#and an absolute sweetheart to just on survival mode

[ameliafuckinjones]

*mitski voice* My baby my baby you're my baby

[probablyreadinsmut]

Fallin'

18+ ONLY - MDNI.

(Formerly Good Graces)

Please note: The images used above do not reflect readers skin colour or her description. You are the main character in this fic.

Joel Miller X Afab!Reader

Set Pre and Post Apocalypse

Summary:

Reader is Joel's neighbour, a mid to late twenties pastry chef, who finds herself running on fumes. You're married to your high-school sweetheart Matt and for the longest time you were happy.

The loss of his job a few months prior changed him and before you knew it, the man you'd married didn't exist anymore. Replaced by a volatile stranger, it was him, but it wasn't him.

Joel Miller finds himself at the centre of it all and when the world ends, the trouble for him, doesn't end with it.

Warnings/Tags for this fic: Verbal abuse, Porn mentioned, Angst, Language, Alcohol abuse, Death, Canon Typical Violence, Original Characters, Smut, PIV Sex (Unprotected, wrap it before you tap it), Fingering, Oral (M&F receiving), Pregnancy scare, Angst, Cheating (readers husband is a dick tho).No use of y/n. No physical descriptions of reader, no height, weight, skin colour, eye colour, no mention of hair type, length or colour. Reader has a vagina and breasts. Pussy pronouns used. Terrible knowledge of various American states - I'm British and relying on Google maps haha. It would also explain why you'll see things spelled differently such as, 'Neighbour'. Use of pet names e.g : Sweetheart, Darlin, sweetpea etc.

Warnings for this chapter: Swearing, alcohol mentioned, Verbal abuse. Probably poor proof reading so my apologies if I make a mistake somewhere.

Tagging my mutuals, if you'd rather I didn't please lmk <3

@almostempty (this is me grovelling for forgiveness bc I know you've already read part of this 🥲) @cheekychaos28 @itwasntimethatdidit40 @lovely-vamp-princess @morallyinept

The Fic is named after this absolute tune of a song

I'll stop yappin' now. This is a rewrite so thoughts welcome <3

Word Count: 4.2k

Next Chapter

Chapter One - Sometimes I love you, sometimes you make me blue.

April 12th 2003.

It's truly has been hell today. Lunch service was a fucking nightmare, the chefs all seemed to be in a shit mood as it was, so when the front of house started sending through order after order, the ticket machine working overtime to print them, you absolutely knew you were going to be hearing that thing in your sleep for days now. It could only get worse from there and it did. Despite being a pastry chef they'd asked you to jump on the line to help, which usually you wouldn't mind, but today the dessert orders were coming through thick and fast aswell, but hey, you're a people pleaser so you tried to do both and how'd that work out for you? Terribly that's how.

You misread tickets. "Hey table 8 asked for no radishes! Get your shit together over there!". You over cooked the cake you had in the oven, finding it dense and dry when you finally got off the line.

There was so much more as well, but it had all become a stressful blur, going into what you like to call 'Survival mode' for the rest of your shift. 

You were just having a bad day. That was the mantra that was going around and around in your head. 

///

By the time you get out of work at 7 and start to drive home, you're exhausted and tense, gripping the steering wheel so tight on the way home your knuckles turn white. Not even listening to your favourite CD is helping. 

Alicia Keys soulful voice still fills the car. By now you'd be singing along unrestrained, belting out the lyrics to Fallin' but right now it may as well all be white noise to you. 

Why? Because you know what you're going home to. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the glint of the gold wedding band sitting on your ring finger as a constant reminder that you're not about to go home to an empty, quiet house. You won't just be able to slip into a hot bath and self medicate with that unopened bottle of wine in the fridge. But, oh how you wish you could.

Matt. You were married right out of high school, he was your first everything and you couldn't see yourself wanting to spend the rest of your life without him. These days though.

You always knew marriage wouldn't be plain sailing but you were only prepared for the obvious things like how to keep your marriage alive, how to adjust to becoming parents someday, what you would do if one of you ever got sick. But when he'd lost his job a few months back, nothing could have possibly prepared you for the dramatic shift that would come with it. The drinking, the way he spoke to you now, like you were a piece of shit on the bottom of his shoe.

You didn't recognise this man. He wasn't your Matty anymore.

///

It's about 7.45 by the time you pull up onto the driveway, the cul de-sac is quiet, save for a few kids riding their bikes up and down the street, it's almost dark but the street lamps provide enough light and you weren't a parent so who were you to judge? The street is a pretty safe one, away from the busier main roads that lead into the city anyway. 

Killing the engine, a heavy sigh leaves you as the car falls into silence. A quick glance in the mirror shows the bags under your eyes and your hair flat on your head from being under your skullcap all day. You could just stay in the car a little longer, but honestly? That's just delaying the inevitable.

As you get out, there's a squeek of bike tyres behind you and a soft voice calling out your name, formally of course, she's clearly been raised to 'respect her elders' it's sweet the way you've seen her interact with the Adlers across the street, Sarah's a good kid. You almost don't hear her in your daze but on the third time just as she's about to speak again "Mrs--".

You spin around to face her, plastering a smile on your face, dead on your feet from working a 10 hour shift but the idea of going inside and facing Matt after a day like today isn't a prospect you're keen on anyway. "Oh hey Sarah, sorry I'm just in a world of my own tonight!"

Sarah's a bright kid, she had to grow up quickly in a way after her mom left, she's seen her dad on his worst days, adopting a sixth sense on how to know when somethings wrong, but she also knows when it's best not to pry too much, even if right now 'Is everything okay?' is on the tip of her tongue, she won't ask.

"Thats okay, my dad spaces out too sometimes after a long day" It's a relief to you honestly, the last thing you want is to try and explain all your adult problems to a twelve year old, you couldn't even if you tried. "I've been meaning to say thank you for giving me that brownie recipe, Uncle Tommy loved them, said I should be a baker when I'm older" She beams proudly, soft brown eyes crinkling at the corners. 

It's almost impossible not to smile back, your own lips turning upwards into a warm smile, a genuine one for the first time today. "Well you're very welcome and hey, I could always use an extra set of-"

You're interrupted by your own front door swinging open, Matt stepping out onto the porch, hands on hips as he barks your name. Your smile vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared. 

Something Sarah doesn't fail to notice. 

"The hell are you still doing out here? I heard you pull up nearly 20 minutes ago." He's exaggerating, it's barely any time at all, but this is what he does. It's what manipulation does to a person. 

He notices Sarah over your shoulder and his tone immediately changes, like a chameleon changing colours to blend in with its surroundings. It makes your skin crawl because you know him, the real him. The subtle swaying suggests he's been drinking already, for how long though? You don't know. What you do know is that the second you step foot inside, that's when he'll drop the facade. The look in his icy blue eyes tells you enough to know that. You'd wonder what you've done to upset him this time, but it would be pointless.

"Oh hey Sarah, sorry didn't see ya there!" He calls out to her in an overly sweet tone with a raise of his hand, Sarah gives him a small barely there smile in return. 

"That's okay, I'd better get going anyway, my dad doesn't like me staying out too long after dark. See you around." you turn your head in her direction just as she's about to get back on her bike and there's an expression you've never seen before from her specifically. Pity. As a child of divorce herself, she knows when something isn't right.

You watch for a moment longer as she rides her bike back across the street. 

Joel's slightly beaten pick up truck parked on the driveway gives you a small sense of relief that at least she's not going home to an empty house tonight. He's a contractor, you knew that much from what Sarah had mentioned about him in passing before and for some reason you'd stored away that little nugget of information about him. 

You've noticed that sometimes he works late into the night. That 1am 'I need to hydrate now or I'm surely going to wither away' trip to the kitchen has made it so you've witnessed his late home arrivals through the kitchen window many times, practically dragging himself out of the cab, ready to collapse into an exhausted heap. 

You had to admire that though, doing it all by himself. Sometimes you think about going it alone too, more so these days. 

A stern call of your name behind you snaps you out of your thoughts and back to reality. Matt. 

"I'm coming." Even if he clocked the resignation in your voice, he wouldnt care anyway. You follow him inside the house and the day you just wanted to end, wouldn't be over yet. 

///

As Sarah opens the backdoor into the kitchen she registers two things. One, the radio is on, the familiar twang of Johnny Cash filling the kitchen, but the second thing? Snoring. Just over the radio she can hear snoring and it brings a small smirk to her face as she rounds the corner, crouching down to untie her converse and neatly tuck them away on the shoe rack. 

"Dad?"

With a jolt, Joel is awake, back aching from falling asleep hunched over the dining table, blueprints for the next big job sticking to his cheek for a second before he prys it off, wiping the back of his sleeve over his mouth, he'd been drooling. Yikes.

Taking a moment to straighten himself out and blink away the fatigue before he responds "Uh... Yeah, in here darlin!" 

"You fell asleep didn't you?" It's always embarrassing for him when she catches him like this, knowing that the teasing about how old he is will go on for days now. "It's barely 8pm and you're falling asleep at the table, sorry dad but I think it's time I start picking up nursing home brochures!"

"I'm only thirty-five, you little shit." it's a reply full of mirth, she's the light of his life and she knows it. He rubs a hand over his tired face, realising he needs to shave soon as the stubble scratches across his skin.  "How was your bike ride? The gears still sticking at all? I can take a look again if you need me to."

"Nah, s'okay now thanks." The fidget of Sarah's hands and the twist of her lips as she sits down at the across the table tells him somethings wrong.

"Sweetpea? Everythin' okay over there?" he can't help the way his dark eyes fill with concern as he looks at his baby girl, wondering if the neighbour kids were assholes to her, or if something happened at school today, something is playing on her mind. 

"Well, yes and no. I'm okay personally but-- You know the lady across the street? She gave me the recipe for those brownies Uncle Tommy loved?" Her tone makes him wonder where she's going with this, nodding his head once, prompting her to continue.

"I- I think somethings wrong with her, dad. I was talking to her outside her house just now and everything was fine until her husband came out and- I don't know, I saw the look on her face and I heard the way he spoke to her when he thought I wasn't there and the way he switched up when he realised I was. Something didn't feel right."

///

Little did Joel Miller know, this would be where his trouble would all start.

///

It had been a couple of weeks since that night at the dining table when Sarah told him about the neighbour. Joel had tried not to get involved, he really had. But what Sarah had told him just keeps playing over and over in his mind. 

"Darlin' no ones marriage is perfect, they're probably goin' through some shit right now, pretty sure her husband lost his job a few months back, hardly ever see him leave the house these days" he'd told her with a sigh. Joel did notice these things, the cul de-sac was small and from what he knew about the couple across the street, which was very little at this point, was that she was a pastry chef and he worked in IT. His car was hardly ever on the driveway before, now? It barely moves.

"No dad... You didn't hear the way he spoke to her, you didn't see her face when he came out, it was like someone flipped a switch. She looked so--" There's a pause as she tries to find the right word. "Dejected".

///

April 29th, 2003.

It's early in the morning when you're sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, pounding head propped up in your hand as you're going through the overdue bills spread out across it, unable to sleep thinking about everything. These days that's literal. The clock on the stove reads 5.25am. 

The big red lettering seems to deepen the splitting headache, feeling like someone's taking an axe to your head right now.  'OVERDUE - DO NOT IGNORE.' 

Hard to ignore that. Not that you're trying, but right now you're doing the math to try and work out what you can cut back on to be able to pay these things off and at every turn you're always short for something. Maybe you can pick up some extra shifts at the restaurant... Or become a part time stripper, they make good money, right? 

A heavy sigh leaves you as you scrub a hand down your face, picking up the steaming cup of herbal tea next to you, lifting it to your lips. "You'd better solve all my problems" you're pretty sure you're going insane mumbling that to an inanimate object but seeing the words 'Stress relieving' on the box in the supermarket, may have given you false hope. 

It's not until a couple of hours later that you realise how long you've been sat at the counter for, hearing heavy footsteps descending the creaky wooden stairs, another thing that needs to be fixed, more money you don't have right now. 

Immediately you feel yourself tense up, he's up early today, you think to yourself. These days you never really see Matt before 11am. Not since he was laid off a few months back, the company was downsizing, moving out of Texas altogether infact, so his only choices were to either take severance or travel out of state for work, something that even with his salary and yours, it wouldn't have been affordable. 

He took the first option. The severance pay hadn't lasted long at all, you'd lived a comfortable life before that but the second you knew he was losing his job you did the responsible thing and gave up the things that weren't necessary. Gym membership, jogging was free anyway. The once a month manicure, it didn't cost a lot but you could live without it. You started grocery shopping at a cheaper supermarket and found that actually you were being ripped off the whole time before anyway, everything was great quality and budget friendly, silver linings and all that. 

And then there was your morning coffee, from your favourite little family run coffee place just around the corner from work. You missed it and the warm greetings you'd get going in there, they knew you by name and now? Ugh.

The shitty instant coffee at work just wasn't the same but at least it was free.

But it's what you have to do, right? As a responsible adult. 

Well, try telling that to your husband. Despite him being the one who's lost his job, he's not sacrificed much. The cigarettes, but you tell yourself that's justifiable, they help with stress relief. He still goes out to the bar once a week to meet up with his old high school buddies, they clearly didn't know how far his drinking habit has gone, or maybe they did and they were encouraging it. You hoped not.

Most recently he's taken up another hobby, one you're not particularly fond of in all honesty but of course, you can't say anything. Mail order porn. 

