#again I'm not sure I'm making a lot of sense

[lorddeathofmurdermountain]

Once again I am blessed by my Slav status to be able to understand what OP means exactly, linguistically and culturally.

I'm not too sure about everyone in Croatia - what with there being three different main dialects PLUS the "official" dialect and a plethora of local ones - but there is a similar saying used in my home.

When asked something along the lines of "How's it going?" a common response might be "Da je bolje, nebi valjalo." If I wanted to translate it I'd probably struggle a whole of a fucking lot because bolje means better but ne bi valjalo means wouldn't be good so when examined logically it doesn't make sense - "If it were better, it wouldn't be good."

In practice, it's kind of like you know it won't be better, can't be better, so you tell yourself you can do without it by pretending you don't need it. Basically telling yourself that you're fine with where you're at, and even if you're not, you can handle it. It's typically a response you get from someone who's DEEP in the shitter but doesn't wanna bother anyone with their problems.

A more fun response to "Kak si?" (How are you?) is "Ko spotrti taksi" (like a broken taxi) with a possible addition of "v Zagrebu na praksi" (in Zagreb [the capital] on practice). It's still telling someone that shit's fucked, but at least you're fine enough to make silly rhymes.

One of the biggest issues of moving to England as a person who is Ukrainian AND neurodivergent is not knowing how to answer the small talk question of "how are you", but today I was reminded that Ukrainian blessed me with the phrase that roughly translates as "living is hard but dying would be a pity" and can we please naturalise it so I can use it all day every day

[organic-bloodbath]

Hiiiiiiii. Could you do a Salesman fic?

I would love to see one where his usual calm and powerful energy is lost around the reader, as he's just enamoured with her. Like no shame, he is down bad and the reader is just flustered and lowkey confused cause they haven't known each other for long.

Idk if this makes any sense to you (up to you if you make it smut i don't really mind)

Teach Ddakji to me

The Salesman x American!Reader

Summary: You play Ddakji with a man at a subway station, but the game brings you two much closer than either of you were prepared to.

A/N: I'm not sure how well i was able to follow the request of how he behaves around the reader but this is what i got ;-; hope you still like 🫶🏻 (i'm so deep in love with this psycho i've been giggling during every other paragraph)

♡♡

You rushed down the stairs in the subway station, only one minute until your train was going to leave. You weren't going to make it, but you had to try.

The doors were closing right in front of you and you wanted to scream and let out several different curses, but you didn't want to draw attention on yourself. Your day at the college lectures had just ended and all you wanted to do was to get home, have a dinner and rest.

You heard noise behind a corner, as if someone was slamming something on the floor. You went to see what was going on out of curiosity.

Two men were standing there, the other one tall and dressed in a grey suit, the other one a lot shorter and dressed in a simple hoodie and loose jeans, a worn out cap covering his messy black hair. Suddenly, the man in the suit slapped the other so hard on the face that the man's head turned to the right.

They slammed blue and red squares on top of each other over and over again, and it ended in the man in the suit slapping the other almost every time. Once in a while he handed to the man what looked like a bill of money. You had never seen anything like that happen anywhere and were confused.

You got a notification on your phone, a text message from your classmate.

"Join us for studying and then a dinner? A new restaurant opened nearby, we'll go and try it tonight," she messaged.

"Another day, i don't feel like going out tonight," you replied, getting a thumbs up emoji as a respond.

You put your phone in your pocket and turned around, almost having a heart attack and jumping a step back when you saw the man in the suit standing mere inches away from you, looking down at you with a slight smirk.

"Enjoyed the show, i hope?" he asked and your eyes widened. Fuck, he had noticed you stalking the two of them.

"Yea, um, sure," you said awkwardly. "Though i didn't know what it was, really."

Seeing his face now closer and him staring at you with his dark eyes made your heart beating faster and it wasn't only because of him scaring you for appearing out of nowhere. He was extremely handsome and the way he looked at you made you blush.

"You haven't heard of Ddakji?" he asked, but didn't seem surprised since he figured you weren't local by the looks of you. "It's a Korean game, want me to show you?"

"Sure," you said, nothing else to do than wait anyway. The man took the squares in his hands and offered you to choose one. You took the red one.

He explained the rules to you, it was simple. You only had to hit your square on the blue one and make it turn around, the upper side facing the floor.

It sounded simple but you were hesitant if you were actually able to do it. You threw it on the floor, aiming at the blue square, but it didn't move even an inch in any direction. You let out a frustrated groan.

"It's okay, very few people succeed on their first try," he said in a comforting tone and took a step closer to you, standing right in front of you. "But do you know what losing means to you, hm?"

You had a very good guess after seeing him and the other man play just a while ago.

"You're gonna slap me?" you asked with a grimace.

He smiled. Without a word, you felt a painful sting on your left cheek when he slapped you, not going any easier on you just because you were a woman.

"Jesus Christ!" you gasped and held your hand on your cheek which was definitely going to have a red mark later. You had never been slapped on your face and it hurt more than you thought it would hurt.

"My turn then," he said and grabbed his blue square from the floor. He slammed it on top of your red square and it immediately jumped in the air and landed on its other side on the floor.

He looked at you with the same smirk again.

"So what happens when you win?" you asked, crossing your arms. If you continued this game much longer, your face would be completely covered in bruises and you'd have a lot of explaining to do to your classmates.

"I get to use your body again," he said with a confident tone.

You closed your eyes and prepared for another slap, hoping that it would be the other one this time because your left cheek still hurt. When you felt a touch on your left cheek, you automatically winced a little bit.

But it wasn't a slap, it was a tender kiss. You opened your eyes when he had already leaned away and you saw a glimpse of kindness in his eyes this time. You felt your cheeks warming up and tried to avoid eye contact for a moment.

"Your turn," he said.

Your hand was shaking when you lifted the red square from the floor. You wanted to succeed, you had never been good at losing in anything, it was always about to start to piss you off if you didn't start winning too.

"Do you want me to help you?" he asked. You looked at him and soon he was right behind you, keeping an eye contact with you when he put his left hand on your waist and his right one to hold your hand which was holding the square. "Is this okay?"

He didn't put too much pressure on holding you, making sure that you gave him a permission for that. You suddenly couldn't get words out of your mouth, so you just nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat. He held you tighter now and instructed how it was supposed to be done. You had to have more force when you would slam the square down.

"Spread your legs a little bit," he whispered.

"What?" you gasped in shock.

"To get a better and more firm position when you throw it," he explained, his breath hot in your ear.

"Oh," you said, cheeks burning even more. You hadn't realized you were standing almost like a stick. He guided your hand up in the air in a correct position.

"Remember to let go of it at the correct moment, i'm going to aim it for you, okay?" he said and you nodded, now much more nervous than you would have been if you did this alone.

With this help, the blue square flew into the air and landed on its other side easily. You were excited of the victory, even though it was for his help, and a wide smile spread on your face.

To be honest, for a second you wished you would have failed on purpose, just to get his hands on you again - you didn't even care if it was a slap, kiss or something else.

He let go of you and you turned around to face him, already missing his touch.

"There you go," he said with a proud expression on his face. "Now, you can choose what to do to me."

You didn't hesitate for even a second longer, you immediately slapped him on his left cheek as hard as you could. However, you knew you didn't have as much as strength in your body as he did, so the slap must have stinged a lot less. His head didn't move even an inch and he only smiled.

Right then, the train you had been waiting for arrived and you took your bag from the ground. You weren't going to miss this train just because of wanting to have another round of Ddakji with this stranger.

He offered you money, worth of 100 dollars, and put them in your hand, closing your fist around the bill. You were about to refuse but he wasn't having it.

"Treat yourself a nice dinner tonight," he said. When you didn't answer, he nodded towards the train which was about to leave soon, with or without you.

"Thank you," you said. "Um, bye."

You made it into the train just in time and when you looked back at the spot where that man had just been, he was already gone.

♡♡

The salesman didn't want you to leave. He was absolutely mesmerized by you, you were the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on. Your perfume and the smell of your shampoo still lingered in his nose, even after you weren't there anymore.

He would have wanted to ask you to stay, but he couldn't find the correct words and you were in a hurry to catch your train.

He hadn't felt like this of a woman in a long time and he wanted to find you again. To hold you again.

He didn't understand how you could have made this big of an impact on him in only under 10 minutes, but all he knew was that he needed to get to know you better.

♡♡

The next day, you arrived to the class and sat next to your friend.

"Oh my god, what happened to your face?" she gasped in shock.

Yes, there was a visible red mark on your cheek and you didn't have anything at home to cover it. You didn't really use any makeup either except mascara.

"Oh um," you started, trying to find some excuse. "It's my allergies and acne." You didn't have any allergies and hadn't had acne since you were 15. But you couldn't tell her the truth, atleast now that you didn't have time to talk much since the class was about to start.

And what were you going to say to her? A stranger in the subway station slapped you and you enjoyed it?

The teacher arrived and the noise of the door slamming closed interrupted your friend who was about to say something to interview you further.

♡♡

You walked down the subway station stairs again on your way home, just like yesterday. You had your headphones on, listening to random metal songs on Spotify and were texting your mum who catched up with you twice a week how you were doing. You were supposed to have a video call later today but she apparently had to work extra tonight, she was a nurse.

When you had reached the bottom of the stairs, you bumped into something and almost tripped back but managed to keep your balance. You looked up and saw the same man in the suit as yesterday, staring down at you with a smile.

"Hello," he greeted, not moving anywhere.

"Hello," you repeated and lifted your eyebrows, taking of your headphones. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you," he said without thinking.

"Me? Why? How did you know i would be here?"

"I didn't. I only figured you might have the same daily routine and took a chance," he explained.

"Why did you want to see me?" you asked, confused but feeling butterflies in your stomach.

"I didn't have a chance to ask for your phone number yesterday," he said. "And i'd like to take you out."

"Take me out you mean murder or dinner?"

"The second option. I already finished the first task earlier," he said with a smile. Handsome and with a sense of humor.

"Fine, where did you plan to take me?"

"Anywhere you want. Are you hungry?"

"You don't even know my name," you pointed out.

"You can tell me your name and all about you on our date," he smiled.

"Aren't you straightforward," you chuckled. "Are you going to teach me Ddakji again?"

"If you wish so," he said.

You bit your lip, not sure if you should go somewhere with this stranger or not. You hadn't been asked for a dinner at a subway station before, though, so you could write it on your bucketlist and cross it out.

"Okay."

♡♡

He had taken you to a lovely dinner to enjoy local foods you had never eaten before. You rarely tried any new foods, always sticking on the ones you already knew you'd like, but now you had tried something different and loved it.

Now, you were in a park, nobody else in sight. It was already dark and you knew you had to go home soon if you wanted to get enough sleep.

You held the red square in your hand once again and aimed for slamming the blue around finally on your own.

Again, you weren't able to hit it. But you hadn't even tried properly and weren't mad about it.

"Damn it," you mumbled.

"You'll get there," he smirked, stepping closer to you.

He lifted your chin with his finger.

"Close your eyes."

You did as told and waited for the worst option, squeezing your eyes shut tightly.

You felt his lips press on yours, taking you into a slow kiss. He broke the kiss but didn't let go of your chin

"Do i have to play another round of Ddakji to do that again?"

You smiled and stepped on your tiptoes to reach him better, cupped his face and pulled him in a proper, deeper kiss. He instantly wrapped his arms around your waist to press your body against him tighter.

"Just so you know, i don't sleep with men on our first date," you said when the kiss was over, his hands wandering around your back they had almost reached your ass.

He moved his left hand to the back of your neck, keeping the right one on your lower back. He pushed his fingers through your hair, softly massaging your scalp.

"What is it about you that makes me so drawn to you?" he whispered, and you didn't know if the question was for you or just for himself. "Only two days and you've managed to make me absolutely addicted to you."

He pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you felt blush creeping on its way to your cheeks.

He eventually walked you back home like a gentleman, not allowing you to walk anywhere at this hour. He had to make sure you got back home safely.

"Will i see you again tomorrow?" he asked before you managed to leave, gently holding your wrist.

"I have to study, i've fallen behind in couple of courses so i need to catch up," you said and his face fell a little bit. Surely he had other things to do in his life besides seeing you. "Are you free this weekend?"

His face lighted up again for your suggestion.

"For you, of course," he said and brought your hand towards his face, planting a kiss on your knuckles. "Goodnight, Y/N."

You went inside your apartment and silently closed the door, trying to do everything as quietly as you could, but then the lights were turned on.

"Okay who the HELL is that man, Y/N?!" your roommate shouted at you, making you jump and almost have a heart attack. It was so late you thought she was already sleeping, she was the type to be in bed by 8pm and asleep by 9pm.

"Um, well I-"

"That is the most gorgeous man i've ever seen," she said, still speaking loudly, and stepped closer to you and pointed you with her finger. "How couldn't you tell me you were dating a new man?"

"Well i only met him a while ago," you admitted.

"Still?!" she shouted. "You know i like boy talk and you never talk about your dating life! Oh my god, have you finally downloaded Tinder or something?"

"Ew, no," you shook your head.

"You're right, there's no way men THAT hot would still be on Tinder and not married," she said and then gasped. "Girl, he's not married, is he?"

"I sure hope he's not," you said and for a moment you were afraid he might be married. I mean, how could he still be single? Your friend always talked so much that you started to doubt everything you previously knew.

"Wait a minute, i'll get us some popcorn and then you're gonna spill everything," she said and without another word, she was already in the kitchen.

And you did tell her everything because my god you needed to talk to someone about him.

♡♡

A few days and several text conversations later, you were in his hotel room, and he pressed you against the wall, his right hand leaning on the wall right by your head.

