite shirt of his that she used to wear is there -- in their bed. He's never really stopped to think about it, he was just doing what his body (turns out it was really his feelings dictating his actions) told him to do - going through the motions. He's still staring at Vera's retreating form when the realization of how in love he really is with Vera suckerpunched him

Vera doesn't love him he reminds himself. To her, it was just sex. It's like a knife through his heart. He's feeling sorry for himself when he gets a text from Vera about Order business - just your standard Grand Magus text - but his heart swells. He can't do anything if she doesn't feel the same way. The important thing, he decides, is Vera is still in his life. He'll take whatever she's willing to give.

Cassie talks to Hamish. She and her group are about to leave but she and Hamish has a lot they need to talk about. She explains her reasons for not coming back. He says that it hurt and confused him, made him angry even, but in the end, he forgives her. Cassie tells him she wants to try again, maybe even pick things up off from where they left. Hamish tells her they can't do that anymore. They are different people now. They've grown in the last almost 10 years. Cassie realizes he's right - that she just asked Hamish to try again because it's what people would expect them to do - but it's not what she wanted ultimately. Her life is with her pack, and she wants to be with them. They hug goodbye. They will always be important to each other and will always be there when the other needed them. As she's leaving, she turns and gives Hamish one last advice "tell her how you feel." Hamish just gives her a sad smile.

Vera and Hamish are both idiots. Hamish is sticking with 'she doesn't love me but that's okay because at least she still talks to me.' He hasn't told her there's nothing going on between him and Cassie and that Cassie left because how would that go? "By the way, I know you don't really care but Cassie and I are not together. I don't have feelings for her. I'm in love with you." That would probably make Vera cut him off from her life completely and that was the one thing he can't allow to happen. Vera doesn't ask him either because it hurts too much to think about. She assumes Hamish doesn't mention his happy relationship to her because he really is a gentleman and is avoiding hurting her. She also doesn't ask Hamish to help out with Order business despite her needing his counsel and his constant visits to the Temple to offer help. She just sends him home because she promised herself she'll do what she can to make Hamish happy. That includes not taking time away from his personal life. Idiots the pair of them.

Vera is going on a date. Hamish finds out when he arrived at the Temple after his class as he always does. Vera is dressed in the black dress she wore that one time. He remembers how she finally relented to him planning a "celebration" they were calling it. He took her to her favorite restaurant, walked around holding hands until they went home and made love. She awkwardly explains an old Order friend asked her out. Hamish tells her to have a good night. Vera leaves. He decides to stay in the Temple. He pours himself a glass of bourbon after being sober for almost a year.

Vera thinks about how stupid she'd been agreeing to a date. She and (what's a good handsome name for her date?) goes way back when they first started in the Order together. They were also dancing around starting a relationship, but he was transferred to another chapter. She thought going on a date with someone she was interested in might snap her out of the feelings that she can't seem to get rid off. She thought wearing that dress - that dress that made her feel like she actually had a chance at happiness, like the look Hamish had in his eyes that night was love - on her date would somehow replace the memories of that night with the memories of her date. Stupid, she thinks. She and whathisname had a good enough night. He's a good guy, but he's not Hamish. She resigns herself to her annoying feelings, cuts the night short (it wouldn't be fair to string him along. She considered spending the night with him but the thought of someone other than Hamish's hands on her makes her recoil) and decides to go to the Temple to for a drink.

She's still feeling sorry and mostly angry with herself for being so pathetically in love with a man who's in a happy relationship with someone else when she finds Hamish slumped in the Temple bar with a drink in his hand. Whatever she was feeling for herself immediately turned to concerned for Hamish. He has been sober for some time now and doing so well at it. He's never really struggled to the point of a relapse, and here he was with a drink in hand.

She approaches him slowly and attempts a light touch "I hope that drink's for me" she says. Hamish is surprised to see her there. How long has that been? Two hours since she left for her date? Why is she here? He slides the glass to her and asks her how her date went. He can't help but torture himself. She shrugs, sits beside him and takes a sip. She tells him it was okay but that she doesn't really want anything resembling a relationship -- with someone who isn't you, she thinks but doesn't say out loud. She starts to ask Hamish why he has a drink. He cuts her off by saying he never actually drank anything. He was really close when she walked in. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asks. "It's just something I need to work through. I'll be okay." "Okay. How about we both don't drink and just sit here tonight." she says as she lightly bumps her shoulder with his. "I'd like that." And for the first time since their relationship ended, they both felt whole.

My head still needs to work out a happy ending for them, but that's all I've got for now.

#the order #hamish duke #vera stone #vermish

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himbo-buckley · 4 years

Text

Sex, Intimacy and Buddie (better known as I have a lot of feelings about this show, some of which are related to the before mentioned topics) - Part 4

Ciao, ragazzi,

i bims, die Kriz and I will be your tourguide today. (Yes, we’re on first name basis now, congratulations, kid, ya’ll earned it!)

Okay, so I rewrote this intro like 5 times by now. 3B has been so hard on me in a way that the rest hasn’t been. While I was writing 3A I had so many thoughts and ideas and conclusions from the get go, my main worry was to fit it all in and to make it coherent. And it took me a while to get there with 3B - but don’t worry, my friends, I did not disappoint and it is just as long as part 3, despite Tim Minear personally coming to my home and vibe checking me for saying he had daddy issues. Which is fair, tbh. Sorry bro, I’ll stop calling you out like that. (No, I won’t.)

Also if you need a „quick“ refresher of what happened so far or you just forgot, here are:

part one - part two - part three

And also, the usual spiel:

This meta was supposed to be a lot shorter and only talk about how both Buck and Eddie use sex to distract their respective partners from whatever topic they actually wanted to talk about but since I decided to rewatch the show to make sure I don’t miss any such scenes, it has exploded a bit and taken on more topics

I should also mention that I am a Buddie shipper and while I tried, you will find several references and arguments for the ship in this Meta, not all of which necessarily call for a romantic pairing but just: These two are deeply connected and you cannot look at one without discussing the other and they are each other’s strongest emotional connection.

I should also preface this by saying that the whole of the 118 has some obvious intimacy / commitment issues except Bobby (which is sort of surprising) but *John Mulaney voice* we don’t have time to unpack all of that!

On another note I cuss a little in this Meta because my parents let me listen to TicTacToe as a small child and after that it never stuck that cussing is wrong so, uhm, parental supervision is advised or something

This Meta will so far have FIVE parts now. The original plan was to do three, one for each Season, and have it organised by episode so you could technically follow along (which is still true), but due to personal reasons, also known as *feelings*, Season 3 had exploded disproportionately and for readability reasons I have split it in three parts - there is part 3 which ends with the Christmas Episode, part 4 which spans what aired of 3B so far and the final part 5 which will include the final and my conclusion, if by then I am able to form thoughts again / still

Alright you guys, drumrolls please: part 4 (also called „*butterfly meme* Is this growth?“)

Episode 3.11:

I wanna be honest with ya’ll, Season 3B is sort of a mixed bag for me, because while yes, all the episodes have been great viewed separately, they just feel so … separate from each other, and with 3A having so many episode-spanning arks, it’s a bit of a letdown to return to the standalone episode format. Especially because it makes the whole two steps forward one step back thing so much more apparent as it feels like what happens in one episode has no consequence for the next. It felt a little like they burned through too much in 3A already and didn’t know where to go from there. Which is also true for me, so maybe I should stop judging.

Anyways, I’ll stop bringing the house down now.

Let’s continue with: Don’t you just love stan-ing two adorable, complicated badass firefighters? Yeah, me too.

Also, I wanna see the Doc again. Tim, can we? He could be friends with Frank? We could see them have tea and talk about those dumbasses at the firehouse? (And also legs, since, you know, Frank only has one?)

And also the bank guy, Harrison was fun. (This whole episode was.)

And I know it has nothing to do with Eddie or Buck or Intimacy or Sex (okay a little with those) but I do wanna point you to that damn meatball scene, because it’s so chaotic? First, why are all the ingredients laid out on the table but Maddie is making balls already only to then cover them in water? Look, I’m basically vegan (haha, how long do you think I’ve waited to shoehorn this in here) and haven’t cooked meat since I was … fourteen, probably? And even to me that just seemed wrong! Not to mention AFTER touching raw meat, Maddie only cleans her hands with a towel before opening the door? You used to be a nurse, Madeleine / Maddison! (Do we know her full name? I feel like we don’t.)

One thing I really love about 3B (so far) is how happy and settled my main man Edmundo Diaz is. It’s in the eyes, you guys! I don’t know if it’s a Ryan thing or a deliberate acting choice but whatever it is it translates well (haha, well, yeah, we’ll talk about that one later) into his character and it really makes you feel like Eddie is so much better. Like for all the analysis of Eddie I’ve been doing, I didn’t notice how much colder he grew since the beginning of Season 2 until this episode came and suckerpunched me with the warmth in his eyes. Good god, proceed with caution! Oliver could call me right now and say „Look, Buddie isn’t real, I just keep getting lost in Ryan’s eyes.“ and I wouldn’t even be mad, I’d just be like „How’d you get this number?“. (It was Tim, wasn’t it? Damn it, we talked about this, mate! I wanna meet his cat, not him!)

The episode doesn’t hold a lot of relevance in terms of this meta (aside from some parallels I’ll talk about in a moment) but I still want to discuss it a little bit because it means a lot to me. I just love Howard „Chimney“ Han with all my heart.

I wanna say something controversial now because we’re 500 words in and I feel like I haven’t made you regret reading my rambling yet, so here is controversial thought of the day #1: All these fucking characters are grey as fuck except Howie. Howie is good to the bone. He is the goodest boy. He is so gentle and sweet and non malicious and yes, I am including Evan in my list of grey characters because he pulled some SHIT! Okay, a little bit of shit. Things have been *implied*! (I don’t even know anymore. Maybe he’s just off-white or something.)

And what’s the worst my best friend Howard „Chimney“ Han has done on this show? Lied to his girlfriend a buncha times so she likes him better? I lie all the time. I just lied to my mother 5 minutes ago (Yes, Mom, I’m working on my thesis.)! And Howie just lied to make someone like him better. That’s not bad, that’s horrible self esteem!

Which brings me to another thing I wanna say because thank you, Jennifer Love Hewitt. If anyone from the cast gets to call me, it’s you, because you clearly had your thinking pants on when you took one look at Chimney and said: I want that one! You a real one and I will name check you on my way to heaven - not, that they’ll let me in, but the thought counts?

Now, lets talk about those parallels I mentioned before:

The Hans vs. the Buckleys.

Now, we still don’t know a lot about Mr. and Mrs. Buckley and what exactly made them bad parents (though I’m firmly team a little neglectful but not abusive) but we know a lot about Mr. Han.

One thing of the bat I wanna mention is that this episode confirms that Maddie at least had a hand in raising Buck - which doesn’t actually have to mean too much, because based on JLHs age, her relationship with Dough and the way their sibling relationship is played it’s safe to assume that Maddie is supposed to be between 5-10 years older than Buck (assuming she started nursing school after High School at around 18 / 19, which I think takes 4 years in the US? And she was an ER nurse for 8 years, making her AT LEAST 30 in Season 2, but considering how she emphasised that Buck noticed something was wrong with Dough even as a teenager and she met Dough at 19, I’m gonna assume Buck was younger then 16 because Dough won’t have shown his abusive tendencies right of the bat, so probably about 12 / 13, making Maddie like 6 years older than him? And since we DO have a definite age for Evan, Maddie is probably around 33 in Season 2 (which also works because they wanted to put her and Eddie in a relationship and Ryan Guzman is in his early 30 as well). And look, as the youngest child of two people I would call more than adequate parents I can tell you: older siblings always have a hand in raising you, especially when the age difference exceeds 4 years. One of my sisters is 5 years older than me and I was more scared of telling her about having a bad grade than I was of my parents, so…

Anyways, back to what is actually happening in the episode and how it both parallels and contrasts the Buckleys and Hans.

Like Maddie and Howie are the older siblings and Buck and Albert are the younger siblings, yet Buck and Howie are paralleled as are Maddie and Albert. Also, Howie resents his brother for the relationship he assumes Albert has with their father, but Maddie recognises that Buck probably had similar experiences growing up as she did. Of course one could argue that Howie and Albert never had a relationship before while Buck and Maddie grew up together, but look, Maddie was in an abusive relationship for quite a while and hadn’t been in contact with her brother for 3 years prior to Season 2 but it’s safe to assume they didn’t have too close of a relationship before that either, or the Buck we know would have gone to Maddie to investigate and find out why she dipped. So…

(Despite all of this, Maddie knew she could come to her brother for help in Season 2 meaning one, our boy is such a good boy always and the Buckleys can’t be all bad if Maddie knows she can count on her brother, meaning she didn’t think her parents screwed him up too much in the time since she moved out and gradually left his life. Just another thought.)

I also love how her firm believe in the strength and meaning of familial relationships triggers a shift in Howie. Please keep this in mind for when we discuss 3.16 in a few minutes, friends.

Also that kitchen scene has all my heart. They really said kitchens are a Buddie thing now, didn’t they? (Also from a non shipper perspective, Maddie and Buck are just the sweetest and for a TV show actually fairly realistic siblings. At least if I compare them to my siblings and I.)

Also in terms of the actually topic of my meta’s: this is our first indicator that Eddie considers the 118 his family. And we have another moment of Chimney seeking reassurance / being open with Eddie. I love that they have a friendship like that. (He was so excited about meeting Chimneys brother as well. A little bit puppy and like another reason why Evan and him are friends. (As if we need more)) Also love that Eddie is secure enough to voice these feelings!

(Eddie really does seem so healed in this episode? So open? And happy? Damn, Frank, you know your shit! My man had some growth.)

Now, for some sidenotes to round off this episode, because I have some and I wanna share them:

On the Buckley parents, I think the episode wants to imply that they had plans for Buck? Maybe career wise? Because in the pool scene he says something along the lines of: „Sometimes you have to put / get a little distance“ and since it’s been implied that Buck is also from Pennsylvania or somewhere close by, we can assume that he was talking about himself here. Like he moved all the way across the continent.

I’m also just gonna throw out a prediction for Season 4: since Nia is only a foster child and like 2 years old, it’s safe to assume that she has been only recently taken in. While I do not know the US-Foster system, I do have some knowledge about the German system, so I’ll just predict that either one or both of the birth parents try to get their child back.

Or they just sort of forget about all of this by Season 4.

And I really really really dislike the cancer storyline and how the show is handling it, at least in this episode, specifically in regards to May, who in my opinion, has been both written and treated by the show as someone younger than 18 here, only for the show to then turn around and go all: wow, such an adult, look how wise she is. So awesome. Like nah, son! 3A has shown that she is much maturer than she was treated in this episode.

And Eddie finally got to say „seen this before“ again. I feel like he says that a lot. Should I start a counter for that too or do ya’ll just wanna think about him naked for a bit? (I know, you guys, I know! Should I befriend someone who can make me a bunch of gifs of shirtless Eddie I can pepper in every time we get to heavy around here?)

Episode 3.12:

Ah, yes, „Fools“! The one episode I have to say I can not look at without wearing my shipper goggles. So be warned.

Which is why I’m gonna start with the elephant in the room: Ana Flores.