You have nothing against porn, it's part of most people's sex lives and these days it's natural with the rise of the Internet, there are websites for these things now which is actually kind of crazy to think about. When you were a teenager, there was one particular channel on the family TV that if you angled the ariel just right you were pretty sure you could see tits. Or maybe that was an ass? It was too fuzzy to tell.

Still, seeing that charge on the credit card statement was a shocker. You went over old statements to make sure you weren't imagining things and nope, you weren't, it was a new charge, a new subscription. $49.99 a month for mail order porn, a website called 'Bangforyourbuck.com'. A double innuendo, tasteful. 

That kind of pissed you off, yes he'd been the one to lose his job and yes he was stressed but you were stressed too. You're the one keeping everything afloat these days, paying all the bills on one Salary, cutting back on things. Meanwhile he's adding to both your stress and the monthly outgoings. The thought of saying anything about it though? That would be like offering yourself up to a firing squad.

And god forbid one of you gets sick now, he was the one with the good insurance. That's long gone.

A gruff "Hey" pulls you out of your thoughts as he rounds the corner and you force a smile. 

"Morning sweetie. You're up early" You find yourself watching your tone a lot these days, constantly walking on eggshells. Even what you just said 'You're up early' you made sure you didn't say it in a way that sounded too surprised to see him this side of the morning, incase he took offence. 

He yanks open the refrigerator and grabs a carton of orange juice from the door, twisting the cap off before he takes a large gulp straight from the source. You hate that, oh my god you hate that so much. You want to yell 'Get a fucking glass!' but you don't, you can't. 

"Yeah. I've got a thing today" very cryptic. When does he ever have a 'thing' these days? "What are you doing?" he asks as he comes to stand behind you, peering over your shoulder at the overdue bills, just looming there. Gone are the days when this would have sent a little thrill up your spine at the prospect of being bent over the same counter for a quickie before you both part ways and go to work with matching smiles on your faces. Now it just makes you go cold, waiting for the next thing to set him off. 

"I couldn't sleep so, just trying to figure out where we can cut back a little. I uh. I was thinking, actually-"

"Were you? That's rare." First jab of the day, you know it's meant as an insult, there's no banter behind it. 

"Uh yeah. Actually. W-what about if...Since you don't need your car right now for work we sell it and you can borrow mi--" 

"Are you fucking insane?" Here we go. He takes a small step back from you, enough for you to turn in your seat to face him, shoulders slumped, eyes cast down into your lap, like a child about to be scolded. "No, no fucking way are we selling my car, I wouldn't be seen dead in that shit heap you drive around. Besides, I'll need it soon anyway, I've got a job interview today, that's why I'm up, gotta get into the city for 9.30. Gotta make a good impression, wouldn't do that if I showed up in what you drive"

"That's great honey..." You muster up false enthusiasm from somewhere, plastering a sweet smile on your face as you look at him, the man you were so in love with once, you fell in love with everything about him, you loved to run your fingers through his hair, you loved the way it curled when it was damp, you loved how lost in his icy blue you could get and how dark they could go when the two of you would be intimate. Now? Nothing.

There's nothing as you look at him, a few short months changed the way you saw him. He wasn't like this before, you could have missed some sighs maybe? No, you're pretty sure he was perfect. Wasn't he? He only drank socially before, now he needs no excuse for it.

"Yeah it is, as for this?" He gestures to the bills on the counter behind you. "Figure it the fuck out, that's your job. Use a fucking calculator if your dumbass can't work it out." You hate the way your eyes mist up and you know he sees it, he just doesn't care. "I need to go shower and get ready" He mumbles, stalking back out of the kitchen, leaving you alone, silently crying as you turn back to face the bills, big red letter staring back at you. 'OVERDUE - DO NOT IGNORE.'

///

Standing on the driveway a little before 9am, you're waving him off as he's pulling away to go to his interview. God you hope he gets it, for multiple reasons. 

As you're watching his car disappear around the corner, your neighbour across the street is rounding it in his truck, probably back from taking his daughter to school.

You never see any women coming and going surprisingly, Joel is a handsome guy, you might be married but you're not blind, after all. You thought he'd at least be dating, but maybe he's too busy for it, being a single dad, doing the work he does with all the long hours. Still, he seems like a nice guy, but you thought your husband was a nice guy too, so maybe you're just a shitty judge of character these days. 

It's not until he's getting out of his truck that you realise you're day dreaming again, snapping yourself out of it, about to head back inside when-

"Mornin'." He calls from across the street and you almost think he's talking to someone else but when he says your name and starts to cross the street? Oh, he is talking to you. This is new. 

"Uh hi? How's things?" Be less awkward, Matts not here, he won't see you out here talking to him. You know he doesn't like Joel, you're pretty sure it's a petty male jealousy thing. Matt is good looking of course, you thought he was the hottest man on the planet at one point. But Joel's taller, he's got that dark and brooding thing going on, he works with his hands, he's a little older than you but it seems like he's reaching that mid thirties sweetspot. Oh my god stop mentally ogling the neighbour. Christ it's been a while since you got laid hasnt it? 

He stops at your mailbox, resting his palm flat against it, dressed in dusty work boots, dark washed denim jeans that fit just right, a navy blue and white flannel on with buttons undone and a dark grey tee underneath. "Yeah, yeah things are good. Sarah made those brownies again last week, you know, with the recipe you gave her?" That little grin of his is dangerous, making him more handsome than he already is, but you can't help the way you smile back because of it. 

"Oh yeah? And what's the verdict?" 

"Like a little slice of heaven. I'd eat that for breakfast, lunch and dinner if she'd let me." 

That draws a genuine chuckle from you, he's never heard your laugh before, but honestly? He finds himself wanting to hear it more and he can't even tell if it's for selfish reasons or not.

"So uh" he starts, shifting awkwardly on his feet, wondering how the fuck you're supposed to bring this up? He can't just outright ask if you're having marital problems. He doesn't know you and you don't know him, after all. "Matt is it? That's your husband, right?" 

You try to hide the way your expression falls at the mention of his name, a weak smile on your face, but your body language gives it all away, the subtle gulp, the awkward shift of your feet, the way you cross your arms as if it were a barrier over your already broken heart. 

"Yeah?" 

"You and Matt. The two of you doing okay?" 

"Why wouldn't we be?" You start to get defensive slightly, even if you don't mean to. 

"Listen--" he takes a small step closer, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "I'm not tryin' to stick my nose in where its not wanted but Sarah thought somethin' was off when she saw you a couple weeks ago and Jimmy-" Jimmy Cooper, the guy with the loud ass dog a few doors down from you "-Well he thought he heard yellin' a few nights ago and--"

A scoff leaves you before you can even think about it."So what? We argue, married couples argue. It's normal, it doesn't warrent being gossiped about!" Where is this fire when your husbands talking to you like shit? You know the' argument' in question, it was just him yelling at you for an hour straight because he has misplaced something, you can't even remember what now because your brain was too fried from being at work all day, coming home to your living room basically being tipped upside down as he's on a rampage looking for it. It hadn't even occurred to you until later on that night, after you'd finished putting the living room back together that the window had been open and that perhaps the entire fucking state had heard everything. 

"Darlin', Jimmy wasn't gossiping trust me, I don't listen to idle gossip anyways, he was genuinely concerned, I'm genuinely concerned. The things he said he heard--" There's that same look, the one you saw on Sarah's face a few weeks back, pity. 

"I'm sorry but I missed the part where my marriage is any of your fucking business" You snap, wondering where the hell this woman is hiding. "Thanks for the 'concern' but I don't need it. Have a good day Joel." You say hotly, turning on your heel to head back inside, the door slamming a little harder than you intended behind you. 

"God dammit" Joel mutters, running a hand through his dark waves in exasperation. 

And then he clocks it, the trash can on your driveway, separate to general household waste, lid slightly askew. Full to the brim with empty beer bottles.

///

This wasn't going to be something he could just leave alone, was it? 

[ghosts-bandwagon]

Hello sweetheart heart, hope you are having a nice day. We love ghost, sow now i love you.

You, me and Jesus Christ know that when Ghost loves hard, he loves STRONGLY. This man gives you every bit of his soul little by little, in his own way, in his own time, but he does it with every fiber of his being. Now, Ghost gave his soul to his women. He opened himself in every possible way with her, he loves her too much. Until he loses her one day, on a mission, the last thing he saw was her being wounded. They are separated and she doesn't answer his calls, he thinks she is wounded to the brink of death. how would ghost react? does he's go "devil mode"? etc.

I NEED ANGST, I NEED TO CRY. I want this man to break my heart.

ily2 ghost solidarity (Damn dude you got me turning on my angst song, this hit me hard lmaooo)

TW: graphic descriptions of violence, angst

God, he’s a fucking mess. Ghost who is normally so calm and level headed. He is normally the picture of grace under pressure. But when everything started going sideways, you did what you do best and you protected him. Your 6’4” hulking behemoth of a man. The floor crumbed and broke under your feet, forcing you both to plummet down to the ground floor. The only part of the building that so far survived the blast. Ghost saw your attackers aim their guns into the hole you were both in. You acted quick and shot them, but not before they shot at you first. You pushed him away from you as hard as you could and the last thing he saw before you were separated was a spray of blood. And then more debris came crumbling down. And then silence. His blood went ice cold. There’s no fucking way. There’s absolutely no fucking way this is happening. He screamed. He screamed your call sign until his throat was raw. He’s not a religious man at all but sweet god above, this can’t be real. This is just a bad dream. Please god, this is just a bad dream.

You weren’t responding and it sounded like more of the enemy force were coming in. But it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t remember what happened. He wouldn’t remember mowing them down, one by one. He wouldn’t remember jamming his thumbs into their eyes, or plunging his knife in their throats over and over and over again, or even the tears. The hot tears that glued his mask to his face like a second layer of skin. He wouldn’t remember any of it.

Just the kisses he never gave you. The mornings he could’ve spent in your arms. The nights he could’ve spent curled up on the sofa, letting the TV run with whatever you wanted. The pointless arguments you would’ve gotten into about the pros and cons of having a dog. The time he could’ve spent unpacking your belongings in his house and watching you turn it into a home. The stupid texts you would’ve sent him about the most ridiculous things, groceries, jokes, those stupid quizzes you loved so much.

And as he held you in his arms, his hands shaking and applying as much pressure to your side as he could, his love is pouring from his lips and his eyes. He won’t let go. He absolutely will not fucking let you go. Even as evac came and put you on a stretcher, loading you into the chopper, he is holding onto you for dear life.

He’ll never let you go.

I might decide to do a full one shot from this 👀

[yuri-is-online]

I'm so happy that my concept has become an official part of the script!

I enjoy reading the Yutu series, but I'm wondering if there'll ever be a moment when Yuu goes bear mode to protect their cubs.

Hear me out: since Yuu is basically the only non magic student in NRC crewel decided to give them a self defence weapon to keep themselves safe under the condition that they absolutely only use it for self defense. The weapon in question was a taser stick.

Now let's set the scene: Yutu has been trained to deal with phantoms ever since he was accepted into NRC, however when a phantom literally spawns behind him from a portal, it's hard to do much. As Yutu falls and tries to crawl away from the phantom's path Yuu (who was walking behind Yutu) yells "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY KID" and tases the phantom so hard that it loses spacial awareness and falls stunned, giving them time to stand somewhere safer and more advantageous for battle. Yutu is stunned cause while he knows his parent has a fighting spirit, the parent they're used to has been softened by time and trauma so to see them actively looking for blood (uh...ink?) is new. It's also a sight that yutus dad REALLY enjoyed

I think the phantoms would be a bit more sensitive to lightning/electrical attacks because it's not just something that's bright that attacking you (like fire) but it also travels through their body.

-Grim!OB anon

The concept of phantoms being more vulnerable to lightning.... hmmmmmmmm. That's an interesting concept Grim!OB anon. I have been thinking about cosmic magic in TWST... I wish we could get some more insight into how it works and why there are two versions of it. If all magic produces blot, does that include light aspect cosmic magic? And if so does that mean an overblot phantom can use it ●︿●

Yuu's a strong character in my mind, one who reacts when their friends are in danger. Yutu knows this in theory of course; he remembers how you reacted when he was a child and cried about something small, but this isn't something small. The Yuu he has been fighting for had become an ideal more than a person, but that's not the case anymore.

You are real, your fury is real, the noise that's torn from your throat rivals the King of Beast's roar.

"STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY KID"

It's an order so surreal he swears it seals itself into time and knocks him back into the version of him he should be. Years of fighting blot phantoms and scavenging for survival is gone, his father finishes off the phantom with a wave of his pen as Yutu scrambles for you only to find himself hauled up for a strict examination.

"Are you hurt at all?" Your eyes are so hard but your voice is so soft, he can barely hear you. "Sweetheart," your thumb rubs circles on his cheek, oh it's because he's crying "it's ok, I'm here." You are cradling your child in your arms because he is crying and you are determined to keep him safe. "You don't need to fight alone anymore."

You won't let him.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

List 72, prompt 5, and list 74, prompt 2. Pairing: hyunlix x reader, please!

Prompts: "Are those...bite marks?"

"You have to do your part, sweetheart. This goes both ways."