He lifted your head by his forefinger on your chin to make you look straight into your eyes.

"How long are you going to stay in Korea?" he asked.

"What, are you going to ask me to move in with you or something? Plan a summer wedding?" you joked.

"If you want to," he said with a serious face and you truly wasn't sure if he was serious or joking. You hadn't yet found a difference between the two.

"Wait what?"

You hadn't dated any Korean men before so you weren't sure how fast they progressed in the dating life. Would it be normal to propose on the first week or ask to move in? Surely not.

He smiled. "I only ask because i don't want to have you only for a short while," he said and let his fingers wander around your shoulder, sending goosebumps all over your body.

"Well, i'll be here for atleast another 5 months," you told him and then pouted. "So, no summer wedding?"

"I'd have to buy a ring first," he smirked.

"It better be a real diamond too then," you chuckled, having seen the stacks of money he had carried with him, and pulled him into another kiss.

He was soon kissing your neck, leaving a mark on your skin, until your stomach growled and interrupted him.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "I thought you had eaten before you came here."

"Well, it's been a while i suppose," you said, not really remembering anymore when the last time was.

He stepped away from you and pulled out his phone.

"What are you doing?"

"We're ordering food," he said. "What would you like to eat?"

He ordered Chinese food for you and ate it on the bed while watching some brainless comedy movie.

When the movie had ended, he went to the bathroom, leaving you to lay on the bed and making you to fall in your thoughts alone.

You had been in a relationship twice in your life, and in neither of them your relationship had moved on this fast. I mean, you weren't in an official relationship, you had been just barely hooking up, but the way he talked about you only knowing you for a few days wasn't something you had been used to at all.

In the U.S., it took guys several weeks to make any progress in relationships, atleast what you had seen and gone through.

Maybe you should slow down a little, take a step back and see what he really wants from you.

By the time he came back from the bathroom, you had fallen asleep. You looked so peaceful in your sleep, so beautiful even with your messy hair all over the pillow.

He came closer to you and pulled a blanket over you, the edge almost reaching your jaw. You stirred in your sleep, turning to lay on your side, but didn't show any signs of waking up.

He laid himself on the bed next to you and just looked at your sleeping figure for several minutes. He was afraid of getting attached to a woman so fast, in so little time, but he couldn't help it.

To him you were perfect, and he wanted to know everything about you that there was to know.

♡♡

A/N: If you want a part 2, please leave any requests you might have, i'm not sure where to go with this 🫶🏻❤️💙

[deerlysacred]

🍎 i feel so high school every time i look at you . . . { dean winchester x fem!reader }

𐂂 𝄢 { you always felt like you missed out on lots of silly, social & romantic things in your teenage years because you were very shut-down and depressed back then. dean shows you that there's still time to make up for it. }

𖣂 𝄢 established relationship & fluff

♫ 𝄢 concept song : so high school - taylor swift

Clink.

. . .

Clink!

The soft clatter of pebbles against your bedroom window barely registered at first. You were curled up under a mountain of blankets, comfortably burrowed in your own little nest, flipping through a book with a cup of tea precariously (?) balanced on your stomach. You told yourself it was probably just the wind. Or a tree branch. Or, you know, the natural creaks and groans of a house that is absolutely not haunted (you hoped so).

Then— another clink.

And another.

You sighed, your eyebrows knitting together.

Okay. Either a ghost just decided to throw hands, or some poor bird tragically lost its sense of direction.

You went out of bed, padding over to the window as you pulled the curtains away. Your eyes widened against the unexpected scene.

Dean Winchester. Standing in your backyard, throwing rocks at your window.

The sight alone was almost too much for your brain to process. He was grinning up at you like some teenage heartthrob straight out of an '80s rom-com, one hand tucked into the pocket of his leather jacket while the other —oh great— prepared to lob another pebble.

"Dean?" you whisper-yelled, opening your window. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What's it look like, sweetheart?" he whisper-yelled right back, looking too proud of himself. "I'm sneakin' my girl out for a date. Proper teenage style. Now c'mon, before your strict old folks catch me."

You just stared at him, struggling to process several things at once. One, he is standing in your yard throwing pebbles at your window like a delinquent in a coming of age TV show. Two, he just called you his girl, which— okay, that probably should've sound normal to you since you're his girlfriend indeed. For a while now, in fact. But your brain still short-circuited a little, getting flustered even after all this time.

"…Dean, I don't have strict old folks."

He waved a dismissive hand. "I dunno, Y/N. Your grandma did glare at me once. Feels like I'm riskin' life and limb here."

You bit back a laugh. "You do realize I could just use the door, right?"

Dean scoffed, his breath getting visible with the fog because of the chilly air of the evening. "Oh, sure, and miss out on the whole forbidden romance, Romeo-and-Juliet, sneakin'-through-the-night scene? Where's your sense of drama, sweetheart? Hm? Where's your passion?" He gestured grandly towards the window and flexed his muscles briefly. "Now, c'mon. Climb out or somethin'. I'll catch ya."

You folded your arms, shaking your head as you chuckled. "You will not catch me!"

Dean put a hand over his heart, looking scandalized. "Excuse me? I am a gentleman. I would absolutely catch you."

"Dean, be honest. Do you want to risk finishing this date night before it even began after you broke your arm because you got too full of yourself?"

He squinted, like he was actually considering the question. "…Okay, fair point. Plan B— the ladder in the garage. We improvise."

You shook your head again, a helpless smile breaking through. You knew why he was doing this. He probably couldn't stop thinking about what you told him last night— how you felt like you missed out on things as a teenager. How you overthink about the past missed opportunities sometimes, okay… Maybe more than sometimes. And here he was now. And because that he was Dean, instead of just saying something sweet or reassuring and get over with it (not like he was very good with words too), he was throwing pebbles at your window like a teenage rebel, giving you the moment you never got to have.

And damn it if that didn't make you fall for him even more.

"Give me a minute." you said, already reaching for your coat.

Dean grinned, all boyish mischief and dimples, retrieving the slightly rusted ladder from the garage, setting it against the house. "That's my girl, come."

You sighed and closed the window before carefully making your way back down. When you were only a couple of steps from the bottom, Dean suddenly spread his arms wide, wiggling his fingers.

"Alright, sweetheart— leap of faith. I got you."

You eyed him warily. "Dean…"

"Oh, come on. Where's your sense of adventure? Woulda made such a cute movie moment."

You rolled your eyes but decided to humor him. With a deep breath, you let go of the ladder and jumped.

Dean, to his credit, did catch you. Mostly.

He stumbled back a step, arms full of you, before he managed to steady them both, laughing. "See? Told ya I'd—oof—catch you."

You clung to him, half-giggling, half-mortified. "That was not smooth."

"Eh, I give it a solid eight outta ten," Dean said, setting you on your feet. He brushed an imaginary leaf off your shoulder, voice dipping low and playful. "Y'know, if this was some cheesy teen drama, this'd be the part where we kiss real slow, right before your dad comes out with a shotgun."

You snorted, tilting your head. "Too bad my dad's not around to threaten you."

Just as the two of you turned towards the Impala, movement from across the street caught your eye.

Mr. Jenkins.

Mr. Jenkins was your eighty-something-year-old neighbor who sits on his porch every night sipping his coffee, watching the world go by. And right now, he was watching you and Dean with the exact expression of a man who has seen some things in his time but has never seen this.

Dean followed your gaze and gave Mr. Jenkins a slow, respectful nod.

Mr. Jenkins narrowed his eyes. Took a sip of coffee. Kept staring.

Dean turned back to you, whispering. "Alright, I think I've been made. Your grandpa's gonna call the cops, isn't he?"

"He's not my grandpa."

"You sure? He's got that 'disapproving man of the house' energy goin' on."

You sighed. "Just get in the car before he starts asking questions."

Dean tugged open the Impala's door with a dramatic flourish, waving you in like he's some kind of old-school gentleman. "After you, milady."

"Dean…?" you said slowly, side-eyeing him.

"Mm?" He looked perfectly innocent. Too innocent.

"You're taking me to a makeout spot?"

Dean smirked. "Technically, I'm takin’ you to a scenic overlook with a great view of the stars." A beat. "But, yeah, also a makeout spot."

You groaned, slumping against the seat. "I hate everything."

"Nahhh, you love it."

…You kind of did love it. But he didn't need to know that.

When he finally pulled up to the clearing, the view was stunning. An open sky stretching for miles, stars shining bright against the darkness, the town lights twinkling far below. Dean shut off the engine and hopped out, you hugged your coat and went out to clim up on the hood of Baby to sit. When Dean came back, he was holding— a picnic basket?

Your brows shot up. "Oh my God, you packed snacks?"

Dean looked vaguely offended. "Sweetheart, I always pack snacks."

You laughed as he set the basket down on the hood of the Impala and sat next to you. He pulled out a few chocolate bars, a bag of chips, and—of course—a pack of beer.

"Very nutritious." you remarked.

Dean popped the cap off a bottle. "Hey, you want gourmet, sweetheart, you're in the wrong car."

You rolled your eyes but took a chocolate bar, unwrapping it as you leaned back against the windshield, eyes drifting to the sky. It really was beautiful up here. Quiet. Peaceful.

Then, the soft strumming of a guitar filters through the Impala's speakers. An old, slow love song, the kind that makes your chest ache in that bittersweet way.

You glanced at Dean, who was busy nursing his beer like this was no big deal. Like he didn't just put on a song as if this was a romance movie. Your stomach flipped, biting your bottom lip, you spoke.

"Dean…"

He cleared his throat. "Just thought, y'know… if you ever wanted that teenage movie moment… well. This ain't a prom, but…" He gestured around you. "Got the view. Got the music. Got the devastatingly handsome date."

You giggled, leaning into his side. "You are pretty devastating."

Dean grinned, draping an arm around your shoulders. For a while, you just sat there, listening to the song and cuddling.

After a moment of silence, he glanced down at you as he was caressing your shoulder gently. "So, what kinda stuff do you think you missed out on?"

"I don't know. Just… normal teenage things, I guess. Like— stupid, fun stuff. Sneaking out just to go nowhere. Sleepovers. Gossiping about crushes. A first kiss that wasn't tainted by some deep emotional crisis."

Dean winced playfully. "Oof. That one hit close to home."

You smirked. "Right?"

Dean leaned back on his palms, looking thoughtful. "Yeah, I get that. I missed out on a bunch of crap, too. No high school parties. No prom. No dumb summer jobs or college road trips. Just—" he huffed a dry laugh. "—training, hunting, and trying to keep Sammy safe."

You frowned, reaching for his hand. "That's not fair. You deserved those things, Dean."

He shrugged, squeezing your fingers. "Yeah, well… wasn't in the cards for me."

You looked down at your joined hands, your thumb tracing over his knuckles. "Sometimes I think about it. What kind of person I would've been if things had been different. If I'd been happy back then."

"You ever wish you could do it over?"

You hesitated, then shook your head. "No if it meant I wouldn't end up here. With you."

Dean's lips parted slightly, like you just knocked the wind out of him. Then, after a second, he cleared his throat and smirked. "Damn. You keep talkin' like that, and I'm gonna have to start writing poetry."

"Oh, please. I'd love to hear your poetry."

Dean straightened, putting on a dramatic voice. "Roses are red, Impala is black. Every time you kiss me, I forget how to act."

You laughed and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips. "That was beautiful. You should publish that."

Dean grinned. "Oh, totally. I heard bad poetry is in high demand."

"Then congrats, baby, you're about to be a bestseller."

You sat like that for a while, the laughter fading into something softer, warmer. Then, as the song playing on the radio faded into another slow melody, Dean suddenly sat up.

"Alright, that's it." He turned to you with a grin. "We're fixin' this."

You blinked. "Uh… Fixing what?"

He hopped off the hood, holding out a hand to you. "We missed out on stupid teenage things, right? So let's make up for it. Starting with a slow prom dance under the stars."

You huffed a small laugh but didn't resist when he took your hand, helping you down. The second you were standing, Dean turned, grabbed a soft flannel blanket from the basket, and carefully draped it over your shoulders.

"Wouldn't want my girl gettin' cold." he murmured, making sure it wrapped snugly around you. Then, with a boyish smirk, he added: "Also, this way you can't run when I step on your toes."

You giggled. "Wow. Confidence through the roof, Winchester."

Dean just grinned and pulled you closer, swaying you two gently to the quiet music playing from the Impala's radio.

At first, it was ridiculous. He exaggerated his steps like some old-school ballroom instructor, guiding you dramatically across the dirt like you were at some grand gala instead of parked on an empty hill. But you played along, batting your lashes and letting out an over-the-top sigh, as if you'd just been swept into the most magical moment of your life.

Then, somewhere along the way, the teasing melted into something softer.

Your movements slowed, your bodies falling into an easy rhythm. Your arms looped around Dean's neck, your fingers absentmindedly curling into his hair. His hands settled at your waist, thumbs drawing lazy circles through the fabric of your clothing. The blanket cocooned you in warmth, shielding you from the cold night air.

For a while, you just swayed. No words, no hurry. Just you two, the hum of the radio, the distant chirp of crickets, and the glow of the stars above.

Then Dean dipped his head, his nose brushing lightly against yours. His voice was quieter now, softer. "Y'know… I think I like our version of prom better."

You smiled up at him. "Yeah?"

"Mmhm." His voice was lazy. "No bad music. No ugly corsages. And best of all…" His lips quirked up. "I get to kiss the prettiest girl here."

You barely had time to catch your breath before Dean tilted his head, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss. This one wasn't playful or teasing— it was deep, unhurried, and sure. Reassuring. Reassuring in a way that told you you didn't miss out on anything, everything little step in life brought you here. To him. And you knew, that this was more meaningful and real than any ghost of a never-happened memory.

