Okay, serious question—where can I find more of your villain x civilian stuff?
It’s just… so good. And super addictive. I love this new dynamic—partly because it’s unfair, which makes it feel more realistic. I mean, I’d be a civilian, not a hero anyway.
"You know," the villain said. "I could just arrange for you to be kidnapped on the way."
"Really?! That would actually be great."
At the beat of silence that followed, the civilian cautiously tipped their head back to peer upside down at the villain over the arm of the sofa. The villain had lowered their book and was giving the civilian a long look.
No. Not really. That had been entirely flippant, hadn't it?
"Kidding," the civilian said, quickly. "I'm kidding. Obviously. That would be insane."
They slid back down into their previous position, burying their burning face in their phone. Unfortunately, all that awaited them on the screen - yet again - was their ex's wedding invitation.
God. Why had they agreed to go? Being the better person was a stupid idea. Wildly overrated. Hateful, even.
Maybe they were insane.
The villain appeared in front of them. The civilian hadn't even heard them move. The civilian swallowed and tried for a winning smile, though what exactly they were winning at was anyone's guess.
The villain plucked the phone out of their hand, tapping the screen to keep it from going dark, and gave the invite a cursory glance. Then they considered the civilian. Their whole demeanor had changed, away from the civilian's idle - whatever they were - to something else. Their eyes were dark and intent.
The civilian covered their face with their hands.
"So kidnapping, huh?" the villain asked. Their voice sent a treacherous flutter through the civilian's body.
"Sod off."
"Keep that up and I'll have you gagged. Never a good idea to cuss out your captor."
The civilian groaned. At least, they hoped it came out as a groan. Long-suffering and the like.
"You would look lovely," the villain mused. "Dressed up in all your finery, but just a little disheveled from being manhandled into the back of a car. I could get behind it. Remind what colour you were planning to wear again?"
"I was joking."
"Oh, you were absolutely not joking. The relief in your voice was palpable."
"Okay," the civilian said. "So I was failing to think before I talked. That's hardly going to shock anyone!"
"Look at me."
"Could you just let me curl up into a ball and die instead?"
An idle twitch of the villain's powers had the civilian's hands pinned to the sofa cushions, deftly out of the way. The civilian closed their eyes.
The villain snorted.
The civilian felt the sofa dip as the villain sat down, looming, and carded fond fingers through their hair. Then they tugged hard and the civilian squeaked, eyes flying open on instinct.
The villain grinned at them. Feral and terrifying and gorgeous.
"You have no reason to kidnap me, logistically speaking," the civilian said, mouth dry. "It would ruin your reputation if it got out. I'm like, nobody. And as far as the world is aware we don't even know each other. People would ask way too many questions. It's just not worth it."
"It would be fun though," the villain said. "And you really don't want to go this wedding, do you?"
"No. But unlike you, I occasionally have to do things I don't want to do. You know, like a grown up."
"I don't have to let you."
The civilian swallowed, at that. They tried to hold the villain's gaze, steady, but it was impossible to feel steady when they could feel the villain's power all around them.
"It's fine," they said. "I'm fine. I'll be fine."
The villain raised an eyebrow, at that.
"Yes or no?" they asked, softly.
The civilian meant to claw back some flippancy of their own, ask with casual mockery if the villain usually asked permission before kidnapping people. The silence stretched. The villain waited.
The civilian managed a dumbstruck nod.
"Good." The villain stared at them for a moment longer, gaze raking over their pinned body on the sofa like they were calculating something. Then they let go of the civilian's hair and patted their cheek. "Glad that's settled then."
They went back to their book like they didn't know that the civilian's heart was pounding.
I was tagged by @nosecrinklewrites last week (and a bunch of others always put a YOU in their tag lists) – hope it was fine that I just took it and ran with it! Although I don’t have anything substantial to share from any of my very early stage WIPs, I have one thing I wrote on a whim that I doubt I’ll have the heart to develop further. A couple of months ago the algorithm managed to convince me that b*ddie was going to be canon, and I wrote this in an attempt to place the fear, the pain and the hurt of that somewhere else than in my mind.
Warning for implied b*ddie, but the intended audience is anyone who loves Tommy (and bucktommy). If you’re a bucktommy shipper who doesn’t want to read, though, that’s perfectly understandable. If you’re a b*ddie shipper, this is not for you, and that’s okay.
Tagging back: @nosecrinklewrites, @rcmclachlan, @corporatebanana, @beanarie, @beefcakekinard, @capitalnineteen, @a-mel0n, @sad-girl-hours23, @chemistry66, @leashybebes & @dharmaavocado – not because I’m expecting you to read this given the warning, but because I want to see what you do with the tag!
If You Still Care Don’t Ever Let Me Know
It’s just Tommy’s luck, flying medevac on the same scene as the one and only fire station LA is able to cough up, after the rumors have been swirling for weeks and Lucy had, with so much regret, care and empathy in her eyes that Tommy hasn’t been able to look at her since, confirmed them the night before.