Members: Hwang Hyunjin, Lee Felix

Relationship: Fae Healer!FemReader x Hunter!Hyunlix

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Suggestive

Warnings: Injuries, Gore, Blood, General Predicaments of Various Unwellness (all the important people survive, don't panic),

You should be used to wounded fae stumbling through your door at all odd hours of the night, dripping blackening blood onto your floor, urgently seeking your profession's skills.

But there's still something about the pair of fae that crash through your front door tonight, one of them supporting the other, both covered from head to toe in some sort of gore and damp with rain, that catches you completely off guard.

The storm howls outside the open door, and still, you stand, staring at them like a new fawn, entirely shocked and shaken to your core, watching them drip a mixture of blood and rainwater onto your perfectly clean floor.

The blonde one-well, the blonder one-the one not currently being held up by the other, but the one doing the holding, moves into motion first, staring at you with something akin to almost open amusement in his gaze as he heaves the other man toward the nearest available surface, which just so happens to be your kitchen table.

He lays the other man down, who groans long and low at the jostlement, and turns to you, hands on his slender hips.

Gods, have you ever seen a waist so tiny? You don't think so.

Your mouth suddenly waters.

"You're a healer, correct?"

You pull yourself from your weirdly distracted thoughts and realize the man has been addressing you this entire time. You shake your head and instantly snap your gaze to his.

"Yes." You nod, and hurry to the table where the injured man still lies in a crumpled heap, suddenly transitioning into business mode as you bustle about, gathering basic supplies. "What happened?"

The standing man leans against the edge of the table, seemingly entirely unphased by both his companion's pained groaning, and your frantic flurry.

"Little run in with the wrong crowd." The man supplies vaguely with a slight shrug, and your fingers pause in their search of the dozens of bottles on your shelves as you glance over your shoulder at him incredulously.

He shrugs again.

"We've both seen worse."

You seriously doubt that, considering his friend is currently bleeding out on your kitchen table, but you bite back your retort and gather the rest of your supplies in tense silence.

Your mother had always warned you your sharp tongue and rash nature would get you into trouble some day, and you didn't doubt it, but at the time, her beatings had seemed like trouble enough.

You dump the armful of salves, herbs, and relics onto the table beside the other man and reach for another basket full of wound bandages, carefully curated earlier that morning.

You glance to the man standing beside the table, the frighteningly unbothered one, and then down to the other man lying on the table.

They're both wearing dark, black clothing, laced with straps and vests. You catch the hint of a dagger peeking from beneath the standing man's shirt, and you don't doubt that they're both absolutely covered in hidden weapons, though that fact doesn't seemed to have done the wounded fae much good.

You almost snort in amusement at the thought, but clear your throat instead and glance down once more to the injured fae in front of you.

There is dark blood still seeping from somewere you can't quite track because of his black clothing worn head to toe, and as you watch it puddle on the floor at your feet, you suddenly have a terrifying thought.

You don't know where to begin.

The lighter blonde leans onto the table, watching you with a sharp gaze. When he speaks, his words are slightly taunting in a way that make you itch with irritation.

"Aren't you going to, you know-" He shrugs and gestures to his friend with an arched, cocky brow. "-heal or whatever?"

"Yes, just give me a minute." You snap back testily before you can stop yourself, clamping your teeth down on your lips immediately when you realize your tone.

You don't know who these mysterious men are. They're clearly higher station than you are, dressed to the nines and touting expensive weapons, and you don't know what they could have done to you if you mouth off.

They could have you tortured. Or exiled. Or-worse.

You shudder at the thought, but the fae standing across from you doesn't seem angry, or even perturbed, by your sharp, out of line retort. In fact, if anything, he looks-amused?

He crosses his arms over his chest with a slight smirk. "Okay, you're the healer here. Just thought we might want to help him before he bleeds out all over your kitchen floor you know?"

You ignore his clear jibe and hold out a hand without looking up at him, your gaze scanning the fae lying still now on the table, assessing him how you've been trained to do.

His pulse and breathing are erratic, but that's normal, he's probably in shock. If you can find and stop the bleeding-

You glance up as your open hand remains empty and the man across the table continues to stare at you blankly.

You force down your irritation and motion with a jerk of your chin to the small table next to the kitchen sink, and coincidently to his left.

"Hand me a knife please."

A slight smile ticks the corner of his mouth at your obvious distaste in the polite word, but he reaches over and hands you a knife without so much as a word.

You thank the gods for that at least.

Turning back to the wounded fae, who you're fairly certain is unconscious by this point, you carefully begin to cut down the line of his fine tunic, tearing the fabric with nimble fingers to reveal his chest.

It's a shame to ruin such a pretty frock, but you're sure they have dozens more just like it.

Your eyes beg to get stuck on the defined ridges of the male fae's abdomen, the v of his lean, toned muscles where they disappear into the waistband of his breeches, but you focus, grounding yourself with running through a list of herbs that might be helpful, no matter what the wound, as you continue to shear through his tunic.

Marigold. Fane's Bane. Tempter's Snare. Lilac of Sumac.

Your thoughts come to a brief halt as your hand stills, your lips parting on a sharp inhale of breath at the sight of the man's torn lower ribcage.

You're absolutely gob smacked at the extent of the wound bared before you, entirely caught off guard that it hadn't torn the side of his fine tunic to tatters just like his skin.

The reddened gleam of muscle stares back at you, the blood sluggishly still sliding down the table and to the floor, and a hint of white bone flashes where it sticks through the tattered skin.

Or what's left of it.

The man across the table takes notice of your sudden freeze, and he leans over to get a better sight of what you're looking at.

A low whistle escapes his plush lips.

"Fuck. That's a nasty one." He exhales in a mutter, and you glance up at him, appalled at his obvious lack of concern and the blatant almost impressed lilt to his words.

You grab the mortle and pestle from where you placed it earlier, and begin to shred herbs into the bowl, working so quickly your hands are a blur, the motions almost automatic.

You have to stop that bleeding. And fast.

You pound the mixture into a pulp, then reach for a small decanter full of sparkling, shimmering liquid, and carefully pouring a tiny amount of the Moon Water into the bottom of the bowl with the rest of the herbs, you stir diligently until it resembles a thick, blue tinged paste.

Breathing out a harsh breath, you set aside the pestle and scoop the salve into the palm of one hand.

You're aware the fae across from you is watching your every move carefully, but there's no room in your mind for him right now.

Not when you're fairly certain his friend's life hangs in the balance.

Carefully, you pinch the ripped skin together as best you can, covering the gleaming bone and slick muscle, and smooth the paste slowly and thoroughly over the gaping hole in the male fae's side.

He gives a pained groan in response, and you know he's still unconscious, but you also know that this particular treatment stings like a bitch.

Pressing the palm of your hand down harder, so the salve seeps between your spread fingers and into all facets of the wound, you start to mutter the incantation beneath your breath that will stitch the skin back together.

The words flow over your tongue like water, familiar and sure, and beneath your palm, you feel his ribs begin to shift back into position, his muscle kneading itself right again, the skin pulling closed under your fingers.

You can feel the drain on your reserves with each word whispered, but you don't stop, not until the wound has all but closed, leaving nothing but a fresh, angry, red scar against his tan skin.

Pulling back with a sigh, you reach up with the back of your hand and swat aside a stray, irritant hair, before you glance at the other fae.

He's watching you with an odd look on his face, that disappears as soon as your eyes meet his.

You ignore the weird, low burn in your gut and wiping your messy hand on a nearby rag, lean low over the table, putting your ear close to the wounded-now healed-fae's lips.

You listen, taking stock of his rhythmic, even breathing, the slowing of his pounding heart, and feel instant relief soothe over your tired, stretched body.

He's okay.

"You know, if you wanted to kiss me, love, all you had to do was ask." A low, guttural voice rumbles hoarsely, and you start in surprise, your eyes snapping up to the once unconscious man's dark gaze, now staring right at you with a slight smirk on his full lips.

You realize then that you're incredibly too close to his face still, and instantly shove back from him, creating space between the two of you.

He chuckles, wincing slightly as the sound pulls at his newly healed ribs, and the blonder man steps forward then, slapping his hand into the other's with familiar camaraderie and slowly pulling him into a sitting position on the table, ignoring his slight groan of pained protest.

"Glad to have you back." The irritatingly cocky one says, and the one on the table gives him half a grin.

"Can't get rid of me that easily."

Both their gazes flit to you and you realize you're staring, trying to puzzle them out.

You quickly look away and move to start cleaning up your supplies, placing everything in it's acquired place, studiously avoiding their curious gazes, following your every move.

Finally, you've had enough of their silent perusal, and you turn, placing your hands stubbornly on your waist as you glare them both down.

"Well? Are you going to sit there or are you going to clean up the absolute mess you've made of my kitchen?"

You motion to the blood still dripping slowly and surely from the lip of the table, but all the standing man is chuckle, pulling up the other with a heave of effort so they're both on their feet.

Your glare doesn't waver, though you suddenly realize with a jolt that the previously wounded fae is still shirtless.

You resist the urge to let your eyes drop down the length of his hardened body, but only barely, and curse yourself as he gives you an arched brow and knowing smirk in return.

"Actually-" The annoying pain in the ass with the lighter hair says, reaching for his discarded bag and stepping toward the door. "-we have to be on our way."

You scoff, outrage filling your belly like a fire, and leap forward to slam the door shut once more as he pulls it open a mite to reveal the still howling storm outside.

"Really?" You growl out, staring up at him, trying to ignore how much taller he is then you, staring down, watching you like some predator assessing a future prey. You ignore the heat that thought lights in your belly. "I saved your friend's life and not even a thank you? Don't they teach you upper classes manners or some other useless shit for a situation like this?"

The man's eyebrow tics up at your words, but you don't think it's in surprise, and when he laughs, you realize you were right.

He's amused by you.

Like you're some sort of pet meant to entertain him with tricks.

The thought makes your insides sear with rage, and before you know what you're doing, you've balled your hand into a fist and moved to swing it right into the middle of his gut.

There's that impulsive side of you again.

Your mother is probably rolling in her grave right now.

As quick as lightning, the man catches your fist so easily it's pathetic, and you struggle against his hold, his long fingers on your wrist, as the other man gathers his own gear and watches on curiously.

He doesn't make a move to intervene.

"Let me go." You spit out on a hiss like an angry, cornered cat, and something akin to challenge flashes in the man's dark eyes as he leans toward you.

"No, I don't think I will." He practically purrs, and you want to rip his throat out with your teeth, wipe the lazy, confident smirk right off his perfect face.

He crowds into your space, and your back hits the wall beside the door.

"As for a 'thank you-'" He muses, reaching up to twirl a strand of your messy hair around his finger, and it takes everything in you not to bite said digit off. His gaze flicks down to your mouth and back up again, as if he knows what you're thinking. "-I don't know if you're quite ready to receive all that our gratitude entails just yet, little bird."

"Don't call me that." You spit out, but he merely laughs, releasing you and moving to the now open door beside the other waiting man.

He cocks his head and gives you a slight smirk, and you don't know if it's luck or fate, but in that moment, the lightning flashes, illuminating his handsome face and the dark, swirl of his eyes.

Something inside of you shudders at the sight.

"We'll be seeing you around, little bird. I'll make sure of that."

And then, another blink of lightning, and they're gone.

************************************************************************

The second time they come through your door in the middle of the night, there's less blood than the time before, but definitely a more generous plethora of colorful words that weren't used before, heating your ears and turning them red.

The one who was hurt last time closes the door behind him, and you scan him quickly, assessing silently, as the cocky one from before continues to swear low and steadily, settling into a chair in front of your small fire without so much as a lick of invitation.

You heave a sigh, biting back the irritation itching beneath your skin, and put your hands on your hips, bouncing your gaze between them.

"You know, you can't just barge in here whenever you please-"

The blonder one swears, more harshly this time, and shoots you a glare that doesn't quite hit when his features contort with a grimace of pain halfway through, his fingers flinching where they rest against the side of his throat.

"Save the lecture, birdie. I'm fucking on fire here."

You stare at him, shooting him a glare of your own in response, another retort on your lips, but the sharp words die on your tongue as soon as you see the dark tinged blood trickling from between his fingers.

You instantly jump into healer mode, hurrying to him and prying his fingers away from his neck in one smooth movement.

He hisses in pain, flinching as you tear his fingers away from the wound, and you gasp, eyes going wide as you glance at the injury once more, and then to the other man, standing nervously beside the fire, playing agitatedly with a dagger between his small fingers.

"Are those...bite marks?" You manage to get out, your gaze falling once more to the slowly oozing holes on the side of the sitting fae's neck, and he manages a laugh that ends in a groan as he winces with pain at the movement.

He takes in a deep, shuddering breath, and the only show of his discomfort is the whitening clench of his fingers on the arms of the chair as he smooths out his features, one by one, before looking up at you.

He gives you half a smirk. "If it looks like a mule, and sounds like a mule-"

You resist the urge to slap him, and instead, hurry to your herb cabinet, calling over your shoulder as bustle about, "What happened?"

You're not sure they'll answer, but you're surprised when he answers back between gritted teeth and on the end of an irritated sound, "Vampires."

The fae beside the fire sighs. "A hunt gone wrong. And vampires a ruthless fuckers at the best of times, but especially when they're cornered and wounded with no where to go."

"Bloody bastards." The sitting man growls in agreement, and you can hear the murderous rage simmering just beneath his words.

Your fingers still in shock, but you quickly shake yourself, melding together a poultice and wrapping it in a warm, wet linen bandage before you return to the fire and the fae waiting there.