[kayhi808]

OK, let’s say he comes back from a mission and it was really rough on him and he kind of relapsed into the winter soldier(slightly very very slightly) and Steve let’s reader know that a lot happened. Abby has went away with Natasha for a weekend together as reader was really busy w work. Bucky comes home and is so so on edge and is afraid he will hurt reader and isolates himself especially after he almost hurt reader when she crept up too silent behind him. so he hates himself rn. BUT THEN ABBY RUNS IN OUT OF NOWHERE AND HUGS HIM CUS SHE WAS WAITING FOR HIM TO COME BACK AND BOOM man either lets out the craziest sigh or low keys cries because he realizes he is okay. idk something like that if it makes sense ¯\_(ツ)_/

🧹

Thank you, to my favorite anon!💕 It took me forever to get to this one. This was a lot to go on. It could have gone really dark and angsty, but I'm trying to keep my Abby stories a little lighter. Hope you like it.🤗

Bucky was gone on what turned out to be an intense mission & word just came back that his team was returning. Steve and Bucky were heading the mission so you weren't too worried. You always like when they are sent out together because you knew they had each other's backs. ALWAYS

The quinjet touched down & the crew disembarked. You saw Bucky and Steve walking down the ramp, deep in conversation. As soon as Bucky made eye contact with you, you felt something was wrong. Then he veered away from you to another entry into the Tower and you knew something was very wrong.

You started to follow him, but Steve blocked your path. "What happened? What's wrong with Bucky??"

"Y/N, give him some time, this mission was rough on him."

"Is he hurt? Is he ok?"

"Physically he's fine..."

Impatiently, "then tell me what happened!"

"It's his story to tell. He needs a little bit of time to sort out the demons in his head. That's all."

"That's all?!?"

"It's what he wants."

******

You were able to give him 2 days to himself, until you caved in & tried calling Bucky just to hear his voice. For him to tell you he's ok but needs time to himself. You'd understand that. But for him to send your call to voicemail pissed you off. You left a message last night & today's you were leaving to pick up Abby, you tried again & you got his voicemail.

"Babe? Can you please call me back, text me...or something, so I know you're alive yet purposefully ignoring me? That would be great." You sigh, "Is this how we are going forward in this relationship? This will be the new communication norm?"

You gather your things to head out of the building, but up ahead you see Steve & Bucky. You hurry to catch up with them. You grab onto Bucky's arm & before you can even say his name, his hand is on your sternum, and you're shoved against the wall. A startled yelp escapes & he releases you immediately. "Fuck!" His hands drop to your arms, "Are you ok? Did I hurt you?" Steve pulls Bucky back.

You reach for his hands, "I'm fine. You startled me." You look up at him and he looks so tired. You go to hug him but he pulls away from you. "Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on, Buck?" You turn to Steve, "Would you do me a big favor and pick-up Abby from pre-school, please?"

"Yea, sure " He shoots Bucky a worried glance before he leaves.

*****

Once you're back at Bucky's residence, "Are you ready to tell me what happened?" You flop yourself down on his couch.

"I can't... I can't let those things...touch you. You don't need to know about HYDRA."

"Bucky, I know about HYDRA. I work here! Nick Fury is my boss."

"You don't need to know about the Winter Soldier. You don't need to know about me back then." Bucky stops pacing & drops down into his chair.

"You don't think I've done my research before dating you? Before I let you be around my daughter? What you did back then was not your fault. You weren't given a choice. HYDRA had control of you. Babe, you are not the same person."

"I'm still capable..."

You move to sit at the foot of his chair, "No! Stop it."

"Doll, I could have killed you back there!"

"You didn't. You wouldn't. You're James Barnes, not the Winter Soldier!" You squeeze his hands. "Talk to me, Bucky. Let me share your burden. We're in this life together. Please tell me what happened."

With a deep sigh, "We went to hit an active HYDRA base camp." You nod. "Doll, there were cribs there. In the lab, there were children's bed and restraints." You softly gasp, squeezing his hands tighter. "We couldn't locate any of the children, but now I know they're out there somewhere."

"Oh, Bucky." Tears prickling your eyes, "I'm so sorry."

"I killed them all. Whoever was there." You kneel up to wrap your arms around him. It took a while for him to return your hug, but you didn't let go. He gives in and pulls you tightly to him.

"You think I wouldn't do the same if I could? Wouldn't anyone do the same? The only difference is that we don't have your skill set." Pulling away, cradling his face between your palms to get him to look at you, "Just because you have the skills, does not make you the Winter Soldier." You give him a soft kiss. "The job you took on isn't an easy one, but you're making the world a safer place. For people like me and Abby."

"I saw the cribs and beds and I...I thought of Abigail. And...I snapped." You nod.

"I understand how that could happen." Bucky pulls you onto his lap & he holds you for a long time in silence. You offered him comfort any way you could. You understand now why he was so affected by this mission. "You need to talk to me and tell me what's going on. You can't shut me out, Buck. I was so worried. If the situation was flipped, how would you handle me shutting down on you?"

"Not well." He gives you a slight smile.

Nodding, "exactly." You lean back against him as he wraps you in his arms.

"I'm sorry."

*******

Steve picks up Abby and visits with Ms Grace before returning to the Tower, hoping you and Bucky ironed out your differences. He texts you both letting you know he's got Abs in the common room watching TV.

"You knows what, Uncle Steve?"

"No, what Abs."

"Chloe and Mia says a new Lilo & Stitch movies coming outs."

"Oh, yea? Wow."

Abby stands up on the couch next to Steve and slings her arm across his shoulders. "Rights?? I so 'cited! You know what, Uncle Steve?"

"No, what Abs?"

"You wants to take me to the Lilo & Stitch movies?"

"Won't your Mama and Bucky take you to see it? Did they say no?" Steve has to ask. He's not going to be caught up in one of Abby's tricks and get in trouble with you.

"Mama gonna takes me, but you can takes me," holding up two fingers, "two time." She gives Steve a sweet smile.

"Abigail."

She cackles. "What if I likes it so much and wants to sees it again? Like Wicked?"

Steve rolls his eyes, "Fine. If you like it so much, I'll take you to watch it again."

Abby squashes her cheek against Steve's while strangling him around the neck, "Oh, tank you! Yous the best Uncle in all the worlds!" She sees Bucky in the doorway and Uncle Steve is quickly forgotten. "Papa! You homes!!" She bounces off the couch and runs to Bucky with arms spread wide.

Bucky steps back, away from your incoming toddler, banging into you. "It's ok, Bucky."

Abby doesn't slow down, so Bucky is forced to catch her and lift her into his arms. "I missed-ed you so much!" Abby peppers his face with kisses. She pulls away & squishes his face between her palms, "You missed-ed me, too?" A happy hopeful smile on her face.

Bucky nods, answering quietly, "Yea, baby. I missed-ed you, too," dropping a kiss on her nose which makes her do a happy wiggle.

@waywardhunter95 @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @buckitostan @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05 @ozwriterchick @crazyunsexycool @baw1066 @nommingonfood @jvanilly

[ninadove]

#I also love the use of the theatre space as setting & as framing device in this play

#the characters are all here in the theatre to see a play! just like you! ^_^

#it makes the segue from the real world to the story world sooo much smoother

#& there is a lot of disorienting chatter going on even as the named characters appear on scene (Ragueneau & Le Bret & Christian)

#bc I'm sure the audience irl is also taking its time to find seats & settle down

#the only real difference & it's kind of charming is the 1640s theatre experience vs the contemporary one

#& by the time Cyrano shows up we are REALLY watching a play. the transition is complete

#Cyrano in the story world is also an audience member but in our world he is a character on the stage

#the DELICIOUS duality of this... & the extent to which Cyrano is aware of his performance

#after he shuts down La Clorise the audience is lamenting that they came to see a play & missed out

#& I suspect part of why the tirade du nez & the ballade du duel are so Big is bc he knows & he's making up for it

#he's giving them the show they missed

#the stage directions even say 'people take notice & stop exiting the theatre. by the end they have taken their seats again'

#I just love love looove the way Cyrano is often performing in his life

#he establishes & behaves around a 4th wall of sorts in his life

#which by extension makes him rlly delicious to watch bc it feels like he's Aware of the actual 4th wall

#he never breaks it & only leans on it occasionally e.g. to make a witty aside

#but he's such a PERFORMER of a man that it fits the character perfectly & doesn't break immersion the way most 4th-wall breaks can

#& THEN THIS LINE AT THE END

#Qu'est-ce que c'est tous ceux-là ?—Vous êtes mille ? / Ah ! je vous reconnais‚ tous mes vieux ennemis !

#WHILE STARING OUT AT A THOUSAND AUDIENCE MEMBERS

#& DELIVERING IT WHILE NOT OF SOUND MIND

#which imo is THE only condition where it makes sense for a character to break the 4th wall

#I just--- AAAAAAAAA

#DADDY I LOVE HIM

@pegasusdrawnchariots preserving your tags for posterity! 💌

Also noteworthy: the comedians are still in costume when they rush out to go see the Porte de Nesles fight! They’ve become the audience but they haven’t fully left their role as characters inside Cyrano’s play yet. The show goes on and we don’t get to see its conclusion: instead, we immediately move on to Act II, where Cyrano recounts his exploits, then to Act III, where he slips under Christian’s mask, then to Act IV, where he tragically doesn’t get to drop said mask, then to Act V, where he’s both playing “le viel ami qui vient pour être drôle” and pretending not to be dying… so Cyrano’s masquerade literally covers the entire duration of the play, from his first appearance to the panache line! 🪶

so what do u think about plays

i like how in a theatre time and space are necessarily metaphorical. i don’t like how plays always have to begin with someone walking onstage and talking. too many directors try to work around this by having someone walk onstage and brood in silence for a moment before talking. this is worse. 

[astermagnolia]

Danny and Peter run into Jason: one-shot based on my most recent post

\/\/\/\/

Danny sighed as he shivered, still trying to get used to the spider-sense. From what he and Peter could tell it's barely only been a month since their situation and by far Spider sense has been the most annoying ability to try and learn.

"Peter tingle sucks, man," Danny mutters under his breath lest he get confused stares.

"Please for the love of everything, stop calling it peter tingle." Peter begged. If he was in control of his body at the moment he's sure his head would be on his head.

Danny's... housemate? Body...mate? Ew, no not that one. Headmate. Yeah, headmate, tried his best to explain how his sixth sense worked and how to deal with it but Danny still gets freaked out by it. Even when he's not driving the body

"Well, maybe if i didn't get tingles and shivers every time i would call it accordingly."

"It's just warning you of danger."

"Dude, we're currently staying in an area called crime alley near a place called the narrows in a city where crime is rampant. Gotham is ranked number one for 'one of the most crime-ridden cities'," Danny ranted, trying to keep his voice low and head down.

That little nugget of information was great to learn when they were doing their research. On top of learning that aliens exist and the police were corrupt. Though that last one wasn't too surprising.

"I mean, if we moved..."

"We barely have enough to feed ourselves plus your crazy metabolism. We can't move and then struggle to find a good place to bunk." Danny sighed again.

Trying to find a job is the most difficult thing at the moment considering they didn't have any ID—or any proof of existence in this world—and the fact they looked so young.

Danny took stealing from people, much to chagrin if Peter. He swore up and down he was stealing from wealthy people.

Peter on the other hand, when he was in control of his body, would try and fix anything from anyone within the area. People have started calling him 'tinkerer' and. Funnily enough, the guy who buys the stuff Danny steals calls him 'furittus'.

"Hey, look." Peter grabbed Danny's attention to what's ahead of them.

In front of them is a nice red motorcycle, the glossy coat reflecting the soft glow of the nighttime city. It was just sitting idle and unattended with no one near it or in sight.

Danny whistled appreciatively and walked closer to it. "D'ya recognize it, Pete?"

"Hmm, I think it's a Honda CB750 but...it looks heavily modified. That would cost a lot." Peter noted with a hint of admiration in his voice.

Danny hummed in thought, a playful smile growing in his face.

"Think i could steal it?" He joked.

"No!"

Danny blinked as the word practically echoed in his head, "Ow."

Pete huffed. If he had his body he would cross them and he would have a frown on his face. "Sorry for yelling, but also, that's a horrible idea. It would have cost the person so much time and money to modify the bike."

Danny rolled his eyes, "If it meant so much they wouldn't have left it here in the middle of crime alley. Just the wheels at least."

Peter sighed, "You don't even have any tools. How are you going to take the wheels?"

Danny smirked as he lifted their hand and turned it intangible. At least, that was the attempt. Their whole arm turned intangible instead.

Peter huffed, "I'll try to keep a lookout as you take the wheels then. Just like to say again, this is a horrible idea."

Danny grinned as he quietly worked to get the wheels off the rest of the bike and carefully left the bolts near the bike. It's the least he could. He has one wheel off when he pauses his work to get a better look at the engine.

"This sure is a nice looking bike." Danny says absentmindedly. "I'm really curious who it belongs to."

"I would say thank you but it looks like I'm being robbed." The gravel behind them makes noise.

Danny gasps—blue mist leaves his mouth—spinning to face the man behind them and some of the bolts fall out of his hand.

"i found it like that." Danny blurts out.

"Oh for the love–I can't even be mad, i would say the same thing. But i told you it would be a bad idea! Do you see him?? Look how huge he is!" peter ranted and hoped that Danny could feel him disappointment.

The man in front of them is huge, built like a tank and wearing a leather jacket. He has black hair with some of the front part being white. He definitely knows how to fight.

The man crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Why does this feel like deja vu?" He mutters. "Alright, wanna explain yourself, kid?"

