#like yeah - he was grieving over losing Summer

[meguemii]

Melancholy.

Synopsis- In which Megumi Fushiguro passes away and reader struggles with her grief, and lashes out on her friends eventually trying to get herself together

warnings- mentions of death and the seven stages of grief, a fair bit of angst. reader uses she/her pronouns but it’s not described what she looks like.

word count. 2.9k

navigation station🚉

megumi fushiguro’s playlist. i recommend listening to it while reading

emi note — i haven’t written a lot of angst and this was a bigger thing for me so bare with me. if it comes off as repetitive i’m so sorry [sobs] this was like half proof read so don’t mind that. LOL. enjoy !!♡

Sometime had passed since the passing of Megumi Fushiguro, and it was hard on everyone. It was hard on you, he was the light of your life, the man you planned on starting a family with. You had never imagined not being with him everyday, never thought he would cease to exist. It was odd, it was painful, excruciating.

Those words of love and promises that amounted to nothing in the end.

07/23/19

“Give him back.” you demanded angrily, pounding on the ground where his grave site lie. Hot tears streaming down puffy cheeks, teeth grit as you took out your anger.

“Give him back to me!” screaming with such a raw emotion. Now throwing a fit on the ground as you sobbed, tears and spit flying everywhere as you roared with negative emotions. Everyone watched with sadness, they had all lost him. They lost their friend, classmate, comrade.. but they knew you lost more than that. You lost a part of yourself with him. You had lost your best friend, your rock, the moon who controlled the tides of your emotions, the love of your life. Your soul mate.

Sad eyes followed your every movement, sad ears bared to listen to your broken words.

“Get away.” you turned around and spat at the people who watched.

“Y/N.. we’re here for you and Megumi..” Nobara spoke softly trying to calm you down as she walked towards you. “Do not come near me.” You yelled still on all fours clenching the ground below. “You don’t deserve to be here. None of you!” The hatred that poured out from your voice, the flurrying sadness in your eyes. Yuji was choking back tears as he bit his lip while it trembled. Nobara stumbled back giving you the space you were demanding.

Did you really want space or did you want everyone to see you. See the way you were hurting.

No one wanted to see you like this, couldn’t stand it, and eventually they left one by one until it was just you. You were the last one to stay by him. You would forever be the last one to stay by him. In your mind at the moment no one else deserved to grieve and mourn with you like this, they may have been his friends but you were him and he was you.

“i hate you. I hate you. I hate you!” Sad and angry lies spewing from deep within your gut. Animalistic. Guttural.

This went on until a hand rest on your shoulder. Head whipping around to look at the person interrupting your grieving. Blue eyes met with your own, they didn’t have the usual spark and familiar joy in them anymore. Eyes were just as dull as yours. “Take your hand off of me sensei.”

Gojo frowned at you shaking his head, squatting beside you.

“This really sucks, doesn’t it?” he softly asked you as he longingly looked at the tombstone that sat in front of the two of you.

A calming wave started washing over you, the anger and frustration slowly washing away with it from your trembling stature. “Yeah, something like that” followed by a sad chuckle.

It was weird. Losing someone was weird. You were angry? sad? Amused? Nothing right now made sense.

Silence enveloped the two of you as you sat by his grave. It was more so both of you processing your emotions and not being able to fathom any words. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Megumi was supposed to stay forever, he was a calm summer breeze. The breeze that soothed the summer heat when it got hard to deal with. The breeze that made you stop and enjoy life while taking a breather.

“He was your son, I cannot imagine how you feel Gojo.” finally speaking up. “Satoru.” he corrected you. “right.. I cannot imagine how you feel Satoru” neither looking at the other. Eyes still glued to the writing on the tombstone, it just didn’t feel real to anyone.

“He was my son, and he was.. is your sun, he is the love of your life and I’m sure this is and going to be just as hard for you as it will for me” he replied placing a hand on your back.

“It’s not gonna get easier kiddo, but he’ll be here watching you. Making sure you’re okay. He loved and loves you so much.” Gojo said with such sadness winding through his words of.. comfort? Standing up and dusting himself off.

Taking one last look at Megumi and averting his eyes to now finally look at you. “Don’t forget that.”

10/12/18

He was right, it didn’t get easier. It got harder. You had gone through a few stages of grief. Anger was long gone, bargaining had hit you like a truck. Wishing it was you instead of him but your friends had helped you through with that. Denial and Guilt is what you were going through now. Feeling guilty for how you had treated the people who just wanted to be there for you and Gojo, and feeling guilty for not treating Megumi as good as you possibly could have.

Wishing to go back in time and be more grateful for him, more grateful for his patience, his loyalty, the way he remembered everything about you. There was so much more you wish you could have done and you felt like throwing up all the time.

You were also constantly in denial thinking you’d wake up in the morning turning over and hoping when you opened up your eyes that he’d still be there to say good morning and call you love. Asking what you wanted for breakfast. It’s what you guys would do every weekend when you didn’t have classes.

You asked Nobara to stay with you on weekends so you weren’t alone. You hated being alone. But it was almost just as painful waking up to see Nobara instead of an empty spot in your bed.

You started hearing his voice everywhere and all the time. Dropping whatever to go and look for him and being disappointed every time. Dreaming about him all the time and waking up in tears. It was hard trying to find the inner peace he left in your mind and soul.

You guessed you could cross off loneliness off your list although that would forever be carried along with you for as long as you live without him.

12/17/19

Christmas was nearing and everyone seemed to be in the holiday spirit as they decorated the dorm building. You sat on the couch watching. A world of hurt and sadness was really all you felt, this was the first time in awhile you had left your room to actually spend time with everyone and do something. You wanted to help out but it would just be painful and you also didn’t want to put a drag on everyone’s cheery mood. You smiled at them in envy, wishing you could get over it by now. It’s been months and you just can’t catch a break.

Christmas was your favourite holiday and now it just sucked. Inumaki had put on the fake fireplace video from youtube and played Christmas music. Listening to that and everyone’s chatter as well as laughs was a nice ambience that clouded your thoughts. The only person who wasn’t participating in decorating was Yuta, he sat beside you smiling at everyone who was hard at work, turning to you and asking why you weren’t doing the same in which you replied “I could ask you the same thing” with a snort and a playful eye roll. “Touchè Y/N” you scoffed at the word ‘touchè’

“What’s on your mind?” He asked already knowing the answer but he wanted to let you get it out. You paused, you knew you wouldn’t cry. You were past the point of tears just an empty feeling now. “I just wish he was here..” It was a vague answer but it said everything that needed to be said at the same time. “It’s tough.. and I’m sorry you have to feel like this and deal with this. I wish I could still grieve like you are.” he paused to think as you looked at him puzzled. “I feel guilty for not mourning his death as long as you have but don’t get me wrong! I wish you didn’t have to feel like this!” He apologized realizing how his statement could have come off. You laughed at him. First time you had laughed in a while. Reassuring him that you got what he meant.

Getting up from your spot and standing in front of him, extending your hand for him to get up as well. “Let’s decorate some stuff, they can’t do anything without us” Trying to feel like yourself again. Baby steps is all you could do right now and distracting yourself by doing minuscule tasks like this would suffice for now. Yuta took your hand giving you a bright smile while getting up.

A little bit of time had passed and eventually everyone had started to retreat back to their rooms except for you, yuta, inumaki and nobara who sat on the couch showing each other stupid tiktok’s. You and Yuta were chatting, you had felt better than when you had earlier.. feeling a bit more fulfilled. Checking the time seeing as it had gotten pretty late you said your good nights but before you got up you made sure to thank Yuta for helping you.

12/25/19 8:30am.

Christmas had rolled around fast. Once again you had been sat on the couch as everyone exchanged gifts, you had a bitter sweet smile on your face knowing he should have been there. God you had wished to see his locks of spikey black hair, his deep blue eyes and that half smile, his angsty demeanour that surrounded him everywhere he went.

You had gotten him a gift knowing he would never be able to open it but it was okay. “Y/N! I got you a really great gift I know you’ll love!” Nobara said as she gushed handing you a present. It snapped you back from your thoughts and you smiled warmly at her. Carefully unwrapping the paper around it, finding what looked to be a box that jewelry would come in. You opened it to find a pearly necklace with a gold hearted locket in the centre. Opening the lock you could see a picture of your best friends and him, as well as you. All big smiles on your faces except for his, typical. You laughed as you got up and hugged her, some happy tears escaped your eyes but it was okay. Thanking her you turned around and lifted your hair so she could put it on you.

Sitting back down and wiping some of those stray tears you felt okay. You felt good. Everything would be okay. You were starting to accept that he was gone but his memories and memories of him would always be with you and everyone else. Christmas would be nice.

As everything was finishing up Gojo had tapped your shoulder and smiled as he hid something behind his back. “I got you something too Kiddo, I hope it doesn’t put a down on your mood but I know these are one of your favourite things” you looked at him confused as you never confided in him for really anything. He handed you a bouquet of white lilies and your gaze softened and your smile fell to a weaker one. White lilies, the flower of purity and rebirth.“Thank you sensei” taking the flowers and giving him a half hug. pulling away and looking at the flowers knowing what you would do with them.

“Y/N, I got you something as well!” Yuji chimed in as he approached you. “Here. It’s a photo of you and Megumi” A photo of the two of you from your beach trip eating ice cream. You hadn’t even know that the photo had been taken, you smiled at Yuji giving him a half hug as well thanking him profusely. Taking another look at it, it was framed by a beautifully stained wooden frame. The dark grainy wood with two initials engraved in it, an M and a _. You knew what you would be doing with this as well.

Excusing yourself from everyone and bringing all of the gifts you had received from everyone back to your room.

12/25/19 3:20pm.

You sat at his grave as you talked to him as if he were still here. It helped ease that aching feeling that never truly went away when you were by yourself. “Gumi, I got some really nice gifts today but I thought you should have them.” turning to your back and pulling out the picture frame and putting it down where he rest. “Yuji got this for me. I didn’t even know he took this picture” an asymmetrical smile tugging at your cheeks lifting them slightly. “Merry Christmas Megumi”

Reaching to open your locket and look at the photo “Nobara got this one for me, it’s beautiful, huh? I also have one more thing” reaching back into the bag to grab the flowers. Pausing as your finger tips grazed the petals.

Tears quickly flowed from your eyes, what was even the point of this. Why were you talking to someone who wasn’t even here? All that lay below was a pile of bones in a suit and a tombstone that read his name, birthday and date of death. “This bites.”

Loud sobs filled the air as they usually did here. Every time you came it always ended up like this. Feeling stupid for talking to a grave, feeling stupid for not being able to pull yourself together as well as get your shit together and stand on your own two feet again. This feeling of loneliness and vacancy. “I wish you were here, I wish I could physically talk to you, physically hug you. I wish I could physically see you again.”

You couldn’t even hear the sound of snow crunching as someone walked up to you until you felt a tap on your shoulder again just as you did that day. Turning around to look up at whoever disturbed you, red and puffy eyes. “Hey kid” he greeted quietly as he crouched beside you like he did before. “It hurts. I didn’t want everyone else to see me break down again. I’ve been acting too depressing around them as much as it is, and doing it in christmas would be such a selfish thing to do” you sniffled, stuttering over your words trying to calm yourself down enough to speak, with every word you felt your throat burn. “They would understand, I promise” he resssured. “But I also get where you’re coming from. It’s been a rough few months for everyone and everyone’s been off, just trying to get through it. You’ve been taking it the worst though.” Once again your broken sobs filled the air as you hugged him grasping at any sort of comfort. “I wish I was as strong as them, as strong as you. as strong as him. He would have gotten his shit together so long ago” Gojo paused for moments trying to find the right words to say and he held you. “You are strong, just as strong as everyone else. Y/N you have to deal with all of this and holding onto him is the strongest thing anyone could do. You are taking your times coming to terms with this shitty hand you’ve been dealt and acceptance doesn’t have to come right away.”

It felt like time had stopped as you continued to cry into Gojo’s shoulder. Snow flakes fell as your tears started to stick to your face from the cold. You felt pathetic as you snotted all over Gojo, the fact that he had seen you like this too many times but it was nice you could rely on him. He was the closest you’d get to your late boyfriend and it was comforting knowing you could be like this around him without judgment. Finally pulling away and wiping your nose as you laughed sadly apologizing.“No worries kiddo, i’m always here to be your snot rag.” he ruffled your hair and gave you a smile. Even without seeing his eyes you knew his had pain searing throughout his as well.

“I know he’s gone but it’s so lonely. I’m always surrounded by this weird feeling I can’t put my finger on. It’s whenever I think of him, think of our memories, our plans we made.. I feel this.. this?” You paused trying to find the right word. “Melancholy. You feel melancholic.” You turned back to the bag and grabbed the white lilies Gojo had gotten you and laid them on top of Megumi’s headstone and started at it and sighed longingly as well as relieved knowing you could finally put a word to the feeling. “Yeah.. Melancholy.”

Snow still lightly fell as you and Satoru Gojo had started at his name leaning into each other. Acceptance. He was gone and that was okay, you would be okay, he would always be here whether it was physically or not.

“I‘ll see you again Megs”

A warmth embracing you almost like he was there hugging you saying that he can’t wait.

I hope this wasn’t like crazy awful because I was actually trying LMAO. in the christmas spirit i present you all with hard hitting megumi angst. don’t hate me. Like I said I only half proof read and over half of this I was stuck listening to my friends rage at cod LMAOO.

We love dad! gojo, being so supportive of the reader, i was afraid it would seem inappropriate that him and reader were hugging but like he’s just comforting his sons literal girlfriend who lost just as much as he did and he STILL stayed strong her HER. We also love Yuta for being her first big push to getting her back to being herself

reblogs and comments are vv appreciated ٩( 'ω' )و

Much love from emi!!🩷

tag list— feel free to ask to be tagged in future fics :3

@kasumitenbaz

#emi’s archive ┆彡 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #angst #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #megumi angst #megumi fushiguro angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x yn #don’t hate me #i love hurt/comfort #but without the comfort #megumi fushiguro my beloved #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen one shot #megumi oneshot #megumi fushiguro oneshot

[farfromstrange]

hi can i request for angst w no comfort, matt murdock fic wherein the reader died i like angst 🥲, specially your work "angel on the roof" thank you !!!

Thank you so much for your request, lovely! I was so excited (that sounds horrible in this context) when I saw it and I was even more excited when I read what you requested (Yeah, it still sounds horrible). Angst is my forte, and I've really been in an angsty mood lately. So, I wrote this in two hours and I cried while writing it. I hope you like it! (And I also hope you're doing okay, sweetheart.) This is not about suicide like the other hurt/no comfort fic, but it still hurts the same. I hope I could live up to your expectations!

Back To December | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: He fell for you hard and fast, but all good things eventually slip through Matt Murdock's fingers, and he is left alone all over again.

Warnings: ANGST, hurt/no comfort, Character death, mentions of blood, there's a really creepy guy at the beginning (but no sexual assault!), yeah this is just angsty as fuck

Word Count: 3.2k (I got carried away)

It’s a cold December afternoon. The remains of this week’s snowfall are covering the ground and it’s cold, so cold, but he can barely feel it. Something else, something colder, something far more painful is creeping up his spine. It’s not because his clothes are soaked or the snowflakes that have latched onto his hair. He feels as if the floor has been ripped out under his feet, and it has been a long time since he last felt this way. Loneliness has become his closest companion over time and he got used to always losing and hardly ever winning. Over time, he got used to grieving, he got used to being left, and he got used to a painful hollowness in his chest that eventually started to occur more often. The hole in his chest has always been there, but merely a few days ago it had been somewhat filled. 

Matt Murdock has never experienced much happiness in his life. He tried to fight the demons in his head, but eventually, he succumbed to them. He succumbed to the claws that tore at his chest and dragged him down into an endless abyss. He used to associate the color gray with his life because when he thought about it, there has never been much color. He got used to existing rather than living until someone stepped into his life that was anything but dreary. 