Now, I’ve seen (and maybe liked / reblogged / queued / drafted (Idk anymore, I’m up to 600 posts in my drafts, 300 in my queue and like 300 liked / reblogged already)) an interview with Ryan Guzman where he talks about Ana and how he isn’t sure yet wether they are heading for romance and how it needs someone incredibly badass to get through Eddie’s defences, because Eddie is barely over his wife’s death and yeah, that! Look, if you’re here, I’m gonna assume you have read the other three parts of this „meta“ and therefore know that I am a proud member of the Shannon Diaz - defense squad and will fight anyone who says a bad word about her. And you will also know that I attribute most of the stupid things Eddie did in 3A to the fact that Shannon died. So there. All caught up.

Now, as for Ana Flores herself (and I’m writing this after 3.16, so who knows what happens next): She might be in Season 4 (I think the interview said something about it or she tweeted something) but I don’t think it has been confirmed yet? So considering what Ryan said they probably won’t end up in a relationship by the end of Season 3 (again, please remember when I am writing this).

I’m not gonna comment on the actress aside from saying, damn, I wish that were me! Other than that? I don’t really care about actors unless I think they are hot and then it’s more of a: uiiii, me like-y. (Madeleine Patch, call me!)

As for the actual scenes, well, I have mixed feelings.

On the one hand side, as I’ve said before, I work with children and the idea of dating the father of one of my babies is just plain wrong to me. So there is that. Morally speaking that storyline would be trash. (And very OOC for Mr. „My son needs to be protected above all“)

Then of course there is what’s actually happening between them which, one, from the get go she seems to not reciprocate Eddie’s advances (he keeps telling her to call him Eddie, she keeps calling him Mr. Diaz). Also that whole speech about horses? Yeah, I know you’re an english teacher but ähm, what? (Put it on the list, Tim, I need answers!)

To sum it up (and explain why I brought up Shannon aside from how much I like her), I don’t think it’s headed for a romance quite yet? They may be playing the slowburn game, but I think it was more like Ali in Season 2. Because as @greyhello pointed out to me in Part 2, Ali might have been there to show us that Buck was ready for a commited relationship and it had never been Abby that made him like that, just as Ana is here to tell us: hey, Eddie is finally accepting his wife’s death and maybe, possibly, some time in the near future, ready to date again. Probably. We’ll see.

Aside from that, I actually think a little crush could be something healthy and healing for Mr. control issues. But, again, we’ll see.

So, elephant addressed. Now let’s move on.

Sidenote: I feel like the parent-teacher conference made Eddie really regret so many of his life decisions. Someone needs to tell Buck so he can make a million puns from here on out and drive Eddie crazy.

(Sidenote: Carla said „big blue eyes“! You know who has big blue eyes? Ah, now I’m just clowning.)

Now this episode returns to the Season 2 formula of giving Eddie and Buck similar storylines:

Because while Eddie meets someone he could potentially be interested it, Buck is also made aware of his single status and the fact that he hasn’t dated in a while.

I do think Buck’s stance in this episode was both curious and familiar. Familiar because it reminded me a lot of Eddie in 2.04 and I think, just like Eddie did before Shannon came back, right then Buck is closing himself off from making connections, be they physical or emotional, because he got hurt too much.

Which is why I call it curious. Because I can not decide wether I consider his behaviour growth or a step back. In Eddie it would definitely be a step back, but in Buck who had been so willing to take any chance for physical intimacy just for the sake of a connection in Season 1 to now at least seem somewhat settled in himself and comfortable with what he has does feel a little like growth? (Then again 3.16 shows us he is just scared of getting hurt again, so probably just covering up is depression.)

Also, again with the kitchen! That puts us at five (?) scenes of Buddie talking about each other or with each other in a kitchen setting (six, if you count 3.03). Now I’m probably clowning myself real hard right now, but whatever!

But I do wanna point out how comfortable Eddie and Buck are discussing Eddie’s parenting struggles, which just shows how much he trusts him.

Now I know, I myself have made a textpost about Eddie discussing his parenting struggles with literally anyone, but ya’ll know I was kidding, right? It isn’t actually true. In canon he talks with exactly 5 people about Christopher:

They are Christopher’s therapist in „Triggers“, Carla, Hen, Lena … and Buck.

Now, here comes something interesting: For Carla and therapist, it is literally their job to help Eddie with his parenting struggles, but all the other scenes? Connected to Buck. Yeah. That.

Look, the Hen scene in the Christmas episode literally involves Buck and as I’ve said both Eddie’s and Buck’s reaction here heavily implied that Eddie has had a conversation with Buck about his fight with Chris before telling Hen all about it.

As for Lena, again, she is *literally* there as a substitute for Buck. She uses his locker. Her name is taped over his - and that is actually such a nice visual, that I wanna talk about it real quick, because I’ve seen it called disrespectful a few times and I don’t agree.

One, the fact that they left the „B“: funny af, someone from set dressing is probably laughing themselves silly about this and is allowed to call me now; also a constant reminder who’s locker and place she is actually occupying. Also how she can never really fully replace him, she can’t cover the hole he left fully, he is always there, lurking.

Two, the fact that it is tape: tape is slightly see through. It is temporary and easily removed. Tape is just a quick, momentary fix. Tape can be taken off / away without effort.

So to sum it up: There’s no one he trusts more with his son.

Which is also why Buck is there at the end: because Buck is who Eddie trusts. Buck is who Eddie goes to when he’s struggling as a father. Buck is who Eddie wants by his side cheering Chris on. I mean, they are literally pushing him together while Carla films (stands on the sidelines, ready to help as needed, but not fully a part of their family unit).

So, to go back to the elephant in the room? Right now I’m not at all worried about Ana Flores.

On another note it’s also one of the last real Buddie scenes we got in 3B so far and while I do understand that there just wasn’t any storyline for them to do such a scene organically, I am very worried about what it could mean. Because I still remember when Teen Wolf stopped putting Tyler H and Dylan in scenes together because people kept screaming queerbaiting.

I don’t want that to happen here. I love Buddie and what it could represent but I’ve also written too much about their respective characters AND their connection by now to disregard how meaningful they ALREADY are and how important even as a platonic pairing they are. Because they make each other so much better and proof that straight man can have deep connection with each other and how two flawed people can help each other heal in a way that I don’t think any other relationship in this show shows.

Back to the episode, though. The ark between Christopher and Eddie here is truly beautiful and I love the way we see Eddie growing as a parent. And I think the show wrote those scenes so well and they felt truly natural and were incredibly important, both for Eddie and Christopher.

I do think, as much as I love Christopher always being Eddie’s number one priority, no matter who Eddie ends up dating (yes, even if he dates Buck) we need to see a bit of a shift here. (Also, just in general, because Christopher will grow up, even if he’ll never be as independent as a fully abled bodied child might someday be.)

Eddie needs to learn to let go of control and of Christopher a bit. Look, a partner will never come before Christopher for Eddie (unless Chris is like in his 40s and has moved out and is living his own life. And even then it’ll be close.) but in order for anyone to ever fit into his life he needs to make a little space at the top and that includes taking away a bit from Christopher.

(Also just selfcare reasons, you guys, parents need to learn that it’s okay to sometimes think about themselves! And we already saw Eddie break once cause it became too much, how easy do you think that can happen again?)

Sidenote: We all know Buck built that, right? He’s been shown again and again to have some mechanical / maschinary (?) understanding plus fairly interesting problem solving skills.

Episode 3.13:

I love the locker room scene. Firstly, it’s a definite reminder that these three have bonded a lot and it’s such a sweet familial scene.

Also Eddie’s advice: yet another hint that he’s healing from Shannon’s death.

Compare it 3.08 and the conversation Bobby had with Eddie. There are no definite callbacks or anything like it, but it is very very very obvious that Eddie is talking about his dead wife here. Who he told he loves her in her last moments. So there.

Now, as for the healing part, could you imagine 3A!Eddie saying something like that to anyone?

Even in 3.03 or 3.06 with Buck, the person he lets himself be the most vulnerable with, there are still always terms and conditions with his words.

He trust no one more with his son, which, okay, is what the scene was about and what has the highest priority in his life but still, his trust isn’t bound to himself, it’s bound to his son, not to himself, not something he has in general for Buck, but something he has for Buck in regards to his son - that Eddie trusts Buck with himself is only ever implied.

He forgives him - „also what it means to be a part of a team“. Eddie sort of impersonalises his forgiveness here, he doesn’t forgive him because he’s Buck and he’s Eddie, he forgives him because they are part of the same team.

With Eddie there is always a wall.

But here in the locker room there isn’t. It’s just: if you love her, tell her, cause you might not get another chance - Eddie certainly doesn’t have another chance to tell Shannon.

And okay, you might say, isn’t that kind of a condition as well? Saying ‚I love you‘ because tomorrow isn’t promised? And sure, it kind of is. But Eddie’s also basically saying: once upon a time I told my wife, who art now in heaven, that I loved her as she was dying and then I got real mad at her and the world after because she left me and she was planning to leave me anyways and now I’m here and I’m over that and I’m just glad I got to tell her ‚I love her‘ one last time. I’m no longer angry.

Growth, you guys.

Episode 3.14:

I feel like the writers read some of ya’ll’s Buddie fanfiction, realised how it mischaracterised the relationship between Buck and Chimney gets and said: not on my watch!

In other words: If Eddie and Buck are different sides of the same coin, Buck and Chimney are the same sides of different coins. They share so many traits and experiences!

Now, this episode. Man, you guys, it really has me stumped. Part of me thinks it doesn’t have relevance and part of me keeps going back because it thinks it does?

Oh man, you guys, I’m lost. I don’t know.

All right, executive decision: no relevance, just another drop on the breakdown-stone that is 3.16.

Someone please tell my man’s boy they need him!

Episode 3.15:

Fun fact to start ya’ll off: this was only the second episode I watched somewhat live being a little new to town and the first I saw without spoiling myself on tumblr. So it has a special place in my heart any way you look at it.

(But then again this episode also involves several of my nightmares: drowning! being below earth! Being in small enclosed spaces! Being buried alive! Huge amounts of mud that will not leave your clothes and fingernails for the next six hundred years!)

Also, uhm, did I say „Fools“ was the *one* episode I could not look at without shipper goggles? So I’m contradicting myself. It happens. Move on. (Yeah, or repress it and join a fight club! Also name check me with your therapist, please! We may have breakdowns but we do them healthy around here!)

Because these fuckers went off! Whew! I’m serious, after watching the episode I sent a clip of that scene to my roommate and asked to rate how platonic this was. Which she did not. Because she doesn’t know math, apparently. - My point is, she sees it and she doesn’t know the show.

In other news this episode convinced me Oliver is pulling an Andrew Robinson (and yes, I know he said it was in the script but then Andy also followed the script, so…).

Sidenote: Eddie is the oldest, right? Damn, for some reason I thought he was the middle child. He has big middle child energy.

(Also why they namedrop Galveston like that? I googled it an it’s just a town? Why, Tim, why?) (At this point he is just torturing me, I know it. This feels personal.)

Anyways, this episode, you guys! I have thoughts! (And they are very hard to put in order so please excuse any jumping around at this point.)

The birthscene is great and can we just for a moment think about 25 year old Eddie hugging his mother in law so very lovingly? He’s so happy here. So soft. (Also I’m about to turn 25? I would not be able to deal with being married right now either?)

And yes, this episode confirms that Eddie has killed people, and while I know it was selfdefense, I just, it’s very weird to me because these characters have become so real to me, so to see one of them kill without a care is kinda off-putting. (This is why I will always consider Eddie grey and why I can never consider Buck white - because he had been planning on joining the Seals meaning he had to consider the possibility of killing and has probably learned to kill (Do you think that’s why he’s so non aggressive? because he knows he could take everyone down?))

I’m just gonna come out and say it: anyone who says Eddie isn’t impulsive has not watched this show. In fact I’d even say he is more impulsive than Buck.

Yes, Buck will do weird and dumb shit on a whim because the thought just crossed his mind and it sounds good and he doesn’t think about the consequences, but just does it. (I could make a case that our boy has ADHD but this is not what this meta is about)

But Eddie? Eddie is impulsive in his reactions. Everytime he is in distress (emotional not physical) he stops thinking about consequences and just starts reacting. Especially if it’s about a child!

Shannon is pregnant - lets sign up for the army.

Our child has a developmental disorder - lets stay in the army.

My parents want to take away my child - lets move halfway across the country.

(Not allowed to talk to your best friend? - lets go streetfighting.)

Eddie probably thinks these things through to a point and he mostly has a plan, but he is so reactionary. He is like a raw nerve and that’s what makes him impulsive.

It’s why, instead of letting them pull him out enough until he can radio, Eddie cuts the fucking line. Because this is a child, this could be Christopher and Eddie needs to be enough to save him.

(Are you crying yet?)

I’m not gonna talk about Afghanistan except to say: ah, Eddie. My man, you are enough! Always!

(But maybe that was his guilt over killing talking? Maybe he does feel bad?)

Also why did the woman emphasis ‚Staff Sergeant‘ like that? Was that an indicator that Eddie got promoted?

Also Eddie the fucking boy scout / alter boy / goody goody two shoes trying to get up because of a superior office despite lying in a hospital bed (and not even having been cleaned from his blood yet, urgh that’s gotta itch!)

Sidenote: in light of 3.16: do you think Eddie still talks to Mills, Binder, Norwahl and what all their names are or do you think that would be too hard for him? I’m leaning toward not talking but I really liked Mills (she reminded me of Buck and Lena, tbh.)

And now, for our regular scheduled program: Shannon and Eddie.

First of all I loved all of it. I loved that we could really understand why Shannon left. I love how much they clashed but still had those little moments of recognition.

And look: The juice box scene was very rough. Eddie is likely currently suffering from PTSD, definitely having a culture shock and here is his wife who is barely holding on as well and she just wants to leave, she can’t deal anymore and both of them are so desperate and wow, just wow. Kudos Ryan and kudos Devin Kelley, I’m sad we won’t see you again, but I do hope I’ll see you somewhere else one of these days!

I’ve talked about their relationship a lot already, so I’m not sure if I have any fresh takes but I will remind you of a few you already know:

Eddie is not in love with Shannon after Afghanistan (haven’t decided yet if he was in love with her in the birth scene)

Shannon *needed* Eddie to open up to her just as much as she needed to be open with her

Eddie was not able to be emotionally intimate with his wife

they cared about each other very very much and I do think they tried

they are family (remember what I said in part 2 about Eddie talking to the 118 about Shannon? This here proof that he definitely defended her actions at some point to them as well)

Shannon was in an impossible situation with her mother and a special needs child and likely burned out and just … she needed someone to have her back, which Eddie couldn’t because he himself was suffering from PTSD at that point

I’m still mad as fuck, they killed her off! If they give Eddie any other endgame romance that isn’t Buddie without like two seasons buildup after killing off HIS WIFE I will riot!

Which brings me to Eddie and his parents which was rough, you guys!

Look, as someone who worked with children I can see where his parents are coming from in that scene but also wow, just wow.

How cold and insensitive and fuck, no wonder someone is repressed as shit, that was horrifying and I really can’t talk about this more than to say this hurts and also explains too much about Eddie. (Can we have the locker room three bonding about having horrible parents in Season 4, please, Tim? And can Buck come too? We could do it at the loft?)

As for his conversation with Christopher, obviously it was cute as fuck and also I love how he began the conversation talking to his child like every adult male I have ever met talking to a kid about something he knows will go over it’s head („It’s like we’re talking about completely different people.“). (Okay, maybe not just adult males. Maybe we all talk like that around children sometimes. I know I do.)