You kneel down beside him and look up at him, and a dangerous, fire comes into his eyes as he stares down at you from his sitting position.

"I like you on your knees for me, little bird."

Fuck decorum, fuck being careful. You immediately slap the prepared poultice a little bit too roughly down on the wound on his neck and he visibly winces, which gives you some sort of sick, twisted satisfaction.

"Fuck." He grits out, and you shoot him a triumphant look as you hold the medicine in place.

"Don't antagonize your healer. That's rule number one on a long list of rules."

He matches you stare for heated stare.

"What else is on the list?"

"None of your concern."

His brow tics upward, and a muscle in his jaw feathers at the challenge in your voice.

"Everything about you is my concern, little bird." He growls warningly, sitting forward toward you, even as the poultice runs with the movement and stains the fine black collar of his shirt.

"Hm. I must have missed that announcement." You sniff, refusing to be cowed, staring him down right back. "Maybe when I missed you introducing yourselves, or saying 'thank you' like civilized human beings instead of barging in here like savages and treating me like your own personal play thing."

He glares at you, hissing when you adjust the poultice rather harshly once more, but you match him step for step.

He's no match for you. You're not afraid.

You can feel the fae beside the fireplace watching the two of you with something akin to amusement as you bicker, and you're surprised when he suddenly announces into the tense, stiff silence, "I'm Felix."

The man in front of you flicks his gaze quickly to the other, and something he sees there must cement something in him, because with a defeated sigh, he sits back, away from you, and says with slight irritation, "Hyunjin."

You pretend you're not disappointed by the sudden space between you, and take in a long, deep breath before looking to the two of them.

Hyunjin arches a brow, staring at you sharply as you remain silent, studying them.

"Aren't you going to return the favor?" He asks with slight bite to his tone that makes you bristle.

You glance beneath the poultice, and satisfied the bleeding has stopped and the poison has been pulled from the bite, you remove your hand, shoving to your feet without a backward glance and heading toward the door.

You tug it open and turn to them expectantly, the cool air wafting in from the dark night and brushing your skirt against your ankles.

"No. You owed me, not the other way around. I owe you nothing. Now-" You motion with a jerk of your head and try to bite back a satisfied smirk at the annoyance that flickers across Hyunjin's features at your clear dismissal. "-please leave so I can go to bed."

Something akin to interest alights in Hyunjin's swirling eyes at your words and you already know what he's going to say before the worlds drip suggestively from his full lips.

"If you want to go to bed, little bird-" He starts with an arch of a brow, pushing to his feet in a predatory sort of way that makes you want to shiver, and not entirely in a bad way.

"-then she should." Felix finishes for him firmly, tugging him toward the open door and past you with a pointed stare, one which Hyunjin returns with irritation.

You bite back a grin and give them a flippant little wave.

"Please don't come back." You call out pleasantly, though you mean every word, and then you slam the door shut right on Hyunjin's fierce glare.

Locking up, you can't help the grin that creeps across your lips at his ire.

*****************************************************************************

They do come back.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And soon, it becomes routine-the door crashing in in the middle of some random night, one of them dripping blood onto your floor, as you assess the wounds and hurry to gather supplies.

It becomes routine to gather herbs that might help their specific ailments when you're out in the meadows during the day, or hunting through the village market in the early morning before the crowds descend.

Routine to keep things on hand that you know they like-the sweet buns Felix loves, the recipe passed down from your grandmother, held in a little basket beside the stove-the bitter tree bark from the aspens that grow all around the clearing of your cottage that Hyunjin likes to chew to paste between his teeth, especially when he's irritated or hurting, just to take the edge off, stuffed into a jar on the fireplace mantle.

You hate yourself for thinking of them often, knowing them so well, but another, smaller, more hidden part of you hopes they think of you as well.

Tonight, they've brought you a nasty arm slash, courtesy of a Changeling's wickedly sharp claws, and Hyunjin flinches slightly as you smooth a purple, foul smelling paste over the edges of the wound.

"You really are a big baby." You tease, as you reach for a vial of golden Sun Glow, tipping carefully measured drops onto the jagged edges of the largest gash that mars his forearm.

Hyunjin levels you with a glare and a protest that holds little heat, his gaze darting wildly to his counterpart who is lounged beside the roaring fire. "Not true! Felix was wailing last month over that banshee curse like a welp screaming for its mother's breast!"

Felix flips Hyunjin off lackadaisically, his feet propped on the opposite chair as he practically suns himself in the fire's flickering flames.

"Hold still." You chastise under your breath off handedly, concentration on the words you chant beneath your breath and the liquid you're now smearing across Hyunjin's torn skin.

He goes still as a rock beneath your fingers and something inside of you goes warm at the thought that he listens to you when he really needs to.

You finish smoothing the skin back over the torn muscle and sit back with a sigh, wiping your dirty fingers on your skirt as you take in your handiwork with a satisfied nod.

"There. Good as new."

Hyunjin flexes his fingers, the muscles in his forearms rippling, testing the movement, and you can't stop yourself from staring at the ropes of corded muscle as they shift beneath his tan skin.

You wonder briefly what they'd feel like beneath your tongue, or wrapped around your bare waist, or how they'd flex differently if he was using his fingers inside of your-

You glance up, and he's watching you with a knowing smirk on his plush lips, like he knows what you were just thinking.

Gods, you hope not.

Blushing, you duck your head and begin to gather up the mess of supplies, standing up so quickly that you nearly upend the basket in your arms, hurrying to put space between the two of you.

You feel hot all over, and it has nothing to do with the fire and everything to do with the still smirking fae currently sitting in your rickety kitchen chair.

You clear your throat, washing your hands in the bucket of water in the sink, and call to Felix over your shoulder, "Felix, do you think you could hand me the rest of those supplies that need washing?"

Maybe if you just stay in this dark little corner of the kitchen, dousing your skin in frigid water, the blush will leave your cheeks faster, and the heat lingering between your legs from your impure thoughts about the two men currently sitting in your cottage will dissipate like a banshee in the wind.

"You look like you need help, little bird." A low, lilting voice murmurs darkly in your ear, and everything inside of you instantly melts into a molten puddle that settles between your upper thighs as strong, corded arms slink around your waist.

Okay, so maybe not, damn them. You should've know they wouldn't make this easy on you. They're hunters after all, their entire profession deals around smelling out a prey's weakness and using it against them.

Only now, you're the prey in question, and the weakness they can smell all over you is the sinful, heated need slowly growing wetter by the second between your legs.

"I don't." You reply back, a little delayed and a lot more breathless than you had hoped.

Hyunjin chuckles against your skin, his breath warm, pricking goosebumps all up and down your arms as the delicious sound finds a home in your chest, sending your heart skittering like a frightened deer.

"What do you think, Lix?" Hyunjin asks smoothly, casually, as if he's simply discussing the time of day, not your current predicament, wedged between the warm, hard lines of his body and the stiff lip of the counter.

He glances sidelong, and you follow his gaze to see Felix there, watching the two of you with something sharp and delicious and promising in his eyes that has your knees instantly feeling weak.

You're glad Hyunjin is currently holding you up.

You watch as Felix's tongue darts out to slowly wet his lips, his pupils swallowing up the golden glint of his irises as he stares at you like you're his next meal.

You can't seem to bring yourself to care.

"I think-" He takes a step toward the two of you, eyes never leaving your own, and you can't help the whimper that escapes your lips as he comes closer, crowding you in like a predator cornering his prey. He licks his lips once more, as if tasting the sound on the air, and his pupils blow. "-she wants our help, Jin, craves it even, but she's too prideful and stubborn to ask for it."

Behind you, Hyunjin shifts, and you bite down hard on your bottom lip as you feel him press into you from behind, hard and eager.

"Is that true, little bird?" Hyunjin purrs, his fingers going up to curl around your chin, directing your gaze back to his, fiery and filled with promise. "Do you want our help-"

His gaze drops down your body, trapped between his and the unyielding sink, and something flashes in his eyes as a smirk crosses his lips, and then you feel it, the press of his thigh between your own, and you know, know by the way you shiver and the way he takes in a sharp breath, that he can feel your wet silent, plea through the thin material of your dress.

Something smug comes into his dark gaze at this realization, and he finishes his previous goading statement in a low, satisfied growl, his fingers tightening around your chin, "-with this?"

You find a tiny shred of will in yourself to be infuriatingly stubborn on the matter for just a bit longer, to hold out, even though you really want to give in to everything they're suggesting, everything they're offering, without a second thought.

"Aren't you the ones usually asking me for help?" You goad back, and something flashes in Hyunjin's eyes at your taunting tone, something that makes the heat between your legs flare with urgency. You tsk, relishing the way his heated gaze flares in response to your challenge. "My, how the tables have turned, hm?"

"Enough playing." Hyunjin growls, and instantly slings you over his shoulder easily, as if you weigh less than a sack of potatoes, toting you toward the hallway that leads to your small, modest bedroom.

You shriek and kick helplessly, succeeding in little other than hiking your dress up around your hips, and when you glance back at Felix, following closely, his gaze has moved boldly and unabashedly to the bare skin of your legs, and his expression has morphed into something akin to open hunger.

Heat curls low in your belly at the look on his pretty, delicate features, and the thought that you, and you alone, put it there.

Hyunjin tosses you onto the mattress that takes up the majority of the small room, and you breathlessly try to right yourself, not even thinking to ask how he knew where your bedroom was.

It probably wasn't that hard to put two and two together when it comes to your small woodland cottage honestly, especially for a man trained in the ways of observation.

"Who gave you the right-" You start to protest angrily, but Hyunjin is already moving to place himself between your thighs, unlacing his tunic in one smooth movement as he does so.

"You did." He pushes right back, his eyes trailing hungrily down the lines of your body, till they rest between your thighs where you currently ache, and you're not even sure for what.

He leans forward, his breath hot as it washes across your skin, and you resist the urge to tremble beneath him as he snakes a hand up to cup your jaw.

"You did-" He repeats in a growl, his eyes holding yours with fiery triumph. "-when your body reacted so perfectly to ours, little bird, like you were made for us."

You can't help the gasp that falls from your lips at his words, heady and almost dizzying like wine as they drip over your body and mind, finding a solid place in your chest beside the flare of something else that's been slowly building every time they've come to you in the night.

You can't deny it now, worming its way between your ribs, cementing itself into the crevices of your heart like the vines of WurstWood that trail the trellises of your small home, sealing every crack.

But you want to, because that's what you are, who you are-all sharp retorts and biting remarks and cracked, barely healed wounds.

Something determined cements in Hyunjin's gaze at the open war happening on your face, and then he pulls his tunic over his head fluidly, baring himself from the waist up.

All words of protest immediately die on your lips at the sight of him, bare chested, before you.

You trace the mounds of his firm pecs, then down the ridges of his perfectly sculpted abs, the deep v of his muscles where they disappear into the cinched waist of his breeches, and without thinking, down the hard, ready outline of where he strains against the expensive fabric, ready to spring free.

You swallow hard, and your gaze drifts back up to his face-the sharp slope of his nose, the full pink bow of his lips, the scar that marks the dark line of his elegant eyebrow.

You take in the scars that litter his bronze skin-the pale, silvery lines of old wounds, the jagged, angry, pink puckers of new injuries-and as you catalogue them silently, one by one, the realization that you've been there for most of them, run your fingers over each one of them, that you've healed most of them, steals your breath.

"Hyunjin-" You breathe out, not sure where you're going, but you don't have to find out, because his lips crash into yours then, silencing any further useless words.

His tongue slips between the part of your lips that was left behind by your surprised gasp as he devours you, and when he groans into the open seam of your mouth, you react without thinking, tangling your fingers into the long, platinum strands of his hair, tugging him impossibly closer to you, covering your body with the lithe, lean lines of his own.

You mold together like you were made for each other as he ravishes your mouth, and when he pulls back suddenly, leaving you gasping for breath, your breasts brush his chest with each panted inhale and exhale, and you can feel him pressed hard between your thighs as you groan with barely concealed frustration at the distance he's put between the two of you.

"I know, little bird." He chuckles, the sound hoarse, and leans forward to nip at your lips once more, and when you buck your hips up into his in retaliation, making him growl, long and deep in his throat with barely restrained desire, his hand goes to your throat to hold you still, pinning you to the bed, and he glares at you with a thinly veiled threat in his eyes.

"Careful, little one. I'll make you pay for that."

"Do it." You challenge back, your own voice hoarse and thin from kissing, your teeth tacky as you run your tongue over them, not missing the way his eyes track the movement, smugness flaring to life in your belly at the restrained heat you see in his gaze.

"As much as I would like to-" He warns, voice low and dangerous, sending heat right back between your thighs, as he leans forward once more, his teeth scraping across your throat in a biting, rough promise that has you whining and arching into him. "-I'm sure you understand, little bird, that I need to share."

His words send molten confusion through you, but when he sits back on his heels above you, smirking down at you, and Felix appears in your peripheral, still fully clothed, but just as worked up as the other hunter, suddenly, things slot deliciously into place.

"We share everything." Hyunjin says, voice like liquid heat, as his attention slides to the other hunter, the burning flame in his gaze not wavering as he leans forward, running a thumb along Felix's full bottom lip slowly, sensually, in such an intimate way that it has you rubbing your thighs together to get some much needed friction, hoping it will give you relief, just a bit, to the burning need that's flaring anew just from watching the two of them.