He’s been flying back and forth more times than he can remember, like he’s just common shuttle traffic, his body bone tired and hollowed out. It has been a long day and a long shift already; dull and uneventful, brain exhausted from the lack of input, action and being forced to remain alert, and he was ready to go home and sleep through his standby when this high-rise structural collapse happened.
He lands for the hundredth-something time and for the first time that night, there are no patients immediately ready for transport; they’re still searching the ruins. Tommy steps out of the cockpit for a quick breather, rubbing his eyebrows and temples to ease the building headache. He’s going to need some long, quiet days off once he’s done, mending both an aching head and an aching heart.
He senses eyes watching him before he sees them, and quite right, when he raises his gaze he’s met with a face he’s desperately wished to see again for months, but in the past few weeks, solidified by the night before, he’s prayed the city is big enough to avoid for the rest of his career.
Evan sends him a careful smile, and after a quick exchange with his captain, comes trotting over.
Tommy swallows, squares his shoulders, braces himself for impact.
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
“Fancy seeing you here.”
“Perks of the job.”
“Yeah… yeah, I suppose.” Evan scratches his neck awkwardly, biting his lip as he glances down at his boots. “So, I have been meaning to reach out for a while, and…” A deep sigh. “Would it be possible to meet up, just casually, anytime soon?”
Goddamn, the kid doesn’t even know that he knows. He probably thought he could get ahead of the grapevine, but no, sorry, this is the LAFD.
“I’m not so sure that is a good idea,” Tommy says, diplomatic but avoidant.
“Oh.” Evan seems taken aback. “Sorry, I don’t mean to overstep or anything. Truly, I’m not looking to – it’s platonic, I promise.”
“Yeah, I… I’m aware.”
“Oh, okay. Okay, good. But I think it’d be good, still?”
“Yeah, you would, wouldn’t you,” Tommy says, mostly to himself, leaning back to glance up at the dark, smoke-filled sky, the bright artificial lights adding their sickening dirty-orange hue, all the stars and the open vastness and the beauty up there hidden behind the industrial pollution. “But I’d rather not.”
He blinks, pressing his lips together in what is probably a very thin, tight line.
Evan’s beautiful, caring eyes go wide, his pretty, kissable mouth falling open in realization. “Tommy, d’you–” – Tommy nods once, curtly – “Tommy, I’m sorry, I–” Evan cuts himself off, shoulders slumping. “I really thought I could beat the rumor mill,” he finally whispers, voice lacking all kinds of strength.
“You didn’t.”
“I– truly, I’m so sorry. I am. You deserved to hear it from me.”
Yeah, I did.
“You have friends and family in all corners of the emergency services in the city. If people at both dispatch and the police are suddenly so happy for two friends at a particular fire station, word’s going to travel.”
Evan visibly flinches. “Yeah, Maddie’s been particularly ecstatic, for some reason,” he mutters, more to himself than to Tommy. Tommy can’t say he’s surprised; he and Maddie got off on the wrong foot and never found a proper way to navigate it. He couldn’t even say what did it; the vibes just weren’t there from the get go. Maybe that should’ve been a sign. “For what it’s worth, though–”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Tommy cuts him off. There’s nothing Evan can say that will make it better, nothing he can say that will soften the blow. “Do me a favor, though?”
“Yeah, of course,” Evan’s quick to respond, eyes soft and hopeful, a slight upwards curve to his mouth. “A-anything.”
Diaz, you miserable selfish bastard, you could live a thousand lifetimes and you still wouldn’t deserve to spend even a second of them with Evan.
But neither will Tommy, not with the words that have been forming and building since he heard the first rumor, and which he’s finally going to say out loud.
“I’ll never be able to say no to you,” he admits, forcing himself to maintain the eye contact as he presses the words out, fighting his throat’s instinct to close up as Evan’s mouth forms into his characteristic pout, that full and soft one he’ll never get to caress or kiss again. “Even if I want to, or need to for my own sake. So please, Evan, if you ever break up, if you for whatever reason find yourself single again at some point…”
He blinks to fight back the tears, raising his gaze as he swallows around the heavy lump in his throat. Evan’s going to hate him, but that’s better than risking yet another heartbreak. He has no choice but to quit everything cold turkey, and let himself take however long he needs to heal.
Evan’s pout has deepened when he lowers his gaze, the sad raise of his eyebrows is even higher, but he’s waiting patiently. The look in his eyes reads like pity; if he’s happy with his choice, happy and content and right where he’s supposed to be, there’s no other emotion left for Tommy. Tommy forces himself to ignore it, breathing in deeply to ease his quivering mouth, calm the rapid beating of his heart, reheat the icy cold chill spreading through his body.