It was in summer, he remembers, the third of July when he was walking the streets of Hell’s Kitchen on his way home from work. The noise of the city moved into the back of his mind as he tried to focus on anything but the deafening sound of injustice and everyday life. They often blurred together and mixed when he wasn’t focusing, and sometimes that was worse than when he purposely focused on his surroundings. 

He was just casually walking when he heard the distinctive fast sound of footsteps straight ahead. He tilted his head curiously, not sure if it was just another teenager playing tag with their friends in the middle of the night or someone walking fast, or perhaps someone who needed his help. It was then he stretched his senses out to judge the situation, but by the time he focused on the erratic heartbeat coming his way, the person who it belonged to already stood in front of him. 

It was the third of July, he knows, when you came into his life. 

You were just walking home from work when a man emerged from behind one of the cars parked along the street of the shop you were working at. You had closed early, which was rare but not impossible, especially not with the heat so heavy that no one wanted to set foot outside. Even with air conditioning, you felt like dying every time you went to work. 

You tried not to think too much about the stranger, your keys already clutched tightly in your hand, but when you sped up, the man sped up too. It was then your fight-or-flight response kicked in. You were a terrible fighter and would have broken your thumb before you could have caused any serious damage, so instead, you ran. You ran until the streets got lighter and finally, God finally, someone else walked the street you were on. 

Not paying much mind to who the stranger was, you stopped right in front of him. Your hand caught his sleeve - you felt guilty because well, if the glasses hadn’t been an indicator, his cane surely was, and using a blind guy to get out of being mugged or God forbid, possibly even raped, felt wrong but he seemed like the kind of guy that wouldn’t mind helping. It was something about him that made you feel safe, almost. 

“I need you to pretend we know each other,” you said entirely out of breath, one of your sweaty strands of hair caught on your dry lips. 

He frowned, tilting his head in the direction of the other man’s steps and he realized just what you were running from. 

“Please,” you begged, and he could only imagine the panic in your eyes. 

He licked his lips. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, just- oh, for fuck’s sake! Kiss me.”

“Sorry, what?” Matt stammered. He thought of many things, one of them being completely screwing his disguise and beating whoever was following you into a puddle until he couldn’t walk anymore, but your request was… odd and a complete surprise, at that. 

The more he thought about it though, it made sense. The man would only ease up if he saw Matt as your boyfriend and not a strange blind guy. 

You looked at him expectantly and the closer the man behind you came, the faster your heart beat. If he wasn’t willing to help you, you would have to run again. 

Fortunately, he caught himself fast enough to pull you in by the waist - his strength surprised you - and pressed his lips to yours. That he would do it, you never expected. It had been a weird request, of course, but the only thing you thought of that would make a possible rapist turn the other way. 

You caught yourself on his arms, leaning into the kiss as if it were real, and partly it felt like it. He was an amazing kisser, you noticed, and if this had been a date you would have thoroughly enjoyed it, but the only thought in your mind was getting rid of the man that was following you. Or had been following you, anyway, because upon seeing the kiss that looked more realistic than it was, he stopped and turned back around. 

When the stranger pulled away, you forgot how to breathe for a second. Your cheeks flushed, the blood rushing to your head immediately, and you pressed a hand in front of your mouth. Matt thought it was cute, although he had to contain himself from hunting down the man that even led you to make such a rash decision in the first place. Perhaps it was the fact that he was blind that made you believe he was on the good side, and the kiss seemed to have saved your ass, which he was glad about because fighting someone right in front of the eyes of an unknown stranger was not on his to-do list. The kiss hadn’t been either, but it had already happened and the awkward silence made matters worse. 

Your breath hitched in your throat again. “I’m so sorry,” you said, muffled through your hand. 

“Um,” Matt forgot how to speak. 

“I just wasn’t sure what to do and you know, most men don’t take no for an answer and I thought- God, I am so sorry. You probably think I’m a psycho now.”

He quickly caught himself again. “Oh, no. No, I absolutely don’t think that,” he said. “I was just… surprised?”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I promise I’m not usually like this.”

“You were scared, I understand.”

“I really didn’t know what else to do.”

It was the truth, and the more he spoke to you, the more he realized your heartrate was going down. You were safe. 

“Okay,” you bit your lip, “Okay, I should probably go. Nice meeting you. I’m just gonna-” as you distanced yourself, you pointed behind yourself in the direction you were originally headed, “Yeah, I’m just gonna go.”

“Wait,” Matt heard himself object to your attempt to leave. 

You halted, surprised he would even want to talk to you after what happened. A small smile rested on his lips. The same lips you had just kissed. 

“What’s your name?” he asked. 

The first time he heard your name was on July third, the night dark and hot, and it was the same night you kissed him for the first time. It was a kiss out of desperation, a way to save yourself from the grabby hands of a stranger, and yet, when he asked for your name, he received an answer. 

“I’m Matt,” he introduced himself. 

July third was the day you came into his life and from then on, you refused to leave. His senses got used to your scent, your taste, and the feel of your skin under his fingers when he had first kissed you. His ears got used to the sound of your voice, and the feeling of your name on his tongue became natural. 

One meeting turned into two and eventually, only a month after, in fact, he realized he had done the one thing he never expected himself to do ever again: he fell for you. He fell fast and hard, the first tint of color in his dull life, and the pain in his chest got a little more bearable with you by his side. You became the light in the darkness, the one person he could always turn to, and when you found out who he was - who the man behind the black mask was, you didn’t run. 

You found out one night when you used your key to get into his apartment. He hadn’t answered any of your calls and he felt guilty, but then you stood in his apartment just as he walked through the door. He had a huge gash on his side and he was sure he wouldn’t make it to the couch in time. When he heard your heartbeat and the way it jumped when you saw him, he was sure death would be kinder than having to listen to you leaving, but the anticipated moment of rejection never came. 

The light of his life stayed. You had dropped everything to hold him up. You patched him up and you held him as he writhed in pain, and when he was finally patched up and safe, he caught your wrist. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked him. 

He hissed, not sure if it was because of emotional or physical pain, but perhaps both. You sounded small, worried almost, but the sound of your heartbeat was the most familiar to him and so he knew that you weren’t scared, you were merely curious. 

And that was when he knew that he had fallen head over heels in love with you.

“I wanted to protect you,” he said. 

The thought of losing you had been his greatest fear. You were the color he desperately needed, the reason for him to keep going. He thought that, with your help, he could make it. He thought his life could finally be normal. 

But even the most beautiful of flowers die eventually. It’s a slow death, usually, a constant process of withering. With you though, it was fast and it was the hardest thing he ever had to do. You weren’t a flower, you were human and he realized that too late one night. 

On July third, he swore to protect you, always. He swore to save you, to hold you and take care of you until his dying breath. On the third of December though, his worst fear became reality, and suddenly, the tint of color in his life was flickering like the billboard outside of his apartment that you had often complimented. The tint of color in his life, the beautiful flower, the light that kept him going, stood right in front of him and he barely had the time to open his mouth when the shot rang out. 

Why did you have to follow him, anyway? You were foolish but you had been so worried, you stormed out of your apartment, determined to find him. The rooftop you finally found him on was dark just like his life had been before you. 

You were so relieved to see him alive, you didn’t notice the dark shadow on the floor or the clinging of metal that filled the air. “Matt!” you called out, but his mouth opened and instead of words, you could hear the faint blow of a gun. 

The shot rang out and for a moment you thought it hit him. For a moment, you were worried, and then the sharp pain tore through your abdomen and you knew, the shot wasn’t meant for him.

His arms caught you as you fell. Matt wasn’t sure what was worse, the feeling of your blood running through his fingers as he pushed on the gaping wound on your abdomen or the erratic sound of your fading heartbeat as it tried its best to beat for you, to supply your body with blood, but it couldn’t pump so fast as to catch up with the speed you were losing it again. 

“Matt-” you smiled when you saw his face. “You’re safe,” you said. “I thought you weren’t safe.”

“Shh,  sweetheart,” he told you, and he tried hard not to sob - your heart had become his favorite song, a symphony that was unique in itself, but now it was running out like a broken record. The sand in the hourglass ran faster than he could catch you. 

You choked. The missing fear in your voice told him that you knew. Oh, you knew you weren’t going to make it. 

“You foolish, foolish- Jesus,” he bent over you, his hand still tightly pressed against your abdomen, but the sharp pain you had felt was gone. You just felt numb now. “I told you to stay home,” he said. His voice cracked at the end because now even he knew, deep down, that you weren’t going to make it out of this. 

And he had just found you. It didn’t seem fair. 

You sucked in a sharp breath. “I was just-” you coughed again, and he could taste the copper in the air from where it ran down the corner of your mouth. “I was worried,” you breathed. 

He shushed you again. “It’s okay,” the first tear descended his cheek and met with yours, “You’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna get you out of here and fixed up, okay? Hey-” Your eyes drooped, but he held your face with such force, you felt compelled to open them again, but you were tired. Oh, you were so tired. 

It was your time to tell him, “It’s okay.”

Your body was wracked with a terrible wave of shivers and even though he was holding you tightly to his chest, his body was just cold air to you. Everything was cold.

“No, don’t close your eyes! You have to stay with me, sweetie, okay? Just a little longer.”

“I can’t.” And he knew you couldn’t.

“You don’t get to do that, not yet. It’s not time yet. We have so much-” he grunted in the back of his throat. “Remember you told me about the pyramids in Egypt? You wanted to go there,” he said, and at this point, he was crying more than he was smiling. “So you have to stay awake, okay? Stay awake for me, baby.”

You reached out your weak hand, touching his cheek. There was blood on your fingers and it smeared on his cheekbone. Your touch was cold. You used to be so warm and now you were simply cold, and your heartbeat turned into tiny beats after another. 

“We both know I’m not gonna make it,” you said with all the strength you had left. 

“No,” he was determined, “Don’t say that. You’re gonna be fine.”

“Matthew-” the call of his full name was almost unfamiliar. “Matthew, listen. Listen to my heart.” 

“I am, baby, and it is still beating, that means there is still time. I can save you. I can-”

“No, you don’t understand,” you said. Your hand moved from his cheek to the left side of his chest. “I’m always going to be here.” 

“Stop,” he sobbed. “God, don’t do this to me. You can’t do this. You have to hold on.”

“It’s time,” you said. 

“No, baby, please-”

“It’s time for me to go, Matthew.”

“No.”

Your hand dropped, your muscles too weak to hold your body up anymore. Thud, thud, thud. He focused on your heartbeat, but he soon realized that it wasn’t yours, it was his. His own heartbeat was louder than yours, but it had the same beat, it played to the same rhythm as yours. Your bodies aligned, but the blood, oh the blood. Your scent was overshadowed by the smell and the taste of pure blood and it made him sick. 

“I-” you choked again, but the sentence you wanted to say needed to be said, no matter how strong those claws were that were just waiting to pull you underwater. “I love you,” your voice broke like fragile glass upon impact, “and I always will.”

His forehead fell against yours. You were so cold. Matt held you, he held you to keep you warm, but you were getting colder by the minute and your blood seeped through his fingers, through his shirt, and that was when he realized. 

“No,” he desperately felt for your heart, but the familiar melody was gone. He couldn’t feel you, he couldn’t touch you, he couldn’t smell you. He could only hold your limp body as the life left your body and your soul with you. 

On December third, you died in his arms. On December third, he had to deliver your body to the hospital, but you were long gone when they found you. He knew you were gone, but he had held you for a while longer, trying to find the life inside of you, trying to keep his hope alive, but on December third, you died, and with you, all the color in his life faded into the darkest of blacks. 

Matt Murdock remembers the day he met you and he remembers the day you died. As he is standing over your grave now, the snow feels numb on his soaked clothes. What is creeping up his spine is worse than the cold of December. The pain of losing you is colder than snow, it’s colder than anything he has ever felt before. The cold has crept into his heart and frozen whatever life had been left inside of him. You died and he couldn’t save you. He had to bury you because he just couldn’t save you. 

You were the light of his life and Matt lost that, too, like he has lost everything in his life. It's then he truly starts to believe that everything he touches is supposed to rot and die. Everything he has ever touched, no matter how beautiful, has turned ugly, dark, and gray, and then eventually, dead. Cold, dark, and dead.

You were an explosion of wonderful colors but now you were gray, just like his life. A gray stone on the cemetery behind Clinton Church, your body cold, your blood branded into his skin and he cries. He stands at your grave and cries because you’re still in his head, you’re still in his heart, and it kills him that a memory is all he has left of you. He longs to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you like he had many times before, but you’re gone. 

His sweater smells of your perfume, his sheets smell of your bodywash and your essence still lingers in the air of his apartment, no matter how many times he opens a window, and then there is your name that suddenly everyone seems to have. He searches for you when it rings out, but you’re not there. 

On December third, you died, and with your memory lingering everywhere, he would go back to December all the time. And it breaks him to know you’re not there. 

#tw: death #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock fic #daredevil fic #hurt/no comfort #matt murdock angst #this is pure pain #request <3

[alloftheimagines]

billy hargrove | without you

masterlist | ko-fi

words: 2.7k

warnings: 18+. this fic may be triggering. read with care please.

grieving!billy under vecna's curse, dead!reader, suicidal ideation, mentions of death, blood, violence, injury, references to billy's abusive home life, but a semi-uplifting ending

prompt: Hi I was re-reading your stories on stranger things and I was wondering if you could do some sort of part 2 for gone? 

Where Billy gets attacked by Vecna the same way that Max got attacked when she went to the cemetery? Thanks

— can be read as a follow-up to gone.

Billy Hargrove isn’t particularly afraid of dying — in fact, ever since your death in the Starcourt Mall last year, he’s been wishing it was him instead. Or maybe him as well, when he’s being really selfish, because he can’t bear to be without you. And now he is. Every single day. He aches. Every single day. Sometimes, he still wakes up searching for your warm body on the other side of the bed. Or he’ll stir in the middle of the night certain that he heard you laugh. But you’re never there. And he isn’t, either. He’s become a ghost.

A cursed ghost, apparently. Things have been worse recently. Headaches, nose bleeds, visions, nightmares he never quite wakes up from — about you. About his mom. His dad. The monsters he faced last July. 

It’s Max and her dysfunctional group of fucking friends who break the news that he’s cursed. Vecna, they call him. He’s claimed two teenagers already, their bodies found mangled and broken, sharing the exact same symptoms as Billy before they died. Billy would have called bullshit if he hadn’t seen the Mind Flayer last year. Now, he knows that there are things hiding underneath Hawkins he can't explain. 

But he isn’t afraid. A part of him is glad. It feels like he can breathe, knowing it will all be over soon. The grief. The trying to move on. The neverending abuse from his dad. The trying to be a better person because it’s what you would have wanted. It will be over, and he’ll find you again, wherever you end up. And if there is no afterlife, no heartfelt reunion, then there will be nothing. Darkness. And even that’s more comforting than a life without you.

He hates the way Max watches him as everyone makes themselves comfortable in the Wheeler’s basement, waiting for Robin and Nancy to visit some dude to try to stop it. He probably should have listened to the plan. Trouble is, he doesn’t know why they’re all trying so damn hard. He sure as hell doesn’t deserve it. The only good thing about him was you. You're the only reason he helped them last summer: because you were Flayed, and he was desperate to get you back.

But he never did.

He props his elbows on his thighs, twirling his rings around his fingers. You used to wear one of them strung on a necklace. The one on his thumb. A lump gathers in his throat, breaking through the void he’s felt for months. He avoids everybody’s gaze, glaring when he puts a cigarette in his mouth only for Steve Harrington to yank it out. “The Wheelers won’t be too happy if you smoke in their house, man.”

“You gonna deny a dying man his fuckin’ cigarettes?”

“You’re not dying,” Max mumbles. 

He rolls his eyes, daring to look up at her. It hurts to see all the ways he failed her. You were always telling him to be kinder. To take care of her. He tried. God, he tried. But he sometimes wonders if cruelty is just ingrained in him. “You should be dancin’ on the ceiling. You’re finally getting rid of your dick of an older brother. You're free.”