I really liked how they reinforced once again that Eddie wasn’t a natural at being a dad (compare how he holds his son to season 1 Buck who most definitely knows how to handle a child (And now I’m wondering if him being good at it was always planned or a „Oliver did a great job the first time we had him interact with a child so we decided to make it a trait“-thing. Damn you, Tim, for making me think so much!)) but became good at it because he was willing to learn and he cared! Dads of the world (also Moms, we aren’t all super duper either) take note!

That being said the conversation also left a bit of a bitter taste in my mouth because, one, it felt a little petulant of Eddie to turn around and leave for LA, the way it was presented here and two, Christopher at that point didn’t understand yet what Eddie was actually asking him about and it felt a bit like manipulation. Please everyone, do not consider a conversation like that consent from a child. Any adult can get a child that age to say anything they want because children just want to be liked (It’s why when children are involved in criminal proceedings it’s so hard to interview them because children follow every suggestion because they think this is what the adults want them to say.).

Now, let’s talk about puppy!boy for a second!

In 1.05 Buck tells Abby: „no one is good when it’s personal“ - well guess what buddy boys, this one is very personal for one Evan ‚Buck’ Buckley, thank you very much, that boy is losing it.

Okay, let’s compare it to the episode before and then two episodes later:

Now, obviously the situation with Maddie was a little different. Mainly because this was a hostage situation and he realised (because Seal training, remember?) that there wasn’t a lot he could do to help her right then but then again … neither was there in Season 2 when Maddie was in danger and he still acted far more frantic in the car with Athena than he did here? Like the only stupid thing he did was drive a little dangerously this time?

And of course, two episodes later we see Bobby react when Athena is in danger and while we don’t see him be frantic we do see him get ready to kill someone, so, yeah!  It could of course be inconsistent writing or deliberate to keep the attention and worry more on the people in the call centre but since they haven’t pulled anything like that before I’m leaning more into my clowning.

I mean, we also have to consider that Buck was Eddie’s lifeline here, he was supposed to be the one to get him out, so he feels extra responsible but then again we have Hen make this comment about having two cut lines, which of course says that Hen thinks that one: whatever reason Eddie had to cut his line will definitely be considered a just as valid reason by Buck to cut his line but also: BUCK WOULD DECIDE TO DIE DOWN THERE WITH EDDIE. Sorry for the yelling, but no, I do not think Buck acted out of character in 3.14.

(Which is very irresponsible, you guys. You are fathers! What happens to Christopher when ya’ll die in a well somewhere in fictional California? I can not live in fictional California! I will not be taking care of your child, Buddie! Figure it out yourself! No. We are done here! This conversation is over!)

(Okay, not quite, because I actually don’t think that would be realistic! More realistic: Buck giving Eddie his harness so he can get pulled out first and then dying down there alone.)

Like I’ve said in the at the beginning: Oliver might be pulling an Andrew Robinson. It might have just been the way they thought Buck would act if he lost Eddie while being responsible. It might have been fever making him delirious (which, btw, kudos! Because you can hear how sore his throat was and omg, that shirt hurt!)

Never mind I found the heavy focus on Buck in an episode about Eddie fairly curious - which is why now it’s video-talk time!

First: I will not bear Shannon slander around here! Yes, she was in way less scenes than Buck, but the actress also was never a main character, so ya’ll need to remember there are like 2 scenes of them as a family. And they probably didn’t have the time, money and energy to film some just for a montage - especially considering that the three of them have hardly been a family together, because first Eddie was gone and then Shannon, so…

But yes, we do have to admit that Buck was in most scenes, and yes, we do have to consider the implications of this which are: Buck is definitely a vital member of the Diaz family and when Eddie says: I’m always gonna come home to my family, this now includes Buck and I hope we see him tell him that at one point in the final cause I need him to!

And then of course there is also the radio scene in the beginning (which lead to one of my proudest tumblr-moments to date in form of this post!) which did ease us into the concept of Bucky-boy being a member of the Diaz family! So it is canon now?!

One thing I wanna point out about the school scene in the end in regards to this is that little boy’s question. Sure they used it as transition to calling Christopher his good luck charm but, uhm, why did they have Buck ask about it in the beginning then? Why have this sort of unnecessary callback to the beginning of the episode unless they want us to remember Buck?

Something to ponder for the next week, I think.

Also the episode sort of reinforced my believe that we don’t really have to worry about Ana Flores. Sure, this scene was also a chance for Eddie to redeem himself in front of a teacher he screamed at just a few weeks prior but the only interaction they had was her asking that question at the end and Eddie hardly looked at her.

(Also, if they really wanted to reinforce Eddie being interested in her, they could have had Carla make a dig about it in the beginning, even with Christopher there, but they didn’t, which to me confirms that they don’t really know what to do with her yet.)

At least Ryan was finally taking his shirt off again, I know that’s like catnip for ya’ll.

Episode 3.16:

One thing that really confuses me is how many people seem to think this episode points out only how important romantic relationship are and I don’t see that?

I mean, I see that it’s one of the points that is being made but I don’t think it’s the only possible reading of this episode.

To me it was about connection and family more than anything.

It begins actually with Eddie (the person most connected to Buck) being the first person to decline Buck’s invite, not in favour of spending time with a romantic partner, but because he has a prior commitment with his son! (And several other people, including, but not limited to, at least 2 other nine year olds. For Eddies sake I hope less than 5 or that Carla is around because he is a single father and children unionise by nature.)

And it continues with Buck by forming a connection to Red and then bonding with Maddie.

And can I just say, before we delve more into all of this, how proud I am of Evan „Buck“ Buckley after this episode? Just look at him!

This is Buck at his lowest, lower even than during the lawsuit, because back then he had something to fight against, which he doesn’t have here. Because he can’t stop other people from leaving him (that is the whole point of the episode after all) and what does he do? Instead of going full on Buck 1.0 and just finding the nearest interested person to form a meaningless physical connection with to substitute for the lacking emotional intimacy he craves so much, he goes to a bar alone and befriends an old man. And spends the rest of the episode bonding with him. And bonding with his sister. And addressing his issues, both with his sister and his family. That is huge!

(Which is why I’ve decided him not wanting to date? Symptom of his deeper issues, yes, but also a sign of growth.)

And I’ve seen some people on my dash talk about how, compared to most other 911 episodes, this episode has a fairly bleak ending, which one I agree with, two think is actually a theme with Buck centric episodes, but three don’t actually mind / think is a bad thing? It’s fairly realistic after all.

To get personal one second: I remember being a very idealistic 20-year old intern working in the foster system five years ago and my mentor, who was less than 10 years older than me but fairly badass teaching me something that technically is a well known proverb but that I, a idealistic 20-year old, had not actually understood until I worked there and saw it myself: manchmal muss man den Karren an die Wand fahren - translation: sometimes you have to let the trolley drive into the wall, which means sometimes you have to let things play out till it’s natural end before you can help. Or to use an english proverb: Sometimes you have to hit rock bottom.

And this is what I’m thinking - no, hoping - is happening here. Because, look, you don’t just solve like 20 or more years of abandonment issues in one episode and considering what a big part of Buck’s character from the moment we met him they have been, that would have been unsatisfying to watch anyways! What we need right now, in terms of Buck’s storyline is catharsis. A cleansing. Buck needs to get to his worst (which I think he did or he will, once he talks to Abby) before he can begin to get better, can begin to heal, can begin to learn that he is not alone. And that is not a bad thing!

And yes, I know our boy is suffering and we along with him because we all love Evan Buckley to death but sometimes you gotta let things break so you can fix them instead of just putting tapes over the holes you see (haha, see what I did there?).

As for the episode, here we go:

I wanna start with something else real quick which is Hen’s subplot which I found important. Because they addressed that hey, she went through a trauma not to long ago as well and maybe she is not as okay with it as we thought?

Also it shows Bobby’s double standard again, but then I think he would have reacted differently if the guy had died and it was evident Hen realised she should never pull a stunt like that again. And maybe I’m giving Bobby a bit to much credit right now. Urgh.

I do wanna say, while Chimney seemed fine at the end with what went down we did see his reaction in the next episode and honestly he is mad, it’s just that Hen is his best friend and Chimney lives on the principle of forgive and forget so there.

Now I do really like the rope rescue scene because it was badass and also because Eddie seems so done in the beginning and Bobby just looks at him like: well, he’s not doing it alone and he’s probably not gonna cut his rope!

(Also notice how Eddie cut his rope willingly but Buck’s was cut for him? What does that mean? - For reals, I may see the connection but I can’t yet make out the meaning.)

But I did appreciate Hen’s comments about them being their best guys a lot! I kind of want an episode like they used to do on Star Trek were they focus on background characters and give us the way everyone probably sees Buddie as some kind of superhuman supermen who pull the craziest stunts and somehow make it! And now, let’s get into Evan!

First of, I now Cindy was meant as a parallel to Abby but I also think to Ali because Abby didn’t leave because she couldn’t handle the fear but Ali did. So there, a sort of Ali Martin mention! Thanks for listening, Tim.

But of course with everything else Cindy is quite the parallel to Abby from the way she just left and Red never really got closure, just like Buck.

What is interesting though is that Red, different to Buck, doesn’t want closure. He wants to remember the good times and imagine what could have been. (This could of course be due to the fact that his life is about to end.)

Buck on the other hand side really craves closure, and look, I know when we first learned she is definitely coming back I was really unhappy about that, but since then we learned they run into each other which makes it fine to me. Because I thought we’d have another instance of Buck running after Abby for validation and I did not want that. But he’s not actually running after her, it’s just a coincidence so I’m happy for him getting a chance to have closure, finally.

And this is were I think the episode proofs that it’s not about romantic love as the only way to be fulfilled, first because after talking about Abby Buck asks „Do you think I’m lonely?“ which is not about romance at all (had they wanted to make it about love it would have been: „Do you think I’ll find love again?“ or something). Also the conclusion of this episode is Maddie telling Buck he is different to Red because he has her (and in general those scenes between them, yes, they were also about Abby because she was another person Buck has been left by but just like they mention a best friend in terms of people Maddie left behind it is not about the romantic aspect, it is about people he loves in general), because he has a sister and she won’t leave him again - so there, familial love! The pinky swear! The importance of family. (see 3.11)

Also had it really been about love you know what would have happened since then? We’d have seen Buck calling Abby! Maddie would have said something about Buck still being young and having time to meet someone! Instead Abby and Buck run into each other by accident and Maddie makes a pinky swear to never leave again, so yeah, I just think sometimes we need to wait for how stuff plays out before we judge.

Now of course I wanna mention the pool scene as well.

Firstly, I know we already traced a lot of what Buck says at the end back to Eddie and the grocery store but did ya’ll here Chimney say: „Seems like your making this about yourself“ and Bobby implying the same thing, so yeah, I wonder if it was them quoting Eddie or if this is what everyone is supposed to be thinking or if it was just a setup for the breakdown at the end.

Also let’s talk about Eddie real quick here, because I found it really weird that they didn’t reference his platoon from Afghanistan here? Like they could have easily have him say „I’m not in the army anymore but I still talk to my old platoon.“, especially since we MET them one episode before. So either they didn’t think of that, they wanted to reinforce the fear Buck has or Eddie may just be as lonely as Buck?

(Guess which way I’m leaning?)

(Look, children are great but they are no substitute for friends and adult conversation, just saying!)

But I love how hard Mr. Stoic and emotionally unavailable tries to reassure Buck, tries to be there for him. And also did ya’ll notice how, once Eddie speaks for the first time Buck’s focus never strays from him. Hen and Chimney and Bobby talk as well but it seems as if Buck never looked away from Eddie. (Which, definitely get that, he looked good here.) Also how Buck stresses the “That better not happen to us“ - man, what conversation could he be referencing? Man, I wish I had memorised this show by now so I could tell you about two scenes that happened in 3A between Buddie where the topic of us was emphasised a lot but alas I don’t and I can’t.

What the pool scene also proofs once more is that the 118 just like an actual family has a lot of communication issues because Hen and Chimney not being in contact with Tommy or so is a completely different situation but because of their bad communication they don’t realise that this is something they need to explain to Buck because they think this is about Red.

Bobby doesn’t get it either tbh.

But we all know who does, look, I said it about 3.03 and I’ll say it now: Eddie knows Buck. Eddie understands Buck. And Eddie is on the path of realising that Buck needs him to say the actual words and not just let his actions speak! And my my if all of this pays off I will be one happy camper! (Hums Rihanna “We found love in a hopeless place”)

On a sidenote I hate that Red pegged Buck as a hothead because he really really isn’t! He’s just excitable and sometimes struggles with expressing himself and that frustrates him!

Also I never noticed the apartment had an outside area? did we know this? There is a grill?

Also really would love to see Gigi / Dana Strattford again, I liked her, she’s pretty! (But not like to date one of my guys, Tim, kay?)

(Also whats Officer Williams up to these days? Asking for … a friend?)

And to round this episode up: Oliver still looked so sick at times and they put a lot more makeup on him than they normally do? Usually you can see the slight scaring on his face but this episode you couldn’t but you could see the tears / snot mixing with all the makeup when he was crying and honestly, not his best look! (He still makes it work, though! Just saying, I miss 1.02 / 3.02 / 3.03 Buck, I know these episodes hurt but visually they are peak!)

Episode 3.17:

Was that episode amazing? Yes.

Am I still cackling about Oliver Stark having too much leg? Yes.

Did I love the Frank mention with all my heart? Yes.

Was Michael’s meet cute in an elevator less gay than any Buddie scene we got so far specifically any in 2.01 also known as their meet-ugly? That was a rhetorical question, you guys.

As for that comment I wouldn’t put too much stock into it. I mean, if you’re a single guy and you get invited out to fifth wheel at a double date with your sister and her boyfriend and his best friend and her wife, no matter how close you are, you will feel awkward so of course you invite the other single guy who happens to be your best friend who happens to be part of the friendgroup AND the team you’re working with making this a definite team/family/work - outing.

That being said: it took me 23h to come up with a reasonable explanation for this comment and I did scream at my laptop and pause the episode after it was made and I have been thinking “Buddie” confirmed about 100 times since then!

Also, they just spent a shit ton of time together, right? Like, if Buck’s there than so is Eddie and if Eddie is there than so is Buck and I’m clowning and not calm anymore!

Maybe “Buck invites Eddie” can be our always?

In other news this episode has absolutely no relevance for anything, but I love it deeply.

And we made it you guys! It was slower going but it worked!

Thank you to everyone who read so far and thank you to everyone who has been liking and reblogging and commenting! I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express how much this means to me!

(Also please keep doing that! I too am an excitable puppy looking for validation!)

Now, to tag:

@angelcamael, @greyhello, @ipleiade, @the-family-we-choose-118 @chimbuckleys @sevensoulmates

#buddie meta #buck meta #eddie meta #911 meta #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 #911 fox #season 3 #textpost #mine #meta #buck #my meta

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repulsivepangolin · 3 years

Text

SEAL Team Whumptober 28/31 -All

A/N: So, I decided to do something a little different for this prompt. Also, some sort of TRIGGER WARNING [wrist wound] for the Full Metal part here. (Call it second-hand trigger warning?) ____________

No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS. Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged

____________

Jason

“Hey, Trent…”

Trent looked up and saw Jason walking towards him, his right hand pressed down on his left, blood trickling down towards his elbow.

For a second he just stood there dumbfounded as Bravo-1 approached.

“What…?”

“Knife slipped.” Jason explained, “Was hoping you could place a couple of stitches, or just make it stop bleeding.”

“What were you doing?”

“Lost my screwdriver…”

“-you lost your screwdriver?” Trent repeated, “Want to tell me how that correlates with the bleeding cut on your hand?”