“Please don’t reach out,” he finally says, voice surprisingly neutral and even, but he knows the moisture in his eyes will give him away; Evan’s emotionally perceptive enough to know what to look for. “I lo–uh, I’ve known you were it for me since the very beginning, and it’s my own fault that I didn’t fight for it. But given everything, I can’t stand to see or be in contact with you again, and I’m not strong enough to enforce that boundary should you ever wish to break it. I already tried once, and I caved the second I saw you. You’ve made your choice and I respect it, and I truly hope for your sake that you’ll be happy, but please show me the same respect in return. I can’t be your back-up solution.”
The worst thing is, he’s not saying any of it out of spite. He’s not saying it to make Evan change his mind, make him feel guilty, sow a seed of doubt in the back of his mind. It’s the truth, and he needs to lay it bare, once and for all, otherwise it’s just going to grow and fester inside him, turn into something ugly, dangerous and destructive, turn him into something ugly, dangerous and destructive. He’s fought too hard for his life and the comfort of his own skin to let that destructiveness take hold again. At least now that the words are out, Evan’s perfectly aware of the state of things, and whatever he decides to do with that, is outside of Tommy’s control. He doesn’t even want to know.
There’s moisture forming in Evan’s eyes now, too, his pout sadder than before. “Yeah, I-uh…” he rasps, clears his throat. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“That’s extended to the rest of your family and the 118 too, by the way.” Professionalism seeps back into his voice, shoulders squaring and chest puffing automatically. “Han, Wilson, your sister, Diaz… even Ravi. None of you have a good track record of respecting personal boundaries. If you ever need a helicopter again, you’ll have to go through the official channels. I’m done risking my career, my standing and my seniority for you.”
“Noted,” Evan says, but there’s nothing cool, calm and collected about it. “I mean, uh, yeah. I suppose that’s fair. Understandable.”
“It’s procedure, firefighter Buckley.”
Evan winces, and Tommy hates himself for inflicting it upon him, but the hurt and the jealousy is burning so hot in his body that the only thing he can do to cool it is to unleash its nasty formal camouflage on someone else.
Over Evan’s shoulder, the glimpse of a turnout comes into view, and Tommy’s cruel, self-loathing subconsciousness forces his gaze linger just long enough to recognize the surname. Bile rises in his throat and he forces his eyes back on Evan’s face, though that really isn’t much better.
And even with his gaze fixed on Evan, it’s impossible not to register the other firefighter turning around, recognizing him, realizing who he’s interacting with.
Tommy forces a strictly formal smile, and dips his head in a polite nod.
“Goodbye, Buck.”
Then he turns around before he’s forced to acknowledge Diaz’s existence, heading with determination back to the chopper and climbing in. At least they can’t reach him, touch him, get to him in the air.
I was at Will calling Hannibal "good boy" but my mind moved on straight to "baby boy" -
---
“You’d be easy to kill like this,” Will whispered.
“But you don't enjoy killing helpless things. You want to cradle them in your arms,” Hannibal said, his face half buried in Will’s shirt, his voice softer than his words.
Will smiled. “I want to protect you.”
"You’ll protect me as long as I can't protect myself. So I’d better be your baby boy, if I enjoy your affection, is that right?”
“If you weren’t my baby boy I wouldn’t be holding you, would I?"
tagged by @sunflowerbuckleys
more driving in the dark fic. Eddie is spiraling. It's clearer earlier in the scene but buck is sleeping on the couch (he won't be for long though)
Eddie takes a deep breath and focuses on the rhythm of Buck’s snores.
How many nights have they gone to sleep like this before? How many nights have they been hanging out and suddenly it’s too late or they drank more beers than they thought so they make up the couch for Buck? Those nights felt so easy and simple. The mornings were even better. His bright laugh and perfect pancakes.
Okay. Buck is juice or joy. He can admit that.
That doesn’t mean he can have it.
Earlier that night, Buck helped get Eddie ready for a shower. His hands so gentle and so careful as he taped the plastic wrap to Eddie’s stomach, protecting his stitches. His tongue poked out slightly as he concentrated. Eddie kicked him out of the bathroom so he could shower alone. Each movement as he tried to clean himself tugged uncomfortably on his incision.
Now, he wishes he had let Buck stay. He could have had Buck’s hands run over his whole body. The same hands that forced his blood to stay in his body. If Eddie starts thinking about all the places he wants those hands, he is definitely not going to fall asleep.
Maybe Eddie doesn’t believe in god. Maybe he never did. But he has faith in Buck. No matter what happens, Buck is there. Even when Eddie doesn’t deserve it.
Because Buck has been nothing but excellent and Eddie’s been a dick, again. Like always. He’s going to fuck this up, like he fucks everything up. He’s been the problem in every relationship he’s ever had. Never good enough for his parents. A shitty partner for Shannon. Staying with Ana for the wrong reasons. Never really committed to Marisol. Lying to all of them. Messing up so bad his son runs off to another state.
Buck was there for him through all his fuck ups. But would he stay if Eddie was doing that to him? He shouldn’t have to.
The next time he opens his eyes, he hears Buck making breakfast in the kitchen. Eddie must have fallen asleep at some point, but he doesn't feel rested at all.