“Don’t say that,” she snaps. “God, Y/N would hate you for saying that. She would hate you for giving up.”

He stills at that, growing cold — because it’s true. You would. And he forgets that he wasn’t the only one who loved you. You were like a sister to Max. You talked to her in ways he just couldn’t.

He bows his head again, sandy curls falling in his heavy eyes. “Yeah, well. Y/N isn’t here.”

Silence falls again. Billy feels Steve’s gaze burning the side of his face and almost loses his shit, but he doesn’t even have the energy for his stupid remarks anymore. So he waits until Harrington finally works up the nerve to say quietly, “Y’know, for a guy who’s next on some supernatural hit list, you don’t seem all that rattled. Most people would be shitting their pants by now.”

Billy clenches his jaw. “Yeah, well… I’m not.”

“Max needs you, Hargrove.” Steve taps the arm of the couch, his gaze lowered as though afraid of Billy’s reaction. They never really resolved that fight of theirs. “I know you’ve had it rough since Y/N…” He can’t even say it.

Billy closes his eyes, trying not to flinch. Every time he hears your name, it opens up a hole in his chest, and he can’t sew it back up. It swallows him whole. Makes him wonder if there’s anything left of him for Vecna to take. 

“I’m just saying,” Steve continues finally, “she still needs you. That’s why we’re helping you. It isn’t for you. It’s for Max. And Y/N. She would have wanted you safe. So do us a favour and work with us, will you? Stop being such an ass to your sister and stop acting like you don’t care if you die.”

“Mind your own fuckin’ business, Harrington,” Billy growls, but his heart isn’t in it. He remembers when he used to believe in what he said. Now, there’s just nothing. Nothing but the emptiness you left. He pinches the bridge of his nose, an ache building behind his eyes. He misses you. He misses you so damn much. He wishes you were here, holding his hand, telling him to simmer down and be nicer to his little sister. He wishes you were here to tell him everything was okay. 

Sometimes, he can’t even remember the sound of your voice anymore. He has to think to recall the exact colour of your eyes. Like you’re disappearing. And so is he. 

He just wants to be close to you. He stands up decidedly, grabbing his denim jacket and shrugging it on.

Max frowns. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not sitting around, waiting to die in some kid’s sad little basement.”

“We’re coming with you,” Dustin pipes up.

Billy puffs, gritting his teeth. “No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, man.” Steve straightens, too, a line forming between his brows. “We are. We don’t know when Vecna’s gonna come for you. You’re not going anywhere on your own.”

Billy glowers for a moment, wondering if there’s any use in arguing. But he looks at his sister again and his resolve weakens. Sometimes, he sees you in Max. Not because you ever looked alike, but just that innocence, that blind compassion for a man who’s never earned it. 

And he can’t say no to her. So he nods. “Then I guess we’re taking a family outing. To the cemetery.” 

***

Your grave already looks weathered. Billy places a new bunch of your favourite flowers down as he kneels on the dew-coated grass by your headstone, his chest tugging itself inside out as though there’s a creature living in his ribs. He doesn’t feel closer to you here — you deserve better than to be reduced to a grey slab of stone — but it gives him something to focus on. He tries to ignore the feeling of being watched. The group is congregated around Steve’s car, waiting. 

Billy sucks in a breath, tears stinging his eyes. “Hey, angel. Sorry I haven’t been by in a while.” He feels like an idiot, but he wants to believe you can hear him somewhere. “I just… I wanted you to know that shit’s happening here, and I might be finding you sooner than we both expected.” A sad smile. “And if I don’t find you — because, honestly, I’m probably goin’ to hell anyway — I guess I just wanted to make sure I got a real goodbye first. I want you to know that…” he chokes on a sob and tips his head to the sky, the breeze ruffling his curls. “I just want you to know that everything’s shitty without you. I want you to know that you were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry I failed Max. I’m sorry I never became the man you deserved. I wanted to be. I swear, I wanted to. But I lost you, and it’s like I died with you that day. I don’t know how to carry on now.”

He sniffles, tracing his fingers over your name etched into the headstone. “You wanna know a secret? I was glad when I found out that I’m cursed. I was relieved. I’ve tried to live without you, angel, but this isn’t living. It doesn’t even feel like I’m breathing most days. I’ll be glad when it ends. I know that’s a shitty thing to say. I know it would kill you if you were still here. But you left me. You fucking left me.” Tears stream down his face now. He clutches his necklace, his shoulders shaking. Roughly, he wipes his palms across his cheeks. “I just can’t, okay? I can’t. So I think it’s over for me, and I think that’s okay. Just… keep an eye out for me, wherever you are, will you? I’ll try to make it to you. I promise.”

He places a finger to his lips and then presses it on the headstone carefully. Then, he takes off the ring you used to wear and balances it on top of the stone. And for a while, he drinks in the silence and pretends you’re sitting beside him. 

Until it all goes dark. The colour is sucked from the world, and he isn’t in the graveyard anymore. He’s somewhere else.

The Upside Down.

He turns around slowly, taking in the place that stole you away as his heart begins to pound. His boots crackle on slimy vines, particles floating through the air like ash. Is this where you were trapped when you were Flayed? In this endless abyss of nothing? The thought makes him tremble with regret, nausea roiling in his stomach. He takes a step. Another. 

And then he hears it. Your voice, calling him. "Billy."

He whips on his heel, almost collapsing to his knees when he finds you standing in front of him. You look the way you did the day you died: covered in your own, blackened blood, tears in your tattered shirt and your eyes glassy. Only you're upright now. Not lifeless on the floor of Starcourt.

“Y/N,” he whispers. Relief washes through him. He thinks this is how it ends. That maybe he’s already dead, and you’re here to take him somewhere safe. Somewhere where you’re together again.

But then you cock your head, and he knows he isn’t that lucky. “Have you missed me, Billy?”

He knows it’s not you, but he still wants to pretend. It’s been so long since he last saw you. So long since he heard your voice. “Every day,” he whispers. 

“Yet you did nothing, did you? You let me sacrifice myself, and you stood and watched. You didn’t save me.”

He shakes his head, chin wobbling. “You know I couldn’t, angel. There was nothing I could do.”

“Are you sure?” You take another step closer, tracing your fingers along his cheek. They’re cold. Rough. Not yours. Yet still, he savours the touch as though it’s really you, because this is better than nothing at all. He won’t succumb to the curse, to the fear. He won’t fight it at all. “You knew there was something wrong with me, didn’t you? You knew I wasn’t myself. But you didn’t do anything.”

“I couldn’t. I tried.” He did. The sauna test, trusting you when everybody else had already written you off. He tried so hard to bring you back to yourself, but he couldn’t reach you. 

“You’re just like your father, you know,” you whisper.

He wants to throw up at those words. Those words you’ve never said before. Would never say. You always worked so hard to convince him he was better than Neil. 

“A coward,” you continue. “A hopeless, pathetic coward. I see that now. You’re not even mean anymore. You’re nothing, Billy Hargrove. Nothing at all.”

Tears roll down his cheeks as he closes his eyes. The words aren’t a surprise. He’s heard them a million times before from Neil. But never from you. Never. 

“The world will be better with you gone — but you already know that, don’t you?” you say. “That’s why you’re not fighting it. It’s why you want to die. Because even you’re sick of yourself. All you do is make people miserable. All you do is hurt people. Just like you hurt me. Just like you watched me die. It’s your turn, now.”

Good, he thinks. Get it over with. He steels himself, squeezing your hand and pulling it away from his cheek. “I love you, Y/N,” he says, because he knows it’s the last time he ever will. 

“You don’t know what love is, Billy Hargrove.” And then he’s falling, falling, falling. The world turns red, and a clock’s toll rents through the hollow world around him four times. You’ve been replaced by a mottled, grotesque monster. Vecna, he assumes. His long, spiny fingers are around Billy’s neck, and around him, the broken bodies of Chrissy and Fred, his previous victims. It’s Billy's turn. He tries not to look at them. Tries not to think about Max seeing him that way. 

“I’ve been waiting for you, Billy,” Vecna hisses out. His hands rise, and Billy squeezes his eyes shut. Let me be with her, he begs a final time. Please, just let the pain end.

But it doesn’t. Instead, a song echoes through the emptiness. One you always sung in the shower. One you used to force him to play in his own damn car. You’d wind the windows down and sing it from the top of your lungs. And he never told you, but he wondered if one day it might be your wedding song. “Wild Horses” by The Rolling Stones.

 The song makes him remember the feeling of winding his windows down and letting the summer breeze roll through. The smell of freshly cut grass and a beating sun. His cheeks aching with a smile, your laugh ringing above the melody.

Daylight opens up before him, and he sees himself levitating the way he is now, only he’s still at your grave, and Max is screaming as the song plays. His stomach drops with guilt, self-hatred. He can’t leave her like that. Can’t leave himself like that. He imagines it’s you watching him that way. Imagines you’re singing the song like you used to.

And he knows. It’s not his time. No matter how badly he wants it to be, there are still pieces of you to keep alive. There are still ways he can be better, ways he can honour your memory instead of trodding all over it with self-loathing. 

Max deserves better than that. So do you. Maybe he does, too. Because it’s clear now that he’s still loved, still needed. He doesn’t know why, but he has to find out. He can’t die here in the dark without you. Without anyone. 

“It’s not my time,” he mutters — and then he uses Vecna’s surprise against him, and he runs like hell back to his friends. His family. Back to the place where you’re buried. “I’m sorry,” he’s sobbing as he goes. He doesn't know who he's talking to anymore: you, Max, himself. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

The light blinds him. He falls to the floor, feeling the grass beneath his hands and people scrambling to hold him. He looks up; finds blue sky staring back at him. Sun. Max is sobbing as she holds him, and the song is still playing.

“I remembered,” she cries. “She used to love this song. I remember.”

He can’t help his own tears as he clutches her for all he’s worth. He thought he was ready to die, but he isn’t. Not like that. He can’t have his last memory of you be a monster wearing your clothes. He won’t let Vecna use you against him.

So he holds on. He listens to your song, and he lets his sister hold him, and he holds on. For you. 

#billy x reader #imagines #request an imagine #fandom imagines #multifandom imagines #imagines masterlist #x reader imagines #masterlist #multi fandom imagines #x reader #multifandom #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy imagine #billy fic #billy hargrove angst #stranger things one shot #stranger things #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfiction #strangerthings

[blood-injections]

I would love to hear some father figure Doctor D headcannons..

FATHER FIGURE DOCTOR D. YEAH HES YES OF COURSE

He is THE dad of the zones honestly, he literally adoped cherri, he basically adoped the fab four and later down the line vaya and vamos and the girl is like literally his grandchild not literally but as the fab four are his kids so shes his grandchild plus he's like been there since the start he probably knew her mother.

Anyway I've made a post about this bit before ! Show Pony is his biological nephew ! And they grew up visiting him and being a little helper around his radio station in LA and when they hot older, theyd spend their summers staying with him, and he was always a lot funner and when Pony was like ten and realized they felt genderweird. He was way more accepting than their lameass probably transphobic parents so Dr D's their cool uncle but really they see him more as their father figure, and Ponys staying with him one summer when theyre twelve and the helium wars start and stuff shuts down and eventually he has to fight, but he's officially taken in Pony since they cant get in contact with their parents and man, Ponys twelve and its war, they don't want to go back to their sucky parents anyway. And Dr D fucking loves that kid and always hated his stuck up brother, so he never complains.

In the wars he gets really close to another older man he fights beside, a partner, they never label anything but dr d kinda loves him, but things go wrong one day and he loses his legs and his friend all at once. His partner had a son, though, one a little older than pony, and it was just the two of them and so dr d promised his partner he'd look after his son, make sure he wasnt sent to one of the orphanages popping up with bad vibes

So he takes in that 14 year old boy, who will later be known as Agent Cherri Cola, and he loves that kid like his own, because if cherris father and him had both made it through to the end of that war cherri probably would have been his own, if he got to marry that man. Cherri misses his dad like hell but he loves dr d too, and with time sees him as a father and pony as a sibling, for his dad may have raised him but it was dr d and pony that he was with when the war ended and Battery City was erected and when they settled in the desert and watched the zones as we know them be born.

And then its Jet Star, after the zones have been the zones for a while, when cherri and pony are practically grown up, 17 and 20 respectively, Jet's a sand pup, old enough to remember the wars but barely the world before it, so the deserts his home, he grew up out there with his family, on a ranch, and his family then became his crew, who was then lost in a tragic firefight, and jet was alone, drifting the zones at sixteen, its pony that brings it to light, that knows jet and says a friends been drifting since they lot their crew, asks dr d if he can stay with them for a bit at he station. And well, dr d loves his kid, so he says yeah, who is he to deny a joy that needs help.

Jet lives with them for a year, and then moves on to find their own place when they arent so lost, arent grieving their family as hard, but the thing is dr d just has this affect on people, and jet sees him as a sort of father figure too, and he sees jet as another kid, especially when he watches them go stay in the diner, and then take in ghoul, whos just a little fukin kid, ran away from the city at eleven, and somehow survived, not to mention somehow made it all the way out to zone five on foot, and with a gun but hardly being able to shoot it. And jets just seventeen still but they take in ghoul at the diner and kinda teach him the way of the zones, and theyre always over at the station, and ghouls this little kid thats lost everything but hes a fucking spitfire, he reminds dr d of cherri when he first took him in, and of course he helps out jet with teaching him stuff, and ghouls young but hes crazy good at engineering and coding and electronics and stuff, since he grew up with androids and learned early how to help them out, do repairs, hes good at that shit and he fixes some of the old equipment around the station and like seriously, dr d just adopts any kid hes known for more than like a week so hes fucking proud of this smartass kid, and then he gets to see him grow up too and he just loves them all more as time passes.

And then its the venom brothers, two years later, they're older when they get out of the city, and poison at least is already a decent fighter. Jets nineteen and ghouls thirteen and the two of them run into the brothers in a firefight, where poisons shielding their little brother with their body, just them against a group of dracs, and of course jet and ghoul see them just in time and sweep in to help. The brothers have been in the zones for just a few weeks aparently, poisons seventeen and kobras fourteen, and they still haven't found a base, so jet invites them to stay in the diner while they figure things out, who they are, how the zones work, and they agree. And since jet and ghoul already visit the station every other fucking day, now kobra and Poison are tagging along too, and they're fucking weird kids and dr d loves them. Poison and pony take a natural shine to each other and to his surprise, cherri becomes a sort of mentor for kobra, whos a real little shit by the way, like ghoul but angry instead of just.. ghoul. Lashing out because he didnt know hat else to do, but with kobra its a different kind of fire, a melting pot of discomfort with his teenage body and figuring out who he is and neurodivergency and getting overstimulated and just hating society and the world in general. Cherri teaches him how to fight with his fists, channel the rage the kid has, thins poisn cant teach him, not really, theyre protective ayway, dont want him holding a gun yet, like ghoul wasnt learning soon as jet took him in because if youre gonna have a gun, you gotta use it right, and out here, you need a gun.

Kobra kind of idolizes Dr D too, cause he's this wicked cool old dj thats like, zones famous, and talks cool and has cool stories, so hes learning to fight from cherri, and this kid thats know nothing but battery city and pills for his whole life gets to hear about the world befoe and music and the wars they only skimmed over in the schools in the city. Kobra talks all city too, kinda hates how he sounded, cause everyone could tell hes from the city from it, but listening to dr d so much, he picks up his accent, old california native/plain old like, fun radio guy kinda accent, yaknow, he says vowels weird somtimes and does the zonestalk thing where ya' smush words t'gether or slur 'em a bit, like that. And he picks up a lot of slang from dr d too.

And once again dr d watches these kids grow up, choose names, watches kobra kid learning to ride a bike and in a couple years he'll be there at his first race at the crash track and fucking cheering, because theres a ton of older joys like him and theres a ton of kids, but this is one of his. These kids chose him, really, and so he's their family, a friend, a father figure, whatever they need.