"Hunts. Quarries." Hyunjin continues easily, voice dropping to a sensual purr in his chest as he flits his gaze down Felix's body, the way his chest heaves beneath his tunic, the hard muscles of his chest beneath the thin fabric, the obviousness of the other man's breeches straining to contain him. "Kills."

"Each other." His gaze flickers back to you, and you resist the urge to whimper as he tugs Felix down on the bed beside the two of you, reaching for the laces of the other hunter's tunic, before he slowly begins to undo the closure at Felix's collarbone, the other fae's throat bobbing with a hard swallow as Hyunjin closes the distance between them, swiping his tongue up Felix's exposed throat, leaving a long, wet stripe on the bronze of his skin.

Hyunjin's gaze stays firmly on you-the way you writhe between his legs, looking for some sort of friction, for some sort of relief to the heat gathering in your core-even as his fingers continue to steadily unlace Felix's shirt, revealing the tan, scarred planes of his chest, before he finally tugs it off of the other man's frame with one easy, fluid motion, leaving Felix bare to the two of you from the waist up, just like the fae currently straddling you.

You resist the urge to drool as you hungrily take in first one of them, then the other, like a peasant eagerly taking in the sight of a splendid feast set before them after months on the street.

Just like Hyunjin, you recognize more of Felix's scars than not, the familiar marks on his rippling skin telling the story of your time together.

"And now-" Hyunjin leans forward once more, his eyes flashing dangerously, his lips close to your own.

You fist your hands into the sheets to stop yourself from closing the gap to meet him, and lie still.

He smirks, watching the internal battle in your eyes, and you growl in response, as he tics an eyebrow upward at your unspoken, unfounded threat, the smirk only growing wider at your obvious agitation.

"-you, little bird."

He admires you for a moment, staring down at you as you hold his gaze, not willing to back down even an inch, and then he slides his molten gaze to Felix, slowly, casually, as if he has all the time in the world.

The ache between your thighs would like to argue that point immediately.

"What do you say, Lix? Wanna make our little bird sing?"

Felix must read the open invitation on Hyunjin's face because he turns his dark gaze on you, and there's something predatory on his features that wasn't there before, something that makes a pleasant and entirely anticipatory shiver roll down your spine.

He smiles, teeth flashing, and it does nothing to calm the sudden excited patter of your heart against your ribs.

"I dunno, Jin." He muses thoughtfully, staring you down, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, making you clench up, and his eyes flash at your response, dark, warning, the gaze of a hunter. "Does the little bird's song sound like our names being screamed from her lips?"

Your throat goes dry at his obvious implication, and you want to say something along the lines of fuck you, and gods, yes, please all at the same time, so instead, you just let out a strangled sort of whimper from between your lips that has both hunters grinning in tandem dangerously.

"I think that's a yes from our little bird, hm, Lix?" Hyunjin queries as he arches a brow at Felix, and when he looks at you once more, his expression is all predator, and the pulse between your legs in response has you thinking that you'll enjoy being prey for the first time ever in your life.

********************************************************************************

You don't know what woke you from your sleep, until you hear the sound of something scratch against the front door, and everything inside of you instantly goes on high alert, all the fuzziness of remaining slumber washed from your limbs as you silently creep from the bed and down the hall on cautious steps.

It's not Hyunjin and Felix, here for one of their routine, middle of the night healing sessions.

They would have simply kicked the front door in with no pretense or any hint of stealth and demanded you help them.

Besides, they're away on a hunt, and told you not to expect them back till closer to the end of the week.

No, this is something far more sinister, you can feel it in your bones.

Holding your breath, trying to figure out the culprit of the noise, you crouch when you reach the front room and stealthily sneak behind the table in the kitchen.

The noise sounds again, louder this time, like some sort of claw being dragged down the wood of the front door.

You silently glance around the room for anything that you could use as a weapon, trying to remember what Felix and Hyunjin had taught you, and settle on a broom you find tucked near you between the sink and counter.

It's crude, and probably won't be much help, like your limited fighting skills, but it's better than nothing.

The lock on the front door jiggles, as if someone is trying to see how solid it is, and then it drops to the floor with a crash, skittering you into better hiding beneath the sink before whoever just broke the sturdy lock on your front door comes crashing into the front room and catches sight of you.

You quiet your breathing, making yourself as small as possible beneath the safety of the sink among the bottles you use for various healing methods, holding the broom out in front of you, and wait.

There is silence for a brief moment, and then the sound of the doorknob turning, and the front door creaks inward.

A heavy footstep.

And then another.

You hold your breath as the steps grow closer, and a stench washes over you that has you choking not to cough, biting back the urge to gag as you try slide further beneath the sink.

A large, clawed foot covered in coarse, dark hair comes into your limited line of view, and everything inside of you goes cold.

Werewolf.

There is a lone, far away howl from outside, and the beast in the room with you pauses and then answers back with a piercing howl of its own that threatens to burst your ear drums.

Your fingers tremble on the broomstick you still hold, and you fight your hardest not to cry out in fear as the beast quiets, snuffling loudly as it works its way farther into the room.

You whimper, and before you can stop it, the sound leaves your mouth quietly, audibly, and the werewolf freezes in its tracks.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You immediately slap a hand over your mouth and freeze, but it's sniffing the air now, long snout and yellowed fangs cocked, and it takes a halting step toward you, before it growls, long and low in its throat.

You have approximately ninety seconds before that thing finds you and rips you to shreds.

It takes another step in your direction, and shifts down to all fours, teeth bared and beady eyes scanning the room sharply, nose still quivering.

It can smell your fear.

Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, you make a decision, and move.

Dropping the useless broomstick with a clatter, you duck out from beneath your hiding place and dart around to the opposite side of the kitchen, hoping to make a run around the wooden table and escape out the open front door before the beast can get its barings.

Your feet slide on the rug underneath the table in your scurry, and with a sharp cry, you go down hard, just as the beast rises to its feet with an angry roar and swipes at you with razor sharp claws at least ten inches long.

Glasses of herbs and salves go shattering as it down around you, and you scream as you cover your head from the brunt of the chaos, pushing yourself on hands and knees beneath the safety of the table, in between the legs of the chairs.

The werewolf bellows and comes down hard on it's front paws, putting it's weight on the table, cracking the old wood right down the middle.

You scuttle out and away from its angry rampage, and make another desperate sprint to get to the door, your lungs burning, your knee and arm aching where you went down on the floor only moments before.

You hear the beast turn and follow, barreling down on you, its paws slapping the floor, a growl in its throat, and you push yourself even harder.

You don't know if there's more of them out there, but your best bet is to get out of the house and try to lose them in the trees.

Just as your searing lungs get a taste of cold night hair, the werewolf swipes a large clawed paw out as it lunges with a roar, and your feet are swept violently out from underneath you, sending you tumbling to the floor once more with an exhausted scream of frustration and fear.

You lie there, seeing stars, willing yourself to get up, even as your body doesn't respond.

You can feel hot, warm liquid running down one of your calves, and you know the muscle is shredded from the hit from the werewolve's giant claws.

The werewolf chuffs approvingly, as if triumphant it caught you, and stands over you, your body feeling absolutely dwarfed and defeated between it's giant tree stump legs.

It leans over, snarling low, its teeth snapping in your face, and as hot drool drips from between its bloodstained lips down the arch of your cheek, you screw your eyes shut and take a deep breath.

This is it.

This is how you go.

Taken out by a werewolf? How stupid. How asinine.

The beast sniffs along your face, as if scenting you before it mauls you, and you do your best to remain as good as frozen under it's massive body.

Maybe if you stay still, it'll kill you quickly and not play with you before it decides to eat you.

I'm sorry, Felix, Hyunjin, you think helplessly, as the beast leans over, it's teeth going to your throat. I didn't want it to end like this, I didn't get to tell you-

Suddenly, there is a pained whine from the werewolf standing over you, and bright light floods behind your eyelids once more, as if its shadow has disappeared from on top of you entirely.

There is the agonized sound of another werewolf howling, somewhere far off, and then you hear another cry, closer, and much more familiar.

The wolf in the room with you snarls, and you crack open an eye in time to see Hyunjin leap over your fallen body and stand protectively in front of you, bow drawn and another arrow, matching the one already protruding from the werewolf's muzzle, already knocked and waiting.

"Fucking mutt." He growls, eyes flashing with hot fury as he circles the werewolf, waiting for its next move, his hunting leathers still cinched tightly around his legs and waist. "You won't live to regret this."

Suddenly, hands are on you, and you're dragged to a corner of the room, away from the werewolf and the hunting Hyunjin.

Your body feels like lead, but when you look up, Felix is crouched in front of you, shielding you from the danger and the werewolf with his body, his arms caging you in, his eyes full of open concern.

You want to cry, you're so relieved to see them.

"Are you hurt?" Felix is asking, scanning down your body, as if looking for a reason to join the fight right alongside the enraged Hyunjin.

You laugh, a watery, panicked sort of sound and shake your head as you draw in a shuddering breath. "I should be asking you that."

"Fuck." Felix swears, having caught sight of your leg, and he rushes to press his hand to the still oozing wound, applying pressure, even as you hiss in protest. "You're bleeding."

You want to tell him that he's stating the obvious, but your head feels fuzzy and your mouth is full of cotton, and the sound of the werewolf snarling as it battles Hyunjin seems to be growing farther away by the second.

You reach up a finger, swiping away the streak of fresh red blood that adorns Felix's high cheekbone.

He holds your gaze seriously. "It's not mine."

You stare at him, everything relaxing inside you slightly at the knowledge, and then without thinking, you blurt out, "I think I'm in love with you."

Okay. This is a more stupid way to go than the werewolf.

Felix stares at you with his mouth slightly agape, and you don't know if it's the blood loss or the sudden bravery etching through your veins, but you hold his gaze, unwavering, until a small smile finally lifts the corner of his pretty mouth.

"You think?" He repeats back, as if he can't quite believe it, or maybe he's berating your word choice.

"I don't know!" You throw out your hands, and wince when the movement jostles your injured leg, your voice rising with irritation. "I don't know what love feels like, but I would assume this is it? I don't want either of you to get hurt and I miss you when you're gone and I really never felt lonely living here alone but now I do, and I know all your favorite things and could trace every scar I've ever healed with my eyes closed, and when I thought I was going to get eaten tonight, I realized that I never got to tell you any of that."

Felix is still staring at you, expression unreadable, and you huff and fold your arms over your chest, glancing away from him at his lack of response.

Gods, you really hope he just lets you bleed out.

Hyunjin appears then behind Felix's crouch, wiping a bloodied blade on his tunic before he sheaths it and glances down at both of you. His face is splattered with dark red blood, and you blame it on the blood loss for thinking he looks even more attractive covered in gore.

"What's going on here?" He asks with a curious look between Felix's frozen state and your petulant pouting.

Felix shifts, the movement making you hiss between your teeth, and glances up at Hyunjin with something akin to amusement on his features.

"She 'thinks' she loves us." He says without any preamble, and you almost choke on your own spit.

You'd get up right now and kick his ass if it weren't for your bum leg.

Hyunjin snorts, glancing down at your shocked face and then he sighs, crouching down beside Felix, his eyes searching your expression for something you're not sure he finds.

His lips lift into half a smile as he studies you, but his dark eyes are nothing but intent, serious, truthful.

"The night I brought Felix to you. The first night we met." He starts, and you nod, acknowledging you remember. He cocks his head and his eyes brighten slightly. "You didn't take one ounce of shit I gave you, and I respected the hell out of that."

You scoff, moving to roll your eyes and look away, but his fingers capture your chin and keep you in place.

Your feel your breath stutter in your chest at the look that washes across his face as he glances down at the blood slowly oozing from your leg between Felix's fingers.

"And then tonight, I came in here, and I saw you on the ground and I thought-" He pauses, taking in a deep breath, and you're fairly certain it's the first time you've seen him even look remotely vulnerable.

He shakes his head and clears his throat. "Anyway." The hint of a smile is back and he reaches up with his thumb to wipe a splatter of blood from your own cheek.

"I guess what I'm trying to say, little bird, is that I've been in love with you since the first time you gave my shit right back to me from across that table."

Your chest collapses, and tears fill your eyes.

Felix reaches up to carefully wipe away the moisture, his own lips pulled into the hint of a soft smile now.

"And I was a goner as soon as I woke up and saw those perfect, plush lips so close to my own, love."

You laugh a little, swiping at your eyes, and bite back a grin that wants to tear your face in half.

“Now say it back. Without the ‘think.’ Hyunjin commands, but his eyes are teasing and warm. “You have to do your part, sweetheart. This goes both ways.”

"All right, fine." You admit teasingly. "I guess you're all right. You did save me from a werewolf after all."

Hyunjin growls playfully and swipes at you, and you manage to evade him, even with your useless leg.

Felix glances down at the wound and you sigh, glancing around at your wrecked home, the dead, bloodied body of the werewolf slowly dissolving to ash in the corner, the pile of broken bottles on the ground by the cracked table.

Hyunjin leans over and swipes one last stray tear from your eye, and when your gazes meet, he gives you a smile that sends warmth all the way through your body.

"C'mon. We'll help you clean up." He wags a finger in your face as Felix helps you stand. "But only because we love you, and only this once."