“Not really…”

“Let’s just pretend I won’t do anything about it unless you tell me…”

“-I might have used my knife instead of the screwdriver…”

“I knew it!” Trent sighed, “You do know most people realize that’s a bad idea, while they’re still kids…”

“I don’t need a lecture, I need stitches.”

“You need both.”

Ray

Sonny looked back when Ray cussed behind him.

He found Ray sitting on the ground, clutching his ankle.

“You good there?”

“Twisted my ankle…” Ray frowned, rubbing at the joint.

“You think you can complete the run, or…?”

“If we were on an OP, I could’ve pushed on, no problems.” Ray shrugged, “But, give me a minute or two…”

Sonny nodded and stepped over in order to sit down on a nearby rock.

Sonny

“The hell happened to you?” Metal frowned as Sonny walked in, “You walk into a door or something?”

Sonny grunted, but didn’t answer straight away.

“Okay, don’t answer…” Metal shrugged, “That’s alright…”

“He got suckerpunched at the strip bar last night…” Clay chuckled.

“You did not break the no-touchy rule?” Trent offered up.

“No.” Sonny scowled, “Some guy wanted my wallet. Got a punch in before I knew anything.”

Trent

He cussed on the way down. He really thought he had it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had straight out failed an obstacle at the obstacle course.

He cussed even louder once he actually landed.

His left shoulder had made sickening sound. He wasn’t sure if it was an actual sound, or just one of those sounds he thought he heard, cause he could feel it inside his body.

His shoulder gave, and for a couple of seconds there was blissful numbness. Then the cramping pain took over and he rolled to his side.

“Whoa, that looked bad…” Sonny grimaced as he landed the way one was supposed to land, a few feet off to Trent’s side, “Did you hurt yourself?”

Trent nodded as he tried to ride out the initial wave of pain.

“Bad?”

“Think I dislocated my shoulder.” Trent bared his teeth, “Feels like it.”

“Alright… Alright…” Sonny nodded, “You need help back up?”

Trent shook his head as he slowly got up on his knees, supporting his left elbow, “I’ve got this.”

“-You probably want to go see some of the professionals to get that shoulder popped back in, since we’re not on a mission right now. Right?”

Trent nodded.

“You want company walking over there?”

“Sure…” Trent nodded.

Brock

He figured it had to be one of the most embarrassing ways to end up limping as a tier-one operator.

It hadn’t been by going full throttle on a mission, it hadn’t been by sparring with Full Metal or Ray, it hadn’t been by faulty safety gear.

No, he came limping into work because he had gotten out of bed in a wrong way. And now he felt about 97 years old.

Clay

He couldn’t remember what had happened when he woke up. He was coughing. It felt like he was puking water. Probably not too far from the truth.

“Hey…” Jason grinned down at him, “Thanks for coming back.”

“Wha-” his question was cut short by another violent coughing fit.

“You kinda drowned…” Sonny grimaced.

“-Just a little…” Ray clarified, “Like many did at the 50-meter underwater swim in BUDs…”

Clay coughed some more, “I hated that exercise.”

“Me too, Blondzilla.”

Full Metal

“Oops.”

“Oops, what?” Trent directed his eyes at the guy he considered one of his best friends, he knew the man well enough to know that ‘oops’ was one of the worst things you could hear from him.

“Sliced my…” Full Metal paused a bit, “Not sure if I should say hand or arm… Sliced something open.”

Trent’s eyes found Metal’s bleeding hand-wrist-forearm, he wasn’t really sure which part of Metal’s arm was bleeding yet, but it was BLEEDING.

And out of all the stupid things Alpha-1 could do, he just stood there, looking at the blood dripping from his hand.

“PRESSURE!” Trent ordered as he wrapped Metal’s own hand around his wrist, “What happened?”

“I… I don’t know…” Metal shrugged a little, finally able to get his eyes away from his hand, “I really don’t know. I was… I was moving stuff around in the shelves in front of me, and then my wrist stung.”

Trent nodded a little, “I’m gonna go through my kit, find something that’ll stop the bleeding. You keep pressure on the wound until I’m ready.”

Metal nodded a little, visibly paler than usual.

“I feel a little sick.”

“Yeah?” Trent looked up from where he was opening up his kit, “Try to sit down, I don’t want you to pass out.”

“And dizzy.” Metal nodded a little and looked around for somewhere to sit.

“-And keep pressure on it.”

Metal nodded again.

“You still feel your fingers?”

“I think so…” Metal shrugged a little, “Man, that really made me nauseous.”

“The blood?” Trent asked as he found the right dressing and pulled it out of his bag. He had already pulled a tourniquet from his vest.

“No, before it started bleeding.” Metal shuddered, “I think it was pretty deep, looked that way.”

Trent frowned, “Alright, let’s sit you down right here. Then I won’t have to worry about you passing out. Then I’ll put a pressure bandage on.”

“The slick warm feeling isn’t helping…” Metal swallowed as best as he could. He had closed his eyes already, making sure he wouldn’t have to look at it anymore.

“I can’t remember you reacting like this to an injury before…” Trent frowned as he removed Metal’s glove and pushed his sleeve up get a proper view of the wound.

“Don’t tell anyone, alright…”

“Metal, that should be last on your list of priorities right now.” Trent almost scowled as he placed the tourniquet to stop the bleeding while he assessed the wound and placed a pressure bandage which would hopefully be enough to slow the bleeding on it’s own.”

“No-no-no-no…” Metal shook his head, “Not about me acting this way. -My high school sweetheart. She… I can’t stand those kinds of wounds.”

Trent felt his jaw nearly unhinge. He had known the man in front of him since what felt like forever. How did he not know that little piece of information already?

“Feel like I’m gonna puke…” Metal swallowed hard once more.

“Please don’t…” Trent grimaced a little, “But if you do… Aim the other way…”

Metal nodded a little.

“-And, if you need to talk about this… Or that other stuff… You can talk to me. Okay?”

“I know.” Metal nodded, eyes still closed hard, one single wet trail leading down one of his cheeks, “I just buried all those memories in that deep, pitch black place in the back of my mind. Hasn’t really thought about it the last twenty something years.”

Trent looked up from where his hands were working, “Okay. But you’ll let me know if you need anything?”

Metal nodded.

* * *

“What happened here?” Ray asked as he entered the room Trent and Metal were in.

“He sliced himself up on something sharp over there…” Trent jerked his head in the direction of the blood pool where Metal had stood, “Felt a bit nauseous and dizzy.”

“Is it bad?”

“Bad placement, and pretty deep.” Trent nodded, then he indicated the floor with his elbow, “Bled a bit. Don’t move stuff over there in that shelf, we didn’t see what the sharp object was.”

“Copy that…” Ray nodded and grimaced at the scene, “You need any help?”

“No, think I’ve got it…” Trent shook his head, “But, you could see if you find one of those chocolate bars in my rucksack, and some water. Think he could use both.”

Metal nodded a little.

“Yeah, I’ll find something.” Ray nodded.

#whumptober2020 #no.28 #such wow #many normal #very oops #such wow many normal very oops #accidents #mugged #SEAL Team #SEAL Team cbs #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #accident #small tidbits

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thethirdamell · 3 years

Text

Accursed Ones - Ch. 136 - World Gone Crazy

This is an edited version of Chapter 136 of Accursed Ones that does not include the scene with sexual assault if you wanted to read more than the summary but did not want that content included.

9:35 Dragon 19 Eluviesta Early Evening Ferelden: Vigil’s Keep Crypts

“See how the rain has washed away The tears that you were crying? Though the darkness calls me down You know we all are dying…”

Anders inhaled shakily at the end of the verse, too choked to sing the next. He closed his eyes and thumped his head against Sigrun's sarcophagus, wishing she was here with him. She'd always been able to make him smile. At least he finally had a song for her.

“A little early for your Calling, isn’t it?” A familiar voice asked.

Nate. The Warden Constable stood at the base of the stairwell into the crypts. His hair had gotten longer, a mane of black he’d braided like one. He’d traded his goatee for stubble, as if he needed more shadow. He had enough of it under his eyes, in his voice, in the ghost of a smile he wore on his lips. He looked good. A little fat.

“Men are always premature,” Velanna chimed in from beside him. She looked better, wild blonde bangs obscuring the vallaslin on her face but not the resting bitch. Someone must have forced her into real clothes, an elegant dress that looked like folded leaves corseted about her waist and pinned in place by a gryphon pendant at her collarbone. “A Shred of Blue? This is the best you could do?”

“At least she’d understand it,” Anders countered. It wasn’t in elvish, which seemed like it should give him a point over Velanna’s old song.

“She would understand you’ve a terrible singing voice,” Velanna said, joining him on the floor. She smelled like the forest, and age-old memories. “What are you singing of your Calling for, you fool?”

Because it feels like I went to it.

“Death and dying was her thing,” Anders shrugged, scrubbing the tears from his eyes with the heel of his palm.

Nathaniel toyed with one of the flowers on Sigrun’s tomb. “Can you feel her?”

“Normal question," Anders said.

“In the Stone,” Nathaniel elaborated. “Oghren says she makes the Vigil stronger.”

“Oghren also says dwarves are born from the Stone as rocks,” Velanna rolled her eyes.

“Velanna believed him,” Nathaniel grinned.

“Oghren?” Anders repeated, something almost like a smile creeping at the corners of his lips. “You believed something Oghren said?”

“I did not say I believed him,” Velanna kicked a foot out at Nathaniel, who dodge nimbly to the other side of Anders. “I said I almost believed him.”

“Pink rocks for girls, gray rocks for boys,” Nathaniel elaborated, sliding down on the opposite side of Anders. “Dipped in lava until they hatch.”

Anders exhaled hard through his nose. Velanna elbowed him for it, a sharp stab beneath his ribs that came with a surge of relief for the excuse it gave his tears. Anders choked on a sob, and Velanna crushed him into a sudden hug Nathaniel quickly joined. Limbs and hands tangled together with the scent of leather and leaves, and Anders felt better than he had in weeks. He was still crying, but there was something safe in it, in the shadow of Sigrun’s tomb, where no one would question his tears.

“You idiot,” Velanna muttered into his chest.

“She means-” Nathaniel started.

“I know,” It was so hard to know anything recently, Anders couldn’t have been more grateful when he did. He couldn’t not know, crushed between two of the best friends he’d ever had in his life. He grabbed an ankle and a wrist, his face in Velanna’s hair. "I'm an idiot."

Velanna thumped a fist against his chest. “You and your spirit both.”

“An inescapable one," Nathaniel said.

“I’m special that way,” Anders said.

“That’s one way to put it," Nathaniel said.

“Ironic is another," Velanna countered. "How is it you escape your templars and we cannot escape you?"

"You're the one who came to see me," Anders pointed out.

"I came to see Sigrun," Velanna said, untangling herself from him to settle more comfortably against his side.

"Liars," Nathaniel kept an arm around Anders' shoulders. "Both of you."

"Us?" Anders joked, leaning back against the tomb and Nathaniel’s arm. "Lie about feelings?"

"I have never," Velanna huffed.

"You'd have to have some first," Anders pointed out.

"I have feelings."

"Bitchy isn't a feeling."

"Neither is stupidity."

"It's been working out for me so far."

"I would imagine, considering you have the emotional depth of a puddle."

"I'm an ocean."

"You're an idiot."

"I'm glad the two of you are still so close," Nathaniel said.

"Do not be jealous," Velanna waved a hand at him.

"Who's he jealous of though?" Anders wondered.

"You, obviously," Velanna said.

"You sure about that?" Anders raised an eyebrow at her.

"Velanna," Nathaniel said.

"I knew it," Anders grinned.

"I'm breaking up with you," Velanna said over him.

"Again?" Nathaniel sighed.

"We can share, I have two hands," Anders joked, waving both.

"Touch me with them and I will break them," Velanna threatened.

"I'm a healer," Anders shrugged, throwing an arm around her shoulder that Velanna did not in fact break.

A companionable silence stretched, and Anders breathed easier for it. His broken heart felt better, splinted between old friends, and for a time he could pretend the past four years had been a fever dream and he wasn’t living some waking nightmare without them.

"I have to admit, I didn't think it would be this easy," Nathaniel broke the silence.

"What?" Anders asked.

"Going back in time," Nathaniel clarified.

Anders thought of Amell, and the smile he'd had for him, and how nothing Anders had done had managed to take it away. "...I did."

The three of them stayed in the crypts, talking about what Amell had planned for the month. There was the feast, of course, paired with so many minstrels and bards it would have made an Orlesian blush. A theater troupe on reserve for evening plays. A veritable tourney's worth of games for the days.

"What if I hadn't shown?" Anders couldn’t help wondering.

“Then you’d have been even more of a fool than usual,” Velanna said.

“I think we all know there was no chance of that,” Nathaniel grinned, a secretive sort of grin that made Anders’ sick to his stomach wondering if they knew about his letters to Amell. “We’re keeping you. I’m sure dinner is about to start. Shall we?”

We shan’t. We shan’t because if we shalled then we’d have to go back inside wearing the wrong ring for the wrong man but there was nowhere else to go. Anders followed them out of the crypts and back into the Vigil, where servants were hurrying back and forth arranging the main hall for a banquet. Tables were being pushed together, benches were being carried out, a stage was being set up.

For Anders. All of it was for Anders.

Amell couldn’t tell him it was for all mages or his morals or any of the other excuses he’d used years ago whenever Amell had done something kind for him. It was just about Anders. It was always just about Anders. It was there in his letters, and the way that he signed them every month, with a quiet Always, Amell like it meant something different if he didn’t put Yours in front of it.

Hawke probably knew that, and that was probably why he manifested out of the Fade like some reincarnation of his mother to confront the three of them the second they set foot in the hall.

“There you are,” Hawke signed, a hand on his arm dragging Anders away from Nathaniel and Velanna and out of the flow of traffic. “Where have you been?”

“With my friends,” Anders signed.

“Everything alright?” Nathaniel asked.

“I-” Anders started, but Hawke was still signing, and he couldn’t pay attention to two conversations at once.

“You can’t just leave without telling me,” Hawke signed.

“I didn’t leave,” Anders argued.

“How would I know?” Hawke countered. “I can’t talk to anyone here but you and Varric. I shouldn’t have to remind you. You know why I’m deaf.”

Hawke was right. He shouldn’t have had to remind him, but for some reason he did. Hawke was deaf and it was Anders' fault. Anders had abandoned him, and Hawke had gotten hurt, and Anders hadn’t been there to heal him. The man responsible for his mother’s death had healed him instead, and Anders was still lying to him about it.

“I’m sorry,” Anders signed, because he should be sorry, but he was too busy feeling sorry for himself.

“Just tell me next time,” Hawke signed.

“Oi, Sparkles!” A familiar voice bellowed. Anders tore his eyes off Hawke to the sight of Oghren stomping across the hall like a bronto and rolling up his sleeves as he went. “I warned ya! I’m gonna kick your sorry ass!”

“I missed you too-” Anders started.

Oghren slammed a fist into his stomach. It wasn’t enough to knock him on his ass, but it was enough to bend him over it. Anders wheezed, while Velanna laughed and Nathaniel looked like he was struggling not to. “That’s for sending us the old broad,” Oghren spat. “Now we’re even-”

Oghren didn’t get further than that before Hawke grabbed his shoulder and spun him into his fist. Oghren reeled back a pace from the suckerpunch, rubbing his jaw while a vicious grin crept onto his face. “Boy, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for some son of a bitch to do that.”

It felt like there was a moment where Anders could have said something. Done something.

It passed.