#sorry i love him #dr d posting #asks #ttlotfk #danger days #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #doctor death defying

[thefox198783]

Son Of Osborn

In this universe Peter is biologically son of Norman Osborn, brother of Harry Osborn. (And he used to be 5,6 now he is 8ft) (and had short hair before growing)

Harry is aware that his father is emotionally and psychologically abusive. Which is why he does not like him but he has to tolerate him for Peter's sake. (He even tried to protect Peter from Norman only to make it worse)

He got the scar from Norman indicating that he had hurt Peter physically as well. Which is why Harry dislike for Norman turned into hatered.

Backstory: since he is biologically son of Osborn. Norman has favored him the most. Meanwhile Harry takes the role of spider-man. Peter was indoctrinated by Norman's insanity and manipulation (and drugging him on a daily basis) making Peter just as insane as him, but only using his insanity in important situations. Since then Norman has made Peter do Goblin missions for some time to get spider-man off of his back (not to get caught). But after Norman's "death" Peter went nuts deciding to kill spider-man completely. Overtime he took over the business (not that Harry wanted to be apart of this anyway) and creates plans to get rid of spider-man. Harry tries his best to get it out of him to forget it but Peter was insisting on getting revenge. During the summer after his "death" Peter met a girl to say at least and fell in love to the point he became obsessed with her wanting to care for her and not lose her like he lost his father, Harry noticed this and tried to give Peter some advise (so Peter won't create plans to kill him as spider-man and try to find out his plans in his office) so he could have fun, but non the less Harry was happy that his brother found someone to love (or he thinks like that).

Unfortunately in one of the spider-man and Green Goblins fight. Harry's identity got revealed to Peter and only Peter. It made him go even more insane with grief on why would his own brother do this? Why whould he kill him!? He couldn't kill him but beat him near to death and returned to his home (Harry may have survived but he never returned knowing that his brother would kill him if he did).

Since then, Peter hasn't seen Harry (only in fights though). Overtime he feels sad that he lost another family he doesn't know what to do. He want to forgive him but why should he? Harry killed their father.

It breaks him even more when he finds out that his father is truly not dead but was hiding? Why did he faked his death? He was grieving and tried to get revenge on him only to find out that he's still alive? Did he frame Harry, just so Peter would hate him? He is torn apart on trying to get his dad back or try to make amends with his brother. So he tries to get fresh air, maybe talk to his l̶o̶v̶e̶ friend. Maybe she can help him! Give him advice! Yeah it will go smoothly right.

Not everything goes smoothly

And there she is. Looking different? Red skin? Halo? Wings? Is she what? A demon? She's covered in blood. He stares in shock until blush covered his face, it only made him want more of her. He got closer to her wanting to hug her but she backed away.

"What's wrong?"

"You know we can't be together right?"

"What! why!?" His eyes wide in shock and panic. Why. Why won't you be with him? Are gonna leave him as well?

"Because. A villain and a guardian won't work, we are mortal enemies"

"Besides I'm from another dimension, i can't live here. I have to go back home" she turns and walks away while the poor boy drops on his knees tears dropping from his eyes. But then she stops

"Unless" he looks at her

"Unless what!?"

"You can prove yourself. Are you up to the task?" She turns behind again looking at him directly.

"YES ANYTHING. I'LL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU!"

"Then. Leave villainy behind come with me or" she walks towards him before touching his face "stay here and continue to be a villain"

He couldn't lose her. Not this. Nor ever. He lost his father and his brother. He couldn't lose her again. So with the obsession and love in his eyes he tracked down Norman. Murdering him as a result, using the head as the trophy he wrapped it as the present and showed it to her.

As much as the girl wasn't expecting the head she took it as the 'proof' of him leaving his villainy behind. He left the universe with her never to be seen again.

Now he has grown. He's much stronger and dangerous than ever before.

[starlitangels]

Spitfire

So... I posted a Very Rough Draft snippet of this for WIP Wednesday like... months ago... and I’m just getting around to finishing it... sorry... Shoutout to @zozo-01 for helping me pick out what magic race Xavier’s partner would be for this 2.3k words (almost exactly)

CW: Inversion Angst, mentions of character death, grieving POV character (it starts happy I promise)

—

“Why, why, why, why, why?” I complained. “I moved to Dahlia for school for a reason!” I shivered, hands under my arms trying to hold in their heat, watching Xavier calmly slide his key into the lock. He chuckled, other hand in the pocket of his jeans, entirely unconcerned.

“Everything okay, spitfire?” he asked.

“No. It’s cold.”

He beamed, bright teeth shining against bronze skin. He shoved the door open and indicated for me to go inside first.

I slid past him and into the house.

Warmth rushed over me. Which surprised me, for a Fire-Contra household. Cold didn’t bother Xavier in the slightest. I’d imagined his parents probably kept their house fairly cool.

It took a moment—while I removed my shoes—for my shivering to relax.

“Y’know,” Xavier began in that tone that I knew meant teasing, “you’re the only Fire Elemental I’ve ever met who doesn’t generate heat like a furnace. Like, all the other Fire Elementals I know keep themselves perfectly warm in the winter and couldn’t care less about summer heat.”

I breathed on my hands, trying to warm them up. “Yeah, well, everyone has different relationships with their magic,” I muttered.

Xavier unzipped the jacket he’d been wearing, revealing the pale blue tank top he had on underneath, and hung it up on a coat closet door in the entrance hallway. Then helped me out of my parka overcoat and jacket. Smiling the whole time. “I know. I just think you’re cute.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

Xavier took a deep breath. “Mom! Dad! We’re here!” he shouted. I cringed away from him, screwing up my face.

“Little warning next time, babe?” I asked.

“Sorry.” He kissed my temple and dragged me by the hand down the hallway to a kitchen at the back of the house.

A woman, a few inches shorter than Xavier, was wearing an apron and vigorously chopping vegetables. When we reached the large counter island, she set the knife down, wiped her hands on the apron, spun around, and beamed at us. “You’re home! Oh—and you brought someone!” She had the same slightly-lopsided smile that Xavier did.

“Hi Mom,” Xavier greeted.

The woman came over to us and wrapped her arms around her son. He held on tight for a moment.

Her aura was that of a Freelancer.

When Xavier let her go, she turned to me, arms out. “Comfortable with a hug?” she asked.

“Sure,” I replied.

Her hug nearly crushed me. “You must be Xavier’s partner,” she said. “He’s told us a lot about you.”

I glanced at Xavier over his mom’s shoulder. “All good things, spitfire, I promise.”

“Nothing but the best,” his mom agreed. She pulled back from the hug. “I’m Elena. I’m his mom.”

I gave her my name in return. She smiled.

“I know,” she said. “So. Fire Elemental, huh?”

“U-uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m a Fire Elemental,” I agreed.

She nodded. “Well, you’ll fit right in here,” she replied. She turned slightly toward her cutting board with the vegetables. “Do you like baking?”

I didn’t answer immediately. “Uh… I know how to follow a recipe. Not the best at any necessary improvisations.”

Elena chuckled. “Well, don’t worry. I wouldn’t ask you to make pastry or anything. Just need you both to give me a hand with the breadsticks.”

Xavier smiled. “We can do that,” he said.

“Hope I don’t burn anything,” I muttered as he led me to a different part of the counter where a stand mixer was.

Xavier snickered. “Well, as long as you set the oven to the right temperature and don’t leave anything in too long, you should be fine.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” I retorted. A small plume of flame appeared over my palm. “I don’t want to get frustrated and lose control of this.” The gold fire danced in Xavier’s icy eyes before I closed my fingers and snuffed it out.

“You’ll be fine, baby,” he said, soft and encouraging. His warm hand rested over the small of my back as the other drew his mother’s recipe card closer. He squinted at it and brought it closer to his nose. “Can’t believe I forgot my reading glasses in Dahlia,” he grumbled under his breath.

I snatched it from his hand and looked at it. “Okay… hand me the yeast?”

He opened the door to the fridge. “Instant or active dry?”

“Instant,” I said at the same time as his mom. We met eyes. She smiled.

“I hear the familiar voice of my favorite son!” a voice called. I looked up from the small jar of yeast Xavier had handed me to see a man striding into the kitchen. Tall and bronze-skinned. Same dark hair and icy blue eyes. Fire Contra-Elemental aura.

“Hi Dad,” Xavier greeted, leaving his place beside me at the counter to give his father a hug. Which was returned enthusiastically.

His father caught sight of me. “Oh. And who’s this you’ve brought with you?”

I gave him my name.

Xavier’s dad’s grin widened as he glanced at Xavier. “The infamous partner! Your spitfire!”

The area directly around me warmed several degrees in a sharp spike of temperature.

Xavier’s dad came over to me and scooped me up into a hug with a big, throaty laugh. He reminded me of Huxley—who I’d met a couple times over the years at Xavier’s practices and games. “Nice to meet you!”

“Tom!” Elena chided. “You forgot to ask!”

Xavier’s dad dropped me back to the floor. “Oh right! Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I expected it.”

“Well, you’re part of the family, right? Xavier loves you, so we do too.”

My aura warmed again and I bit my lip while trying to force it to cool off. “Thanks,” I said softly.

“Xavier, breadsticks,” Elena reminded him.

“Right. Do you have a spare pair of reading glasses?”

His mom bustled over to a cupboard and opened it, pulling out a pair and handing them over. Xavier put them on and took the recipe card from where I’d set it on the counter. “Thanks,” he said.

We got to work on the breadsticks, Xavier and I working side-by-side. I carefully monitored both him and his parents out of the corners of my eyes, trying to work out the social rules of this family. Was displays of affection allowed beyond just the friendly hugs we’d exchanged when they met me?

Signs pointed to yes. Enthusiastically. Xavier’s parents were warm and sweet. Especially to each other. Tom in particular seemed to enjoy peppering kisses into Elena’s hair while they cooked. Xavier’s side brushed up against mine with ease and a complete lack of subtlety. He wasn’t worried about showing affection to me in front of his parents.

My tension eased out. Before Xavier, my now-ex-boyfriend’s family had been… stiff. Every conversation felt like I was being interviewed. Like they wanted to get to know me before they were willing to loosen up around me. Xavier’s family was the opposite. They were making me feel at home first. Like they wanted me comfortable without needing to know me. It was a relieving change.

“So, little spitfire,” Tom said to me with a hint of mischief at borrowing Xavier’s nickname for me, “you like tokenrun?”

“That’s how X and I met,” I replied easily.

Tom smiled. “You play?”

“Casually. With friends usually. We met when I ran into him before his first game at the academy. He was on his way to the locker room and I was just leaving class and heading for the stadium and I was looking at my phone to text my friends where I’d meet them and I ran headfirst into him.” I chuckled and reached back to rub the back of my neck. “Everything else is kinda history.”

Elena smiled and laughed softly. Tom’s eyes squeezed shut with his amusement.

“Quite the story,” he said. “Well if it wasn’t so damn cold I’d say we should give it a go out in the yard. X and I don’t mind the cold too much but he’s mentioned you’re not quite as easily-warmed as the average Fire Elemental.”

I glanced apprehensively out the kitchen window. It was snowing. “No, I, uh… I’m not,” I replied. “My relationship with my powers seems to go against the general trend. Most Fire Elementals don’t react to ambient temperature at all, y’know? Summer’s heat doesn’t bother them and they keep themselves warm in the winter. I’m just… not like that. I can go all summer without the A/C on, but I freeze in the winter too easily.”

“That’s fine, kiddo,” Xavier’s dad remarked with a dismissive wave. “We’ll just have to wait to play tokenrun on the SunBound solstice.” Tom glanced at Xavier. “If you two were planning on flying home for it, of course.”

Xavier glanced at me. “Wanna stay in Dahlia with your family or come here?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” I said. “It’s too early to decide now.”

“Fair.” Xavier kissed the top of my head.

“Sounds good! Tonight we’ll just focus on family and good food,” Elena remarked, giving me a smile.

“Yeah,” I agreed quietly.

Xavier wrapped his fingers around mine for a brief moment before we went back to making the breadsticks together.

“So. You two looking forward to the E&E Games?” Tom asked. “Heard you both made it on your teams.”

Xavier nodded. “Yeah! We’re both excited. Got our gear before we flew out. Fancy uniform stuff.”

“Thirty-Ninth Annual, here you come!” Tom opened a cupboard to get down a large bowl for Elena. “Y’know, when I was your age, it was like the fourteenth annual games. The competition is a lot steeper now. I’m sure nothing I did back then could even hold a candle to what the kids these days can do.”

“Well, you might be surprised. Some records have held up for thirty years,” I remarked.

“X, you sure picked a kind partner,” Tom said. “Thanks, little spitfire.”

I chuckled. “No problem.”

—

One Month Later…

—

Knock… knock… knock…

The knuckles on the door were heavy and slow.

I got up from my position and went to the door. I could vaguely see a familiar figure through the frosted glass.

I pulled the door open.

Huxley stood there, head down, fidgeting with the zipper on his green hoodie. “Uh… hey,” he greeted. “I, uh… I didn’t know if you’d be here.”

I opened the door wider and stepped back to let him in. He crossed the threshold. I shut the door quietly. “Xavier’s parents took over responsibility for the house. They said I could stay as long as I need to until I decide what to do,” I said softly.

Huxley nodded. But said nothing. Just kept flicking his zipper. Neither of us met the other’s eyes. I knew why he was here. I’d be stupid not to know. He was close to Xavier, and I knew losing him hit us both hard. He’d come to offer condolences—and maybe seek some comfort for himself too.

I sucked in a breath and blinked hard to try to keep tears from falling. I reached out and set a hand on his forearm. “Hey,” I said softly. “I know you loved him too.” Maybe not the same way I had, but it didn’t matter.

Huxley’s body jerked with a sob and he pulled me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around him too and let myself cry into his chest.

“We… we got separated in the chaos,” I said. “We tried to stick together. Someone slammed into me and I got caught in a tide of people. Couldn’t fight it. Couldn’t get back to him. Damn near died six times. I found the wolves on the south side before I could find him. They told me I couldn’t leave on my own. I knew no one would go with me to find him. I wish… I wish I’d known it was already too late.” Huxley stroked the back of my head comfortingly. “I didn’t even get to kiss him goodbye.”

Huxley squeezed me tighter as my body started trembling with sobs. He didn’t shush me. Didn’t try to soothe me. Just held me and swayed in place. “I miss him too,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine how much worse it is for you.”

“I feel like I’m coming apart, Hux.”

“I’m so sorry.” I could feel how deeply he meant the words. “I’m sorry.” The words escaped as barely more than a breath. I could feel his tears soaking through the shoulder of my shirt.

“We talked about getting married,” I said quietly. “After I graduated next year. Now I… I don’t even know what to do with myself. I’ll never stop loving him.”

“Neither will I. He was a good friend. One of the best men I ever knew. I’m just glad to have known him and had the time with him that I did.”

“We… we both are,” I managed to choke out past another sob.

Huxley released a shaky laugh. “You know, I’m not even sure I know your name. He… he only ever called you his spitfire.”

I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh myself and gave him my name.

He chuckled. “Nice to meet you. Officially.”

As if we hadn’t spent hours around each other at parties and practices and before and after games. “Nice to meet you too, Huxley,” I said with a tiny smile.

“It’s gonna be okay. Maybe not today, tomorrow, or any time soon, but he’ll always be with us. In here.” Huxley rested a hand over his heart.

“I know.” I cleared phlegm out of my throat. “Thank you, Huxley. For… for coming to see me.”

“‘Course.”

#Redacted ASMR #fic #Redacted Xavier #I made up a 'listener' for this lol #Redacted Audio #Starlit Fic

[londonspirit]

No day but today...

... rather apt today. 

Just saw the German version of RENT this afternoon, and it was amazing! (Go and see if you can.) 

Never wrote my New Year’s note this late on the day. (Didn’t really feel like doing it at all today but then -as always- i just started and here we are!) 