[gaylordthethird]

hey i havent played minecrft since before bees were introduced. ya got any recommendations on how to catch up? i sure dont see any help within the game :(

Oh my gosh I have so many recommendations

Pixlriffs Survival Guide!

The best I've got is Pixlriffs! He has the most beautiful survival guide <3 if your wanting to get back into unmodded survival he's your best bet! Pixlriffs' survival guide is on its third season now, and is a step by step letsplay showing you how everything works. I mean everything, even crafting!

Xisumavoids Minecraft Updates!

Great in-depth explanations about pretty much every update AND snapshot! <3 He explains what everything does and how it is applicable to how you play the game!

The Breakdown!

He's an absolute sweetheart <3 He's covered everything. From downloading minecraft to creating a server! I can't recommend him enough. He does alot of videos explaining how to install mods but there's still more than plenty about just playing non-modded minecraft!

Just watching people play!

One big thing I'd recommend is just watching people play minecraft! It can help you get a little more caught up on what's happened in the previous updates, and make sure your not so overwhelmed! Some YouTubers I recommend are "ijevin," "joehills," "solidaritygaming," "welsknight," and "xbcrafted"!!

Starting off small!

Going back to minecraft after a while can be very overwhelming, so try to start small. If all the new blocks are too much, go back a few updates until your comfortable! If building a base is too difficult, go live in a village or a cave! If the threat of mobs is scary, change the difficulty to peaceful! Or heck, just play in creative mode!

You know what's best for you

If any of these tips aren't working for you, don't feel like you have to follow them! Everyone experiences everything differently, and if what's works for me dosent for you then that's fine! What matters here is you enjoying yourself!

If you have any other questions at all, even "silly" ones, please ask me! I adore minecraft and one of the few things I adore more than minecraft is helping others! /srs

[okamirayne]

O’Rayne!! Stalking your posts and totally freaked at your mention of HHU (please no pressure tho Rayne just see it as support and stalker interest lol) and was curious…is it your burnout that is the toughest part for you regarding HHU and your original works? Stupid question probably??? >.< I haven’t written in a looong time myself (so many unfinished fics heh >.>) but I think it’s block and not burnout. Is there a big difference?? I get confused but I know you’ve been struggling and always said it was burnout not block? I’m sorry and hope you heal soon. 🧡🧡🧡

Hello, hello! 🤗💜

Stalking your posts and totally freaked at your mention of HHU (please no pressure tho Rayne just see it as support and stalker interest lol)

[..] is it your burnout that is the toughest part for you regarding HHU and your original works? Stupid question probably???

Not a stupid question. And yes. It is undoubtedly the toughest, most frustrating, and devastatingly painful thing I've had to face regarding my creative journey.

I haven’t written in a looong time myself (so many unfinished fics heh >.>) but I think it’s block and not burnout. Is there a big difference?? I get confused but I know you’ve been struggling and always said it was burnout not block?

Oh luv, I'm sorry you've not been able to write for such a time. I'm not sure which camp you're in but I'll try to give my two cents re: differentiating between Block and Burnout. Please note: this isn't a one-size fits all explanation, as I can only speak to my own experience.

So for me, personally, the distinction is this:

Block = I have no ideas or inspiration; I have gas in the tank, just no map and no destination. Maybe my tyres are spinning in the mud a bit. I need a jump-start. Or maybe I need to figure out which gear I'm stuck in. With the right mechanical mojo, I can take the wheel.

Burnout = I have a destination, I want to reach it, I even have a map, but my engine is shot to shit and my tank is empty. I cannot be jump-started by my usual tricks and my gear-stick is broken. I have all the ideas and even sparks of inspiration yet I possess absolutely no capacity to actually get it OUT of my head onto the page. I am a fuming roadwreck. Even Jesus can't take this wheel.

Burnout, (again, I'm speaking to my personal experience of it) is a severe, scary, and surreal kind of shitshow that feels like my brain has mutinied and is gaslighting itself. Unlike a block, burnout is defined as 'a state of emotional, mental, and physical exhaustion brought on by prolonged or repeated stress' (said stress is different and unique in each case). Basically your nervous system has been sadistically rewired into survival mode, your creative tyres have been slashed, and you're not firing on all cylinders because your cylinders are now warped scrap metal in a flaming junk yard. It is a godawful state of breakdown. And when you try to rev, it costs you.

Blocks are cordons that can be navigated or bulldozed...burnouts are the love child of napalm and Greek Fire. You can't smash or power through them. Unless you like third degree burns on your psyche and soul.

Drama. I am full of it. I know. This is what happens when a writer isn't writing. Monsterous. Inconsolable. Insufferable.

I’m sorry and hope you heal soon. 🧡🧡🧡

You're a sweetheart. Thank you so much, Anon. I really hope you manage to clock what's got you stuck (I sincerely hope it's block, not burnout) and that you are back to writing again ASAP! 🧡

[zushikun]

evangelion 2.0 woohoo

- is this asuka oooo

- she sounds different

- kaji speaking english…

- asuka singing lmfaooo i love that

- why is she in a provisional suit tho

- wait who the fuck is that.

- back to the graveyard scene

- is THIS asuka

- i’m getting jebaited

- misato’s poor car omfg… it’s going through hell

- poor shinji getting attacked at the get-go… some things don’t change (?)

- the lorry is driving in the middle of 2 lanes.

- misato is so funny lol

- why are the boxes stacked around shinji like that,,, he’s gonna die from getting crushed

- awww they go to school together <3

- absolute chaos lmfao what is this excursion 😭😭😭

- why is pen pen there too FK

- oh artificial meat damn…

- lmfao asuka is so real picking a fight with pen pen

- shinji is a sweetheart sia with the miso soup…

- woah the emergency course thing is super cool

- shinji is hella determined

- their pain tolerance must be off the charts bc i’d be crying and tearing tf up

- “DADDY’S BOY!!!” lol

- oh yes the teamwork is slaying

- the red sea ~~~

- yay first name basis! and interesting change in the bed sharing scene

- shinji’s awareness of the want to be praised wow… applause

- asuka finally making friends

- shinji’s homemade lunches. damn sweet srs

- misato getting disturbed by kaji…

- OH THEY FELL OUT WTF

- what’s up with this formal dinner setting with gendoh and rei

- misato spinning on the chair is so me

- new girl is american?

- kaji why did you do that 😭😭😭

- is kaji gonna die in this universe too. i’ll be heartbroken tbh (as a friend said “you’ve fallen for his womanly charms”)

- aw rei is speaking so much more :’)

- asuka cooking??? damn

- i hope asuka doesn’t ruin the dinner 🙏🙏🙏

- misato mid bath jfc sis can’t catch a break

- was suzuhara still selected or this new gal… doesn’t seem like it’s him tho

- gendoh calls seele from a green room??? he’s a live streamer damn

- asuka and rei’s elevator convo took a good turn

- i relate to asuka getting frustrated with everyone saying “i don’t know” LOL 😭

- misato and kaji’s drinking session LOL

- misato thinking of the kiddos

- asuka taking one for the team ✊ respect

- YAY to suzuhara’s sister getting discharged ❤️❤️❤️

- ritsuko with that drip

- hope the test goes well…

- OBVIOUSLY THE TEST DIDNT GO WELL WHAT THE FUCK

- i still love shinji’s breakdown and threat to destroy HQ

- omg misato and shinji’s convo before he leaves :( ouch much

- the dummy pilot is terrifying

- FUCK OFF PLS

- ASUKA PLS SURVIVE

- poor shinji :(

- omg i bet it’s the new girl piloting unit 02

- noooo don’t send 00 out it’s not in functioning state

- who even is this girl fml

- of course unit 01 rejects the dummy system… forgot about that tbh

- WHAT BEAST MODE??? why are there cheat codes bro

- sigh now 02 is all beaten up.

- rei PLEASE :((

- how is 00 still standing lol

- i vibe with specs gal just doing this for fun

- DID REI GET EATEN WTF IS GOING ON

- “yui, why are you rejecting me” i wonder why

- no offence but does gendoh have the right to question shinji’s offer to pilot 01. he was alr struggling to activate it fuckinf idiot

- AND SHINJI boomeranging again. a classic

- gendoh half covered in blood lol

- GIRL THIS TIMING SUCKS WHY DID IT LOSE POWER SO QUICKLY

- “give ayanami back” i sure hope it does :(

- damn berserk mode was triggered by shinji alone…

- also the way everyone is just standing around on the ground lol

- HE DID IT :’)

- is gendoh ok lmfao why is he so roughed up

- NOT THE THIRD IMPACT LOL

- maybe shinji saving rei wasn’t the most awesome sauce idea but yay to both surviving

- ok but where is kaworu

- oh nvm the twink has descended with probably the least threatening threat ever

- very cute preview. excited for the next movie

[graveyardcuddles]

Not to woobify him, but when people talk about him being this evil, horrible, sadistic person at the beginning of the game, it's just like??

Is it fair to say he has a sadistic streak? For sure. He enjoys the feeling of having power and control over others because of course he relishes having power and control over others after not having ANY over himself for two centuries. But it's not like he goes out of his way to commit acts of violence and cruelty. The closest we get is his killing of the Gur which you can talk him out of without a persuasion check. I don't think he's a true sadist or "evil" because the story shows us that while power and control are things he craves, he can still ultimately find happiness (true, genuine happiness) WITHOUT any of the power and control that comes with ascension/becoming the absolute. There's also very subtle moments sprinkled in throughout the story that show Astarion is perhaps not quite as comfortable with downright cruelty as he says he is, like the fact that he doesn't want to spend the night with a Tav/Durge who slaughters the grove. Or his surprisingly soft reaction to Melodia's letter to Ketheric + his comments on Ketheric's transformation.

And yeah, he has messed up approvals. It IS weird and messed up he disapproves of you trying to help Arabella in the grove at the beginning of the game. Who wouldn't approve of helping a kid in danger, right? Except you all came here to try and find a cure for your brainworms that will soon turn you all into mindflayers, not to help every rando you come across the way and this is clearly a huge waste of precious time.

Same with Isobel at Last Light Inn right like why the hell does he dislike if you protect her from Marcus if she's the one thing keeping this sanctuary in the shadow curse up? Well probably because he wants to infiltrate the cult and was hoping to keep your cover with Marcus up. Yes it's dumb and selfish logic but when you're in survival mode, and have been in near-constant survival mode for centuries you learn to think selfishly to survive.

I see his general disapproval less as a reflection of any inherent sadism and more of a product of his terrified little fucked up brain failing to adjust to normalcy. That isn't to say that ALL of his unpleasant personality quirks can be traced back to his trauma. He has plenty of negative qualities that can be explained even by two centuries of torture.

But when we see him in the game, he is both simultaneously reeling in his newfound freedom while ALSO in peak survival mode terrified of Cazador coming for him or transforming into squid kid. He's not in a good place to be healing and growing his empathy. But even despite that you can still see him grapple with and eventually reject power and control if you help him.

I don't love him because he's this soft sweetheart despite all the trauma and horrors. I love him BECAUSE he is selfish and MEAN and prone to cruelty because it's all he's known for so long. Yet despite that when you reach out to him with kindness, help him with his blood hunger and scars and freeing him from Cazador, he's WILLING to change. Because despite everything, there's still something in him that WANTS to.

I keep seeing Astarion commentary with people saying he starts out "bad" but he can become good/redeemed/whatever and that's not how I see him at all. What does he actually DO that's awful? Have bad opinions? Give approval for bad deeds that the PC does? That's just talk. That's a man who just escaped two centuries of horrific abuse approximately five minutes ago and doesn't know yet how to exist among people who aren't actively trying to torture him, so he has bad thoughts about everyone, because WHY WOULDN'T HE. Bad thoughts are all he's had to sustain him for so long. He's never had any power to enact any of them. They're coping mechanisms. And he doesn't actually want most of his bad thoughts to happen. There are so many times he gives approval for something and then instantly regrets Tav actually doing it. "Let me open the barn door," he says, followed by the most comical look of regret I've ever seen when you actually let him do it. "Betray the grove," he says, and proceeds to have the worst time at a party that anyone has ever had. Idk. I just don't think he's "bad" in the sense that I feel most people mean when they call someone that. This isn't a well-adjusted person who's making calculated decisions, this is a severely traumatized person flying by the seat of their pants, who doesn't even know who he is yet when he's not someone's slave. Give him some space to be unpleasant until he starts to get his shit together.

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

🎉 1,000 FOLLOWER EVENT 🎉

🪶Being Karasuno's Manager 🪶

🏐 Training Camp Edition Pt. 3🏐

With interruptions from Karasuno, Nekoma, Fukurodani, Shiratorizawa, Inarizaki and Seijoh

Karasuno featuring Shiratorizawa, Seijoh, Nekoma, Inarizaki, and Fukurodani x Female Manager

Part 1 🏐 Part 2 🏐 Part 3 🏐 Part 4

Warnings: Swearing

Finally part coming tomorrow!

✨️Please Like, Comment and Reblog to show Support ✨️

PSYCH 🤣🤣🤣🤣 you thought today would be calmer?

Oh YN you are so so SO naive you absolute angel

Ok we only have three days of camp left

Score 🙌🏻

That means day 3 is spent with Nekoma and Day 4 will be spent with SHIRATORIZAWA 👏🏻 👏🏻 👏🏻 👏🏻 👏🏻

I also heard a rumor 👂🏻 that the coaches have a something special planned 👀

But we'll get to that later

First we must survive!