“Here comes Oghren!” Oghren bellowed, charging forward to ram his shoulder into Hawke’s stomach and slam him bodily into the wall. Hawke collided with a pained grunt, and brought an ineffectual elbow down on the crook of Oghren’s neck. He couldn’t have been at more of a disadvantage, facing off against a berserker in melee combat with a height difference that made every knee and elbow hit just shy of where they should.

Anders wondered why he didn’t care more.

“Would you like this to stop…?” Nathaniel asked.

“It seems it will soon,” Velanna noted. “Five silver for the dwarf.”

“You can’t always bet on Oghren when this happens,” Nathaniel sighed.

“You are just tired of losing.”

“And your point, my lady?”

“My point is you should bet sooner.”

Hawke finally broke free of the exchange, rolling clear of Oghren’s flailing fists and slinging a flask at his feet that exploded in a cloud of dust. Oghren sneezed. “Knockout powder? I’ll use that shit for seasonin’ when I serve you up your ass! Let’s go-!”

“Oghren,” Nathaniel interjected. “That’s enough.”

“He soddin’ started it-”

“I said that’s enough.”

“Elf bet first, didn’t she?” Oghren guessed.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Nathaniel sniffed.

“I did,” Velanna said cheerily.

“Pha,” Oghren spat. “Whatever.”

“Are you alright?” Anders signed while his friends argued.

“Am I alright?” Hawke signed back with one hand, and held his injured side with the other. Anders belatedly remembered to send a surge of creationism through him, washing away the bruises Oghren had left on him. “He attacked me.”

“You punched him,” Anders signed.

“For punching you!” Hawke signed.

“He’s my friend,” Anders argued. “He didn’t hurt me-”

“He punched you,” Hawke corrected him. “And they laughed! They’re not your friends. They’re assholes.”

“They are my friends-” Anders argued.

“You haven’t been friends with them for years,” Hawke countered. “If you were still their friend they wouldn’t treat you this way.”

They weren’t treating him like anything. It wasn’t like it was the first time Oghren had punched him. It was Oghren. Oghren punched everyone. Oghren had even warned him he was going to kick his ass when he showed up, and if he really wanted to hurt him he could have done a lot worse than a gut punch. And sure, maybe Velanna had elbowed him, but…

“It’s not like that,” Anders signed.

“Yes it is,” Hawke signed. “You think Varric would ever do that to you? You think I would? They’re not your friends - they never were.”

That wasn’t right. It wasn’t right. The Wardens were his friends. Nathaniel and Velanna and Oghren and Amell. They were some of his best friends, but Anders could still feel the pain of Velanna’s elbow and Oghren’s fist, and he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to do.

He was so tired.

“Everything alright, Anders?” Nathaniel asked again.

“Aye, he’s fine,” Oghren slapped Anders’ shoulder. It hurt a little, but it wasn’t-... It just wasn’t like that. “He’s a tough son of a bitch. Good fight.” Oghren held out a meaty hand for Hawke, who eyed it with a scowl.

“Good fight,” Anders translated.

“Whatcha waving for?” Oghren frowned.

“Hawke’s deaf,” Anders reminded him.

“Looks fine to me,” Oghren said.

“Deaf, you toadstool, not dead,” Velanna rolled her eyes.

“Ah. Shame,” Oghren shrugged, giving up on the handshake when Hawke didn’t take it. “So we gonna eat or we gonna stand around and starve till our trousers drop?”

“Drop your trousers around me again, dwarf, and I will make sure you have no need of them,” Velanna threatened him, but they headed off towards the main hall, trading the same shoves they gave Anders. Because they shoved everyone. Because they were soldiers. Because they were Wardens. Because they were friends.

They were his friends.

Hawke wrapped an arm around his waist and kept him from following. Anders didn’t want an arm around his waist but he didn’t know how to get it off. Nathaniel raised an eyebrow for it. He looked like he was doing a dozen different equations in his head, but they could only lead to one shameful conclusion. Anders suddenly understood why Hawke hated eye-contact. The confused look Nathaniel gave him made him want to curl up and die.

“I take it this is Hawke?” Nathaniel guessed.

“That’s him,” Anders agreed.

“I see,” Nathaniel said slowly, with a nod to Hawke. “... A pleasure to meet you, Champion.”

Anders translated. Hawke waved.

“Anders, could I have a word with you?” Nathaniel asked.

“Knickerweasels?” Anders supplied.

“A private word,” Nathaniel clarified.

“Dick?” Anders tried again.

“Very well, be glib,” Nathaniel sighed.

“What’s he saying?” Hawke signed.

“He wants to talk,” Anders translated.

“Don’t want you talking with him.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Anders argued.

“Still laughed.”

“He’s still my friend-”

“Merrill’s your friend, and you haven’t even seen her yet,” Hawke countered. “You don’t think she wants to see you?”

“... Maybe later?” Anders said aloud.

“... Later it is,” Nathaniel agreed. “Our table is at the head of the hall, closest to the stage. See you shortly?”

“See you,” Anders agreed.

Hawke led him back to the guest rooms with his arm still firmly locked around his waist. It was just an arm. Hawke had had his arm around him before, and it hadn’t bothered him before, so it didn’t make sense that it should bother him now, but it did. They reached the guest rooms, up on the second floor, where Varric and Fenris were talking to Merrill out in the hall.

She didn’t look anything like the broken woman Anders had dragged out of a burning building ten months ago. Her clothes weren’t threadbare linens worn for want of anything else. She wasn’t drained of blood and joy. A knee length emerald dress swirled with patterns reminiscent of her vallaslin, belted with a teal sash that looked like it had been knotted one too many times by forgetful hands. Her raven hair was free of soot and finely braided, one pointed ear lined in silver piercings. She looked good. She looked great. She looked like the hero of her own story while Anders prayed for one in his.

“Lethallen!” Merrill shrieked at the sight of him, sprinting down the hall to fling herself into his arms. Her arms locked around his neck and her knees around his waist, and Anders would have fallen over if Hawke wasn’t supporting him. “It’s so good to see you! Did you miss me? You did, didn’t you? I missed you! I missed you so much!”

Anders hugged her. She smelled like spring, and dirt after rain, and rebirth. “Hey Merrill.”

Merrill hopped down from his arms, and snatched up his hands, practically beaming, “I’m so glad you came! I have so much to tell you. You must have so much to tell me! Did you know you’re a hero? I mean, of course you know, but did you know? There are so many songs, lethallen, you have to tell me which ones are true!”

“I’m telling you, Daisy, stories are never true,” Varric said when he joined them, Fenris trailing silently behind him. “They’re only true for whoever tells them.”

“I want to hear Anders' story, then,” Merrill insisted, undeterred. She glanced at Hawke, like she finally realized he was there, and her eyes widened. “...Hawke?”

“Merrill,” Hawke said in greeting.

“... You came to see me?” Merrill asked, and Varric translated the question for her.

“‘Course I came to see you,” Hawke said. Hawke lied. Hawke hadn’t come for her. He’d come for Anders. He’d come to be with Anders because he was always going to be with Anders whether or not Anders wanted to be with him.

“But I-... I never wrote… and you still came?” Merrill asked.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Hawke said after Varric translated.

Not for her. It wasn’t for her, but Merrill didn’t know that, and Merrill wouldn’t believe that, and Merrill wasn’t even looking at him anymore, she was looking at Hawke, and then she was hugging Hawke, and then Hawke was hugging her, and Anders felt sick to his stomach.

“It’s good to see you too,” Merrill said.

“You better?” Hawke asked.

“I’m better,” Merrill agreed. “Are you better?”

“Better,” Hawke agreed.

“... Do you think we can still be friends?” Merrill asked.

“Think so,” Hawke said.

“I think so too,” Merrill smiled, watching Varric translate. “I’ll have to… um… learn how to do all that with my hands. I think I can learn how to do that. I already move them so much when I talk I may as well be saying something with them, don’t you think?”

“I think you’ll be great at it, Daisy,” Varric said.

They were friends again. Hawke and Merrill were friends again. They couldn’t be friends again. Anders didn’t have any friends who weren’t friends with Hawke outside the Wardens, and Hawke had said the Wardens weren’t his friends. It wasn’t true, but everything Hawke said was true, so it had to be true. Anders had to have a friend who wasn’t friends with Hawke, and if that friend wasn’t Merrill, then who was it? Who did he even have left?

… Fenris was his friend. The lyrium-branded elf leaned against the wall, off to the side, squinting while Hawke and Merrill and Varric spoke in an awkward combination of signs and sounds. Anders found a spot beside him, and breathed a little easier when Fenris spared him… not a smile, but a raise of his eyebrows that acknowledged his presence.

“She forgot Isabela,” Fenris signed.

“She loved Isabela,” Anders signed back.

“And you?” Fenris signed.

Anders looked at Hawke. He was talking to Merrill, but he could look over at any moment and see whatever he was signing. Even if Anders said something, Varric would hear it and tell him. It didn’t matter either way, because Anders didn’t know what he wanted to sign or what he wanted to say.

What was he supposed to say? That he didn’t want to be with Hawke? Even if Anders couldn’t remember agreeing to marry him, Hawke probably hadn’t forced the ring onto his finger. Anders could take it off. Nothing was stopping him, but everytime he thought of taking it off he felt paralyzed. He felt guilty. He felt trapped. He felt crazy. He couldn’t tell Fenris that. He couldn’t tell anyone that. It didn’t make any sense.

Anders never answered him. The five of them went down to the main hall for the feast, to a chorus of cheers from all gathered when he entered. Anders waved sheepishly, and Nathaniel waved him over to join him at a table with Velanna, Oghren, Amell, and a few people Anders didn’t recognize. He took a seat at the corner, diagonal from Amell. Hawke sat next to him, and everyone else found their seats as food was brought out.

The minstrels started playing one ballad in his honor after the next. Children and mabari ran wild, getting underfoot and under tables, the din of laughter and conversation flooding the hall. It was the most elaborate party Anders had ever seen, and it was his party, but he couldn’t enjoy it. Hawke was sitting too close to him, their legs pressed together, his hand occasionally running along Anders’ thigh.

Anders couldn’t stay focused on any of the conversation. It wasn’t important. Old friends and new exchanging pleasantries and making acquaintances. The only thing Anders managed to focus on was Amell, but Amell hardly spoke, and when he did, it was usually in a secretive aside to the dark-haired woman at his side. Anders missed her name, along with the names of everyone else at the table, and eventually lost interest in it. He watched the children careen through the hall, and wondered which of them was Kieran.

It was easy to find Amell. Oghren’s Amell. He looked like Oghren’s beard with legs, covered in grease and crumbs, and brandishing a turkey leg like a club. His fiery red hair had frayed free of its braids as the little berserker ran shrieking and barefoot after a few of the other children. There were so many of them - and more than a few had black hair.

The little group circled their table more than a few times, and eventually one of them went scrambling up into the dark-haired woman’s lap. He had to be Amell’s son. He looked just like him. He had the same wheatish skin, the same raven hair, the same blood red eyes. He stayed in his mother’s lap, eating apple slices off her plate and humming along to the latest song the minstrels were playing.

“Enough, you silly boy,” Morrigan - that was it, her name was Morrigan - said eventually, hefting Kieran off her lap and passing him off to Amell. “Eat your father’s dessert, if your own was not sufficient.”

“Your father wants his dessert,” Amell protested.

“Then your father should have eaten it first,” Morrigan countered.

Amell leaned over and whispered something to her that made her laugh, and bounced Kieran idly on his knee while the boy stole all the apple slices from his plate. They looked happy. They looked like a family. They looked like everything he and Justice were fighting for, and everything he’d never have. They looked like what he needed to see, and what he needed to remember, and what he needed to focus on, and what mattered more than he did.

**Deleted Scene: Anders feels sick after spending the night with Hawke, leaves the room to find somewhere to throw up, and blacks out.**

Anders was outside. Anders didn’t remember going outside, but he was there, standing under the Vigil’s eaves in the southern courtyard. It was raining, droplets splashing up and under the eaves to muddy the legs of his trousers. Amell was standing next to him, still dressed for the day despite the fact that they’d moved into the night, a roll of something smoking between his fingers.

How did Anders get here? What was he doing here?

“What did you want to talk about?” Amell asked.

Did he want to talk? Why didn’t he remember asking Amell to talk? Anders rubbed warmth into his arms, struggling to find a topic. Everything. Nothing. He didn’t want to marry Hawke. Couldn’t Amell see he didn’t want to marry Hawke? Maker, please, couldn’t someone see he didn’t want to marry Hawke? Why couldn’t Anders tell someone he didn’t want to marry Hawke? Why didn’t he want to marry Hawke? Hadn’t he at some point? Why was he losing so much time? Why couldn’t he have lost the time he’d just spent with Hawke instead?

“... Lot of rain,” Anders said.

“Hm,” Amell agreed, taking a long pull of whatever he was smoking before offering it over to him.

Since when did Amell smoke? Since when did Anders? Anders took it, along with an experimental pull, and coughed through the burn before handing it back.

“We were going to host games tomorrow,” Amell told him.

“... Maybe Velanna and I could dry the grounds,” Anders offered.

“Maybe,” Amell said.

“... Amell…” Everything Anders wanted to say stuck in his throat. Help me. Please help me. The words wouldn’t come. “... I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

“Why can’t you?” Amell took another pull of whatever they were smoking. “I meant my last letter, Anders.”

Anders hadn’t read his last letter. He couldn’t tell Amell that.

“... You look good,” Anders said instead. It won him a smirk. It felt like a nice thing to win. “... I look good too, by the way.”

“I know,” Amell said.

“You don’t though,” Anders said. “I could look like a ghoul right now for all you know.” He felt enough like one. Unable to say anything. Unable to think anything. Losing more time and more sanity with every passing day.

“I'm sure you’d make a handsome one,” Amell assured him.

“All three teeth and no nose,” Anders joked.

Amell took another long pull, and flicked the rest of the roll out into the rain. He reached out and touched Anders’ chest, starting at his heart and sliding up to his trembling throat, lingering briefly over his lips before he found his cheek. He ran his thumb along the bridge of Anders’ nose, and smiled. “Still here,” He noted.

“Teeth might not be,” Anders mumbled, wetting his lips.

Amell’s hand slipped lower on his cheek, his thumb running along his bottom lip and pulling it slightly back from his teeth. Anders sucked in a shaky breath, fighting for words, for action, for anything. “... Did you want me to check?” Amell whispered, taking a painful step closer.

Yes. Fucking Maker yes. “Can you-...” Anders took another breath. “... Can you just hold me?”

Amell pulled him into his arms, his whisper softer than the rain. “... Always.”

#accursed ones #Someone asked me for this so I thought I would post it #I'll post the other one in a second

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grimey--gal · 4 years

Text

A commission for @ayylovley

“You gonna hand me my order, or did they put you here to be a useless tabletop slut?”

His voice cuts through - sharp, intimidating. It’s almost as if (s/o) can hear the gnash of his teeth, slicing quickly. She grips the order - a small, black drip coffee, no additives - and fantasizes what it would be like to reach across the counter and throttle him until his eyes redden and swell. She’s heard with enough pressure, the eyes will pop out of their socket. She’s seen it in movies. She’s not sure if it’s true; she’s never done the research. She thinks, though, that right about now would be a good time to find out with some hands-on field work.

“Charming,” is what she says instead, despite her temptation. She’s had enough warnings and citations for her customer service. She’s never been the type to show servitude to anyone, so it’s ironic that she’s behind a counter, play-pretending at a barista who loves to be a vendor of sweets and drinks. Chicago has a plethora of jobs around, but most of them weren’t her crowd, and the cafe is nice enough. Not too demanding, most days. Today is one of the rarities.