What a fucking year! What a FUCKED up year. What a GREAT year.  As always lately, it’s been all over the place. 

2023. 

The year our mom died. The year we lost the last family member that’s not a sister. Now we’re truly on our own. It still hurts, mostly because of the holidays. You get through the loss, especially if you don’t really have time to properly grieve because you have to take care of soo many things, dissolve the place your parents (and you) lived for the past 40 years, take care of all the things that need to be done, and say goodbye to being your parent's child.

Fuck, just writing this is painful as fuck. But hey, it’s New Year’s Eve - last day of the year, reveling in all the things that happened, so tears are very much allowed.

So yeah, losing mom was just horrible but as always with me there’s a BUT. 

There were the most beautiful friends that got me through this. The most wonderful souls that helped me deal with a loss nobody should go through and yet we all have to. 

I love you all so fucking much, you have no idea!!! Thank you for being there for me. 

Seeing Robbie Williams live again was an amazing start to the year. That man's never been happier on a stage and it showed. (Which is funny, sometimes things come rather late in life!)

Seeing the usual suspects at Fed Con is always the highlight of my year! And this year even more so! 

There were six glorious summer days in London. Meeting and hugging friends, enjoying the most beautiful city, exhibitions and theatre; and seeing one of the most hilarious people who I’ve NEVER thought I’d ever see live. (Stumbling into the MI premiere on my way to the Rhys gig was just a cherry on top of a rather epic gig already!). Hearing the wonderful Elliot Page read from and talk about his book was inspiring as hell; and seeing the lovely Toheeb Jimoh giving a breathtaking Romeo just rounded up a much much needed London trip. 

Here’s hope I’ll be back very soon - it’s been too damn long again. 

Spending a much needed and way too short day on the beach with my darling sister? Fucking priceless - I didn’t even know I needed that as much as I did. We’re definitely doing that again!!! I’ve forgotten how fucking healing the ocean is. 

Speaking of ocean: MORE PIRATES!!! Yes, of course there’s them, to help and heal some more, giving me back all the SQUEE and FEELS that can make the shitty things just a tad better!!! Here’s to an announcement for  Season 3 VERY SOON!!! We (read: the world) NEEDS more queer pirates to brighten our dark days!!! There's NOTHING BETTER to keep one's spirit high!

And another thing I NEVER thought may happen, just fucking happened. Going to Amsterdam with a dear friend for a gig (and some dutch culture) and then just hanging about for shits and giggles because we didn’t have anything else planned for the night. And then actually MEET the loveliest Noah Reid, TALKING to him, thanking him for coming over and getting pics with him? Yeah well, nothing I had on my 2023 bingo card. 

But then again, NOTHING that happened this year was on there so yeah… 

Losing our beloved family cat also hit very hard but he was old and ill. And he had a very loving home despite having to move so there’s that. I still miss the pitter patter of his paws and his enraged meow’s at 5 in the morning. (Yes, there will be a new one - soon. I just want to renovate first!) 

But it’s also the small things that made this year not entirely horrible. 

Random greeting cards, texts and calls from dearest friends to cheer me up. You guys don't even know how much i love you all! I hope I can repay you ALL this coming year because you fucking deserve the freaking world!!!

Spending time with my sister and forgetting the world for one glorious sun-filled, salt-tasting afternoon in the sea. 

Chats and zooms with beloved friends, giggling about silly things and trying to keep each other going through the hard times but also the good. 

Looking back at 2023 with about an hour to go, at home, calm and cozy in bed, waiting for midnight (slightly tipsy because WINE!), is something new for me. Usually we’ve been to the parents for Christmas and New Year’s.  Now we have to come up with something new, something for US, and we will. Next year. For now I can’t wait to see the backend of 2023. 

I have high hopes for 2024. 

Seeing more friends, the ones I haven’t seen in a while, and the ones I see on a regular basis. Because there’s nothing more important than the people around you, keeping you going, holding you when shit goes down and cheering you on when good things happen. 

Traveling more, without the worries which will be a change.

Maybe…finally going to see the Bestie on HER home turf (haven’t told her that one yet, but that’s a thing I want to do!).  

So… 

That’s the annual look-back. Tears were shed writing this, but there were also smiles. Because in the end the only things that matter are the memories we make - good AND bad. 

Again: No Day But Today. 

Hug your loved ones, tell them you love them. Make amends if you need to. End things that needs to be ended. Live your life to the fullest because we all only have this one life.

Make it count, people. Make it fucking count!!! 

Happy New Year. May 2024 be a fantastic one! May it be peaceful and happy, with all the wonderful things still to come!!! 

#personal #annual review #happy new year #tw: loss of a parent #(just in case) #no pics this year #maybe edit them tomorrow

[thessalian]

Thess vs Grief

There was an article a few days ago about video games and grief - mostly about how, while gaming’s always been a good way of taking your mind off grief, recently games have actually been actually dealing with the subject as a main part of the plot. Which, because sometimes my brain works like someone bouncing subject to subject via Wikipedia links, brought me to something a good friend of mine said awhile ago. Because given the games I’ve been playing of late, and how much I’ve been enjoying them, a few things are becoming clear.

See, back in December, when we had that cold snap and there was snow and ice on the roads and no one was salting anything? I posted on my Facebook that I was kind of sad about the situation. I was born in Montreal. I learned to walk on ice-slick pavement ... well, at the same time as I was learning to walk at all. That instinct never left me, either. Now it’s just that ... well, unless I want to put some version of mountaineer’s spikes on the foot of my cane, the damn thing would be a liability. I’m not even sure that would work, and certainly wouldn’t be good in places where the ice was thin. Anyway, fibromyalgia means I can’t walk on ice the way I used to, and I definitely couldn’t risk the fall. So I was a little sad about that.

My friend talked about “the folly of comparing ourselves now to ourselves then” and "comparison is the thief of joy” and something about how we’re different and we shouldn’t look at that poorly. And it took awhile to really understand why I was so upset at him about it. I know he meant well, so I didn’t say anything, but after awhile, I figured out the words I needed for this (though far too late to actually call him on it). The words were these:

“Let me fucking grieve, godsdamnit!”

Because I am. I am grieving for what I could do before everything was made of pain. It’s a process. It’s a long, miserable process, but it’s an important one. It’s like losing a friend or a family member - life goes on, yes, but you’re probably going to end up tripping over something that reminds you of the loss at random intervals for the rest of your life. So, yeah, I’m sad when I realise that I can’t walk on frozen streets anymore - not because “I should be able to do this because I have places to be and I’m letting someone down”, but because “That skill is one of the last things that I in and of myself keep from the place where I was born; that’s a piece of of myself that sings of home, and it’s gone and it’s never coming back”.

There are a lot of things that are gone and they’re never coming back. A careless grocery shop where I don’t have to read the labels of every fucking thing that goes into my cart. Day trips to fun parts of the city. Late night walks in the summer to cool down. Running for buses. Conventions (though I will take the risk if the Critical Role crew ever reschedule the MCM Comic Con appearance they had to miss because it was during the early-ish days of Covid). The cinema. Travel to any significant degree. A general sense that I will at least be able to get up and function most mornings. Umbrellas (because holding up an umbrella for any length of time hurts like hell). Boogieing to music on my headphones (unless it’s a very good day). There’s always something I’m finding I can’t do because it hurts too badly to do it, and thus I grieve in small stages over this one huge loss.

So I think games like I Am Dead and Lost Words: Beyond the Page and Spiritfarer helped me because they reminded me that it’s okay to be grieving. There are stages of grief for a reason; they don’t make the grief go away, exactly, but they teach us how to cope with it. Of course, I don’t know that I’ll ever get to the ‘acceptance’ stage, or maybe I’m already there, I don’t know. Just because you’ve accepted the loss doesn’t mean you’re not going to still feel sad or angry or disappointed or all of the above when another facet of that loss comes knocking.

...I guess the only difference is that if it’s a person you’re grieving for, you can say things like, “They would have loved this”, or imagine them watching you from Wherever Comes Next and cheering you on, or something else that lets you still feel close to the person who’s gone. That’s harder to do with ... you know, physical health. Maybe that’s why I started gardening, and being more inventive in cooking, soon after my diagnosis - just to feel closer to “active and abled and Doing Things”, I don’t know. I reap the benefits either way.

Point being ... yeah, most of the time I’m all about, “Yeah, I’m used to it”. But sometimes I’m not. Sometimes I’m angry or sad or asking what I did to deserve this. And that’s probably always going to be the case. But it’s just ... a lot bigger than “comparison is the thief of joy”. Because comparison is not the thief of joy. Even with the fibromyalgia, I look at who I am now compared to who I was ten years ago and I am just ... so much better. But ... I can’t even want “just one day without pain” because I know - I absolutely know - that if I had total relief from pain for one day, that pain would feel worse when it came back. But sometimes I wish for it anyway. I wish it was easier. I wish it hadn’t happened. I have to carry on having a life, obviously, and I do so as well as I can with my current limitations. Hell, in some ways I’m doing better than I was before the diagnosis.

Just ... please never ask me not to be sad about it. I am allowed to be sad about it. And angry. And frustrated. I am grieving, and as long as I’m doing it in a healthy way (which I think I am; I can certainly function, at least), I fucking deserve to grieve. And if some of the help I’m getting to keep the grieving process healthy involves video games? ...Hey, I love video games, so silver lining.

#Thess has fibromyalgia

[chapters-of-mylife]

You've Reached Sam by Dustin Thao {Book Review}

-------------------------------------------

GENRES: Romance, Contemporary, Young Adult, Adult, Fantasy, Fiction

rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5 out of 5 Stars

------------------------------------------- Seventeen-year-old Julie has her future all planned out—move out of her small town with her boyfriend Sam, attend college in the city, spend a summer in Japan. But then Sam dies. And everything changes.

Heartbroken, Julie skips his funeral, throws out his things, and tries everything to forget him and the tragic way he died. But a message Sam left behind in her yearbook forces back memories. Desperate to hear his voice one more time, Julie calls Sam’s cellphone just to listen to his voicemail.

And Sam picks up the phone.

In a miraculous turn of events, Julie’s been given a second chance at goodbye. The connection is temporary. But hearing Sam’s voice makes her fall for him all over again, and with each call it becomes harder to let him go. However, keeping her otherworldly calls with Sam a secret isn’t easy, especially when Julie witnesses the suffering Sam’s family is going through. Unable to stand by the sidelines and watch their shared loved ones in pain, Julie is torn between spilling the truth about her calls with Sam and risking their connection and losing him forever. (From Goodreads)

-------------------------------------------

This book was good! It wasn't as emotional as I thought it would've been, but it had moments I couldn't help but cry while reading them! You can read this book if you want a good cry, I actually picked it up because I was starting to feel numb while reading the last few books and I wanted something to move my feelings, and this book moved them on more than one scene! Actually, this book felt like a closure to me, yeah I know this feels strange but let me explain, in the middle of this book, the more I read about Sam the more he reminded me of Sam Cortland from the THRONE OF GLASS series by Sarah J Maas! (a little question here, why does it always need to be the wonderful, sweet guys that need to die) anyway I really was sad when he died and when Celena and he never got to say goodbye, so while reading this book I felt like reading the goodbye I wanted those two to have too. I know it's a strange thing, but I think that is probably why as much as I was sad while reading this book after I finished reading it I felt as if a weight was lifted from my chest!

This book was beautifully written!! and I'm excited to read more of the author's books when he releases them in the future! Sam was a wonderful character, and I really loved him!!

  - “I missed you. I missed you infinity.”

Julie on the other hand, I didn't like her that much, yes her grieving way was a little bit selfish but at the same time I can't blame her, the grieving way is different for everyone, what I didn't like about her is how she acted on some of her memories! TBH she gave me the feeling that she was a snob. Even though I wasn't a big fan of her, she made me cry for her more than once, and I was happy with the ending!

- " Letting go isn’t about forgetting. It’s balancing moving forward with life, and looking back from time to time, remembering the people in it.”

This one really hit me

- “Life will pass right by you,” she says, her eyes focused on the road. “And you end up missing the little things, the moments you don’t think matter—but they do. Moments that make you forget about everything else.”

#you've reached sam #dustin thao #romance #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #young adult #sad books #book #books #book quotes #book review

[acrimoniousandrew]

Long Vent

There is literally nothing worse than grieving a friendship that should have never happened in the first place. How did we even start becoming friends, like. I really don’t know. I remember we first started talking in 6th or 7th grade because of our shared interest of music. Being in band together and all that stuff. 7th grade flew by me: it was an awful year, one of the first ones that I experienced being completely friendless. At least by the end of the year. Once 8th grade hit, we were all friends again. Especially the two of us. Yeah, I started hanging out with other people, but it wasn’t like she was available all the time. She had responsibilities and was in other activities. Freshman year she decided to join the marching band with me (I had already been doing it for a number of years, and I had been involved when the marching band program at our high and middle school started). We did so much together. We laughed, cried, shared memories. Started hanging out together outside of school and band stuff– coffee runs, late night pool adventures, and then driving around for hours in the early hours of the morning. We were inseparable for a while. 

High school came and went and we slowly drifted apart over time because she found newer, better friends than me. They drove together to away football games that the band was required to be at, they hung out together outside of school. I had friends other than her, but none of them were really involved in the marching band or anything. Junior year of high school my world collapsed again. Despite everything that happened that ripped most of our friend group apart (from me at least), she stuck by me. She– or so I thought– cared about me. 

We ended up moving in together our freshman semester. I was well into my relationship with my current boyfriend (who was going to a community college for a semester) and she was well into her relationship with her underage boyfriend (she was 21 and he was 17). Things were mostly okay. She would ask me questions about her relationship and I would answer honestly. That was my downfall, I think. 

Second semester freshman year, my boyfriend would come from his room upstairs into the room that me and her shared, just to be able to sleep together for a night. When the morning came, he would be out of there– not bothering her, me, or anyone else on our floor. Eventually she breaks down with two of our other friends, saying that she can’t live with me anymore because my boyfriend keeps coming into our room. She leaves. I still don’t know exactly what was said or how or exactly to who. All I know is that this moment damaged our relationship forever. Because of this, I moved upstairs, living with my boyfriend in his private room. I do not speak to her much, but I do write her a note and apologize for everything, realizing my mistakes in this friendship, too.

Next semester, fall again. She is not at school. She is taking a gap semester because her boyfriend cheated on her, just like I said he probably would. Not much happened. I became closer and closer with two of the people that she told her problems with me to. I really respect them and look up to them; they seem to care. 

Christmas break, I talk on the phone nearly every day with one of the girls that my old friend had talked to. We were really close friends at this point. I was even living with her partner since the start of the fall semester, who had also become one of my close friends. 

Spring semester: Old friend comes back to college and is greeted with smiles, laughter, and she wants to retry with me. Perfect and great news for me. I never wanted to lose her in the first place. 

Then things really start sinking into place. The other people that I’d grown close to stop talking as much to me and more to her. I figure that this is probably because she was gone for a semester. We all hang out a lot. We all smoke and drink together. Things are going fantastic. 

The summer was an interesting time. I worked with my old friend at a pretzel place in the mall closest to where we went to high school. She got the job during the spring semester after talking on the phone with my boss. She seems to enjoy it. I enjoy it. We hang out together a pretty good bit: at work, outside of work, going to dinners with other coworkers, carpooling, late nights, etc. It was amazing. 

Next semester, fall yet again. I am working full time in Charlotte at the mall there, doing the same things I have done over the summer. I come back late most nights. Upon my arrival, the friend group that was once there dissipates– my friends go upstairs, my boyfriend to bed, and me, alone. My old friend rarely talks to me upon reuniting with the friend that I had grown close to. They start working together since the one I got close to over Christmas break is taking a gap semester because of financial reasons. This is all fine and well, and I only question it a little bit. But it does start to eat away at me, furiously.