And nothing says "survival" like Nekoma 😅

Please Kenma is always in survival mode on the court

After breakfast-

Yes they let you eat breakfast alone 🤩

Because Kai made them 😅

You head to the gym Nekoma is playing in

You pass Fukurodani, who all bid you good morning

"YN PLEASE COME BACK TO ME"- Bokuto

"Bokuto you'll see YN later"- Akaashi

"Yeah shut yer trap Bokuto. Anyways YN totally wants to come back to our team"- Atsumu

"In your dreams"- Oikawa now squaring off with Atsumu

Please what a sight 😭

The money I would PAY

you just roll your eyes and continue walking

Kuroo is totally waiting for you at the entrance to the gym

"YN I'm so glad you get to be with us! You're so small! Like a pocket sized YN"- Lev, blazing past Kuroo to hug you

"Lev istg don't you dare ruin this for us!"- Yaku, now kicking Lev

"Sorry in advance YN"- Kenma walking past you to the gym, eyes on his phone

"Kenma! Knock it off!"- Kuroo

Kai is just standing there like 🤦‍♂️ and they wonder why we don't have a manager 🙄

Shibayama, Inouka and Fukunaga are pretty chill

Sure they are excited but like they know how Nekoma is

Notice how I purposely left someone out 🙃

Yamamoto had promised Tanaka and Noya he will guard you with his life

Please it's actually the same has having Tanaka and Noya

Suna and Ginjima walk past you and say hi

Yamamoto freaks out

"You shouldn't even be BREATHING the same air as YN"- Yamamoto

Please smack him yn 🤚🏻👦

"Yamamoto shut up"- you, walking away

Please he would totally be in love with you because you touched him and scolded him 😫

He's literally Tanaka and Noya in this situations 👇🏻

I couldn't find the gif 😫😫😫

Honestly I feel like Nekoma would probably be the team to take your advice to heart

"Lev, don't spread your arms out when you block"- you, sweetly say

"Ok YN!!! I wont"- Lev 😍

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT!"- Kuroo and Yaku say at the same time

You are also excellent at encouraging the man known as Kenma

"Hey Kenma, can you show me that cool A-pass thing? It looks like a move from a video game!"- You, smiling 😃

Kenma 👉🏻👁👄👁 I absolutely can-

Kuroo is kind of jealous of you but also like hella impressed 🤣

When Shibayama steps into sub for Yaku, you shout even louder, encouraging him to do a good job

"Geez YN you didn't shout that loud for me?"- Yaku, pouty

"Yes she did! You probably just didn't hear her because you are so short Yaku"- Lev

Yaku 👇🏻

"Yaku bby I'll make sure to scream extra loud for you next time"- You

"HEY WHY DIDNT I GET A NICKNAME YN??"- Atsumu screams from across the gym

"YN I WANT A NICKNAME"- Bokuto also screams

"SEE WHAT TROUBLE YOU'RE CAUSING YN"- Daichi, smirking

"You said just last night again how much you miss YN calling you 'sweetheart'"- Asahi, pointing out the obvious

"You miss me Daichi?"- you 🥺

"I miss you more YN!"- Oikawa

Iwa Please 🤚🏻

"IWA-CHAN!"- Oikawa now laying on the floor

This camp is going so well 😃

After a restful night sleep, you tackle your final team of camp

the SHIRATORIZAWA 👏🏻 👏🏻 👏🏻 👏🏻 👏🏻

Please, the least chaotic of the teams

"At least it's an easy day" you think to yourself after your leave the bathroom

Whoa whoa there YN 🤚🏻 I never said it was going to be easy

"YNNNNN"- Tendou screams, barreling at you

"Geez Tendou, we haven't even had Yn for .02 seconds as our manager chill out!"- Semi, already exhausted

"Hello YN"- Ushijima 😐

Please you know Hinata is just staring in the corner 😳

"Yoohooo YN-Chan good morning!! I bet you wish you could be our manager again?"- Oikawa, Iwaizumi at his heels

"If you would have come to Shiratorizawa, YN could have been your manager again"- Ushijima

Oikawa 👉🏻👁👄👁

Please YN get control 😃

"Alright let's go!"- you ushering everyone to the gym

"YN come watch me do liners!"- Goshiki, a bubbly boi

"YN is helping the team not just watching you"- Shirabu

Goshiki deflates

"I'd love to watch you do line shots Goshiki! And Shirabu I heard your pretty good at setter dumps as well"- you

Shirabu totally blushes and Tendou is like 🖐🏻👁⭕️👁🖐🏻

"Shirabu's not better at setter dumps than I am right YN?"- Kageyama now intervening

"I'm way better than you are Tobio"- Oikawa

You 👉🏻😐 🚶‍♀️

Just walk away YN it's better this way

When Shiratorizawa is playing against Fukurodani, Ushijima hits a wicked kill making a loud bang on the floor

"Wakatoshi that was amazing!!"- you beaming with joy

Ushijima just smiles at you 🙂

Please everyone is stunned 😲

Bokuto is now fired up because he saw how you praised Ushijima

Bokuto 👉🏻 🔥 👄 🔥

When Tendou is able to block, you lose your mind screaming

Kuroo is definitely jealous 💅🏼

He's totally muttering to himself

Readblockingissomuchbetterthanguessblocking- kuroo

When Semi is up to serve, he scores a service ace, sending you screaming yet again

Suga is SO jealous 🤣

"Whats that guy got that I dont"- Suga

"Is someone jealous 🙃🙃"- Daichi, rubbing it in

"I think YN should just be our Manager"- Kawanishi

"I'll admit YN is very efficent"- Ushijima 😐

"Over our dead body will you get YN!"- Tanaka and Noya

Please smack them

"Guys, I'm sorry but I'm devoted to Karasuno"- You, smiling sweetly 😊

Please you made them all so sad YN

But luckily I have something to cheer everyone up!!

That's right, the boys are getting a BBQ!!!

But wait 🤚🏻

That's for the boys mainly right??

"I'd like to say a special thank you to the managers of our training camp! They have worked so hard these past few days. As a reward, you ladies will have the entire night off!"- Coach Nekomata

"Yay that means YN can hang out with us!"- Tanaka, Noya and Yamamoto

🎆No🎆 -you 🤗

Tanaka, Noya and Yamamoto 👉🏻😭😭😭

"Ohhh I know!! Let's have a sleepover!"- Yukie

"YES!!!"- Kiyoko, Yachi, Kaori and you scream in excitement

Please these boys hear the words "sleep" and "over" combined and they are automatically intrigued

"Sleepover you say"- Atsumu 😏

"As in all the girls in one room"- Oikawa 🤤

You just stare at them 😐

"NO BOYS ALLOWED"- You yell as you, Kiyoko, Yachi, Yukie and Kaori skip away

Sure YN, whatever you say 🙃🙃🙃

[honeybunchesofbucky]

A Hard Days Work

SamBucky x F!Reader - hurt comfort/fluff

Warnings: mention of small injuries, exhaustion, not quite fainting but close to it, anxiety, and loads of kisses and sweetness. A good old fashioned whump.

After a hard day on the field leaves you exhausted, your boyfriends Sam and Bucky take care of you.

To say you were exhausted would be an understatement. The mission was brutal. The enemy had more backup than your team thought and something simple turned into an absolute blood bath of fighting with all you physically could. Your team consisted of you, Thor, and your partners, Sam and Bucky. The four of you defeated the enemy, but the toll it took on your body was outrageous. You could barely remember the last punch you threw, decking the man on the field before you collapsed to the grass beneath you. Though all four of you were beat, Bucky was a super soldier, Sam was in the air for a lot of the fight shooting from above, and Thor wasn’t your average person. You took care of most of the combat and your teammates were well aware. Luckily no one sustained any major injuries, besides a few bruised ribs and a couple cuts. Now you were sat in one of the seats on the Quinjet, barely hanging onto consciousness.

“Y/N? Can you hear me?” One of your boyfriends, Bucky asked. You could feel his cool metal hand brush a speck of mud from your dirty face. You nodded, unable to find the energy to speak. “We’re almost home, baby. Hang on.” Bucky shared a worried look at Sam, who was sat in the other seat next to you.

Once the jet had landed, Bucky and Sam hooked their arms around you and helped walk you down the ramp.

“Good job, today Y/N.” Thor smiled at you.

You gave him a weak smile back and groaned as Bucky lifted you bridal style. “I’m sorry, honey. We’ll be inside in a minute.”

Sam held the door for Bucky and the two men kicked off their dirty combat boots before setting you carefully down on your feet. You could barely feel your shaking legs as you hung onto Sam. Bucky slowly started to undress you, unzipping your suit and working to get the weapons and safety gear off.

“I gotcha.” Sam whispered in your ear, his strong arms wrapped around your waist as you fought to stay awake. “Stay with us, beautiful. We’ll be in bed soon.” His soft voice was like honey to your tired ears, a weak smile forming on your lips.

“I’ll get the shower started. She should have something to drink.” Bucky was focused, his mind in tactical survival mode. Sam knew he got like this when you or him were banged up or tired after missions. It was his way of coping, keeping control over things he could.

“I’ll get her a gatorade, honey,” Sam reassured, watching Bucky’s nervous eyes look at you before he walked to the bathroom.

“You drink some too,” Bucky said, giving Sam a stern look before entering the room.

“Yes, sergeant.” Sam chuckled, helping you sit on the bench at the end of the bed. “Hang tight, okay?” When you nodded, he walked to the fridge and grabbed three drinks, one for Bucky too. He often times forgot about his own care when it came to you and Sam.

You felt your head swim, the ache burning every single muscle in your body as you gripped the bench, fighting to stay awake. The adrenaline had fully worn off and you were in that drop point where everything felt awful and all you wanted was to pass out. You almost gave in before you felt two hands on your exposed thighs, one cool and one warm. “Gotta stay awake, sweetheart.” Bucky felt his heart squeeze when you let out the saddest sigh. He knew this feeling all too well from his Winter Soldier days. After being sent to act as a machine, coming back and feeling like every fiber in your body hurt and your mind was toast after concentrating so hard. He hated seeing you like this.

“I just want to sleep.” You whined, resting your forehead on his bare shoulder. It was hard not to crumble right there and then. No one would blame you either.

“I know honey, I know.” Bucky swallowed back tears, biting his lip before Sam walked in.

“Here.” Sam handed Bucky one of the chilled bottles before cracking one open for him.

“I’m fine, Sam.” He tried to hand the open one to his lover, which he refused.

“Bucky, drink some. You need to take care of yourself too.” Sam raised an eyebrow when Bucky rolled his eyes, taking a generous sip of the liquid before he turned his attention back to you.

“Here, babe.” Sam handed you the bottle and you sighed. Your hand was trembling from the strain of holding your gun, the vibration still echoing through your bones. He wrapped his hand around yours and helped bring it to your lips.

“Go slow.” Bucky rubbed circles on your thighs with his thumbs, watching as you took a few small sips. When you started to cough his body tensed, his hand grabbing your shoulder. “Hey, easy, easy.” You let your head rest on Sam’s shoulder, trying to focus on Bucky’s hands.

“Come on, let’s get into the shower.” Bucky helped you and Sam up, all three of you walking to the large bathroom. Sam stripped the rest of his clothes while Bucky checked the water temperature. He stepped into the steamy glass doored shower and lifted you in, Sam following. All three of you let out a sigh of content when the hot water hit you. The shower had multiple heads, one for each of you.

You grabbed onto the shower wall and swallowed thickly. The heat went straight to your head and you felt the dizziness return. “Baby, hey,” Sam wrapped his arms around your waist again and held you up, pressing his lips against your forehead. “Talk to me.”

“So dizzy.” You grabbed onto his shoulders and sucked in a breath when the hot water hit your bruised ribs.

“We’ll be quick, doll,” Bucky said from behind you, grabbing one of the sponges and pouring some soap onto it. He carefully ran it over your back and down your sides, taking the blood and grime off. You hated not being able to take care of yourself. Usually, it wasn’t this bad, but you were grateful for your partners help. He planted a kiss on your shoulder as Sam reached over to grab your shampoo, gently working it into your hair. You let out a breathy moan when his fingertips massaged your scalp. The smell and their touch was grounding, it helped you feel human again.

After all three of you were scrubbed free of the aftermath of the mission, Bucky took over for Sam and held you flush to his chest, his arms tight around you as he kissed the skin under your ear. “You did amazing today, doll. Absolutely kicked ass, I’m proud of you.” He helped you step out of the shower and smiled when Sam handed him a fluffy towel and wrapped it around you.

“C’mere, gorgeous.” Sam lifted you up and set you on the cool countertop off the vanity, grabbing the first aid kit from under the sink.

“Great, my favorite part.” You sighed, leaning your head back against the wall as he got out the bottle of alcohol and antibiotic ointment.

“Sorry, doll.” Bucky walked over to you, planting a kiss on your cheek as he pulled off your towel, his eyes scanning over your body. “You didn’t get too beat up.”

“Yay.” You sneered, smiling when he chuckled. You had to have humor in this job, especially on days like these when all three of you saw so much destruction.

“Alright, you know the routine. Sorry about the sting.” Sam poured some of the strong smelling liquid onto a gauze pad and pressed it onto one of the larger cuts on your arm, his heart breaking when you hissed, biting your lip. “I’m sorry, honey.” Sam took the pad off and wrapped a bandage around your bicep.