The man leers, and she braces herself for some sort of lewd or degrading remark towards her physique (it’s typical of these overcoat scarf wearing types). She gets a good look at him anyways, just to have the fantasy replay of her finding him outside of work, to suckerpunch him one good time. No doubt he could take her, physically, but if she had the element of surprise on her side, she could get in a good hit or two, before running off and catching the redline home. Especially if he didn’t see it coming.

“Easy there, tough tits. I don’t need any cream with my order. Frothy cunts are hard to clean off, and I’ve got places to be today,” he replies, easily. He has a crooked smile, but his teeth are straight, despite her being sure they had to have been sharpened. She’s seen people who file their teeth. “You’re not even my flavor, either.”

“Charles, sugar, you know I’ve told you that these girls behind the counters can spit in your drink without you knowing, right? It was a habit of mine, at least, once upon a time.”

It’s a polarized energy, she feels it almost immediately. Even her voice is smoother, like a soft gauze over an open wound. Soothing after a harsh beating. The woman next to Charles is equally as impressive, with done up hair and face. Her eyes are exquisite. She is decorated in pearls, and her nails are perfectly polished. She smiles apologetically, patting Charles’ arm. “I’m sorry, sweetness, I forgot to muzzle him before we left.”

(S/o) feels a heavy thudding nestled right where her heart should be. It has to be because of this woman. She smells divine too, a mixed scent of sugar and other bakery seasonings. (S/o) is not normally one to feel particularly familial towards others, much less strangers, but this woman gives off an air of a comforting hug to fall into after a particularly long day. All soft and smooth and an extreme opposite of the man. Charles, besides her, who is all edges and cuts, in his sharp jawline and hawk-like nose. Even his eyes are a piercing blue. Opposites attract, she’s been told, and it must be true, but still, it begs the question as to how these two ended up in each other’s fancies. It’s almost too opposing, seeing their contrast next to one another.

The woman unfolds her wallet and stuffs several bills into the tip jar. (S/o) can’t help but notice the rings on her finger, and the way she daintily fills the jar, almost as if she didn’t want anyone else to know that she was doing it. Charles huffs and rolls his eyes, and for a minute, she thinks she can see the sharp edge soften just for a moment with fondness, but the moment disappears as quickly as it had come, and he’s all harsh and pointed staring again, eyeing her down.

“Don’t let me catch you off my leash,” he jokes, but there is a very dark and very real threat. “I bite worthless bitches like you.”

The woman scoffs and shakes her head, tugging at him. “Alright, leave her alone,” she coaxes, a bit firmer this time. “She doesn’t get paid enough to deal with you.”

She turns to (S/o), and now she definitely feels the woman eyeing her as well. There is a greedy hunger in both of their eyes, and she does not say anything, but she feels it stop her pulse just long enough to frighten her. Not enough to completely scare her away, however. There is just enough fear to have her curious, and find herself hoping she does run into them after hours. Maybe in a seedy bar, their lungs filled with the smoke of the air and passersby.

“I promise he’s only bark,” the woman continues. But then she winks, and leans in to whisper, and (S/o) doesn’t know why she leans in as well, but she does.

“Unless you want a bite, which in that case, I know he’d happily oblige. We both would.”

(S/o) hardly feels the receipt slip from the register into her hand, and from her hand into the woman’s. She can hear the way her blood thrums against her ears, a loud rushing. The woman digs through her purse, pulling out a pen and scribbling on it.

“Call me if you feel… curious,” is what she says, and then they’re gone, and the next customer in line is cursing at her for an ineffective and sloppy service. But her characteristic anger is quelled by the entire encounter that had just unfolded in front of her. She rings him up, not registering one word he says as he grumbles off with his order.

Curious. As if, she thinks. But she cannot deny the dark intrigue. The invite was subtly clear in its intentions, and despite her every attempt at control, her mind wanders, a little more than pleased by the way her fantasies grow and stretch, a deep and hungry desire welling from within.

#writing #commission #self insert #fanfiction #chucky #childs play #tiffany valentine #tiffany ray #short s/o #horror #slasher villains

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justlightlysedated · 5 years

Text

now these songs will hold and hide your name (part two of three)

part one

dedicated to @michaels-blackhat 😊💖🖤

February 23rd, 2024

Alex pulls his jeep up behind Michael’s truck parked right next to the Welcome to Roswell sign.

He sighs in relief when he sees Michael sitting down on the tailgate, Cosima asleep in his arms.

At least they’re safe.

He gets out of his car and and makes his way carefully over to them. Michael doesn’t look at him, if anything his arms go tighter around Cosima’s body and he shuts his eyes tight.

The dread that had been eating at him since Michael had called him and told him to meet him by the town limits comes back tenfold.

He inhales shakily and carefully sits down besides Michael.

“Guerin,” he says, unable to keep the shaking out of his voice.

Michael inhales deeply and his eyes flutter open before he turns to look at Alex.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, and Michael just closes his eyes again, shaking his head.

“We made contact last night,” he admits and Alex suddenly feels a chill going down the back of his neck. “They’ll be here by tonight.”

Alex swallows hard and looks away, looking back over the horizon where the sun is just beginning to light up the sky.

“I need you to do something for me,” Michael says after a few silent minutes where the only sound was the wind blowing against the short dry grass and Cosima’s deep even breaths.

Alex exhales slowly and turns back to Michael. Michael is looking at him with wide pleading eyes like Alex wouldn’t do anything for him.

“Anything,” Alex blurts out a little helplessly.

Ever since he first saw Michael holding a newborn in his arms, close to his chest, an expression so tender and beautiful, one that Alex had never seen on Michael’s face, he’d realized that he would never be able to deny him anything again.

Michael exhales carefully, a relieved tinge in his eyes, but Alex could still see the misery swirling in them.

“I need you to take Cosima, and get as far away from Roswell as possible.“

Alex stares at him in shock, eyes wide, lips parted, and he tries to figure out something to say, but Michael just keeps talking.

"And I need you to stay away until I call you and tell you that it’s safe to come back.”

Alex blinks his eyes a few times and looks away, staring at the Roswell sign, before he looks back to Michael.

“Why?” He asks, staring at Michael intently.

Michael gives him a slightly exasperated look, “We don’t actually know what they want. All we know is that they might be more like the others than like us. And I’m not going to take that chance, not with her.”

Alex shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant, why me? Why not Liz or even Maria?”

Michael licks his lips swallowing hard, and moves his arms to a more comfortable position.

“Liz won’t leave Max’s side, and Maria has her hands full with her mom. And besides,” Michael continues, looking away. “You’re the only one that I trust to actually do this. You’ll take good care of her. You already do. And she’ll be really excited to be on an adventure with her Lex.”

Alex takes a deep breath and looks at Michael, at the way he’s holding on like he’s never going to get to hold her again, and Alex feels his chest ache as his heart cracks right in two.

He wants to tell Michael to come with them, but he won’t because he already knows what his answer is going to be. He knows that Michael won’t leave Isobel and Max to face this alone.

“Okay, Michael,” he says, and sees the way Michael loses all of the tension in his shoulders, almost swaying in relief, like he wasn’t expecting Alex to actually agree.

“Okay,” Alex says again, and Michael swallows hard, looking at Cosima in his arms, and he tightens his hold on her, and Alex feels tears pricking at the back of his eyes.

“Her stuff is in the front seat,” Michael says, in a voice that’s almost too low.

Alex nods his head once and takes the out, turning away from Michael and feeling the tears fall down his cheeks as he closes his eyes briefly.

“Alex,” Michael says, and Alex stops moving but doesn’t turn to him.

“Promise me that you won’t let her forget about me.”

Alex closes his eyes and feels more tears falling down his face, and he bites down hard on his lip so that he doesn’t actually start sobbing.

He breathes in deeply, trying to get himself under control and he nods his head.

“I promise,” he swears, and then moves fast to the front seat of the truck.

Alex grabs the bags that Michael had in the front seat, and opens the glove compartment before he can second guess himself and pulls out the picture that Michael has stashed in there. The one where they’re both playing the guitar, but instead of looking down at what he’s doing, Michael is staring at him like he’s the only thing that exists.

He slides it into his pocket and grabs Cosima’s bags and heads to his jeep.

He sets her stuff down besides the duffel bag that he always keeps back there in case of emergencies.

He can always buy more clothes if he needs to.

He closes the trunk and when he turns towards the truck, it’s to see that Michael has moved to settle Cosima down in the car seat that Alex keeps in his jeep.

Alex watches him with tears in his eyes as he pushes her curls back away from her forehead and presses a kiss to her temple, pulling away, and actually sobbing when her little fingers snag against the fabric of his shirt.

Michael pulls the plaid shirt off, and wraps her up in it, staying in his thin white shirt despite how cold the early morning air feels.

He places his hand on top of her head, and then turns around and almost bumps straight into Alex who hadn’t noticed that he’d been moving closer.

He catches Michael, who wraps his arms around Alex’s shoulders and buries his face in the side of Alex’s neck.

Alex wraps his arms around him and holds him tight, blinking his eyes rapidly so that he doesn’t actually start crying in earnest.

“Alex, Alex, Alex,” Michael says over and over and over, before he moves his face from Alex’s neck to look at him on the eyes.

“Promise me,” he says, staring at him with wide desperate eyes. “Please.”

“I swear,” Alex says, sliding his hands up and around Michael’s shoulders. “I promise, I promise I’ll take care of her as if she were my own, and I promise that she will never forget you, and I promise that once it’s safe I’ll bring her back to you.”

Michael nods his head fast and then drops his forehead to Alex’s, eyes falling shut as he exhales in relief.

Alex wraps his arms around Michael’s shoulders and closes his eyes too, hoping this separation is extremely temporary.

July 11th, 2020

“Start from the beginning,” Alex says as carefully as he can, his gaze on Cosima and no one else.

He hasn’t looked away from her since she had taken his hand and lead him to sit down on the table where she’d been sitting before. She had sat down and finally drank the glass of water Maria had given her earlier.

Michael has been willing Alex to look at him, to see if he could tell what exactly he was thinking about when he’d seen this girl who looked like him, like Maria and then she’d called him dad.

But Alex just has eyes for Cosima, who is looking at him with enough fond exasperation and relief for Michael to tell that something had happened to Alex in the future, something bad.

She looks at Alex and then over his shoulder to where Liz is leaning back against the table right next to theirs, with her arms crossed like she’s jealous that Cosima is much warmer with Alex than she’s been with everyone else. Max is sitting down on the table next to Kyle who is hissing to Isobel on his phone that, no he’s not going to take a picture. Maria is still sitting on the furthest table away from Cosima, right next to Michael in a silent show of solidarity that Michael appreciates.

He feels confused and overwhelmed, and he wants answers, but at the same time, he’s seen the way that she looks at him, like the ghost of someone she lost long ago, and he thinks that maybe he’ll be getting an answer he really doesn’t want to hear.

Cosima inhales deeply, and looks around the room before she looks back at Alex, and it’s such a familiar Alex move that Michael feels his heart clench in his chest.

“I don’t remember much about what happened before we, I mean, Dad and I left Roswell. The clearest memories I have from that time are of flying, and feeling perfectly safe, and Dad always used to say that that sounds like something that Papa would do.”

Her eyes dart over to Michael and away, and Michael once again goes still feeling like someone just suckerpunched him in the stomach.

“Everything after Roswell is just a blur of driving and motel rooms and never staying too long in one place. The clearest memory I have from then is when Aunt Liz found us.”

“I was five, I think and Dad had decided that we were going to have to stay in one place so that I could start going to school. I remember that she had asked to speak to Dad in private and they had gone to the kitchen, and I couldn’t hear what she said, but Dad’s eyes had gone sad, like they only did when he was looking at that picture of Papa that he kept in his wallet during the night when he thought that I was asleep. But instead of crying, he had opened his arms, and Aunt Liz had collapsed into him, crying, loud enough that I could hear in the living room. I remember Aunt Jenna more, but that’s probably because she showed me all the knife tricks she could do to keep me distracted.”

“Aunt Jenna?” Isobel says incredulously from where Kyle has her on speaker, as though that’s the most ridiculous thing about that sentence.

“Knife tricks?” Both Michael and Alex say at the same time.

“Yeah,” she says slowly, narrowing her eyes at them both before she looks over to Liz. “Aunt Jenna was with Aunt Liz and they got married when I was ten. I was the flower girl.”

Michael flinches as Max scrapes his chair back as he gets up and leaves and Liz follows after him.

He catches Max turning around to face Liz but before they say anything the door is closing, with them outside.

“Who is that guy?” Cosima asks, and her tone sounds like it’s not the first time that she’s asked that question.

Michael turns towards her, and she’s watching Alex expectantly, but Michael can tell that he’s scrambling to come up with an answer.

“You don’t know who Max is?” Michael asks, sounding hoarse.

Cosima’s eyes snap to him and Michael goes completely still again, his heart racing in his chest. The last person who had looked at him with eyes that were just like his was his mom, and he was having a hard time trying to keep his cool.

He wanted to know everything, but at the same time, he really didn’t.

She licks her lips and furrows her brow as her gaze drops back to Alex.

Alex tilts his head to the side, and Cosima copies the movement almost in sync.

“The Alien Messiah?” Alex says slowly, and Cosima’s eyes light up.

“You mean those weren’t just stories? They’re actual real people?”

Alex exhales. “I mean, I have codenames for everyone in the files. But I’m not quite sure what stories you mean?”

Michael sees the door opening from the corner of his eye, and catches Liz eyes when she walks in, and she looks frustrated but just shakes her head when Michael raises an eyebrow at her.

She settles herself next to Kyle, as Cosima starts to speak.

She looks animated for the first time since Michael first saw her.

“The Glamorous Space Princess who throws the biggest and best balls and was brave and defeated the Evil Mastermind who tried to brainwash her! Or the one about the Amazing Psychic who can see everyone’s future but her own! Or how about the one about the Alien Messiah who died and was brought back to life by the Beautiful and Intrepid Alchemist! Or the one about the Handsome Doctor who can heal any cut with just one touch who mends the Glamorous Space Princess’ broken heart! Or how about my favorite, the one about the Sweet Alien Prince who fell into star-crossed love with the Evil General’s Son!”

Her enthusiasm flags as soon as she realizes that Alex doesn’t exactly know what she’s talking about, and she looks around at everyone else, and Michael can see the way that her expression shutters, like she just realized that she’s around a bunch of strangers.

“I told you these stories?” Alex asks, and she nods her head once, looking around the room before her gaze settles back on Alex.

Alex seems to realize at the same time that Michael does, that she’s on the defensive.

“What is it?” Alex asks, brow furrowing.

Cosima chews on her bottom lip, like she’s weighing the pros and cons before she speaks.

“Dad told me to find you, that I could trust you, but it’s so difficult to do that, when it kind of feels like I’m stuck in the twilight zone.”

“Why didn’t you guys go back to Roswell?” Max’s voice comes from the open door.

Cosima’s gaze snaps to him, but if anything she goes even more defensive.

She looks to Alex who gives her a look that says it’s up to her to answer.

Her eyes dart over to Michael and Maria and then back to Max.

“That night that Aunt Liz found us, Dad told me what happened. Up until that point I guess, he thought that Papa had made it.”

She pauses looking to Alex and her gaze softens marginally as though she recognizes the expression on his face.

She looks back over to Max. “You made contact with the Alighting and they deemed you corrupted by humanity and blew Roswell off the face of the earth.”