Danny tries not to pout as he's called a kid, "...I just needed some money for some food." He says instead, hoping the man will take some pity.

The man stares at him, scrutinizing him and trying to come to some conclusion.

"What if he kills us?" Peter whispers.

"Welp, sorry pete but you would have erased yourself for nothing." Danny dryly replies as quiet as he can.

"Dude! Uncalled for."

"Alright, come on, follow me." The man suddenly says.

Danny jumps, his mouth dropping open "huh?"

"Food. I know a good place. The names' Jason, by the way." The man, Jason, simply says. He puts his hands in his jacket and starts heading in a direction.

"We're not actually following him, right? That's like, stranger danger one-oh-one and–nope we're just following him. That's great. That's cool. Lets just follow the guy we were stealing from."

Danny shrugged. "Free food."

Peter sighs and can only watch as Danny follows the guy. He would take control if he could, but if he forced a switch, that would only cause extreme dizziness, and it would be hard to explain their physical change, too. Peter and Danny still haven't figured out how to safely switch who is in control of the body. They just wake up and whoever is in control of the body is in control for the rest of the day, unless they're knocked out. Once, Danny was in control for three whole days.

Jason led to a fast food place called Bat Burger.

Once at the register, Jason tilted his head, "Order whatever you like and however much you like."

Danny and Peter are stunned hearing what Jason just said.

"However much I like?" Danny slowly repeated still trying to make sure he heard right.

"no way he's serious, right?"

"Yup, however much you like." Jason confirmed as he finished his order. "I'm using my old man's credit card anyway."

"...Alright, what do we want," Danny mutters and decides not to question Jason's odd decision. If they can order however much they want then they'll be able to take whatever they don't finish back to their little base, though he doubts they'll leave much.

Peter rattles off what his order, which Danny repeats and then he orders what he wants.

One thing Peter is grateful for, despite their circumstances, is that when he is stuck in his head, he can still taste whatever Danny is eating and vice versa.

The cashier stares in horror but then deeply sighs. They ring up their order, gives them their cups, and tell them to sit anywhere.

They grab their drinks and the two sit in the corner booth.

Jason places his hands on the table, "So, kid, what can i call ya?'

Danny jumps at the sudden question and stutters out, "Uh, our name is–I mean, my, my name is Danny."

The rest of the night goes by strangely but nicely. Jason asks one too many questions—about their non-existent home life which is nice—and that leads Danny to tell Jason to shove them, much to Peter's horror.

Danny does pretty much eat everything and as much as he wants to ask Jason about his strange ecto signature, he lets it go in favor of being left alone.

"That guy was weird. My spider sense didn't, you know, sense him." Peter admits, suspicion and weariness oozing from his voice.

Danny shrugs, "It's a big city. I doubt we'll run into him again."

\/\/\/\/

Peter luck strikes again.

If peter ever got the chance, he'll hang Danny up by his feet. He will find some way to neutralize his abilities and web him up.

"Hey, you're welcome to try, pete!" Danny says through his laughing.

In front of Peter is Jason, the man that fed them just a few weeks ago.

And is currently staring down at Peter with an intense stare.

Next to Jason is another man with tanned skin, black hair, and blue eyes. He's smiling widely, coming off as friendly.

"Do you two know each other?" The man tilted his head, trying to start a conversation.

"Uh, no, sorry, it's my first time seeing him...and you," Peter replies and looks down at the watches he's holding. He'd been told to fix them and the people they belonged too were loyal customers. He didn't think one of them would be Jason.

"Nah, i don't know 'em. He just looks familiar." Jason replies. He squints, scowling in thought. "You don't happen to have a twin do you? One with Black hair and blue eyes."

Peter wants to shrivel up and die.

Danny definitely isn't helping as he wheezes, laughing at Peter's misfortune.

Danny, what do I say?!

"Tell them yes and that we've been separated and you have been living with your uncle!"

By some miracle, Peter was able to sell his grief and ask Jason if he'd seen him. He's not sure how he did it since his lying pretty subpar most days. He was still baffled about lying to Aunt May for as long as he did.

"Oh, that's so sad," The man, Dick Grayson, stated with empathy in his eyes. "Why don't you file a missing person report? They could help..." He weakly says.

Jason sighs, placing a hand on his forehead. "Dick i swear to god..."

Peter stares baffled. Did this man not know Gotham police? How does he explain why going to the police is not a good idea, for one, the corruption, and two because Danny—by extension Peter as well—do not exist. So he cant file a missing person report.

"ACAB, bitch!"

"ACAB, bitch!" Peter blurts out the only thing in his mind and slaps a hand over his mouth. Danny's loud voice was the only thing on his mind. He couldn't think of anything else.

Danny was laughing hysterically about the situation Peter found himself in.

Dicks mouth dropped open, shocked by the sudden exclaim.

Jason begins to snicker which turns into a full blown belly aching laughter. He leaned on the counter and slapped Dick's shoulder.

"He–HAHAHH! Ohhh man. Kid I just met, you're incredible. heehe–" Jason erupted into another fit of laughter.

Peter stands in embarrassment and tired of this whole thing. He just wants the world to open up and swallow him. Saves him from the embarrassment.

"You're stuck with me Peter, whether you like it or not!" Danny exclaims through laughter.

At the very least, Peter isn't alone.

\/\/\/\/\/

This is all i had running through my head. I cannot promise any part 2 or anything

Some notes:

Jason's personal bike and red hood bike are different. And obviously hard to find an exact model since they change with different iterations and, ya know, trademark law and all. The bike i mentioned is one iteration that seemed the most obvious since someone was able to name it.

I think the earliest spiderman gave peter Parker a bike. I haven't seen anyone put an exact name on it but, funnily enough, its also a Honda

I hope I did the characters justice <3

[bubblez-bubble]

Guys.

Natsu leaving Lucy with nothing but a note was way sadder than you think.

The last words Lucy ever heard from her father she didn't even actually get to hear, she read them on paper.

So imagine how devastated she was that Fairy Tail disbanded and she went home to find a note from Natsu that he was leaving without her. (Honestly I think I have that switched, please correct me if I do.)

But just like when her dad died, when Natsu left she felt like she had no one left and no home to go back to anymore, so she packed up and left for Crocus to start over.

Now I don't know if Layla got the chance to speak to Lucy with any final goodbyes before she passed, but let's believe for a moment that she didn't and that she left Lucy with a letter explaining how much her mother loved her like her father did. Yes the circumstances are different, but also bare in mind no parent wants to see their child suffer, so forcing Lucy to watch Layla die slowly and painfully probably wasn't on Laylas agenda.

So it's plausible she also left Lucy with a letter.

Which also makes her writing letters to her mom and dad after they die even sadder, even though she knows they'll never get to read them, that was the note they left her on.

So with that mind, it stands to reason that Lucy subconsciously associates receiving a letter from someone as a goodbye is a final goodbye and she'll never get to see them again.

Which could explain why she was so distressed about Natsu leaving her with a note instead of talking her face-to-face. She probably would've been more understanding and less upset about Natsus decision had he actually talked to her.

Sure there may have been a "let me come with you" back and forth, but if Natsu had told her no and explained why, she probably would've been able to let him go easier with that understanding.

But because at least one, potentially two people, had left her with no more than a letter as a final goodbye, it's possible that Natsus "harmless" note was actually extremely emotionally damaging for Lucy and maybe even traumatizing. Because people that leave her with letters are people she never gets to see or hear from again.

Now you could argue Natsu left a note and not a letter, but pen on paper is still pen on paper and words that'll never be spoken aloud.

On the flip side to this, a small part of me feels that Natsu leaving Lucy with a note was also a call back to the time Lucy left him with a note when she went to confront her father.

Except, if that's the case, it almost makes it hard to feel bad for Lucy.

In Natsus note he explained he and Happy were going away to train and even specified how long they'd be gone.

Lucy's note simply said "I will go home."

That's it.

No timeline of when or if she'll return.

No explanation why.

Nothing.

"I will go home."

Which makes Natsu and the others panicking and going to get her back make a lot of sense because that makes it sound like she's going home and staying put to protect them.

Which would've been sweet if that's what she was actually doing.

In my opinion, her note should've said something along the lines of "I'm going home to stop my father, I'll return soon." or something to that degree.

The only reason it's easier to feel bad for Lucy is because unlike Lucy who specified her location (kind of), and made it easier for them to find her (because obviously if you ask enough people about an affluent family, chances are somebody knows where they live), while Natsu gave no direction at all, just that he was leaving to train and would be back in a year.

Each of their notes complimented each other in a way, each leaving out details the other made sure to include, almost as if Natsu remembered how freaked out he was when Lucy left with a note and made sure to include the details she hadn't before, but forgetting to mention the details she did give them, or perhaps, the more likely option, he didn't quite yet know his destination because he was traveling to train and just couldn't give her one.

Which their notes being the exact opposite of each other's on almost opposite ends of the series is like their relationship itself.

Lucy, a bright, intelligent, beautiful, and emotionally fragile girl who knows who she is and where she's going in life and shes happy with it, and then there's Natsu, not exactly the smartest, canonically considered ugly (because the people of their world are fucking blind!), and very stoic and self preserved with his emotions for the most part (unless it helps him unlock some important plot device power up), he struggles with who he is or which direction his life is heading, all he knows is he needs to get stronger.

She's calm, he's impulsive.

She thinks with her head, he acts with his heart.

Even their living situations are complete opposites, which, a little psychology lesson real quick, actually reflects on their mental states. Lucy's apartment is always cleaned and organized just like her thoughts while Natsus house is cluttered and dirty like his thoughts.

These two were literally made to compliment one another, right down to how they took off with nothing but a note.

With that in mind, it's very sweet that they compliment each other so well to that degree, however it still doesn't change the fact that it's possible that to Lucy, Natsu's note felt like a final goodbye like she had received from her father and potentially (not canonically) her mother.

I know this is a little scattered but it all came back to the note in the end at least. 😅

Thanks for coming to my very scatter-brained Ted talk.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three's a Crowd 2

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Abnesti, Steve Rogers, Steve Kemp

Summary: You’re offered a deal without all the details.

Note: happy friday

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your eyes stray to the table of cookies again. In the rush of days, blending together with back to back shifts and disparate hours of sleep, you lost track of yourself. When you finally thought to eat, you found an empty cupboard and just as desolate bank account. Rent, electricity, all that ate away at your already leaking reservoir.

Your stomach grumbles and you clasp your hands together, pushing on your middle to ease the clenching. You're so hungry you can barely focus on Caroline. You blink and make yourself listen. You don't want to be disrespectful.

If Kelsey is on shift tonight, she'll let you snag a bag of fries at least. Not the best meal, but something.

You feel weak the more you think about food. A bit dizzy. As you push your shoulders back, your eyes meet another pair. Steve smiles at you from behind his square glasses. You rock and give a sheepish grin.

You do your best to stay alert. You have a half-shift after this and you're not sure how you'll get through. You should have skipped today.

When at last the session lets out, you hurry to join the line, checking your phone for the time. You don't want to miss the bus.

"Working after?" Steve startles you as you shuffle up the table and reach for a cookie. The white macadamia are your favourite. You keep from scarfing it down as you so desperately want to.

"Um, yes," you reply.

"Bus?" He takes a cookie and bites into it with a hum. You're salivating.

"Yeah," you cough. "I should go catch it."

You wrap your cookie in a napkin and step out of queue. He follows.

"Would you like a ride?" He offers.

You nearly trip, "oh no, I couldn't. That's so kind though."

"I don't mind." He drawls. "You work a lot?"

"I guess. But really, you don't have to--"

"You look as if you might fall asleep on the bus," he muses.

"Oh, no, I'm... fine."

"Well, I do hate to keep you then but I hoped to speak with you about something."

"Me?" You utter in surprise.

"Yes, well, we all know each other here. I just thought... well, we all seem rather lonely, don't we?"

"Sure, uh," you look down at the cookie then him. "Alright, I'll take the ride. Can I give you some change for gas."

"Please, don't you even fret," he waves you off.

He follows you to the door and holds it open. You go ahead of him and nibble on the cookie, unable to resist anymore. He points you across the lot to the same car he drove past your window. The memory makes you cringe.

You stop outside the passenger door and chew furiously. He climbs in the other side, "coming?"

"I don't want to get crumbs in your car."

"No worry, please. It's cold."

You look down at your sweater. You're shivering. You're not so much used to the bluster as done fighting it. You cover the cookie and put it in your pocket. You dust off your chest and hands before you get in.

He turns the engine as you buckle your seat belt. A smooth hum rolls through the car. It's so nice you feel as if you might mess it up just by looking.

"Um, so," you begin as he backs out. "What did you want to talk about? I hope... when I asked about your wife, I didn't mean to upset you."

"Oh no, that's what these meetings are, right? We're supposed to talk about all that." He steers and glances over at you. "I appreciated you asking. You're a really sweet girl, you know that?"

'Sweet girl.' The way he says it makes you feel even small. That and how big he is. "Thanks, Steve..."

"I was only thinking. About you," he keeps one hand on the wheel as he leans his other elbow on the arm rest. "Working in that window. Two jobs, you said?"

"Yeah, one's only part-time."

"Still a lot." He remarks.

"But er, well, it's not... you don't need to worry about it."

"I do," he insists.

"Why, uh, well, we don't really know each other." You say as you peer put the window, your words sending a chill through you. You don't know much about Steve and you're in his car.

"I know you work hard. I know things have changed a lot for you since your grandmother passed. And you know how I understand that. That I'm going through the same..."

"Yeah, everyone in the group, I guess, um," you babble dumbly.

"I was only thinking... well, you lost more than your grandmother. You lost a whole life. You've had to adapt a lot more than the rest of us." He pauses and your stomach growls loudly. You wince. "Is that cookie all you've had?"