I end up quitting my job because I cannot take the long days, the (seemingly) longer drive to get there, the no social life, the drinking every single night, etc. The list could go on and on for eternity. I needed out. I spend the rest of the small semester smoking weed every night, hoping to not run into anyone, honestly. Over the course of the fall semester, the amount of times a week/day I saw any of the people I consider my friends drops to about once a week if that. 

Over break, I helped my mom and my dad and my brother. My dad works at a job he hates, my mother is out of work because she snapped a tendon in her foot and had to have surgery. My brother does not do anything except lay in bed. I cry every night. I am a loser with no friends and I am literally 21. How does this happen to someone who had such a nice group of friends in high school until that all fell apart, too? 

Next semester, spring of 2024. It’s only really just started, I guess (we're like 2 or 3 weeks away from midterms and then spring break). I’ve talked to more people this semester than I have out of any of them since freshman year, except they’re all people I know, I guess– at least for the most part. I haven’t really done anything until this past week, the week before Valentine’s Day. I showed my old friend and her sister to my apartment (the old friend had already seen it, but I thought it would be neat for her sister to see). After that, all three of us went up to the other friends’ apartment, and we saw everyone. Everyone that I once considered a friend was in that room, but I knew I had to get going after just a little bit. The air of the living room was oppressive. I knew I wasn't wanted in there. I knew I had plans that night too, so I felt silly for even being up there when I should’ve been getting ready to see my other friends. I ended up seeing them. We don’t really hang out or talk much, and I am so scared that I made a horrible impression on them and they won’t ever want to talk or hang out with me again, even though it made me feel so much better. It was the first time we all really hung out late at night and drank together.

Every time I see one of her (the old friend's) reposts I get so sad. She reposts so much “my best friend” material on TikTok that it makes me feel nauseous, it makes my heart ache, it makes me angry. Because I know they're not about me. I should be the best friend that she’s posting about. I feel ridiculous but like??? Why would I not feel angry? We were so close. So close. But not now. I don’t know if I’ll ever really have friends. I won’t know why either. I assume it's just a character flaw in me. Maybe I was never meant to have friends and everyone I’ve ever been friends with just simply pitied me like a nearly dead dog on the side of the road. Maybe that’s all I am anyway. A nearly dead dog. I hate this life. 

Is it stupid to grieve over a friendship? Certainly not. Is it stupid to grieve over a friendship where you thought you were loved and valued to some extent but actually weren’t? Yes. But also at the same time, why wouldn’t it hurt? It hurts me, it makes me angry– fuck, everything does a little bit. I don’t know. 

Everyone I’ve ever loved has looked at me and felt disgust. 

#venting

[deenoss]

Dreamcatcher Chptr. 27

It disappointed Clark that he had to go through such hardship over the past few years prior to losing his beloved father. Chloe was still grieving in her own way. Joyce had come to accept what was, and hoped that her children would move forward like she had.

It became apparent that Clark's trip down memory lane brought him at least half an hour forward, prior to Rachel's leaving his room to shower. Since she wasn't present in his room, Clark put his face in the palms of his hands when he found out that he had been crying. He quickly wiped away the tears and inhaled quickly and sharply to check whether his nose was getting clogged with snot.

Due to a lack of interest in something to keep him distracted, Clark's gaze crossed the room for something worth occupying himself with.

A guitar was settled in the corner of the room, in plain sight yet invisible.

The instrument brought back fond memories of when he was a little boy and his father would always play music in the car during their road trips. Then on one occasion, William got the bright idea to invest in an instrument of his own so that he could bring music with him wherever he went. While it was a good idea, Joyce didn't have any objection to it when William brought the idea forward to her one day before going out to purchase a guitar. Ever since, Clark found a special place in his heart for the instrument that surprisingly his sister never seemed to bother with.

Clark retrieved the guitar and sat on his bed and gently strummed at the strings as a way to test the frequency before he tuned it - after nearly five years without it being used.

Once it was as he wanted it, Clark thought of a song and used his phone to research the cords before committing the notes to memory and then played a song of his choosing.

"Face stained in the ceiling Why does it keep saying 'I don't have to see you right now?' 'I don't have to see you right now' "

Through the first verse, Clark his emotions began to take effect in how he played. It was, after all, a song that Clark felt related strongly to the absence of a loved one.

"Digging like you can bury Something that cannot die We could wash the dirt off our hands now Keep it from living underground

Lazy summer goddess You can tell the whole empire 'I don't have to see you right now' 'I don't have to see you right now' "

Towards the end of the song, Clark remained oblivious to his door creaking open.

He was so caught up in his emotions about the loss of his father that his voice started to quiver at how broken he was inside, his feelings poured out like the tears that ran down his face.

A certain brunette with honey-brown hair watched Clark closely through the large gap that allowed her to see him visibly with both eyes, rather than having to peek through a slim gap with one eye. Seeing him pour his heart out into the song that he played made Rachel's heart weep.

"I don't have to see you right now I don't have to see you right now I don't have to see you right now I don't have to see you right now"

Out of the corner of his eye, Clark detected movement from the door to his room where he found his girlfriend staring at him with a frown.

The blue-haired boy pursed his lips and darted his eyes around awkwardly. It wasn't very common for anybody to walk in on him playing the guitar, let alone his mother or sister. But for some reason, as he stared at his girlfriend, something inside him made that one consideration.

Neither made a sound nor any movement or a gesture of any sort which only added to the tension in the air. Clark wanted something to be said but he was too shaken up by having Rachel catch him singing that she was given the chance to speak up.

Rachel swallowed dryly and fiddled with her bracelet. "I've never heard you sing like that before."

"Yeah, well, it's not every day that I let people hear that I can actually sing... or play for that matter." Clark replied sourly. It wasn't his intention to come out as bitter but of all people, Rachel knew he wasn't serious nor provocative or hurtful in any manner.

Rachel's hair was still wet after just getting out of the shower, so it still needed time to dry. It hung over her back in the clothes that which she'd picked out from Clark's wardrobe. She'd donned a green jacket with a white t-shirt with the rainbow across her chest. For legwear, Rachel had chosen to wear ripped jeans Clark never wore and sneakers for footwear.

"Goddamn, she looks hot in my clothes." Clark thought to himself, almost literally drooling at the sight.

Without another word spoken, Rachel wandered over to the bed where Clark was seated and waited for him to offer her the guitar. As if on cue, Clark passed it over to her. Their hands brushed together as Rachel positioned the guitar comfortably in her lap before she started to play something of her own.

"Can I share this night with you? Can I hold you in my arms? I'm gonna whisper in your ear I'm gonna hold you close tonight I'm gonna hold you close tonight

When I lay next to you All my worries seem to go away 'Cause I know this night is true I'm gonna hold you close tonight I'm gonna hold you close tonight

And all I ever wanted was you Make this love come closer every day And share sorrow, oh sorrow as this pain passes through Hm, and I will hold, I will hold, I will hold you

Can I share this night with you? Can I hold you in my arms? I'm gonna whisper in your ear I'm gonna hold you close tonight I'm gonna hold you close tonight I'm gonna hold you close tonight I'm gonna hold you close tonight..."

Clark applauded her, praising her for playing so magnificently.

In response to this, the brunette tucked some hair behind her ear and smiled bashfully at Clark.

"You were incredible. My gosh. I've never heard anyone sing like you do before." Clark praised charismatically.

Rachel laughed. "Dork."

"Yeah. I'm your dork. So too bad, too sad. You're stuck with me forever," he fired back, sticking his tongue out at her playfully.

Rachel rolled her eyes at him and lightly shoved him.

When they weren't looking, a knock came at the door where a figure lurked by the doorway. The pair looked in the direction of the sound and spotted Joyce staring at them from across the room.

"Sorry to disturb you two, but dinner's ready. I'll give you both a minute." Joyce apologised and walked out of sight.

Rachel nudged her boyfriend in his side using her elbow to gather his attention. He looked at her quizzically as she shot a smile his way before she stood up and rested the guitar on the floor, leaning against the bed. Clark followed suite, making his way downstairs, following closely behind Rachel.

Dinner was prepared and with cutlery evenly placed around the table for everyone to eat with. On one end of the table, closest to the living room, David sat with Joyce adjacent to him so her back was facing the backyard; with one person absent from the dinner table and that was Chloe. When David tilted his head in the direction the two teenagers came from, he formed a happy expression and non-verbally invited the pair to accompany them at the dinner table. Clark sat beside his mother while Rachel sat directly opposite him, leaving a spot between her and David for Chloe to sit, should she ever decide to have a dinner with her family - exclusively David.

Once Clark and Rachel were settled, it was Joyce who started a conversation so to avoid any unnecessary conflict that she involuntarily accepted into her life.

"So, Rachel. Were you born here in Arcadia?" Joyce asked curiously.

Rachel perked up and swallowed the food she was eating.

"No. I'm from California. I grew up in Long Bay and I moved here when I was very young - I hardly even remember it, if I'm being honest." Rachel answered, sounding mellow.

"You ever think of going back there?"

Rachel nodded her head confidently and stole a glance at Clark. "Of course. I've been desiring to go back to the place I once called home. And I'd feel even better if I had someone who I truly care deeply for by my side."

He looked over at the brunette and only just caught her looking away.

"I doubt either of you are even remotely prepared for the real world." David piped up.

"David?"

"I'm just saying. What experience do these two have besides waking up, going to school and coming home?"

"You have no right to tell them what to do!" Joyce argued.

Clark and Rachel slowly gawked at one another, both sharing the same expression of discomfort at how the older couple managed to share their opinions so vocally in front of them.

"Yeah, well, maybe if they did, then I'd be more considered to approve of this sort of behaviour!"

"Lord... why are you doing this now? In front of our guest, even? You're embarrassing me, David."

"But-"

"Just shut up and eat your dinner."

Unbeknownst to them, from the staircase, Chloe eavesdropped on the conversation leading up to that point. It brought a smile to Chloe's face, knowing that with David throwing himself into a deeper hole, having Rachel hate him as well made her even more confident that one day she would be able to over throw David and get him kicked out - in her best interest, before David had the intention to propose to her mother.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that, Rachel, dear. I apologise." Joyce pardoned herself. "I was hoping for a nice, quiet dinner, but looks like you can't have everything."

The older woman glanced sternly at the man adjacent from her, barking at him in her mind to behave himself.

"It's alright, Mrs Price. The food is delicious. You must be a professional," said Rachel.

"Oh, you're too kind. But no. Not professionally - only amateurish. I work at a diner, so I wouldn't consider that professional, even if you've been working there for about plus five years. Say, what do you want to be when you graduate from Blackwell, Rachel?"

"A model or an actress. Preferably the former. But when Clark and I walked out on stage for our roles in The Tempest, I felt I had found my calling. And without a doubt, I believe Clark found his too."

Rachel didn't once break eye contact with Clark's mother as they conversed. Her hand was subtly planted on Clark's hand, the warmth and silky touch of the palm of her hand made him confounded by her public display of affection.

As she began to rant about her thoughts and feelings about acting, Clark felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Where he failed at stealth, Clark made it blatantly obvious that something else had his attention when he looked down and pulled out his mobile phone to see his notification.

From: UNKNOWN This is Rachel's mother. I want you to meet with Rachel at the lighthouse tomorrow at sunset.

It was at that moment that Clark lost composure. From being cool, calm and collected, he immediately switched into panic because a stranger got his number and requested both his and Rachel's presence. The second Clark had a feeling somebody was looking in his direction, he quickly shot his head up from looking down at his phone and gazed at something afar. He felt the gentle squeeze of Rachel's hand which seemed to relieve him of most of his worries.

Every time he gazed into the hazel of her eyes, he found himself lost in her entrance. Normally, depending on the pigment of her iris', there would sometimes be a slight difference in eye colour; sometimes green over its natural colour.

"Hey, you okay sweetie?" Rachel leaned close and whispered.

While Joyce and David held their own conversation, Rachel took the moment to share a quick one with her boyfriend. By then, Chloe had finally decided to make her appearance at the dinner table and feast on a cold bowl of lukewarm chicken soup.

"It's nothing. Nothing to concern yourself with, babe." Clark reassured. He then drew his attention to his mother and addressed her with a loud, clear voice. "Hey mom. Thanks for dinner, but we're going to head off now."

"Oh, you're done already? It's still pretty early." Joyce asked, surprised.

Her eyes trained on the two teenagers that got up from the dinner table, carrying their empty bowls with them into the kitchen where it was disposed of and left to be taken care of whilst Clark and Rachel headed upstairs, passing his twin on the way up.

In the confinement of his room, Clark jumped on his bed, lying on his back as devised the means to distract them from the aging hours passing by. While Rachel was still on her feet, she approached his desk where his laptop was and took it with her to the bed. The brunette crawled on the bed so she was beside Clark and sat back as well while she scrolled through the internet for something worth entertaining them with.

The only thing that hung on Clark's mind was the fact that Rachel's biological mother wanted to see Rachel badly enough that she had to anonymously message him in order to organise a meet-up.

It was finally time Rachel got what she wanted.

#life is strange #rachel amber #david madsen #joyce price #chloe price

[sir-adamus]

the way some people get on like Tai’s failings as a parent are somehow justified and he shouldn’t be criticised for them is real fucking annoying

#rwb/y #like yeah - he was grieving over losing Summer #but so were the kids! #and they were so young they barely understood what was happening #and because he fucked up and didn't get help looking after them #Yang basically had to take care of things BY HERSELF #and the timeline we're given would barely put her at five years old during that time #but i've just seen someone complain about the criticisms against him as 'whining that he's not like Ghira or Kali' no! #that's not what this is #he dropped the ball and i'm calling that out because the fandom refuses to acknowledge it #and when they do they try to justify it like there's ANY excuse for child neglect #over the years i've seen some pretty terrible takes on this subject #like once i saw someone say that it was FINE that Tai neglected the kids because Yang was able to pick up the slack #like??? #a) that was EXTREMELY lucky because she was a child and #b) she should NEVER have had to 'pick up the slack' #they were children who needed a parent and he failed them #but again - in response to that response i'd reblogged - i'm seeing people trying to justify and excuse that

[aboxthecolourofheartache]

Aw these are all good prompts. How about...

58. Sharing clothes/jewelry/personal items, M9 + Essek

Or 109. Going people watching, Jester & Essek

Only if you feel like it :)

Hopefully you enjoy existential crises with your cute?? cw: Essek's on-going crisis of self “Ooh, what about them?” Jester points down into the crowd, indicating a brown-skinned person with a sheet of silky pink hair and polished hooves shod in copper.

Essek follows the line of her pointing pencil. He lifts a hand to shade his eyes despite the awning over the patio and his wide-brimmed hat. “Jester, you will have to pick people closer to us if you want my opinion.”

“Really? They’re only, like, just over there by the fountain.”

Essek hears the fountain, but he cannot see it except as a blur of mosaic blues shining in the strong sunlight. Everything beyond the shade of the building and jacarandas is sunhaze. He’s beginning to get a little dizzy with it, but this outing is important. Jester agreed to create him a book of faces to wear, and they are choosing inspiration today.

“I’m going to sketch them into the book anyway. They’re hot.”

“You know that is not a required element.”

Jester smirks as her pencil flies across the page. She’s not drawing exact likenesses. This reduces his chances of being ‘recognized’ by strangers. And, if the people searching for him mark a false face as one of his disguises, a real person would be in danger.

“If you use this one, you’re gonna have to remember to clip-clop.” Jester mimes mincing hooves with her hands.

The waiter glides by with refills of their drinks, cold mint tea for Essek and a strawberry lemonade for Jester. The cafe patio is quiet, set a half-storey above the street with two little tables and a shaded view of the plaza. Mid-way between town proper and harbor, this plaza sees constant traffic of all sorts. Tourists, merchants, sailors venturing farther inland than the pubs near the docks, townspeople about their business - many faces, many choices.

“Would you want to be a lady?” Jester’s artist’s eye follows an air genasi woman as she browses the curios in a nearby window.

Essek draws a fingertip through the condensation building on his tall glass of cold mint tea. “It might be good to have a few female faces in my repertoire.” The desire to entertain Jester rather than real doubt prompts his next question. “Do you think I could manage it?”