Michael had seen this coming, so he wasn’t entirely surprised. From the way Maria doesn’t react, he can tell that she had been thinking the same thing.

Michael looks to Liz who looks a little bit like she’s in shock and then his gaze goes to Alex and he freezes to see Alex staring right at him.

Alex looks away as soon as Michael turns to him, looking back at Cosima, who turns away from Max at the same time to look at him.

“That’s how Aunt Jenna says it anyway. The story Dad told me was about how my Papa was a hero, how he saved Aunt Liz instead of saving himself, because that was the kind of person that he was.”

Her eyes go glassy with unshed tears, and she doesn’t look away from Alex.

“I was five and he promised me that he would do everything in his power to make sure that I had the life that my Papa wanted me to have, and he gave me the best life anyone could ever ask for, and he loved me unconditionally. But there was always a small part of me that knew that he was trying to figure out a way to give me back my Papa, like he wasn’t enough.”

Alex looks away from her at that, and his gaze immediately finds Michael’s before he gets up from his seat, and moves away like he’s trying to control his reaction.

Cosima exhales carefully like she’d been expecting that reaction, and she also looks to Michael, a little defiantly, like she’s expecting him to say that Alex wasn’t enough.

“How did you get here?” Liz speaks up like she’s been wondering this whole time and this was the only time she managed to find to ask the question.

Cosima blinks a few times before she looks at Liz, furrowing her brow and then exhaling like she keeps forgetting that she’s not the Aunt Liz that she knows.

“It’s my ability,” she says, raising one hand and wiggling her fingers in the air. “I can travel through time and space, but going backwards is really hard. I never really tried it, but of course, Dad had figured out a way to do it.”

“Why did he send you back?” Maria asks carefully. “Why didn’t he come back with you?”

Cosima’s gaze snaps to Maria like she’s been trying to avoid looking at her the entire time, and Maria inhales sharply, and reaches out and wraps her fingers around Michael’s wrist as though she already knew what Cosima was going to say.

Michael had known what was coming when it came to what happened to himself, but whatever it was that happened to Alex he really didn’t want to know. He would prefer to go on thinking that the future had an alive and well Alex Manes, and that made everything that was to come worth it.

Cosima inhales carefully, and she looks away from Maria to look at Alex who is leaning back on a table away from them like he’s trying to isolate himself.

“After the attack on Roswell, there were other cities attacked, but the Alighting left, not seeing any good that would come from taking over Earth. They left us alone, but there were still aliens living here, aliens that didn’t want anything to do with the Alighting and their agenda. The government knew that there were others, and special task forces were dispatched to deal with them.”

She stops speaking and takes a deep, shaky breath like she doesn’t really want to say what she has to say next, but can’t figure out a way out of it.

“Dad always made sure that we were careful, and if there was ever any doubt, he would move us somewhere else immediately, but something had happened, and even though Dad wanted us to move, I fought him about it because I had friends, and I didn’t want to have to start all over again, and he gave in because it’s what he does when it’s something that I really want, but someone found out, about me, and they told and the last thing I remember is Dad telling me what I had to do, making me promise him that I would find him in the past, and then there were these people in tactical suits with guns and he stood between me and them until I managed to do it, and the last thing I heard was-”

Her voice cuts off and she inhales sharply almost like she can’t breathe and she’s looking over to where Alex is with eyes shining bright with tears and Michael already knows what she’s going to say before she says it.

“It was a gunshot,” she finishes voice sounding terrifyingly numb. “I think he’s dead.”

Alex is startled out of the daze that Cosima’s story has put him in, by the harsh scrape of Michael’s chair as he gets up.

Alex’s gaze snaps to him, to see him pushing Maria’s hands away as he walks out of the bar, taking the same path that Max had earlier.

Alex very nearly follows after him immediately, but then he hears Cosima’s voice wheezing a little, and he turns to her, immediately concerned.

She’s looking at him with wide wet eyes, darting up and down his frame like she’s searching for a bullet hole.

Alex moves towards her automatically, dropping to his knees, and ignoring the slight twinge of pain that goes up his right thigh.

“I just have him,” she says gasping, looking at him with tears running down her face. “I don’t have anyone else, just him and if he’s gone? Then I don’t have anyone. I’ll be completely alone.”

Alex reaches up and cups her shoulders in his hands, and she literally stops, air catching in her throat, eyes wide and intent on Alex.

“Listen to me,” he says with as much conviction as he can. “We are going to figure out a way to fix this. And even if you stay stuck here, I promise you, you’re not alone. You’ll have me, no matter what.”

Cosima nods her head quickly, and Alex feels like maybe he should hug her, but he can tell that she doesn’t want that right now, so he squeezes her shoulders and gets up, looking to Liz who stands up immediately.

“Why don’t we go to the bathroom so you can wash your face?” She suggests, and Cosima looks from Alex to her and nods her head, again.

She gets up from her seat and Alex watches as she follows Liz to the bathroom for a second before he turns around and follows the same path Michael did to go outside.

He expects to find the truck missing, but instead, he finds Michael sitting on the tailgate of his truck, staring at the horizon as storm clouds start rolling in.

Alex walks over to him trying to figure out how to say what he actually means to say.

Lately all he’s been doing has been putting his foot in his mouth every time that he talks to Michael, and even though they’ve become closer than they ever had been, when it comes to the serious stuff, Alex always seems to say something wrong.

He’s always been a more show than tell type of guy, but Michael deserved to hear the words, even if they were difficult for Alex to say.

Alex sits down besides Michael on the tailgate with a sigh, but he still doesn’t know what to say.

Michael like always, doesn’t have that problem.

“I knew that she was going to say that I was dead, I could see it in the way that she looked at me, and I was prepared for that, but somehow knowing that you might-”

His voice cuts out and he shakes his head looking down at his hands.

Alex blinks up at the sky and inhales shakily as Michael keeps talking.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but I can die happily knowing that you’re alive out there somewhere.”

Alex shakes his head a little but Michael isn’t looking at him. He can hear him inhaling to keep speaking, but Alex just takes a deep breath and beats him to it.

“Stop,” he says, and Michael freezes.

“You’re right, I don’t want to hear that. And up until a few minutes ago, I would’ve told you that there was nothing that could tear me from your side if you were about to die.”

He can feel Michael go even more tense beside him.

Alex closes his eyes and tries again.

“You know, I’ve never really thought about having kids. I guess some part of me was always afraid that I would end up like my father no matter how hard I tried, but-”

He stops talking and shakes his head and when he opens his eyes and turns to Michael, Michael is staring right at him.

“But if you asked me to take care of your child,” he continues, and Michael’s eyes go wide with shock. “I would do it without hesitation.”

Michael stares at him for a few long moments, not moving, not even breathing.

Alex stares at him, and tries to figure out where he messed up now, when Michael gasps, inhaling deeply and looks away.

“Why?” Michael demands breathing heavily.

Alex furrows his brow, not really understanding what Michael means, until he gets it, and he scoffs looking away.

“You know why, Guerin.”

“No I don’t,” Michael snaps almost angrily. “If I did I wouldn’t be asking.”

Alex stands up, pushing away from the truck and paces agitatedly for a few seconds before he turns back to Michael who is looking at him like he thinks that Alex is going to make an excuse to leave at any second.

Alex exhales heavily and takes two steps forward, until he’s close enough that Michael furrows his brow.

“Why do you think?”

Michael scoffs and looks away briefly before turning back towards him with a determined look on his face, like he’s tired of not saying what he’s thinking.

“I think that you’re just trying to make up for everything wrong that has ever happened to me like it’s your fault that you were born into a family of douchebags, and the last thing that I want from you is pity.”

Alex shakes his head before Michael is even done talking.

“That’s not it at all,” Alex says immediately. “I’ll admit that at first, I felt guilty, and maybe I tried too hard to eradicate the wrongs of the past and didn’t spend enough time trying to right the wrongs that were actually my fault, but it was never about pity.”

“Then why?” Michael asks, pushing himself off from the tailgate and getting into Alex’s personal space.

“Because you’re my family!” Alex snaps, feeling frustrated. “Because I would do anything for you! Because I love you!”

Michael goes completely still again, and Alex mirrors his movements, eyes going wide as he realizes exactly what he just said.

“You-” Michael starts sounding breathless as though Alex had punched him in the stomach.

Alex just swallows hard and nods his head carefully.

Michael steps even closer, and Alex realizes abruptly how close they are and moves to take a step backwards.

Michael wraps his fingers in the collar of Alex’s shirt and he holds on tight, arresting his movements.

Alex licks his lips and his eyes drop to Michael’s mouth, briefly, before he catches himself and looks away.

“Say it again,” Michael says in a low voice, and Alex looks back at him because he can’t help himself.

Michael’s gaze is on his mouth like he needs to see the words coming out as well as hear them.

Alex inhales carefully and just stares at Michael’s face.

Alex parts his lips, but the words don’t come out.

Michael’s eyes dart up to his, and Alex feels all the air get trapped at the back of his throat.

Michael’s eyes go bright and warm, and Alex breathes in sharply and says the words as easy as breathing.

“I love you,” he says, stomach trembling.

Michael smiles soft and sweet, his mouth quirking up higher on one side than the other.

He’s looking at Alex like he’s something amazing and impossible. His fingers go tighter in the fabric of Alex’s shirt, and he pulls him in a little bit more, gaze going dark as his eyes drop to Alex’s mouth and he leans in.

Alex doesn’t realize that he’s about to be kissed until he feels Michael’s breath against his mouth.

“Wait,” he says, voice dry and cracking.

Michael stops moving closer, but he doesn’t move any further back, eyes still on Alex’s mouth.

“Why?” Michael asks again, voice thick and breathy.

“What about Maria?”

Michael moves back then, eyes darting up to Alex’s. “We broke up like two weeks-”

“I know,” Alex says, cutting him off. “I mean, Cosima. She’s your daughter. Yours and Maria’s.”

“And she calls you Dad like it’s something she’s done all of her life, because she has,” Michael says and Alex feels the words like tiny bombs impacting in his brain.

“And anyway,” Michael says, voice going low again, as he pushes in close again, brushing their noses together. “I have never wanted children. Until I saw you holding her in your arms.”

Alex really doesn’t think that anyone will blame him for reacting the way that he does.

He reaches up and drags his hands into Michael’s hair, and closes the small distance between them, crushing their mouths together.

Michael makes a soft, shocked sound that Alex muffles with his lips. And then Michael is surging into him, sliding his hands to the back of Alex’s neck and holding him close as he kisses Alex harder, biting against his lips and licking into his mouth.

Alex moans low in the back of his throat as he tightens his fingers in Michael’s hair and kisses him back just as hard, feeling a little bit desperate and like this might be the last time that he’ll ever be able to kiss Michael.

Michael drags his hands down Alex’s back and settles himself back against the tailgate of his truck wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist to keep him close.

Alex leans heavily against him, dragging his hands through Michael’s hair restlessly as the thought really hits him that Michael is going to die soon, and that’s not a thought he’s prepared to deal with at all.

He pulls away from Michael mouths parting with a wet, sucking sound.

He looks at Michael and tries to think clearly.

“What is it?” Michael asks, voice low, hands moving up and down Alex’s back. What’s wrong?“

Alex stares at him for a long second before he sighs and steps out of Michael’s hold.

"It’s just,” Alex says, dragging his fingers through his hair and then crossing his arms over his chest as he turns to look back at Michael who is watching Alex with a furrowed brow.

“I know me, and I wouldn’t have tried to find a way to send her back unless I figured out a way to save you.”

#malex fic #cosima au #if this posts fifty times pls let me know #tumblr hates me i swear #but anyway #if you cry during this part #let me just tell you #that the worse is yet to come #but keep in mind #HOPEFUL ENDING #i love y'all #esp my wife christi for being encouraging and lovely #thank you for reading ❤

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*for smut

Blurred Lines: Until They Met Again extended ending

“Think this is my favorite Mexican takeaway,” he said, digging into the pile of nachos he’d stolen from before.

“Do you remember the first time we had it?” you asked, smirking just before taking a bite.

“Yeah,” he said. “Thought it was the best damn Mexican takeaway I’d ever had,” he repeated. “Probably could’ve asked y’to marry me right then and there.”

Behitched

You didn’t even know what made you do it, really, and all you could come up with was that you hadn’t been thinking, because he’d hardly finished before you grabbed his lapels to bring him in for a kiss. Firm but quick, you broke when he teetered.

“Look that good?”

“You look like a husband.” Out it came, and you had the grace to feel the embarrassment in every fingertip and toe, but his jaw dropped through his smirk.

Comfort*

He didn’t need this -- he didn’t want this, he wouldn’t like this. If he’d had his head on straight he wouldn’t even have done it.

(Right?)

And you? You should’ve been responsible. You should’ve told him no, you should’ve told him to stop for his sake.

Sundays

Nothing happened on Sundays -- it was the one day in a week where you both slowed to a complete stop, only moving with the wind that carried you. They were quiet days that didn’t have to be shared with anyone else if you didn’t want them to be. Sometimes, you woke up and stayed in bed for hours, gently wiggling your toes under the duvet and listening to his wheezy breathing until it cut off, shortly and abruptly, and you knew he was awake, too.

Do You Trust Me?*

...if you dragged it on any longer with this two steps forward, one steps back business, it didn’t matter what you wanted or if he trusted you, his patience would be stretched so thin he wouldn’t want to even if he wanted to.

“If I wanted to watch you—“ you bobbed your loose fist mid-air and Harry laughed, one loud, single bark that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Would you let me?”

“Is that the question?”

“Yes.”

No Harm*

He grabbed a towel but you grabbed his wrist with both hands. “Harry….”

What? It was on the tip of his tongue and he’d just opened his mouth when, meeting your eyes, he stopped short. You were looking at him so earnestly — eyes wide and imploring.

“Been trying to get y’alone forever!” he said weakly. “I’ve been asking you out for ages, but every time you— if you’re not interested, I can take that, I just don’t know if you’re doing it on purpose or….”

Sometimes (Bad Day)

Sometimes, he just woke up like that.

That. Surly, annoyed, sarcastically biting, and quick to ignite in his own way. Whether it was a bad night’s sleep or a minor inconvenience that set him off and smacked his orbit in reverse, it just… happened.

Blurred Lines: He Really Loved When You Did That (an I Love... extension)

Straightening up, he balled the shirt and threw it into his suitcase with force, heart hammering and hands on his hips. He’d fucked up. It was something fun with someone interesting — someone safe despite all the odds — and now he had butterflies. He’d made love to you, he was tingly, he ached, and all he wanted to do was call you and ask you to go out to dinner with him. Maybe an ice cream, too. But his flight was in five hours and he had to leave for the airport in two.

Watermelon Sugar High*

“Complaining about me loving on you?” he asked.

“Just trying… trying to figure out what you want.”

“You.”

It was the quickest way to make you melt -- one single syllable infused with such raw, honest need -- but….

“I’m not having sex on the beach with you,” you gasped.

Got A Question*

“Do I act obligated?”

“No,” he said almost pensively. “But I wouldn’t want you t’be.”

Rolling your eyes, you settled down again, curled up on his chest. “I missed what happened,” you mumbled.

“I like your pussy.”

Casual, conversational, like he hadn’t just suckerpunched you, and you gasped. “What are you doing?”

Blurred Lines: Met Gala Rewind Outtakes

The carpet one,” he asked. “How come? What’s special about it?” He knew — it was why it’d been chosen and why people had raved about it — but hearing you say it….