You shrug, "Steve, I hope... I hope you don't think I'm that helpless."

"Helpless, no, but we could all use help from time to time." He slows as he rolls into the lot of the fast food restaurant. The ride was a lot quicker than the bus. "Which is what I'm offering. Help."

"Ah, oh," you sink. "Is it that obvious?"

"You had a nice wool coat a month ago. You didn't have to fight to stay awake. You... spoke a lot more--"

"Right," you sniff. "It's nice of you to offer but I gotta learn to do things on my own now."

"Do you?" He angles in his seat. "Sweetie, it's no big deal."

"It is to me. I don't even know-- what is it? A job? You know I don't have a degree."

"Mmm, no," he pokes the tip of his tongue out and looks away. "Not a job, but... it isn't safe for you to be taking the bus so late. And definitely not good to be sitting in that cold window for hours."

"Steve, please, you're embarrassing me."

"I... I don't mean to so I'll be honest. I lost my wife, I miss her terribly. And you lost the person who took care of you. So we could... help each other fill that void."

You squint at him then your phone. You have ten minutes. You sigh.

"I don't know--"

"I am trying to be delicate here but... there's men who pay for girls like you. They pay a lot."

"What?" Your voice cracks. "You-- I'm not a prostitute. I--" you pull on the door handle but it doesn't budge. "Let me out. I can't believe-- I never even-- how--"

"I know you haven't before. Which is what I'm saying. I'll pay to be your first--"

You turn to him and hit his arm, "that's...wrong."

"I know. I'm just so... I would make it special, sweetie."

He reaches for you and you push yourself against the car door. Your eyes prick and you swat his hand away. You're humiliated that he would even think you would do that.

"Steve," you reach into your purse and take out a handful of change. You drop it in the cupholder and turn to unlock the door. He touches your shoulder and you shrug him off as you escape. "Thanks for the ride."

[avianconcept]

Thank you!! Someone had to say it!

I actually liked that they didn't handle it well in the book simply because it made sense in the narrative, and for who the characters are. Its 2007, and none of them (as far as we know) have a frame of reference for Jean's type and scope of trauma. If they responded perfectly, I think I'd honestly find it kind of hard to believe. I'm a fan of authors being very logical in their character's responses like that.

But I'll go a step further, and look at it from a more...emotional? angle. I don't understand why people hate on them for handling it badly. When I read the book, I found it almost...endearing? In the sense that -to me- their occasionally badly executed attempts at handling Jean reflect such a determination to care and to try.

As always, bear with me.

A major theme of the book, in my opinion, is that looking away, be it literally or metaphorically, when something is wrong and someone needs help, is an act of violence. To me, the floozies ‘bad’ handling of Jean’s trauma is just a product of them not looking away. The easier thing is always to look away, or worse, to push the thing that makes you uncomfortable away as fast and far as you can.

Trauma is often reacted to this way. Most people are not used to seeing people get triggered, especially when the resulting behavior is violent or frightening in nature. People aren't sure how to deal with what are clearly serious issues, so they respond to that discomfort by pulling away. They put distance between themselves and this person they don't understand, and in the process, alienate the victim further.

Cat, Laila, and Jeremy seem to be aware that they are in over their heads, with Jean. They can see that he's got shit going on that they have no idea how to deal with.

But they don't drop him, they don't pretend it isn't happening, and they don't hold him at arm's length.

They try.

They use what limited, ill fitting knowledge they have, and they try to meet him where he's at. They do not respond like trauma therapists because they are not trauma therapists. They are twenty-somethings in 2007 who understand very little beyond knowing that there is a person in front of them who is clearly not alright.

Over and over again, they choose to do the uncomfortable thing, and try to offer him what they can. What he needs is probably intensive therapy- but he's has (or will have, come TGR) Betsy for that.

The Floozies are offering something less clean cut than a therapist, but no less well intentioned or valuable. It's friendship, and warmth, and a chance at normalcy. They challenge his harmful thinking, and try to prevent him from retreating within himself so far that no one can get to him. They push him to do new things, and provide a contrast to what he believes life to be.

And yeah, sometimes they mishandle things. They're also young. But they do not quit on him. They very determinedly do not look away, even as the pile of Big Scary Concepts To Reckon With gets bigger and bigger. I think they're meant to be a contrast to the Ravens, in a lot of ways. Instead of picking on his weakness, they refuse to leave him behind. They don't let him stay trapped in his own head just because it would be easier for them.

In my opinion, their well intentioned, somewhat poorly executed attempts at trying are a hundred times better than not trying at all.

"the floozies are terrible at dealing with Jean's trauma!!?!!!"

the floozies are twenty years old

[insertfunkyusernamehere]

lewis hamilton nsfw headcanons [male reader]

been almost a year lol. anywho, i'm back with more of bbg lewis <3

word count: 1.5k

again, i'm not a fem aligned dni account just because i write with a male reader. enjoy, whoever you may be :)

with a male partner, lewis turns a submissive little cockslut. fucking fight me

he's definitely on his knees for you every second day, nose buried in your pubes as he nips on your balls and licks long stripes up your length

you swear he gets drunk off the mere scent of you, the way he furiously ruts against your leg as he has your cock plugging up his throat has him acting as though he's getting paid for it

and god does he love it when you roughly grab his head, your hand like an anchor as it keeps him in place while you roll your hips into his face, using his throat to quench your sinful desires

he doesn't even care if you manage to pry tears from him, he just loves how raw he feels when your tip probes at the little dangly thing that swings at the back of his throat. so long as you're making more noise than he is, he's happy. he gets off on making you feel good

and when you cum in his mouth, he makes sure not to waste a single drop, eagerly lapping up every white bead that dribbles from your slit like a dehydrated man stranded in the desert

he then gets flustered when you pat his burning cheek, say he did a good job, and tease him about the wet spot on the front of his pants. that's gonna stain

while he loves giving you head more than anything, he is certainly not opposed to receiving a sneaky blowjob before or after a race.

he likes when people are around, it only further fuels the adrenaline surging through his veins. he gets a rush like he does when he's racing if he hears footsteps down the hallway while he's got you between his legs, muffling his sounds with his hand as he presses his back against the door with all his might

part of him wants someone to see, to see how he's got such a beautiful man all to himself. but he really doesn't want to deal with the media

when there's no time for penetration, the man absolutely adores frottage

there's just something about seeing your length slide against his, your cock being slick with both of yours and his arousal, your balls mushed against his and dragging with each languid thrust that turns him to a whimpering mess

it's a truly pitiful sight to see him humping your cock like a wild animal in heat

he particularly loves when you have your fingers jammed inside his hole while he's on top. he can't help but whimper, unsure whether to be bucking his cock into yours or rocking back against your hand

you give him a false sense of dominance whenever he's on top, it always gets to his head but you're quick to remind him who's truly the one in charge with a very sudden thrust inside of him

but he cares not, he loves it so long as it brings you pleasure

he's also a complete sucker for dirty talk

mostly when you talk dirty to him, typically because you rid his ability to speak when you plough the ever-living shit out of him

he loves when you tease him while his brain is melting out his ears, muttering filthy things into his ear that would make a sailor blush while he's on the brink of an orgasm

telling him how well he's such a good boy for taking your cock so well, how he's the prettiest little thing you've ever fucked the absolute stars out of, how you're never gonna be truly finished with him until you've completely rearranged his insides

is it possible to cum from words alone? because that's how lewis feels

he tries to tease back, but he simply can't keep up with you sometimes. you always manage to make him trail off or cry out mid-sentence

he goes scarlet when you prod at him over it

especially since he's away a lot, in a different country every week, he's constantly yearning for you. he loves calling you from his hotel room in the dead of night, telling you how he's got a hand in in his boxers and thoughts of you in his head.

he will absolutely melt with your voice in his ear, encouraging him as he desperately tugs on his aching cock, envisioning your hand instead of his. sometimes he packs a dildo in his suitcase so he can still feel like you're fucking him even while he's away. it's no substitute, of course...

but his mind is reduced to atoms when you please yourself alongside him, cumming at the same time and letting out choked sounds from the other end of the phone

you still succeed at making him feel like a virgin, even from a thousand miles away

he also definitely sends you explicit photographs paired with a cheeky text while you're at work

he always somehow manages to get you in the middle of a meeting with a very exposing picture that flashes a pretty purple plug plunged deep into his hole, accompanied by that innocence-feigning smile of his. your coworkers are confused as you suddenly excuse yourself from the room and head to the office restroom. you need to make a quick phone call...

you always panic, thinking your colleagues caught a brief glimpse of your phone screen, anything to distract them from the boredom grinding down on them as your boss drones on. whether they actually saw it or not, they would never confess. but they definitely giggle behind your back every time you enter the office, or look away and hide the red hue on their cheeks...

all it does is make you want to punish lewis even more when you get home. but he loves it, so is it even really a punishment?

but he definitely makes you drop everything to rush home in order to please him, he'll take any sort of treatment you have in store for him, even if that's strapping him to a chair and denying him and orgasm for hours on end. he'd rather it be you than a pillow

i cannot stress how much he loves when you throw him in doggy and then finish on his back, decorating the cross tattoo on his back with your cum. there's something about the faith that he holds so tender being tarnished by sins and debauchery, a major juxtaposition, that he finds so so so so hot

but he also just loves the position within itself, finding it to be very fulfilling. whether your hands are caged over his as you're marking his shoulder and you're ruthlessly fucking him into the mattress, or pistoning into him with a death grip on his thighs while he desperately paws at the sheets, he loves it all

lewis is also an avid enjoyer being wall fucked. period

having you manhandle him and lift him off the ground is sexy enough to him, but with you driving him up against the wall and letting gravity impale him on your cock makes him feel all sorts of things. he likes feeling as though he can't do anything about it. but he wouldn't want you to ever stop anyway

it's rare that you let the roles be reversed. it's not even a matter of you having to battle for dominance, he just doesn't even try to top. he's always so eager to be fucked by you and he makes it easy for you to get between his legs

you would actually have to coax him to get him to you fuck you instead, should you ever want that. and even then, you're still commanding him while he looms over you, telling him to go faster and harder, or slower and gentler. whatever your cup of tea may be

all it really does is give you a hotter view of his completely fucked out expressions, shadows casted across his face and highlighting his features in every perfect way. the way his brows crease up like the shell of a walnut, the way that small drop of drool slips out from the corner of his mouth and down his chin, the way his breaths come out heavy and ragged as he's inside you

he also definitely loves bringing sweet treats into the bedroom, like chocolate and such (yes, i'm piggybacking on that ONE interview, ifykyk)

he likes having you lay down, slipping a piece of chocolate past your lips and into your mouth, his finger lingering on your tongue before retreating

he would kiss you deeply after you'd swallowed, tasting the sweetness disperse from your mouth to his, feeling something stir inside him as aphrodisiac works its magic

he would like you to take a piece and run it across his body, melting the chocolate with the heat from both of your skin, leaving a trail of temptation along his torso for you to keenly lap up with your tongue

it's the only thing he's slightly worried to admit that he's genuinely into. he's eternally grateful that you indulged, reassuring him with a firm pat on the arse. he would chuckle softly and kiss you again

essentially, this man is a horny motherfucker and is just lucky that you are as well.

sex is never boring with lewis and he makes sure to keep you as satisfied as you make him happy

[porterdavis]

I'm glad I turned this off

BREAKING: Donald Trump sinks to a new low and blames "diversity" for the tragic plane crash in Washington D.C. — avoiding the truth that our Federal Aviation Administration’s leader resigned after Elon Musk pressured him to.

Trump then got brutally fact-checked to his face...

"Are you saying this crash was somehow caused and the result of diversity hiring? And what evidence have you seen to support these claims?" a reporter asked Trump during a press briefing.

"It just could have been," said Trump, offering no evidence. "We have a high standard. We've had a much higher standard than anybody else and there are things where you have to go by brain power."

The implication here is that diverse hires are somehow lacking in brain power — an assertion that is certain to please Trump's racist base.

"You have to go by psychological quality and psychological quality is a very important element of it," he continued. "These are various very powerful tests that we put to use and they were terminated by Biden and Biden went by a standard that's the exact opposite."

It must be pointed out that Michael Whitaker, the FAA's leader, stepped down from his role on January 20th after Elon Musk demanded that he leave.

And Trump wasn't done there...

"We don't even yet know the names of the sixty-seven people who were killed and you are blaming Democrats and DEI policies and air traffic control and seemingly the member of the U.S. military who was flying that Black Hawk helicopter. Don't you think you're getting ahead of the investigation right now?" asked CNN's Kaitlan Collins.

"No, I don't think so at all," said Trump. "I don't think were the names of the people— You mean the names of the people that are on the plane? Uh, you think that's going to make a difference?"

"Does it comfort their families to hearing you blaming DEI?" asked Collins.

"There are a group of people that have lost their lives. If you want a list of the names we can give you that, we'll be giving that very soon," said Trump. "We're in coordination with American Airlines. We're in coordination very strongly obviously with the military but I think that's not a very smart question. I'm surprised coming from you."

And it just kept getting worse...

"What plan do you have? Are we going to see some fired? Are you going to fire some of those diversity hires in the federal government? What plan do you have?" asked a reporter.

"I would say the answer is yes if we find that people aren't mentally competent," said Trump. "You see the language. The language is put out by them and if you see that— I'm not going to bore you by reading it again but these are not people that should be doing this particular job. They'd be very good for certain jobs but not people that should be doing this particular job."

In reality, the real problem is that the FAA is understaffed. We need more air traffic controllers, not fewer. By firing hardworking individuals just because they're diverse, Trump will make it even more likely that another tragic crash occurs.