Jester looks up from her sketching. “Oh yeah, no problem. Except,” she laughs, “since you’re only interested in men, people will think you’re straight.”

“That,” says Essek, “will not be an issue.” If he never stays anywhere long enough to make that vital connection, that is.

Even this trip to Nicodranas is dangerous for him, for Jester, for Veth, and their loved ones. He chose the ivory features of a pallid elf for his current illusion, mostly as an excuse to cover up against the summer sun.

Back to wearing masks.

He stirs his tea with a long-handled spoon. Ice clinks musically against glass. Essek does not know if he has ever worn his own face. Childhood saw him a slate to be overwritten by a soul that never woke within him. New, empty of experience, he wore whatever face served him best at the time. He almost became the Shadowhand’s soft, perpetual smile. The Nein ripped that off him, exposing the paucity of self beneath.

For a century, Essek could lock eyes with his reflection in the mirror without any recognition past the superficial. He considers the vertiginous horror he feels now an improvement.

And now, just as he begins to see someone looking back: it is not safe to be himself. He must be someone else, and he does not understand why that grieves him when there is so little to lose.

“You could be anyone.”

Essek lurches out of his thoughts.

“Anybody at all!” Jester cannot read minds without casting a spell, and Essek is certain enough she hasn’t. “I’m the littlest, smallest bit jealous.”

“Oh?” He props his chin on his fist attentively, biting back several caustic, sarcastic replies.

“Yeah!” She pushes the sketchbook towards him. “You get to decide who all these people are, then you get to be them. Like, this guy,” she flips to an early page, “is obviously a gem broker. Look at his mustache and tell me he’s not a gem broker. And this person here is a poet.”

Jester’s excitement is a balm. Her sketches breathe life, and her imagination pulls dozens of people from thin air. While Essek cannot bring himself to share her enthusiasm, he decides he likes the idea of deciding who each face will be.

He is deeply, irrevocably broken, twisted out of shape long before he shattered, all the pieces sharp or warped. But they are individually interesting. Instead of a single, intact perfect mask with nothing behind it, he has the chance to lay a mosaic and create a new, composite whole. Perhaps he can make someone whose eyes he can meet in the mirror.

#¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #I think my concepts for a couple different characters #are bleeding into each other here #anywho!! #thank you for the prompt!! :D #Box attempts CritRole #Happy Fun Box of Writing #I will eventually post the 'I am not particularly interesting' fic #someday... #Essek Thelyss

[sylvies-chen]

Chenford + join me✨

Consider this my Chenford fix-it for 4x01 because I'm still a tiny bit salty that Lucy was interrupted before she could go into Tim's room!

********

Lucy gets up and nearly steps on Cujo's chew toy when going to Tim's room. She avoids stepping on it, is thankful the squeak doesn't happen, but it prompts the questions that she begins to repeat in her head: why the hell is she getting up and going to his room?

The past 24 hours have been surreal in all the worst ways. Never in her wildest dreams did she think Jackson would... that he...

Whatever. Everything about it is awful and unbearable. The only thing that isn't either of those things though, surprisingly, is Tim. Not thirty seconds ago, she'd been surprised at just how nice it'd been. In all her sorrow and grieving, all the pain that's been washing over her since she had to witness her best friend die, she'd never seen Tim coming. Him, the safety and comfort he provided with such ease, the way her heart skipped a beat when he held her, that all just sort of... snuck up on her. That, she realizes, is why she's really going to his room. Because she felt something with him in that moment that she'd never felt before and she sure as hell wants to follow up on it. Obviously, she isn't going to jump him right then and there, but she wants to... explore it. She wants to not be alone. Call it curiosity, call it craving more, she doesn't know what to call it except crazy.

She's crazy for doing this, right? It's so close to losing Jackson, it's more than possible that the grief has driven her to do strange things. And Lucy would never want to jeopardize what she has with Tim but dammit, this isn't grief. It's many things-- confusing, insane, exciting, terrifying-- but it's not fake. It might be the realest thing she's ever felt.

At the very least, she owes it to herself to prove it. Right?

She starts to slowly open his door, the hinges creaking slightly. Tim jumps up right away, startled by the intrusion. Her body is wedged between the door and the frame, but she lets go of the doorknob to raise her hands in surrender. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she tells him quietly.

Tim sits on the edge of his bed, still breathing heavy from the jumpscare. "No, it's okay," he assures her after a beat of silence. "I was awake anyway."

"Oh." She nods slightly, looking behind her and considering just leaving it be and going back to the couch. But the couch and all its comfort doesn't offer nearly as much as Tim does. He's a whole other level of safe and warm and gentle that makes her want to melt into a puddle of nothingness.

Another beat of silence passes between them when she looks back into his bedroom and meets his eye. He looks a little disoriented at first but then worry washes over his face. It's a good look on him, in some twisted way. His expression gets so much softer when he's worrying about her. "Are you okay? Did you need something?"

"No, I- I'm fine," she tells him. Tim sits up even more, his hands holding the edge of the bed as he looks her up and down. He's waiting for her to do something, she thinks. What she wants takes courage though, so she takes a minute to get out of her own head.

Eventually, the damn breaks. She steps into the room even further, ceasing to hide behind the door and inching closer. Because screw it. She wants to feel good and warm and safe in a world that keeps giving her reasons to be sad, and Tim Bradford checks all of her boxes. At least for tonight, anyway.

"Actually, can I just--" she starts, tilting her head ever so slightly towards the pillow. She bites her tongue halfway through her sentence though, realizing she doesn't know how to vocalize what she wants. There's no right word for it. Can I sleep with you? No, that's too suggestive. Can I cuddle with you? Again, too forward. Can I stay here? Close, she thinks. "-- Can I join you?"

Lucy half expects Tim's eyes to harden and light up ablaze but by some miracle, his eyes soften even more. The heat's still there, don't get her wrong, but it's under the surface. For now, all she sees is this welcoming understanding that makes her feel bare. Seen. "Yeah, of course," he replies quietly; it's almost a whisper, really.

He starts shifting back onto his side of the bed, crawling under the covers and then pulling the opposite corner down to give her space to crawl in. Lucy feels awkward about this as she makes her way around to the other side of the bed. When she pulls the blankets over her and her head hits the pillow, she's half expecting that awkwardness to increase exponentially. Instead, she looks over at Tim from the sizeable distance she put between them, and suddenly it feels wrong. Their eyes meet, something clicks, and then she's closing the space between them and nuzzling her head into his chest. His one arm wraps around her shoulders, squished between her and the bed, and he uses his other arm to pull her in closer to his side. And holy crap, that feels undeniably right.

A gentle electricty sits between them, like hearing the power lines buzz gently in the middle of a hot summer night. So much of him is touching so much of her. It sets her body on fire. Burning never seemed so blissful, she thinks.

They stay like this for what feels like forever, snuggled up in his bed and giving each other the occasional glance or two. The last thing she remembers before completely falling asleep in his arms is him pressing a kiss to her hairline and for a moment, she's afraid she dreamed it.

It's unprofessional, and it's late, and she could be screwing things up right now. But he looks down at her with that same tender heat with which he'd looked at her not ten minutes ago, and she doesn't care about any of that.

She's finally healing. No, scratch that. She's finally home.

#chenford #abby writes #tim bradford #lucy chen #prompt requests #fanfic

[kodiakwhiskey]

Honey Badger: The Seer

Read part I

Summary: Draco is given a near impossible task and ends up pushing away the one he loves most.

A/n: I did use the movie as guide so it's not going to be wholly book accurate. Also yes, that is a lord of the rings quote I used. don't @ me. it fit and was perfect.

Cw: character death, mentions of food/eating, depression, fire

"[Y/n]?" She looked up from her papers at Harry. He'd been keeping his distance since last Christmas when Draco and her started dating, it was only natural he was Harry's enemy. "Are you okay?" She quickly blinked away the tears forming in her eyes and closed her book.

"I'm… I'm not sure. I don't think I processed all of this really…" Harry sat across from her, his hands on top of hers. "We were doing great and then summer came and he's been so distant. He won't open up or let me in. He spends more and more time outside of the dorm. It feels like he's forgotten about me." Harry could see the heartbreak in her eyes as she talked. "My parents aren't willing to do their normal Christmas plans with the threats looming and they asked me not to come home."

"Come with me. Let's get you out of this stuffy library yeah?" He grabbed her books, holding his hand out to her. She wasn't quite sure honestly if she'd ever talk to him again, but her heart cried at the kindness he showed. The two of them walked down to the lake, the skies as gloomy as she was. He didn't speak, he had no words to say. He couldn't just assume Draco was a death eater and then spill the beans to his girlfriend. "You know, it was really hard for me. Seeing you guys back after break, always hanging out. And then all the stuff with Umbridge and Dumbledore leaving. I didn't feel like I had anyone to talk to anymore. I realize now by distancing myself, I've been a bad friend to you. I should have asked how you were doing earlier."

"I don't blame you Harry. It must have been hard, knowing I was stomping around with your sworn enemy. " She signed and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I'll always be here for you. And I won't let whatever this is now with Draco make me too blind to see your side of things." He gave her a small kiss on the head, the two of the staring out at the lake.

"Harry… Can I tell you a secret?" He nodded as she moved her head to face him. "My mum isn't really my mum. My father… he was forced by his family to remarry so quickly after she died. He didn't really have time to grieve and take care of the child she left behind. Hera isn't by any means cruel or wicked to me. She can be quite pleasant, but I hate pretending to be something I'm not." Harry waited patiently for her to continue. "I don't know how to tell Draco the truth. I don't know if his beliefs are quite aligned with the other pureblood families, and I'm scared I'll lose him more than I already have." Harry pulled her into a hug as she started crying.

After that day on the Lake, Harry made sure to check on her every now and again, to remind her that she wasn't alone. He tried to invite her to the Burrow, already asking the Weasley's for permission, but she declined stating she should probably stay at the castle this year. When Christmas came she found herself sitting in the Great Hall, fiddling with the rose Draco got her last year. There was a table full of food in front of her, yet she didn't eat. He had hardly said goodbye to her and she just needed to know if it was over.

"You have been here for hours yet you haven't eaten." Dumbledore was casual as he sat down next to her, taking a small bit of food into his own plate. "What seems to be on your mind?"

"Oh. It's nothing sir. I'm sure I'm just overreacting or reading too much into it. "

"I can't help but notice you and the Malfoy boy have been quite distant in the last few months." She nodded, trying to not cry at the mention of him.

"I just… deserve to know what I did wrong to be pushed away like that. I thought we could talk to each other about our problems and work through them. Like my parents do."

Dumbledore gave her a soft smile. "There's a lot of pressure on him. A lot of conflict in that young boy, and the two of you are at the age where it's hard to open up about some of these things. Just like you have been having a hard time trying to tell him the truth about your mother Martha, he's been having difficulties telling you the truth about his family. There will come a time you or he will find out about the hidden secret, and it will undoubtedly cause a bigger rift, but I ask you [y/n], do you truly believe you love him?" Her eyes widened, unable to hold back the tears.

"I do, professor. I really truly believe I love him with all my heart."

"Love will conquer all sadness and despair, and if you trust in your feelings I have no doubt you will overcome this trial the two of you face." Dumbledore got up, taking one more sweet roll, before sliding a parcel towards her and taking his leave.

Inside was a handwritten letter, and a small necklace.

My dear child. I write this as my last words to you before my death with the wish that you get it on your 17th birthday. I hope that by now you are loved, and you understand why I did what I had to do. Your father will not want to talk about me, which isn't fair to you, but you must understand. He's been through a lot and he'll want to focus on the future. Your destiny cannot be defined by my actions which is why I've asked your father to marry Hera. I love you. More than you will ever know or understand. Tonight I have to die so that you may live. I wish I could be there for your first words, your first steps, your first love and I do desperately wish I could be there when you receive your letter. There is no future for you if I stay. You'll find your answers in the restricted section of the library.

I love you, mum

Her eyes watered as she put the necklace on. A sacrifice? Why had her father lied to her? Her mind clouded with doubts, she abandons her plate of food and goes immediately to the library. She has to know the truth. About everything, no matter how much it hurts. She needed to trust Martha to guide her.

The restricted section is stuffy compared to the rest of the library, an almost cold feel to it. Her wand as her only light she combs through the shelves, not knowing what she’s looking for. Should she read through everything? No, that would take too much time. Her concentration is broken when a book from a nearby shelf falls to the floor. Her hands pick up the leather bound book, her eyes widening. The cover was blank except for an old Irish trinity knot and a lock. No key? She felt a small tug and pulled her necklace off, the teardrop shaped pendant sliding perfectly into the lock, and the book burst open with a gush of wind, her hands dropping the book and covering her face from the dust.

She was no longer in the library, her eyes felt clouded and her head heavy. Before her was a giant pyre, a tribe of Celts setting up hay and various wood around the rest of the base. The sun was setting and the wind howled through the trees. She tried to catch someone's, anyone’s attention, but no one noticed her.

“The Seer must be sacrificed tonight! Or none may pass over.” A booming voice called from the other side of the pyre. “We must find The Seer!” She walked towards the mass of people gathering around a wooden podium-like contraption, her eyesight blurring. The crowd was screaming and crying for this Seer to reveal themselves. People took off towards the forest, towards the lake, scattering in all different directions.

“If we do not find the Seer, there is a chance the demons will be back. We might face an eternal darkness.” She saw a young man running up to the person who seemed to be in charge.

“Sire, what if the Seer’s powers haven’t been activated yet? How will they find her?”

“Fear not. The Seer will come to us in the end.” Everything blurs away and she finds herself standing in a cove, just off the lake on the edge of the forest.

“You mustn’t.” That man looked a lot like Draco, and for a second it almost made her heart break. “Please Cecilia you can’t do this.”

“I must Sylias. If I don’t I’ll be plagued with these visions for the rest of my life. I cannot put you through that too.” The woman turned around and her breath caught in her throat.

That looks like me… No it was entirely impossible. This must be some fever dream. “It’s not over my love. I will continue to meet you again, and again for the rest of our lives.” The couple share a passionate kiss before she slips away from his grasp.

Her vision fades back to the pyre. The woman, Cecilia, is tied down to the wooden pole as the villagers chant around her.

“This ritual will never stop, even as time moves on.” She’s looking straight at [Y/N]. “Your mother has passed this onto you, but do not be scared, child. It is as much of a blessing as it is a curse.”

“Wait… you can see me?”

“As Seers, [Y/N], We see all. We see everything. Things that were, things that are, and some things… that have yet come to pass.” She can’t stop staring at Cecilia’s eyes as they glow a bright, deep purple. “You will understand in due time my child, but the world is not yet ready for another Seer, and with Voldemort back, you will not be safe. You must keep this secret.”

“But how will I know?” The flames kick up on the hay as the villagers chanting grows louder. “How do I help people with this gift?”

“My dear, you already know how.” As the flames tickle Cecilia’s feet, she feels the heat scorch across her, and with a scream her world goes black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When her eyes open, she’s in the hospital wing. There’s a few chairs scattered near her bed, and she starts to sit up, wincing at the pain coming from her abdomen. When her vision focuses she notices the amount of burning that’s on her. Is this a scar? Some of the freckles on her skin poke through the angry red surface.

“Ah, good you’re awake.” Madame Pomfrey walked over, dabbing a cold cloth against her legs. “You gave everyone quite the scare earlier, but luckily Dumbledore had informed the staff of the situation.” Her eyes widened. He knew? Of course he knew. He wasn’t a powerful wizard for nothing.

Madame Pomfrey walked back to the table of herbs, muttering that she had to get more of a certain one before dismissing herself, walking quickly out of the wing.

Draco was back from break early, coming a couple days after Christmas. He’d been so wrapped up in everything he had to do, that he forgot about her birthday.

Upon entering the castle again he saw Madame Pomfrey muttering running towards Hagrid's hut.