“It was sexy.” You curled up before twisting your neck and his mouth went dry when your eyes met his. “You looked sexy.”

Ravage Me, Darling (Good Behavior) - Remember This sequel*

Great friends -- best friends -- and somehow better sex. This tape? It hadn’t even captured the best of it. The part he really wished he had came after, and he spun through those moments on a loop, aggravated and annoyed if he felt like pieces of it were chipping away.

Remember This*

“I’ve got… I mean… I’ve got m’pink phone with me.” You must’ve looked as puzzled as you felt, because he cleared his throat again. “It’s safe… secure… I’ve never been hacked.”

“I know,” you said slowly.

Cheeks flooded, he gave a sort of halfway jerk of his head. “Wanna remember this,” he said. “I wanna… y’know? If… it’s just one night. I wanna remember. And it’s safe.”

Swipe Left*

Grabbing his elbow, you tugged as hard as you could, but you knew by the look on his face alone and the way it fell that he was in and he was reading. He was reading every word of one of the three conversations you’d been holding on and off over the past few days, and he stumbled when you pulled his arm again. “Stop it,” you choked harshly. “If I wanted you to read, I’d….” You’d what, exactly?

Take Good Care*

“What’re you laughing about, bro?”

Bro. Always with the bro, always a little too familiar for his liking, and always so God damn oblivious. He just hadn’t known it ran this deep.

“You can’t make her cum,” Harry wheezed, shaking his head. He tingled from head to toe, whether from tequila or the sheer delight and triumph at knowing that this wanker was as worthless as he’d seemed, he couldn’t tell.

Break Up With Your Boyfriend

“Why?”

If he hadn’t seen your mouth move, he’d never be sure you’d said anything at all. You lifted your head higher and dug your nails into your arms.

“Sorry?” he rasped.

“Why?” you asked. “Why are you asking? What is it you want?”

“What--?” What was it he wanted? Wasn’t that obvious? It wasn’t like people went around asking people to break up with someone if…. “Be with me.”

Never Shave Again

You were pouring boiling water into two mugs when he got to the kitchen, and you squeaked when he wrapped his arms around you and tucked his face into your neck. “It’s hot!” you whined. “Be careful!”

He squeezed you with a groan before pressing puckered kisses to your cheek.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Sayin’ hello,” he mumbled. “Shaved for you and everything.”

“Why?”

Ring On Your Finger*

“Jeweler called.”

You jumped when Harry slid his hand over your neck and squeezed, kneading the tense part of your muscle.

“Ring’s ready.” He kissed the side of your head. “Gonna head out to pick it up. D’you wanna come with me?”

Five Steps To Saying Yes (He'd Know)

Never before in all his maybes and not quites had he ever thought about marrying. Looking back, when marriage came up, he always pictured someone he hadn’t met yet. Someone else. Someone other. Now, though, it was a punch to the gut, because when he thought about marriage and a future -- the person he was going to share his children with -- he thought about you. For the first time, he knew who it would be. They had a face, and it was as shocking as it was patently obvious.

Impulse (Special Circumstance)*

“So, if I want to get tied up by the neighbor or carry bags, that’s my choice.”

“D’you wanna get tied up by the neighbor?” he asked. Your lips thinned and nostrils flared. “Do you want to get tied up?”

“Stop it,” you whispered.

“Do you?” he pressed under his breath, cocking an eyebrow. “Are you into that?”

Fine Line: One More Time Outtake

Nobody knew. For months, you holed away in his place and nobody knew, not even your nearest and dearest — not even his mum when she called and you were snuggled into his side.

Damsel in Distress*

“Need some help, miss?”

Cheerful and friendly as he was with his slow drawl, you scowled, lips thinning.

“Is it your engine?”

“No,” you said at last. “I’ve a flat on the front.”

Home for the Holidays (Happy New Year, Darling)*

“So, you did get me something.” You plucked the top button of your shirt open and a lump rose in his throat. “I’d like to give you something, too.” You popped the next button.

“What are you doing?” he asked, eyes trained on where he could see a whisper of a lacy bra peeking out from under your shirt.

“Giving you your Christmas present.” You fumbled the next button and your fingers trembled visibly.

Blurred Lines: Outtakes From New York*

“‘Sex’?” A question or a quote from the shirt you’d stolen, all you did was nod, and he shifted to lie more fully on top of you, deepening the kiss. Truth be told, he was exhausted -- so much so his ears were ringing and the room spun when he closed his eyes -- but you were asking and being so soft about it, and he couldn’t say it hadn’t been on his mind.

“I wanna be on top,” you whispered.

“Give y’anything you want.”

For the Rest of Our Lives*

Harry spluttered and one of his hands slipped on your hips. “Stop,” he whispered. “Stop, please….”

“I want to!” you breathed. “You asked me— you said you wanted a baby—“

“I do!” His eyes popped open and he stared at the ceiling, mouth shaking and cheeks sweaty and flushed. “I do, do!”

Secret Song*

“Want you to hear it.” He’d said it so sweetly while nuzzling your temple that you couldn’t help the smile pulling your mouth, and that was your fatal mistake. That told him your answer was yes, and it put him in control.

“Right now?”

“It’ll be quick.” His promise rumbled against your chest through his. “I swear.”

Simple*

“You ok?”

At first, you said nothing. Finally, though, you pulled back to look him head on. His lips were thin and his eyes bounced around your face.

“Are you?” you asked.

If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. All he did was blink rapidly before nodding. “Yeah, m’ok.”

“I thought this would be more difficult,” you admitted.

Undercover

“Han undercover tonight?”

“Something like that,” you said wryly. “More like Princess Leia and her bailiff.”

Silly Boy

“Have to bleach it t’get the color to stick.”

Tongue between his teeth he dipped the brush again, but in the next second you were at his elbow pulling his forearm down with an iron grip while knocking the pot into the sink and turning the tap on.

“Oi! Stop that, what’d you do that--?”

“You stop it!” You yanked the hand towel free from the hanger. “Get it out, oh my God!”

Another Man

“You getting turned on by a song?”

You grinned. “Maybe. Jealous?”

Harry grunted, mouth pulled thin and taut.

“What?”

“Nothin’.”

Easy, Love*

The room smelled like sex already — that heavy, unmistakable scent of sweat, and cum, and pheromones. Cheek pressed into the mattress and ass raised high in the air, you took short, shallow breaths, the soap and shampoo fragrance that’d soaked into the sheets and pillowcases lulling you in your otherwise anxious anticipation.

It Felt Good*

“But you’re right,” you said. “It has to happen at some point. And he’s nice — I think you’d like him.”

Harry’s lip twitched.

“He’s nice, and he’s intelligent, and he’s polite, and he likes me. I think… he really likes me.”

“D’you like him?” Harry asked without opening his eyes.

You smashed a chip with your fork.

“It’s just a kiss,” you mumbled. “I shouldn’t be making a big deal out of it — you didn’t.”

“Says who?”

Wake Up, Lover*

“Please, darling?” he tried again. “Please, baby? Honey?”

You snorted.

“Sweetheart, angel, kitten, gumdrop—“

“Stop!” you whined, mouth pulling at the corners despite yourself. Harry grunted when you elbowed him so you could wriggle your way around and look at him face to face, and, squinting, you opened one eye. “What do you want?”

Bit of a Pinch*

“Wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t, would I?” He shook you lightly. “C’mon, now,” he said. “Just a needle, innit? Little pinch, little blood—”

“Don’t,” you moaned and he pressed a kiss to your stomach.

“Probably won’t bleed,” he said. “Just a little pain, but it’ll all be worth it. Wouldn’t ask anyone else t’help me with this — know that?”

Sure, Darling*

Holy shit!” Low and throaty, your mouth fell open in awe when he rolled the wand gently up and down. “Wow, wow, wow—“

“Breathe,” he reminded you, but it was that moment that the head caught the sensitive underside of your clit. You kicked your leg and the one jammed into his side nearly slipped out, but he held firm even as you pulled in the belt. “Knew that was a good idea,” he muttered and you shuddered when he pressed it against you more tightly.

For Better or Worse

Remnants of your trousseau littered the tabletop next to the flowers, including the silver sixpence Harry had proudly furnished and placed in your shoe himself.

“Nan saved a few,” he said when he was on his knees in front of you with your skirt flung high over yours. “Mum got this one and she let me have it for you — real silver, too.”

“Think seeing me will negate its luck?” you asked cheekily and he grinned up at you with a roguish wink.

He Had An Idea*

“I was going—“ Harry stopped and sighed heavily. “I was going to,” he said, slower and more carefully than he would’ve been a moment ago. “Tonight. If we weren’t at each other’s necks, I would’ve asked you—“

You arched an eyebrow and heat crept through his neck and up his face.

“Summat,” he said.

“What?” you asked and he ground his teeth.

“Gelato,” he said between them. “Somethin’ like that. Dunno, really, but I had— I had an idea, and it was gonna be nice. Better than this.”

Bathtime*

Him reading to you was one of your very favorite things to do, but you’d never wanted it to be over more than you did now, and when silence fell, you could’ve wept from relief. You just needed a minute — one minute — to breathe and collect yourself so you weren’t panting like you were a virgin in heat. Off to the side, you heard a clink and rattle of his watch being laid to rest on the sink, and in the next minute his mouth was next to your ear and his hands were under the water on your thighs and stomach.

Those Three Words

He was striding by when someone screamed it at him — even you heard it over the pounding base and sharp guitar — but when his head whipped back, grin splitting his face, his eyes were locked on yours, and, hand over his heart, he said it.

“I love you, too, baby.”

Do You Mind?

“Do you mind if I get one like this?”

He lifted his head and you tapped the ring in question.

“I know they’re yours and your thing,” you said. “But I really like this one. Think I’d get it for myself even if you didn’t have it.”

Skin Hunger*

“At least we don’t sleep naked,” you said. It was a joke, but it made him pause and he tipped his head to the side.

“Actually….” He laughed softly and your throat closed.

“Oh….”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled. “M’not gonna. I’ll keep my pants on, just for you.”

“Me too,” you said. “I mean, I sleep… I don’t wear anything usually, either. When I’m alone. It’s healthier, isn’t it? And feels—“

“Don’t have to tell me,” he said, the humor zapped from his eyes.

Skin Hunger Part 2*

You’d bitten your tongue against asking if he’dbe there, because of course he would be. He always was when they went to the beach — it was a rare excursion, and he predictably got a thoughtful look on his face and shifted things around to make it work whenever the idea was brought up.

Five weeks after ithad happened and you hadn’t seen him since. Five weeks after stripping out of your clothes and tangling up naked, unable to keep hands and mouths to yourselves, and you were going to see each other in glorified underwear.

Immersion*

Stop.

Teeth bared, he drilled his head back into his pillow, hand shaking at his side and body vibrating, cock abandoned on his stomach and about ready to burst. “Shit, don’t cum!” he whispered to himself with scrunched eyes when he throbbed in a way that he was sure would leave is skin wet.

He must’ve really fucking hated himself to do this and to think about pulling right out of you to have you whining underneath him, his wet, red cock on yourbelly instead of his. Oh, but to hear you beg for him to get back inside you…. To have your eyes well up because you were as close as he was and he’d taken it away and you wanted him back…. To keep it from you, and from him, until your bodies were resigned to being left unfinished, and then to just—

Sail Away*

Come to Italy, he’d said, dragging his hands without shame or restraint along your bare skin, cock hard and nestled between your thighs with his chest tight to your back.

“It’ll be fun,” he’d said, breath hot under your ear. “Pizza… pasta… better than Heaven, cause the clouds’ll be made of carbohydrates.”

You’d laughed, squeezing one of his wandering hands. “You’ll be busy,” you’d said, laugh turning into a gasp when he’d eased inside of you slowly, the fit tighter than usual at this angle.

Six in the Morning

“Didn’t even drink coffee much before I met you,” he said at last. “Chased down a lot of places but no one really makes it like you do.”

“Is that why you’re here?” you asked, voice scratchy. “For coffee?”

Harry shrugged, scratching his chin. “Summat like that.”

Another minute passed before you stepped back and pulled the door open wider, gesturing for him to come in, and when he did, you locked up before heading to the kitchen.

Vulnerable

“Am I a good boyfriend?”

“Horrible.”

You smiled, still stretched on your toes to reach the very top shelf in the cabinet, pleased with your quip. Harry didn’t make a sound, though, and your heels dropped and your smile, too, when you peeked behind the open door. Your boyfriend stood there, shoulders hunched as if defeated, hands stuffed into the pocket at the front of his jumper and bare feet poking out of his jogging bottoms. His hair, in desperate need of a wash, was on end this way and that like he’d been pulling on it more than usual, and you knew then. Something was wrong.

Take a Picture (It Lasts Longer)*

Just looking at the blurry, overexposed photo of his cock in one cheek and his hand on the other with his lace sleeve just in the frame, the bliss on your face…. It felt invasive to even look at it, and it wasyou. You couldn’t have pulled off him even if you’d wanted that, and just remembering how heavy he’d been and the taste of him had you pressing your thighs together.

Houtlander*

“You’re not like the others,” you whispered.

“How?” Harry’s voice stuck in his throat and your chest rose with your deep breath.

“I dunno,” you admitted, smiling slightly. “I feel it. There’s something different about you, and it isn’t just that you’re an Englishman. I’ve been around enough of them to know what they feel like.”

Harry bit a joke about feeling Englishmenout of his tongue as you bit your lips. “May I ask something quite forward?”

“Sure,” he said. “Of course.”

“May I kiss you?”

Runtime: Three Hours and Fifteen Minutes*

Eyes glued to the screen, you trembled your way through Jack and Rose climbing the bow of the ship, grateful Harry had quieted down with his criticism. This scene didn’t deserve to be ruined with commentary from either of you. Laughed at and lauded, it was arguably the purest moment the pair was allowed in their brief time together. No strife in sight, just the relief of taking that leap before the time ran out as fast as the sun could set.

“Come Josephine in my flying machine, going up she goes, up she goes….”

A chill ran down your spine when his breath tickled your ear and you inhaled sharply. “I thought you only saw this once,” you whispered.

“Did,” he said, nose against your temple. “Made an impression.”

Be Nice To Me

Mouth still on your head, he swallowed his beating heart. You loved him no matter what.

“Wearing m’sweatshirt,” he said. “Have t’treat me with kindness. Do you promise?”

“I’ll think about it,” you grumbled. “What do you want?”

Steeling himself, Harry counted to three and stepped around, the couch, pulling the box from his pocket and dropping to his knee in front of you.

Smudge

You’ve both been in the bottle — that’s the only way to explain why, after meeting him for the first time at this party with friends and friends of friends, you two have wound up in a corner with a bottle of nail lacquer gripped between your thighs and he sits cross-legged on the floor with one of his hands in your lap while you rub the chipped, dull black color from his thumb with a cotton pad soaked in acetone.

“Ouch,” he mutters, shifting on the floor. “Fingers are pinching.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, looking at him momentarily, but continuing anyway. “Just wanna get it all. It’s really in the grooves.”

Guy in a Bar: Alternate View*

“You can come back tomorrow morning,” they said and annoyance flared up in you for more than their flippancy.

“I don’t want to go,” you said.

“We have a table, and our ride’s there,” they said. “Come on, seriously, let’s go.”

Outnumbered and outpowered. What were you supposed to say? You wanted to stay for a talk and tequila? It was something that’d happened and then it was over. This was what places like this were for — to love and to leave — but walking out that door, you couldn’t shake the feeling you were leaving something important behind.

*Smut -- must be 18+ to read. Se

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