The catastrophe of a press briefing just kept going...

"Today, you blamed the diversity element but then told us that you weren't sure that the controllers made any mistake. You then said that perhaps the helicopter pilots were the one's who made a mistake," said a reporter.

"Yup. It's all under investigation, " said Trump.

"I understand that," said the reporter. "That's why I'm trying to figure out how you can come to the conclusion right now that diversity had something to do with this crash?"

"Because I have common sense, okay?" said Trump. "And unfortunately a lot of people don't. We want brilliant people doing this. This is a major chess game at the highest level. When you have sixty planes coming in during a short period of time and they're all coming in different directions and you're dealing with very high-level computer, uh, computer work and very complex computers..."

"And one of the other things I'll tell you is that the systems that were built, I was going to rebuild the entire system and then we had an election that didn't turn out the way it should have," he claimed.

The most telling part of the briefing came next, when Trump was brutally fact-checked by a reporter.

"The cited FAA text that you read is real but the implication that this policy is new or that it stems from efforts that began under President Biden or the Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg is demonstrably false, it's been on the FAA website—" said a reporter.

"Who said that? You?" interjected the president.

"No it's on the website, the FAA's website, it was there in 2013. It was there for the entirety of your administration too. So my question is why didn't you change the policy during your first administration?" asked the reporter.

"I did change it. I changed the Obama policy," insisted a flustered Trump. "And we had a very good policy. And then Biden came in and he changed it and then when I came in two days, three days ago, I signed a new order bringing it to the highest level of intelligence. Okay?"

Trump then abruptly moved on to another reporter, clearly worried that a follow-up question would further expose his lies.

[olderthannetfic]

Don't take this as me defending AI/GPT, but people are WAY too paranoid about it. I find it especially ironic when people use AI to try to detect AI (though that seems to be more of an academics thing than a hobby thing). There's so many words/phrases/punctuation that are easily declared as AI red flags and they're all...normal grammar, to me?

Also, again, not defending it, but people really act like AI writing/art is the worse thing that could ever possibly happen and if you use it you're some evil and irredeemable bastard who Eats Real Creatives For Breakfast, and not in the sexy "cannibalism as an act of love" way! Like, again, I wouldn't personally read or look at AI art/fic myself (at least not knowingly) bc I prefer things that are created by humans, but it's not like it's the worst thing ever to grace our sacred fandom spaces. And like, objectively, it is kinda cool in theory, you know? "This computer program can effortlessly spit out any type of art/fiction you want" is the type of thing a lot of people never even dreamed would happen. I don't blame people for playing with it, even if I am opposed to it.

I also don't like it when people hate AI for reasons that aren't a realistic problem. Like when they make it too high tech if that makes sense? "This AI DIRECTLY COPIES THE STYLE OF THIS PARTICULAR ARTIST/AUTHOR/MUSICIAN" no it does not. we're not quite there yet. And I'm sorry, but most indie artists/freelance authors/small musicians are not that special. Sure if one individual person decides to feed a different certain other individual person's work to gpt and then say "finish this piece of writing for me, in this style" then you might get something thematically similar but if i tell ChatGPT "Write me an actually good Star Wars script, but in the style of FanfictionWriter420 on ao3" without any context of who FanfictionWriter420 is, I likely will not get what I want. "Write me a song that could be a Beatles song" sure, maybe I might get something semi-passable, but this whole thing of "gpt is PERSONALLY STEALING YOUR FANFICTION SO LOCK IT DOWN NOW" (um, like someone can't simply make an ao3 account and then just .... feed user-locked fic to the gen AI?!??!💀💀💀) is just...not happening.

Like please hate AI for the actual bad that AI does, no need to fearmonger and make things up.

--

[trifargo]

proposing some kind of alternate 2/2, where the thieves decided to check on joker just to make sure he's not tempted by maruki's deal, barged in to the cafe, and found out that akechi's life on limbo. more in cut

so if you ask me, i actually enjoyed their rivalry relationship a lot! but i also think it's placed in an awkward situation: the thieves don't hate him, especially because he wasn't fully at fault, but also i'm sure some of them will hold grudge or mixed feelings about him (and i think this bleeds into the writers too*). or in case of royal trio (which interactions i also enjoyed, but have a catch:), it's kinda funny how sumire doesn't actually know what happened to akechi in depth.

it makes sense for their relationship to be more "secluded/secretive" from the team, but also this is why i find it to be rocky if their relationship continue further, be it platonic or romantic, whatever you prefer. i can't imagine how will futaba feel if she found out, for example – given how much she seems to not care much about akechi**. and the game (understandably, for pacing reasons) keeps on avoiding to explore the nuance of akechi-joker's relationship effects deeper in the game.

the concept is not only for joker to be even more torn seeing his friends arguing & akechi's fate, but also to see the polarization among the thieves, akechi being conflicted between disgusted and teammate care (boiler room but worse?), and maruki regretting seeing that he's not making things any better or easier for everyone, especially joker (hoo may be interesting to see how the thieves feel about maruki too after this).

well, i still wish for a P5RST game that reunites them all, one of them because i want this to be explored..... oh well. i know his arc has a closure already, but... yeah. i'm honestly more of a platonic akeshuake guy because of this (i've also always been a platonic guy in general, though), but i also don't like the crowd who thinks the PT hates him and thinks they only see them as a killer. and i think resolving the awkward situation between the PT and akechi could make more players open up about the dynamics between them that can be explored, instead of being stuck thinking the extremes.

* a prominent example of this was ryuji. ryuji brought up akechi a lot as one of the reasons upon confronting shido (he even banged the boiler room door), but then said "uh it was for joker" when akechi thanked them for taking shido down in 3rd semester mementos. while i think this is possibly because ryuji has a bigger affinity for joker because well, he's the team leader, close friend, and akechi is still at wrong, i thought it was a bit... backlashy tone wise? i was under the assumption that he did it both for akechi and especially joker, but the mementos dialog made it sound like he only did it for joker. just felt kinda rough in showing the nuance on how he feels.

** like the talk when they all found out the effects of maruki's reality wearing off. when the topic was about realizing akechi "dies" once again, she ignored it and brought up about her mother instead. though, i think this is still more of the consistent examples in writing how each thieves feel about akechi. she has always been bringing up about her mother more often in shido arc, while still can understand where akechi came from.

[edwin-paynes-bowtie]

What makes you love payneland as a romantic pairing? Personally when I watched the show I saw them as a platonic pair almost exclusively. Like yes, I believe that sometimes you do look at your best friends with stars in your eyes, bc that's part of the queer experience to me. Anyway I'm getting off track. What drew you to them as a ship? How do you feel about Palasaki? Do you think the show will ever get picked up again? Will it ever be the same?

Love to know your thoughts!

I think Edwin and Charles's relationship is super queer and I love it. Like, they are best mates. They have been married 35 years. They've never kissed. They go to Hell for each other. They have lots of feelings that are a mix between friendship and devotion and romantic love, and the lines between those feelings blur. They are currently in essentially an exclusive relationship. They are not yet together.

Their dynamic is so fucking relatably queer, which I love.

In the end, the reasons that I advocate for them romantically (rather than in an exclusive QPR) are:

Edwin's current canonical feelings for Charles. I have Been In His Shoes and it is kind of a sucky place to be. I want him to experience love and romance, too, and I view Payneland as a Sold-as-a-Set do-not-separate nothing-comes-between-us monogamous unit already.

The fact that Charles so clearly already likes Edwin back. He did the hand over the heart thing! At the end of 8! Yes!!!

George and Jayden have amazing chemistry.

I just want to see them build their entire existences around each other in every sense of the world and be happy. It would bring me so much joy to see them happy and in love, because the trust and devotion they share would lend well to a beautiful and loving relationship.

I actually wrote an in-depth essay on this subject here!

I also think seeing them get together would help heal the sad little queer kid inside me that loved Destiel, lol.

Okay! What drew me to them as a ship?

They are my favourite kind of ship. Two very traumatized individuals who fit around each other's jagged edges and love each other all the more for those edges.

Edwin and Charles have been home for each other. For decades. They share every aspect of their existence and are fully comfortable together, and it's especially beautful considering that they had really lonely, short, horrible lives. They've saved each other.

Edwin wants to be safe? Charles makes him safe. Charles wants to live? He may not realize it, but Edwin is building a life after life with him.

Next, Palasaki! I do like Palasaki. I think they're a cute ship and have a lot of potential, and I would have loved to see them develop.

I'm not sure about the show being picked up again. I really hope it is (and also hope they totally sever it from Sandman). But shows that were canceled are rarely saved, and I'm not trying to get my hopes up. I think it has a chance, but I'm not letting myself hold my breath.

I think that the show would be the same if it did get picked up again. I trust this team of writers and think they have done really well with season 1, and I want to see what else they had in store during seasons 2-6.

However, I do have this fear that we'd do all this work to renew it and Payneland wouldn't be endgame. I think that would be a slap in the face to a lot of the fan base. Luckily, I am 99.9% sure they are endgame and am not that worried about this. I just have Anxiety.

[letmereedusyou]

i'm not yours - part 9

summary: Daryl and you are friends. He dated Leah. You told him you loved him and things fell apart. Will it ever go back to normal?

Daryl keeps looking for the clues connecting anyone to your beating incident, and you try to fix his vinyl player while he's out of the house. When he comes back you have a sweet conversation and finally go back to being friends again.

words: 2.8k

warnings: swearing, mentions of killing (walkers and people)

A/N: Hello, muffins! Here I am with another part. I checked for mistakes 3 times, but it seems okay to me. Again, English is not my first language so the errors will probably occur to the English natives. I can also say already that there are going to be 15 parts to this, so we have 6 parts to go! <3

Read previous part here!

Daryl visited you and took care of you every single day for weeks. It almost felt like nothing had changed between you two; like everything was normal again. But was it really? Or was it just a façade that you two put up so you didn't have to deal with the unresolved issues? You tried not to think about it too much and just enjoyed the fact that Daryl was close again, even though he wasn't very chatty these days. Maybe he's still holding a grudge about your feelings for him, or maybe he just doesn't know how to return to being your friend again. He would bring you new books and some comics to read, so you wouldn't get bored, but boredom got you pretty fast after reading your third book in a week. You started missing movies right about then. You thought about your favourite TV shows and how your family would watch them all together after dinner. Now, all you can do is push through with your memories of it and an incredible imagination.

He would cook for you, usually something simple and quick that you could reheat if you wanted to, before vanishing for entire nights, trying to find out who had beaten you up. You had your suspicions, but you didn't tell him about it. Why? You were scared of what would happen. The information, or rather a clue, would make him go into a fight mode, for sure. You knew him well enough to admit that. So you kept your thoughts to yourself.

That didn't stop him from continuously asking you about the details or anything you remembered from the fight. No matter how many times you told him that it was dark and you didn't see or hear them, as they did not speak, just occasionally grunted while driving their feet into your body. He kept asking and trying to make sense of who would want to do this to you. Your tongue itched with an answer. For you, it was obvious.

You were glad that he was clueless like this. Maybe he just didn't want to believe it or found it hard to create that type of scenario in his head. Maybe it was too much for him to handle right about now. You didn't blame him, he had a lot on his plate as of late - his best friend fell in love with him, his girlfriend broke up with him because of the best friend, and he has chores and duties in Alexandria that he has to do, even if he is tired and doesn't want to, and now he turned into a detective, trying to solve a case - all of it probably making a huge mess in his brain.

You busy yourself with some reading once again, but it was starting to get excruciatingly boring. How many times can you read the same plot in multiple books? Putting it down on the sofa armrest, you suddenly remembered that you still had Daryl's vinyl player that needed to be fixed. That would be a good distraction, you thought and slowly pushed yourself up. The pain was less prominent now, so you could move a little bit better, although Daryl would scold you for even trying. It didn't matter how many times you said you felt fine and walking and moving around didn't hurt much anymore, he dragged you back to the sofa every single time. This time, he wasn't here, so you could freely roam around for a while.

You step into your bedroom and open your wardrobe. Reaching up onto the shelf, you pull the vinyl down, alongside many different tiny parts in a white cloth bag. You also pick up your screwdrivers, glue and anything else you'd need before attempting repair. Once you got everything you needed, you took it to the living room and put it on top of the coffee table. Leaning down, just enough to not feel pain in your ribs, you examined the vinyl player. You were a good tinkerer and you had a good understanding of electronic shit, although the player was old which required some knowledge about old electronics. You didn't have that, but you decided to try anyway.

After hours of fiddling and fidgeting, glueing and trying to pull tiny bits apart and put them back together again, you sigh deeply realising that making that playing vinyl records on this thing is going to need more than just a couple hours of repair. You most definitely will need some help from Eugene, as he is the only person with enough knowledge about this stuff.

After another hour of carefully glueing the tiny, broken bits to the exterior of the machine, you feel drowsy and you close your eyes for a minute, just to rest them. Before you realise it, you start quietly snoring, a screwdriver loosely in your hand. Your mind is blank for the first time since the incident. You feel like you can fully enjoy some sleep. Using your brain for more than reading books was a good idea, after all.

Daryl's head started to hurt about two hours ago when he checked the path you were beaten up on for the bazillion times. He was trying so hard to find out who attacked his best friend that the rage of not knowing was slowly sipping out through his veins. He could've sworn there was a red, hot, bright aura around him.

He went to the place where she was beaten up, thinking that he would get some good clues - maybe a blood trail or some footprints, or maybe a goddamn piece of fabric that was tugged off of the aggressor's clothes, but whoever did this was smarter than that and cleared everything within a couple of miles radius, making sure that there was no way to track them. He felt impressed at how meticulously they'd worked to cover the tracks, but most of all he felt helpless and angry.