He shouldn’t worry about that. He had to find her and explain himself. He needed her to know that despite how awful he’d been, that he still loved her. He gripped the parcel in his hands tightly, and began making his way towards the Hufflepuff dormitories.

“Draco.” Snape found him as he got closer to the kitchens. “Your mother informed me you’d be back early.” He paused. “She’s in the hospital wing.” His eyes widened and he followed Snape, ready to run at a moment's notice. Not a word was said about Draco’s task, Snape understanding that this was more important at the moment, and that no matter what it would be done and the boy would be safe.

The walk to the hospital wing seemed to take forever, and they paused at the entryway, a muffling charm cast over the open door. Snape held his arm out, keeping Draco back.

“Dumbledore will let us know when we can enter.” His breath hitched when he saw her bare skin, covered in splotchy burn marks.

He could only vaguely make out what was being said, the muffling charm keeping their voices barely incohesive.

Suddenly the spell dropped and he heard his voice loud and clear. “I believe someone came back early to see you.” Her heart dropped to see Draco in the doorway, gripping the parcel in his hands so tightly his knuckles were white.

"Draco…" The scenes of her vision come flying back at once and she can't stop the tears that spring into her eyes. His feet carry him quickly to her bedside, dropping the parcel on the table next to her and gripping her hands.

"I'm so sorry. I don't even know where to begin." He pulled her into his chest as sobs wracked her body. "I have no excuse to have been pushing you away like that." His arms hold her to him tightly, fearing she'll disappear when he lets go.

"Draco… I…" He kisses her head, shushing her.

"No. Please don't. Just let me hold you. Whatever needs to happen can happen later."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco was never told why she ended up in the hospital wing, nor did he care. Her extra time was taken up by lessons, which meant he no longer had to worry about her getting hurt. He spent more time going to the room of requirement while she was at lessons.

Dumbledore instructed her to meet him in the astronomy tower, in order to help her gain a better understanding of her gifts.

She spent days meditating, trying to learn to control her visions when they over took her mind.

Anytime she felt the familiar ache that threatened to pull her from her current reality she let her mind go blank, taming down the fears and thoughts queued in her mind, pushing them out of the way, if only for a moment.

"Okay good, now, tell me what you see."

"My lord, there is a new seer."

She could feel his scratchy, raspy voice before she heard it and knew immediately that it was Voldemort. "It seems the Malfoy boy is quite close with her, it would be easy to take her."

Her eyes widened at the sight of Lucius sitting at the table, surrounded by other death eaters.

"Lucius, did you know about this?" She saw the nervousness in his face as he addressed his leader.

"I knew my son was involved with the girl but I did not know she possessed such abilities."

His snake curled around the foot of his chair, her head nudging up at his leg, and Voldemort stood.

"Bring her to me."

There was a look of worry etched into her face, and Dumbledore used his magic to extract the vision from her memories, sealing the vial in a locked box he kept with him.

"He knows. Or he will. Cecilia told me I needed to keep myself safe, how do I even do that?"

Dumbledore looked out of the tower, over the tree line. For once he was unsure of where to go and the end of the school year was fast approaching. She wouldn't be safe at home, especially because her family was well known, and she refused to put others in danger for herself. And now that she had confirmation Lucius was in league with Voldemort himself, she couldn't ask Draco for help. Or could she? Sometimes it was easiest to hide in plain sight. He loved her and he would be willing to help her. Right?

Her mind drifted back to Cecilia and Sylias in the cove, as she prepared for her inevitable death. His face looked so much like Draco it made her shiver. Was this the destiny her mother spoke of in the letter?

There was a dull throbbed and she cleared her mind for a moment, flashes of destruction, rubble around Hogwarts, Harry dying.

Could she prevent this from happening?

"Harry is destined to die?" Dumbledore nodded solemnly.

"No matter what happens, in order to defeat Voldemort, Harry must die."

"Who else knows? Does Harry know?" Dumbledore shook his head.

"Severus knows everything, and he has clear instructions on how to act in my stead." Her eyes widened.

"Sir…"

"You must listen and trust him [Y/N]." She nodded, not quite understanding his words when he went to dismiss her for the day. She had to tell him the truth. It was now or never.

She asked Pansy as soon as she left if Draco was around.

"He's in the hospital wing. Potter did a number on him."

She didn't know that Dumbledore left with Harry shortly after.

She raced down the halls, stopping only when she reached his bedside.

"Draco…" His hand reached up to brush the hair out of her face, tears starting to slip out.

"Hey, don't. it's okay." His breath hitched in his throat. "You need to leave the castle." Her eyes widened.

"No Draco… what's going on?" He pulled her down to his face, placing a sweet, lingering kiss.

"I… I've put you in terrible danger and I need to be honest with you."

"No Draco, it's me putting you in danger." He chuckled at her words, slowly sitting up, ignoring the searing pain. "My mother isn't Hera. I've been lying to you." She cried and he pulled her close. "My mother was a Seer and was sacrificed before Voldemort vanished the first time and now I've inherited her abilities. If you're with me he'll hurt you too."

"He already has…" With her sitting on the bed against his chest he rolled his sleeve up, careful to make sure no one was around.

"Draco…" Her crying didn't slow down at the sight of the dark mark on his arm and she buried herself further into him.

"I didn't want to. He threatened my family. He threatened you. It was the only way to protect you." She shook her head sobbing harder.

"You daft idiot." He pulled her face up to meet his.

"I love you, [Y/N]. And I understand if you don't want to speak to me after this but I'm begging you. You have to leave. They're coming and you're going to be in even more danger." She weakly hit his chest, his arms tightening around her.

"I can't leave Draco. I had a vision. If he doesn't know yet he will soon and I'll be putting everyone in danger." He placed a kiss on top of her head.

"Then hide. Please. If they see you they'll take you. I just know it." He knew he couldn't make her leave, not when her mind was made up. He slid open his bag that had been resting on the end table. Pansy brought it by, knowing her very late gift was in it. He grabbed the parcel, putting it on her lap. "I meant to give this to you on your birthday, but when I found you in here I just…" She carefully undid the wrapping, exposing a small, purple leather book, with blank pages. " I guess it serves a different purpose now."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the night came, Draco slipped out of the hospital wing quietly. She of course slipped out after him, making her way to the astronomy tower. The dull throbbing came and she allowed the vision to take over.

"Draco…" His eyes held the familiar fatigue he carried during this last school year. "You have to let me go"

"No. I won't. He can't take you. I would die before he did that."

She saw herself turn around towards him. "If I don't, then it will only get worse for you." His hands grabbed her face as he kissed her fiercely. "Please… you have to let me go."

When she opened her eyes again she saw Harry and Dumbledore, apparating into the tower.

"Professor!"

He told Harry to get Severus and she heard the door open, Dumbledore urging them both to hide below. As soon as she saw Draco she froze. Dumbledore tried to help him, the other death eaters surrounding them, Harry raised his wand and she stood there, eyes wide before Snape appeared, quieting them and slipping upstairs. Draco hadn't been lying. She had been threatened and he had to make an impossible choice. As soon as Dumbledore fell off the tower and the death eaters ran out, Harry took off after them. She didn't know what else to do. So she left. She ran out of the tower, a crowd gathering around Dumbledore's body. She ran past Hagrid's hut now ablaze, and she cried out for Draco, finding herself lost in the forest. Her strangled cries and screams fell upon deaf ears. She was alone.

She was found hours later, curled against a tree, eyes glazed over from the sheer amount of visions her mind saw. When she awoke next in the hospital wing, she found herself in the bed Draco had been in hours prior. She wasted no time writing everything down. She had to go home now. It was the only place she could heal.

#draco malfoy #draco fanfiction #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #hp fandom #harry potter fic #draco x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you

[buckleyblueyes]

Buddie + 47 "This is home?" 😊

Thank you for your patience, nonnie! I know this took me some time to write and post. Loved this prompt, though! This fic features an appearance by Taylor Kelly, and maybe isn't the most friendly towards her? idk, I wasn’t actively trying to write her to be a bad person or anything, but just in case I thought I'd throw a warning for people who like her/like her and Buck.

Buck yawns and leans back into the cushions of the Diaz couch. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally. They were called to a grizzly pileup on the freeway just before their shift was supposed to end, multiple on scene fatalities, and more that they lost later, in the ambulance. He had a date with Taylor scheduled for after his shift, but he knew before the engine even pulled back into the station that he was going to have to cancel. Not just for himself and his need for rest and recovery, but for Taylor’s sake. He wouldn’t have been a good date in his current state. He texted her from the locker room that his shift had run long and he was going to head home and rest. She texted him back with a “I understand, get some sleep” and that was that.

He followed Eddie home, because neither of them wanted to be alone, and he wanted to see Chris, even for a few minutes before the boy had to go to bed. They exchanged hugs and Buck and Eddie both pressed kisses to the top of Christopher’s head. Ever since Eddie was shot--since he told Buck about his will, since Buck spent the summer living on their couch and taking care of both of them--Buck took on a more parental role with Christopher. They don’t really talk about it, but it’s undeniably true, and Buck loves it. The three of them feel like a family, are a family.

Buck showered at the station, but Eddie hadn’t. Eddie likes to take his time in the shower, making it into a sort of ritual where he scrubs off more than just the grime of the day, but the stress and trauma of it as well. He’s going to be gone awhile. So, Buck settles into the couch and pulls out his phone.

I know it’s not the same, but wanna FaceTime before bed?

Seconds later his phone lights up with the call. He smiles when he answers it.

“Hey, babe!” Her smile is bright and bubbly as always.

“Hey, Taylor,” he says, forcing himself to keep his own smile up. “Sorry about our date.”

“No, no it’s fine…” Taylor trails off, blinking curiously through the screen. “I thought you said you were going home?”

Buck glances around the room behind him and frowns. “This is home?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know what your loft looks like.”

“Oh,” His smile returns. Of course, she’s only been to Eddie’s a few times, she doesn’t recognize it from the bit of it she could see through FaceTime. “I’m at Eddie’s.”

Taylor’s confusion morphs into exasperation. “I should’ve realized.”

“You’ve only been here a few times, it’s--”

“No, I mean I should’ve realized you were blowing me off for him,” she snaps.

It feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. “What does that mean?”

“It means that I’m always playing second to Eddie, and I’m getting sick of it,” Taylor’s tone is huffy and irritated and Buck hates it. “It was one thing when he was still recovering. But he’s fine now, so why are you still spending so much time with him?”

“He’s my best friend, Taylor,” Buck narrows his eyes. “Of course I spend time with him.”

She scowls. “How can you be too tired for me, but be sitting on his couch?”

Buck runs a hand through his ungelled curls. “Look, our shift ran long and it was really rough. My therapist says I shouldn’t be alone during times like this, and I happen agree with her--”

“So why not be with me?” Taylor asks, tone shifting from anger to sadness.

“Because Eddie knows exactly where I’m at emotionally,” Buck sighs. “He was there, he saw what I saw. There’s nothing to explain. And he shouldn’t be alone tonight, either. It just makes sense.”

She frowns. “So, that’s it? I’m not a first responder, so I’ll never be able to understand like Eddie?”

His stomach twists. This conversation is starting to sound familiar. “It’s not--”

“How can I understand if you don’t open up to me?”

Buck doesn’t know what to say to that. She’s right, of course. He isn’t open with her. She doesn’t know about his childhood, or about Daniel. She doesn’t know about the nightmares that haunt him, doesn’t know about the waves and ladder trucks, gunshots and explosions. She doesn’t know any of it, and he has no desire to share it with her. Maybe it’s the way she looks at her phone half the time they’re talking, or the fact that they haven’t really talked about her willingness to put Bobby’s trauma on the news, but he still doesn’t trust her, not really.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “I’ve been shutting you out.” She looks hopeful, which makes Buck feel like a huge jerk because this isn’t about to go in the direction she seems to think it will. “I have to be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever feel like opening up to you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” She looks so sad, and the part of Buck that’s terrified of disappointing people is two seconds from taking it all back, when she speaks again. “So, where does that leave us, then?”

“I don’t know,” Buck answers honestly. He doesn’t want to be single and lonely again, but he can’t deny any longer that Taylor isn’t right for him.

“I think you do.” She gives him a weak smile.

Buck blinks. Cocks his head to the side in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“Buck, be honest with me, are you in love with Eddie?”

Whatever Buck is expecting her to say, it isn’t that. All at once it feels like all the air in the room has been sucked out. He knows that he feels more for Eddie than could be strictly described as platonic, but he’s been avoiding those feelings for as long as he’s known Eddie. First because he thought he had Abby, then because Eddie was married, then because Eddie was grieving his wife, and then because they weren’t speaking to each other, and then because the pandemic hit and they had other things to focus on, and then because Eddie was dating Ana...It was never the right time, and he was always too afraid of losing Eddie, when he inevitably had to turn Buck down.

But Eddie changed his will, and Eddie broke up with Ana because “she’s not what I want” and Eddie let Buck stay here, for months, taking care of him and Christopher, and Buck knows in his core that he and Eddie are tied together, no matter what.

“Buck?”

He realizes she’s still waiting for an answer. “Yeah, yeah I think I am.”

She nods stiffly. “Right, well then. I guess we’re done here.”

“I guess we are.” Buck shifts uncomfortably. “Can we still be friends?”

“I don’t think so,” Taylor shakes her head.

Buck opens his mouth to respond, to say goodbye, but he’s cut off by a voice coming from the hallway. “You’re in love with me?” Buck looks up to see Eddie standing there in his sweats, hair still damp and dripping from the shower, brown eyes wide with shock.

Oh, fuck. “Taylor, I have to go.”

“I know,” she rolls her eyes. “Goodbye, Buck.”

“Bye, Taylor,” Buck swallows, setting his phone down on the coffee table. “How--How long have you been standing there? I didn’t hear the shower turn off.”

“Long enough,” Eddie steps forward. “You’re in love with me?”

“I--” There’s no point in denying. “Yeah. Is that...okay?”

It’s a stupid thing to say, but it’s all Buck can think to say.

To say Eddie looks dumbfounded would be an understatement. “Is it--What kind of question is that?”

Buck shrugs “Well, y’know. I thought it might make things awkward.”

Eddie shakes his head and shuffles the rest of the way into the living room, so he’s standing right above Buck. “Awkward? Why--What--Like, at work? We’re adults, we can keep things professional.”

“Keep...it...professional…” Buck’s brain processes the words slowly, but when he finally does, his heart sinks. “You don’t want to be friends with me anymore?”

“Um.” Eddie cocks his head to the side, in almost the same movement Buck made just minutes earlier. “Obviously not.”

Buck feels numb. This is it. The end of everything. Just when he thinks he’s found someone who will stay. “W-What about Christopher?”

Again Eddie looks baffled. “What about Christopher? I think he’ll be happy we’re together.”

Time stops. Together? “Uh-Wh-Huh? Together? Like...together-together? Like dating? Each other?”

“Oh.” The confusion melts off Eddie’s face. “Buck. I’m in love with you, too.”

Buck blinks up at him. “You are?”

“Yeah,” Eddie smiles warmly. “I thought I made that clear when I broke up with Ana and kept asking you to stay, but I guess I should’ve known that I needed to be more explicit with you.”

Buck laughs. “Oh, you think? I’m only in therapy for my abandonment issues, it’s not like I have problems trusting that people want me around or something.”

Eddie leans down and takes Buck’s hands in his. “Evan Buckley, I am deeply in love with you, and I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Buck grins, tightens his grip on Eddie’s hands, and pulls the other man down onto the couch, right into his lap. “How does forever sound?”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Later, after they makeout on the couch like teenagers, after Eddie guides Buck down the hall to his bedroom, after they curl up in each other’s arms, it finally occurs to Eddie to ask. “How exactly did your FaceTime with Taylor end up with her asking if you were in love with me?”

Buck doesn’t open his eyes when he answers. “She asked why I wasn’t at home like I told her I’d be.”

“This is your home.”

Buck smiles and snuggles closer. “I know.”

#buddie #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #my fan fiction