It's been weeks since he started looking and Y/N wasn't much help. She kept saying it was too dark to see and she didn't catch a glimpse of any of the people. It didn't help that they hadn't spoken during the fight either, because maybe if they did, Daryl could've track them by the tone of their voice, questioning everyone in Alexandria one by one. But since there were no clues, he had a hard time finding anything. It bothered him to the point he kicked and punched an innocent tree a couple of times.

He finally decided that it was time to go back and check on his best friend. He wasn't going to find anything anyway, so he may as well use his time to help her recover and get on their feet again. Frankly, helping her recover helped him relax, even after the hardest of days. He didn't speak much around her, his mind still recalling the fact that she was indeed in love with him, but he tried to move past it as best as he could. Nothing was more important than her getting better right now.

Besides catching the people who did this to her, and potentially beheading them.

When he opens the doors, the sound of her snoring comes to his ears and he can't help but huff a half laugh at it. He remembers the countless times they went on supply runs and her snoring attracted walkers to their location. He never told her about it, he just took care of the walkers silently.

He takes his crossbow off his back and leans it against the wall before walking into the living room. He stops in his tracks for a second when he sees what lies on the coffee table in front of her.

The vinyl player.

The same one that ended up being chucked out of the window by Leah when they had a fight a few weeks ago.

His brow furrows as he steps closer to the table. He realises that she must've been present when he and Leah had a fight. Has she heard them? What exactly did she hear? How did she end up at his house that evening? How did she get the vinyl player and why would she take it?

He looks at her, asleep with a screwdriver in her hand. She looks peaceful. The bruises on her face faded a little, changing colour from purple and reds to blues and greens. The cut on her lip was healing nicely, a scab was drying out. Her hair looked messy, brought up in some sort of ponytail, where many different strands were sticking out from the sides of her head.

He looks at the vinyl player again and takes another step closer. He wasn't paying attention to where he was stepping, in his confused and surprised state, and his boot kicks the coffee table, making one of the tools roll off and fall to the floor with a clash.

It wakes her up with a jump, and she rubs your eyes a little, trying to make her vision less blurry.

"Daryl?" her voice sounds groggy and faint.

"How did you get my vinyl player?" Daryl asks with no hesitation, the urgency in his voice is enough to make her come to her senses.

She looks at the coffee table and her eyes widen a little, like she was surprised to see the vinyl player too. But no, it wasn't surprise, it was... embarrassment. Like she got caught doing something she shouldn't. She keeps looking at the vinyl player and he can see her cheeks flush and uncertainty flashing across her face. She was definitely feeling the need to escape from the situation, but she knew there was no escape. All she could do was face it.

"I...I found it on the ground," her voice is quiet. When she looks at him, he knows the answer to the questions yet to come, but felt like he must ask them.

"Found it on the ground?"

"Yes."

"Where exactly did you find it?"

"Outside your house," she says, avoiding his gaze. Her cheeks burn a deeper shade of red.

"When?"

"If you are asking me if I've heard you and Leah fighting, then yes. I have," she says; a sigh escapes her lips.

The silence was deafening for good couple of minutes. Daryl decided to take a seat next to her, staring at the vinyl player. She stayed quiet, looking at it as well. He was trying to figure out how to ask more questions; how to prod about what she's heard... what she knew. His hand reaches towards the platter, dragging his fingers on top of it, feeling the cracks.

"I haven't heard much," she finally breaks the silence and he looks at her. "I left pretty much straight away."

"But you've heard something," he says slowly.

"Yeah," she licks her dry lips. "Is it worth getting into it?"

He thinks about her question. Is it? Is it worth it? Does he really need to know what she heard? It wasn't that important, Leah and him are over now. But part of his brain believed it was crucial to know. He needed that information, needed to know how much she knows...

"Yeah," he says slowly. "I want to know."

"Well, I've heard her screaming about me..." she starts carefully, biting the inside of her cheek. "Something about me knowing more than her."

Daryl looks at her for a second, maybe trying to gauge her reaction to it, or maybe he was trying to focus on anything else than Leah's words echoing through his mind. He knew that she indeed knew more than Leah, more than anyone ever. He felt the most comfortable sharing with her. He remembers all the times he opened up and it felt great to be heard and listened to, probably the first time in his entire life. Somehow, he knew she was the right person to tell things. Trustworthy.

Back at the CDC, when he first opened his mouth to share, he was nervous. What if she judged? But all of this melted away when she sat there, listening, nodding, not asking questions, just soaking the information in. Maybe it was the alcohol in his veins, but it made him want to open up even more, get the stuff off his chest. Once he finished, it felt... cathartic. Like he was lighter.

He looks up to her eyes.

"I also heard her saying that... you're not worth it," she added and looked away. He could sense her anger in the words spoken, spitting them out like they were acid on her tongue.

"Mm," he murmured quietly, looking away from her and at his boots. He doesn't get embarrassed very easily, and yet his cheeks seemed to burn a little.

Again, the silence resounded in the house, you could almost hear the buzzing of electricity from one of the lamps. Daryl couldn't look up. Leah's words seemed to be burned into his mind, slowly making him believe he is not worth anything. He started to believe he doesn't deserve good things in life.

"It's not true. Leah was wrong," she says, putting her hand on his knee and squeezing it tightly.

"And you say that as a person who's in love with me?"

"I'm saying it as your best friend," her words hit him like a tone of bricks and he finally looks up at her, eyebrow raised. "You are worth so much."

Daryl wants to believe her. No, he needs to believe her. For his sake, for the sake of his mental stability. He takes a few deep breaths and and then looks down at her hand on his knee. His hand gently places over hers and he squeezes it lightly. Her reassurance was everything. You could say the only opinion he cared about these days was her, even though they haven't been great friends for awhile.

He beats himself up for not reaching out sooner. He hated he fact he's lost her for so long, and lost himself in the process. She loves him. Yes, it is more than a friend, but ultimately, she loves him. For who he is. She never judged, never tried to change him or push him to do things he didn't enjoy. She's one person he always felt comfortable with. He still does, even after she told him she loved him.

He thinks back to the time and thinks about why he was so angry at her for that. She wasn't making moves at him. She just... shared her feelings. Angrily - that was an understatement - but still. He sort of understood why she'd blow up the way she did. He spoke about Leah quite a lot and thinking about it now, it may have been to convince himself and her that he was happy with her and he did love her. Part of him did love Leah. But maybe it wasn't as strong feeling as he thought it was...

"You okay?"

Her voice brings Daryl back. He huffs and nods lightly.

"Yeah. I will be," he says and his lips curve into a smile.

"I mean it, Daryl. You're worth it. And I hope you do find someone who appreciates you," her little smile makes him scoff.

"Someone like you?" he retorts.

"No," she shakes her head vigorously. "Not me. You made it clear it's never going to happen and I accept it. But I hope you find someone who can make you believe you are worth everything and more."

Daryl looks at her with a grimace on his face. He did say that, didn't he? He said that her and him will never going to happen. For some reason, her words made him feel sad, just for a second. He wouldn't have been able to register it if he wasn't focusing on it that much. He shakes his head.

"I've sworn off love and relationships," he leans back on the couch and put his head on the sofa back. "It's just going to be me, my crossbow and my best friend."

"Your best friend?"

Her smile beams from ear to ear and Daryl can't help but notice the shine in her eyes when he said it. Like she wasn't sure if he was serious about it. Like she waited months for him to come back, to finally be her friend again.

"Of course. Can't live my sorry ass life without ya," he sighs. "Who else am I going to tease and laugh at?"

"You mean laugh with?"

"That too."

She giggles and he realises how much he really missed her all these months. He missed her laugh and their banter. The way he felt so free around her. The way he knew she could tell him she killed someone and he would help her cover up the tracks. She was his best friend. And going back to being friends with her felt good.

[samwellwinchesterthebrave]

BuckTommyFluffebruary day 1: Nonsexual Intimacy

I'm participating in this fluff prompt challenge from @bucktommyfluffebruary because I love fluff and, of course, bucktommy.

The Comfort of Loving Hands

Read on ao3

Tommy turned his truck off and just sat in silence. His body ached and his heart hurt. It had been a rough shift, rough enough that he wasn't sure where he was going to find the energy to walk into his house. Well, his and Evan's house now. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth for a second or two before exhaustion took over again. Even knowing Evan was waiting inside wasn't enough to get him moving. He sank forward until his forehead was resting on the steering wheel. His eyes closed and he thought he could just sleep here.

An unknowing time later, a quiet tapping at his window startled him. He turned his head slowly to see Evan smiling at him through the window. A touch of worry and sympathy filled his eyes.

“Hey, you feel ready to come inside yet?” Evan asked, his voice muffled by the window. “Lucy texted that there was a bad call near the end of your shift. I made soup, if you feel up to eating.”

Tommy groaned, levering himself back up. He scrubbed a hand over his face. A slight pain in the side of his neck warned him that, even though he could just sleep here, his body would regret it in the morning. Finally, Tommy nodded and managed to get himself out of the truck. Without a word, Evan folded him into his arms and just held him for a long moment. As he pressed a soft kiss to Tommy's temple, Tommy let some of the tension that tangled his muscles go.

“C'mon, sweetheart, let's get you inside,” Evan murmured, pressing another kiss to Tommy's temple. “Food and then I'll take more care of you.”

Tommy nodded, hiding the yawn that stretched his jaw against Evan's shoulder. They walked slowly into the house, Tommy letting a good portion of his weight rest on Evan. As soon as the scent hit him when they walked inside, he groaned in pleasure. The house was redolent with the savory scents of chicken and dumpling soup and fresh baked bread. They headed to the kitchen where slices of bread, a little dish of soft butter, and two steaming bowls of soup sat on the table. Glasses of water cold with condensation looked like the greatest treasure in the world. The back of Tommy's throat burned and the taste of smoke lingered. 

As soon as Tommy sat, he picked up the glass of water and drank like a man dying of thirst. The slick cold finally eased the burn and washed away the smoke. He finished the glass on a single breath, letting out a whooshing sigh as he set the glass down again. Evan took it and refilled it, setting it on the table as he stroked a hand over Tommy's shoulders.

“If and when you're ready to talk, I'm here,” Evan said as he settled into his own seat next to Tommy. “Until then, I hope you enjoy the soup.”

Tommy nodded, not trusting his voice yet. Sorrow mingled with a growing sense of wonder at the care Evan was showing him. Both conspired to make him unable to speak just yet. So he took a slice of bread, spread some butter on it, and dunked it into his soup. The first bite had him groaning again in appreciation. His stomach woke up and demanded more. For several minutes, he and Evan ate in silence. Every once in a while, Evan reached across and rubbed a hand over his shoulder or squeezed his thigh. Just keeping contact between them and letting him know he was there. Tommy’s heart swelled with love.

It wasn't until his bowl was almost empty that he found the strength to talk.

“We... we lost a lot of people today,” he started slowly, staring at the last couple dumplings floating in his bowl. “I don't know how much Lucy told you.”

“Just that there was a building collapse and it was bad,” Evan said, squeezing Tommy’s thigh again. “She said you were gonna be hit hard by it. And the text you sent me about your shift being almost over made me think you were having a hard time. It was distant. Like you were trying to focus on something else.”

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded, setting his spoon down to rub his hand over his face again. “I was trying not to fall apart. The collapse... I was hovering over the roof at the time. Saw a victim and another firefighter fall through the roof.”

“I'm so sorry, Tommy,” Evan said softly, scooting his chair a little closer to press his shoulder against Tommy's.

“That was the beginning of it,” Tommy continued, leaning into Evan's shoulder. He pushed his bowl away, unable to face eating more while memories played through his mind. “It was a four story apartment building. Fire spread quick. I'm sure there were some corners cut in construction. The smoke alarms didn't go off so people were trapped.”

Evan didn't say anything, just let Tommy talk. He knew, had been through similar calls. Evan had lost people before too. Evan knew sometimes all you needed was silence and closeness. When Tommy drew in a shaky breath, he draped an arm over Tommy’s shoulders and pulled him close.

“Ground ops was working frantically to try to get people out. A few managed to get out windows after the fire cut off the stairwells,” Tommy said, his voice starting to shake. He tangled his fingers together and squeezed his hands tightly. “I was coming back for the third time, going to pick up a burn victim. The first two trips were just getting people off the roof, so they were quick.”

“The third was when the collapse started?” Evan asked softly when Tommy stopped talking for several shaky breaths. He rubbed a hand over Tommy's back when tears started tracking down his cheeks.

“He was almost in the helicopter,” Tommy whispered, eyes closing as he remembered that moment. “Lucy was with me and she was reaching for him to help him up. I don't know who the other firefighter was. I couldn't spare too much time to look. Not with needing to control the hover.”

“We'll find out,” Evan promised. “I know it's important so we'll find out who they were.”

“It is and we will,” Tommy nodded. He opened his eyes to press a soft kiss to Evan's lips. “The victim too. I want to know his name. He deserves that.”

“Of course,” Evan replied. “Are you okay? You don't have to keep telling me about what happened if you're not okay.”

“I'm not okay but I think I need to get this out,” Tommy shook his head. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth again. “It was quick, just like how the fire spread. One moment, the roof was mostly solid. The next, it was gone. I heard screams from both the firefighter and the victim as they disappeared. I could hear more rumbling and crashing as floor after floor followed. Then Lucy was yelling that we needed to go. She managed to close the door as a gout of flame roared up around the helicopter. Then I left. The captain radioed to have the helicopter head back to Harbor. There wasn't any more we could do.”

“Lucy texted me on the flight,” Evan murmured, kissing Tommy's temple again. “She told me you were gonna need me and that she was going to go get drunk when her shift ended.”

“Well, Lucy knows what she wants and doesn't hesitate to go for it,” Tommy chuckled. “I'm sure she's doing exactly that right now. But thank you, Evan, for listening. And for dinner. It all helped.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Evan said, rubbing his hand over Tommy's back again. “I'm always here. Are you done eating? I have something else planned for you.”

Tommy nodded but picked up his glass to finish off his water. It helped wash away the phantom scent of smoke the memories brought back. As he drank, Evan bustled around the kitchen cleaning up. It didn't take long for the dishes to make their way to the dishwasher and for the soup and bread to be packed away. Then, taking Tommy's hand, Evan led him back through their bedroom and into the bathroom.

For a few moments, Tommy froze in the doorway as he took in the sight of the bathroom. The overhead light was off but the room was filled with a buttery golden light. Electric candles littered the counter and a few rested at the inner corners of the tub. A bottle of bath gel sat on the edge of the tub along with a bottle of shampoo and a wash cloth. Also, incongruously, a small coffee mug. Tommy's favorite robe hung on the hook next to the shower stall that usually held a towel. It was soft and fluffy, like being enveloped by a cloud.

“I thought you might need something to help relax you,” Evan said, squeezing Tommy's hand before letting go. He turned the water on in the tub, adjusting it until it steamed. Then he turned to Tommy and started undressing him. “C'mon, let me take care of you.”

Tommy let himself be nudged and turned, stepping out of his jeans and balancing with one hand on Evan's shoulder when asked. When Tommy was nude, Evan wrapped his hands around Tommy's hips and moved him towards the tub. Then he stripped quickly out of his own clothes. He stepped away from Tommy long enough to pour some of the bath gel into the water. The sharp, clean scent of lavender filled the room. Then he slid into the tub and tugged Tommy after him. 

Tommy went gratefully, settling back against Evan's chest. Their legs stretched out along the length of the tub. Once again, Tommy was grateful that when he'd remodeled the bathroom years ago, he'd splurged on the oversized tub. There was barely enough room for the two of them. But they fit. He let out a deep sigh as his head tipped back to settle on Evan's shoulder. When Evan leaned forward to shut the water off, he let out a small sound of discontent.

“Sorry, sweetheart, don't want to flood the room,” Evan murmured against Tommy's ear. He wrapped an arm around Tommy's waist and hugged him. “How's that?”

“ ‘s good,” Tommy whispered, closing his eyes. The warmth of the water was relaxing his muscles the rest of the way. Exhaustion tugged at him and he let his body sag against Evan's. 

“Good,” Evan replied. “I love you, you know.”

“I love you,” Tommy smiled without opening his eyes. He managed to lift one tired arm and patted the arm around his waist. “Thank you for this too. I appreciate it.”

Evan hummed in response. He pressed kisses along Tommy's temple and along the side of his head. As he did, his free arm rubbed over Tommy’s shoulder and arm. He massaged the side he could reach in long, slow strokes. A warm, golden silence grew between them as Tommy slowly relaxed against his chest. After a time, Evan switched arms, wrapping his free arm around Tommy’s waist and hugging him before releasing his other arm.

Using the same slow, liquid motions, Evan repeated the massage on Tommy’s other shoulder and arm. Through the careful way Evan stroked over his skin and the simple fact that he held him without letting him go, the memories receded enough to stop hurting as sharply. They became something he could face without feeling as if he’d failed completely. Yes, lives had been lost. Yes, some of those lives had been just inches from safety. But he’d done everything he could and he had saved people. The collapse wasn’t his fault nor were the lives lost. He had done everything he could. Now, in the shelter of Evan’s arms, he could let go of the guilt. Sadness and grief took its place but that was all right. Those weren’t new emotions. Nor was this the last time he would feel them. But now, he could feel the loss and, eventually, move on from it.

About the time his mind had worked through that chain of thought, Evan stopped massaging his shoulder and arm. After placing another kiss on top of his head, Evan leaned forward enough to grab the shampoo bottle. Tommy heard the top clicking open and a soft, slick sound as Evan presumably squeezed shampoo into his hand. Then, gentle but sure fingers were carding through his hair and scratching over his scalp. Tommy let out a moan as Evan tilted his head up a little to reach the back. A quiet chuckle answered the moan but neither broke the silence with words. Evan continued to massage his fingers through Tommy’s hair and against his scalp, working the shampoo in. Tommy let his head be moved as Evan wanted it, his eyes still closed. It was heavenly, putting himself completely into Evan’s hands, knowing that he could trust him with every part of himself.

The scent of the shampoo overwhelmed the last clinging scents of sweat and smoke. Of course, Tommy had showered at Harbor before leaving but it had been quick. More to wash the worst of the call off him so that he wouldn’t drag it into his truck. Now, with Evan’s careful ministrations, he was truly getting clean. Another moan rumbled in his throat as Evan’s nails scratched over the back of his head just above the nape of his neck. Then, his fingers pushed through his hair from the base of his skull all the way up over the curve of his head and to the edge of his hairline. Then, they spidered their way through the sides of Tommy’s hair before massaging behind the curve of Tommy’s ears.

“Okay, baby, tilt your head back so I can rinse the shampoo out,” Evan murmured. “Keep your eyes closed for me.”

There was a quiet clink against the tub then warm water was pouring over his head a moment later. It took Tommy a moment but then he realized it must be that coffee mug he’d seen earlier. Now its presence made sense. As more water flowed over his head, he smiled as Evan’s fingers combed through his hair. The warm water threatened to put him to sleep each time Evan poured it over his head. Finally, some time later, Evan put the mug back on the edge of the tub and pressed another kiss to the top of his head.

“Hey, you still awake, Tommy?” Evan asked, rubbing a hand over Tommy’s shoulder and down to his collarbone.

“Mmmm,” Tommy hummed in reply, feeling too comfortable to actually speak.

“Okay, next part,” Evan replied. “You can keep your eyes closed. Just let me move you, okay?”

“Mmmm,” Tommy hummed again.

He heard some indistinct movements though he couldn’t quite what they were. There was a rubbing sound, like cloth between hands. Then a soft, warm, fluffy weight tracked over his shoulders. He could smell more lavender and the sharp, clean scent was soothing. After several seconds, as the weight moved over both his shoulders and down one arm, he realized it was the wash cloth he’d seen earlier. Evan was washing his skin, cleansing the last lingering bits of the call that clung to him. Tears gathered in his eyes as Tommy moved his arm up when Evan nudged his elbow. None of his previous partners had ever done this for him. Most of the time, he was the one caring and pampering and spoiling. Though it wasn’t like his previous partners just ignored him. But it was never this level of care and love.

A tear leaked out of one eye and trickled slowly down his cheek. With one arm being slowly and gently washed and the other too tired to move, he didn’t wipe it away. It took a few seconds but Evan noticed the tear. One thumb wiped it away, lingering at the corner of Tommy’s eye for a few seconds. The thumb was replaced by Evan’s lips, the kiss lingering even longer.

“You okay?” Evan asked as he threaded his fingers through the fingers of the hand he was washing. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, don’t stop,” Tommy shook his head, cracking his eyes open and meeting Evan’s gaze. “Please don’t.”

“All right. Can you tell me what you’re thinking?” Evan asked. He squeezed Tommy’s hand then let it go to rub the cloth back up his arm.

“It’s just... you. No one’s ever done something like this for me. No one but you,” Tommy said slowly, his voice catching. “Taken care of me like this.”

“I’m glad to do it,” Evan murmured, his expression impossibly soft and fond. He moved the cloth over the back of Tommy’s neck and down his other arm. “I want to show you how much I love you.”

“You do. I feel like my insides are too small to contain how much you make me feel,” Tommy admitted. “I love you so much.”

Evan smiled and kissed him. The kiss was soft and tender, lingering in the gentle brush of lips. It was as much a promise as a gesture of affection; the promise that they were here, together, and Evan wasn’t going anywhere. Neither was Tommy, for that matter. This was it. For both of them. As they kissed, Evan moved the cloth back up Tommy’s arm and down over his chest. The motion was as slow as the kiss, enjoying being present together. After several long heartbeats, Evan broke the kiss.

“Can you lean forward for me so I can wash your back?” Evan asked, pressing gently on the back of Tommy’s shoulders.

Instead of answering, Tommy leaned forward following the pressure of Evan’s fingers. He propped his elbows on his legs and rested his chin on his hands. Closing his eyes again as the cloth wiped slowly over his back, he luxuriated in the intimacy and love. And, as the cloth moved over his lower back and curled around one hip, he marveled at the fact that, while it could have turned more passionate, it didn’t. Passion between them could be quick, a match strike lighting both of them up. But that wasn’t what either wanted now. Not what they were both basking in at the moment.

After soft nudges and gentle prods from Evan convinced him that Tommy was settled in his position, Evan moved to sit on the edge of the tub. He lifted one of Tommy’s legs and swiped the cloth over it in long, smooth motions. When he was sure every inch of Tommy’s leg was cleaned, he switched to the other leg. It got the same treatment, held carefully in Evan’s hand so that Tommy didn’t feel unsteady. After his second leg was set back in the hot water, Evan nudged his legs apart so he could settle in between them, facing Tommy. Tommy leaned back against the back of the tub, giving Evan room.

“What are you doing now?” Tommy asked, opening his eyes.

“Well, all that’s left is the front of your neck and your face,” Evan said, waving the cloth as he spoke. Soapy bubbles burbled on the cloth. “Do you want me to do it or do you want to?”

“I trust you,” Tommy said simply. He smiled when Evan inhaled sharply, his eyes wide. Then he closed his eyes and tilted his face up a little.

After a couple silent seconds, the cloth touched the base of his throat. It moved up slowly over his neck, Evan’s fingers curling around the sides of his throat. Tommy swallowed automatically, tears prickling his eyes again. They weren’t laced with grief or sadness this time. Instead it was pure awe and love. The cloth moved up over his chin, Evan’s thumb slotting into the cleft for a moment like it belonged there. It slid to one cheek, sliding up and over his cheekbone before coming back down to his chin. Then it went to his other cheek, repeating the motion. After it came back to his chin, Evan moved the cloth ever so gently over his lips and up the point of his nose. It tickled, making him chuckle a bit. Evan repeated the motion, laughing with him when Tommy chuckled again.

“Didn’t think you’d be ticklish here,” Evan commented, letting his thumb trace Tommy’s bottom lip. “Or is it just the cloth?”

“The cloth, I think,” Tommy replied, kissing the pad of Evan’s thumb. “But it’s not too bad.”

“Good. Almost done.”

The cloth moved up the bridge of Tommy’s nose. It swiped to the sides, tracing the shape of his nose, before continuing up onto his forehead. Then, in a long, slow sweeps, it moved side to side over the width of his forehead. He could hear the soap bubbles popping on his skin. Finally, the cloth curled over his ears and behind. After that, he could hear the cloth being dunked in the water and squeezed out. Then, the cloth moved over his face again, clearing away all the soap bubbles. Once his face was clean, Evan used the cloth to wipe away the soap over the rest of his body. Then, the water shifted as Evan stood up and pulled the plug to let the water drain.

“Okay, Tommy, let’s get you up,” Evan said as he stepped out of the tub. He grabbed a towel that was sitting next to the candles on the counter and held it with one hand. The other, he extended towards Tommy.

“Yeah, yeah, give me a second,” Tommy replied, one corner of his mouth tilting up in a small smirk. “My boyfriend appears to have made all my muscles turn to jelly.”

Evan laughed and shook the towel enticingly at him while wiggling his fingers. After a long breath, Tommy took Evan’s hand and heaved himself to his feet. Water cascaded down his body and he didn’t miss the way Evan’s eyes traced the droplets. He smirked again as he squeezed Evan’s hand. Then he was stepping carefully out of the tub and pressing a kiss to Evan’s lips. The towel wrapped around him even as Evan kissed him back. They kissed for a honey-sweet eternity, Evan’s hand rubbing up and down Tommy’s back. 

Tommy could have stayed in that moment forever except his damp skin caused a chill to shiver up his spine. He could feel goosebumps prickling his arms. They broke the kiss and Evan shivered himself. They shared a smile and Evan toweled them both off with sure, quick motions. Then he grabbed Tommy’s robe and wrapped him in it. He tied the belt with a look of concentration on his face, as if Tommy’s comfort in this moment was the most important thing in the world. Tommy had to cup Evan’s face in his hands and kiss him about it.

“Thank you, again, for all this,” Tommy said when he broke the kiss. Though he stayed close enough that his breath feathered over Evan’s lips. “I don’t have the words for how thankful I am, baby.”

“Of course,” Evan replied, pressing another quick kiss to Tommy’s lips. “I know what it feels like to have a bad call. I know how bad it can get. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes,” Tommy nodded. “Still sad but it’s better. It’s not overwhelming.”

He started to say something else but a yawn stretched his mouth so wide that his jaw cracked. As soon as he closed his mouth, he yawned again. The energy that dinner had given him had sustained him through the bath. Now, it was all draining away. All he wanted to do was curl up with Evan in bed and fall asleep.

Which seemed to be what Evan had in mind as well.

With another chuckle, Evan took his hand and threaded their fingers together. He led the way out to the bedroom and pulled Tommy into the bed. They settled with Evan on his back and Tommy curled into his side with his head resting over Evan’s heart. He could hear the steady beat under his cheek. It sounded strong and sure, as if it would beat until the end of the world. Evan covered them both up and tangled their legs together under the blankets. 

“Go to sleep,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to Tommy’s forehead. “I’ve got you.”

“G’night, baby,” Tommy murmured, turning his head enough to lay a kiss over Evan’s heart. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Those words followed Tommy into sleep, Evan’s arms wrapped around him and his heart beating under his cheek.