You felt the dizziness hit again as he worked, your mouth going dry and your stomach flipping. You heard the ringing in your ears before Bucky’s muffled voice shouted. “Y/N!” He grabbed your shoulders, holding you up. His metal hand found your cheek, his worried blue eyes searching yours as they threatened to roll back. “Hey, stay with me. Doll, eyes on me.” He tapped your cheek gently. “Don’t pass out on me, now.”

He let out a small breath when you locked eyes with him, giving a gentle nod. You could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he picked you up bridal style, carrying you to the bed. He helped you lay back against a few propped up pillows.

Sam grabbed one of his shirts and a pair of panties for you, along with the massage gun they’d invested in. “Alright, everyone on the bed.” He sat next to you and Bucky climbed up to sit on the other side of you, the routine known to everyone. He helped you slide the shirt on and you shimmied the panties on.

“I hate to say this, but this is gonna suck, honey.” Sam sighed. It was essential to helping you feel better in the morning, less achey, but when the muscles were sore like this right after, it was painful. You knew it would be ten fold because of how hard you worked, you’d never felt like this before.

“I know.” You sighed, leaning your head back against the pillows. “Go ahead. I’ll be okay.”

Bucky’s eyes were still laced with worry, his brow furrowed with concern. He grabbed your hand and watched as Sam turned on the machine and carefully ran it along your thigh muscle. You bit down on your lip and screwed your eyes shut, trying not to squirm.

“I’m sorry.” Sam placed a soft kiss on your shoulder, running the gun up and down your thigh, targeting different muscles. He knew how bad this could hurt. You all did.

After he got done with both legs and your feet, he moved to your shoulders, helping you sit up and face Bucky as he pulled the shirt out of the way. “Deep breath,” He instructed, switching the attachment of the gun.

You did as he told you, toying with the hem of your shirt to distract yourself. Bucky let you rest your forehead on his bare shoulder. As the machine hit your trap muscles, you nearly screamed. That was where all your tension was, especially with holding a gun for five hours.

“I got you.” Bucky grabbed your forearms and kissed your temple, his heart breaking. “It’s okay, just a few more minutes.” But a few minutes felt like forever, and when Sam moved to the other side of your dominant arm, you sunk your fingertips into Bucky’s leg and felt hot tears stream down your cheeks. “Stop!” You sucked in a sharp breath. “Please, stop!” You were sobbing at this point, everything hitting you at once.

“Okay, okay, doll. Hang on.” Bucky felt panic rise in his chest.

Sam immediately turned it off and tossed it to the side, his hands finding your waist in an instant. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s okay, you’re done.” He shared a heartbroken look with Bucky and kissed the back of your neck.

“I can’t, I can’t.” You crumbled, wrapping your arms around Bucky’s neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Doll, it’s okay. You can relax now. Okay? You’re done, its okay. We got you. Shh. Breathe for us.” Bucky’s hand found the back of your neck, holding your close as they both soothed you.

Once you had slowed your sobs and calmed down, you pulled back and wiped your bloodshot eyes. “Thank you guys.” You felt embarrassment bring heat to your cheeks.

“You don’t need to thank us, honey. We love you, and you handled eighty percent of that mission today. Let us take care of you.” Sam smiled when you turned and hugged him, his warm muscular arms wrapping around your waist. “We got you.”

Bucky smiled through his worry, his eyes softening at the sight of you and Sam. He loved you both so much, and anytime either of you were upset or hurt, it killed him. He had finally gotten the love he’d always dreamed of, and he was terrified of loosing it.

“Can I sleep now?” You chuckled sadly, pulling away and sniffling.

Sam’s bottom lip caught between his teeth when he saw Bucky’s expression. He knew that look all too well. “Yeah, you can. But you gotta drink the rest of this.” He grabbed the half full bottle of gatorade from earlier and handed it to you.

“Deal.” You sighed, taking sips of the orange liquid.

“Alright, mister. Come here.” Sam patted the space between his legs.

Bucky hesitated, “No, Sam you should go next. I’ll use it on you.”

“Ah-ah. Here, now. Captain’s orders.” He smirked, knowing neither of you could resist that.

“Damn it.” Bucky chuckled, looking over at you as you smirked, nodding to Sam. He crawled over the bedspread and sat between Sam’s thighs, letting out a heavy breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He grabbed your feet and put them in his lap, needing to feel you close to him.

“Don’t be a tough guy, either. You tell me if you need to stop,” Sam warned, turning on the gun and carefully running it over his flesh shoulder. Bucky grunted, squeezing your ankle as he got used to the feeling. He ran the vibrating gun along each shoulder, easing the pressure when Bucky winced. When he was done, he dropped the gun to the side and kissed between his shoulder blades. “You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

Bucky sighed, relishing in the feeling of Sam’s kiss before he spoke. “Yeah, yeah. Now switch, it’s your turn. Sergeants orders.” He smiled.

“Oh shit, you better listen, Sam.” You teased, smiling at them through tired eyes.

“Don’t start.” Sam chuckled, pointing a finger at you as he switched spots with Bucky, placing your legs over his lap now. He was the only one out of you who didn’t mind the feeling; in fact he sometimes enjoyed it, especially with the weight of his wings, he got soreness in his back.

Bucky turned the gun on and ran it over the sides of his spine, squeezing his shoulder when he tensed at first. “Relax, bird.”

“I love you, boys.” You sighed dreamily, looking at the two gorgeous men in front of you. They were so good to you, and you always felt so lucky to have them in your life.

They both looked at you and smiled, Sam’s smile was warm and genuine, his hand finding yours and squeezing it. While Bucky’s was pure genuine joy, a hint of disbelief in his eyes. Sam and You told him every day, but it still made his chest warm when either of you said it at random times like this.

When they were both done and had finished drinking some more of their water and gatorade, occasionally making you drink more too, you were all sprawled out on the bed, aching bodies sinking into the mattress as you stared at the ceiling. You swallowed, glancing at both of them before you felt the anxiety creep in. It always happened before you went to sleep after a hard mission. The need to hold them close. So you grabbed Sam and wrapped yourself around him, burying your face into his neck. He smiled, wrapping his arms around you and reaching over to tug Bucky’s shirt, pulling him over. He pressed his warm chest to your back, throwing his flesh arm around you and burying his face into your hair, inhaling the smell of your shampoo. He pulled the comforter up over all three of you and let out a sigh. You were all safe. Everything felt okay.

Bonus:

When you had fallen asleep, Sam opened his eyes to meet Bucky’s. The soldier was still in his head, working through his worries and fears as he watched you two. Sam reached over you carefully and cupped his bruised cheek, running his thumb across the bone. “We’re okay, Buck. We’re safe, everyones okay. You can relax.”

Bucky’s eyes watered as he looked at Sam, giving him a nod before kissing his palm. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Buck. You can rest now, you took care of us. We’re okay.” He gave him a reassuring smile and felt his chest warm when Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut, the man finally resting after today.

And all three of you finally slept. A well earned one at that.

[evenmywordsare]

well now that it’s been 24 hours, here are my personal thoughts on chapter two. spoilers obviously!

so susie might be one of my favourite characters in all media now? i don’t even have the words. i would kill for her. i love her and her faces and her enthusiasm and her awkwardness and. how she took an interest in healing magic but still fires it off in a badass way. i just love her SO much

everything about noelle. what a sweetpea i LOVE her i can’t even put it into words either. she is so brave. also when she strangled berdly

SUSIE AND RALSEI BROTP RISE UP. they are the cutest friends omfg. i’m obsessed

also susie and kris brotp continues to be top tier

ralsei is super weird though. he is a sweetheart but he is 100% hiding something. HOW DOES HE KNOW ABOUT THE SUPPLY CLOSET. WHY DIDN’T HE TURN TO STONE LIKE ROUXLS AND LANCER. WHY DID NOELLE AND BERDLY AND QUEEN SEEM TO BARELY PERCEIVE HIM. WHAT WAS WITH THAT WIERD CONVERSATION AFTER THE SPAMTON FIGHT. IS HE EVEN A DARKNER. WHO IS HE

loved his suit with the lil bowtie though that was so cute

im not sure if ralsei has a uh. crush on kris. or if he’s just so completely unused to affection of any kind. i’d lean toward the latter which makes me so sad. who hurt him

SUSIE AND NOELLE SUSIE AND NOELLE!! oh they were so cute help me

they should have told noelle the truth though :/ it’s too bad susie panicked

QUEEN was delightful and super funny and so fun and i’m sincerely glad she stuck around. absolutely love her

i can’t perceive her as lancer’s actual mother. like i saw it coming within the first minute of meeting her with the colour scheme and the name but it doesn’t fit for me, nor do i want to for a single second think about her being in a relationship with the sp*de k*ng

i don’t care for any sp*de k*ng woobifying btw. fuck that guy

i was not expecting antagonist berdly but ngl i kinda loved it. i love how the dark world immediately went to his head it was perfect. he’s AWFUL but in a hysterical and entertaining way. he’s a great parody of a character and i genuinely enjoyed his presence and role in the game

i just love that trope where the protagonist’s bully or rival gets powers equivalent to theirs and then lets the power go to their head and goes way too far with it and i could see some of that with berdly. i almost wish toby had pushed it a bit further with that

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH SPAMTON. what was with the obvious mettaton in the basement and spamton’s boss music having the mad dummy and power of neo and mettaton and jevil motifs. and the yellow soul mode. WHAT WAS WITH SEAM’S COMMENTARY ABOUT HIM. IMPORTANT TO A CERTAIN LIGHTNER ONCE? METTATON? HELLO? what is the timeline here. i am going insane

asriel’s computer shows game development with a final boss that has rainbow wings. the dark world in this chapter was in a computer, meaning that mettaton body must have come from the internet. is it possible that asriel is making undertale…? i have no clue what’s happening ignore me

not knowing the exact connection between undertale and deltarune is going to kill me

anyway i got lucky and somehow survived spamton on the first try but what an insane battle

toriel and sans besties content :) they are besties in any universe!

what were snowy and monster kid talking about by the weird door……… the way they directly mentioned kris too…. did kris come from there?

more confirmation that other humans exist in this world, just not in hometown, is interesting.

so what i’m understanding is that dess died (hence noelle freezing up at the word “december” during the spelling bee) and that potentially cop asg*re killed her (hence the rift between the two families, asg*re not seeing rudy in person, the divorce, asg*re getting kicked off the force) anyway acab

i continue to h*te delatrune undyne. toby how could you do my all time favourite ut character like this. disgusting

TORIEL AND SUSIE 😭 oh my god. their interactions were super important to me. they made a pie and it nearly brought me to tears

susie’s expression and walk animation in kris’ house is 🥺

based on her reactions to the room ralsei made for her and kris’ house and the way toriel treated her, susie definitely does not have a room or a house or (nice) parents. maybe toriel could adopt her

toriel’s pyjamas

has kris been the knight this whole time? i’m still a kris defender and i will never call them evil but i am just wondering

also we all agree they were the one to slash toriel’s tires right? obviously they don’t want toriel to leave… but they also opened the door. to let the darkness out? will the whole town be covered in darkness? dark world toriel, undyne???

with the utmost love and respect i did not vibe with the cyber setting as much as the original dark world setting. still lots of fun of course though and loved the amount of care and detail that went into it but i won’t miss it. it didn’t feel very “deltarune” to me especially in the beginning with those objecthead robots, or at the end with the punch out boss fight. but that’s just down to my personal preference

i LOVED the enemies- tasques, werewires, poppups, maice etc. so creative and interesting!

the recruitment mechanic is great and gives so much more purpose to the enemy encounters

the new music is soooo good. slaps as always mr fox

i haven’t done the no mercy route yet.. i don’t think anything is worth doing horrible things to noelle so i’ll have to see if people say it’s worth it (i’m someone who really enjoys the ut no mercy route for the boss fights so i AM interested but. noelle. yikes lol)

overall i really enjoyed it for the music and characters!

[venatorfemella]

No Vacancy

Dean Winchester has had a full day of flying - which he hates - to get to a destination he’d rather ignore.

Castiel Novak has had a long week at a work conference and is just ready to fly back home.

Both men, exhausted, have an unpleasant first meeting that lasts longer than either of them wanted.

Also Here on Ao3

---

Dean downed the last few drinks of whiskey before rushing through the terminal to the gate. He was out of breath when he got there, but smiled and winked at the attendant scanning his boarding pass. The attendant smiled back, but not without rolling his eyes.

Dean shrugged at him and entered the jetway feeling pretty loose. As he got closer to the plane, though, his heart rate sped up and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He told himself to stop being such a sissy and get a grip.

He found his row in the middle of the plane, only a pretty little thing sitting in the aisle seat. He’d finally get to stretch out instead of being crammed into yet another middle seat - there really was a god.

“‘scuse me, miss.” The woman moved to let Dean into the row. Dean dropped into the window seat and pulled up the shade to look out. He’d absolutely close it once they started moving, but for now, it helped him feel less trapped. The airport workers on the tarmac were struggling to get all of the luggage into the next plane over, entertaining Dean more and more as his whiskey sunk in.

———

“Wait! Wait, I’m here!”

The flight attendant looked up to see a dark-haired man in a trench coat running toward him at the gate.

“Please tell me I can still board!”

“I don’t know, sir. They were just about to close the doors, but I’ll check.”

Castiel tried to catch his breath as the attendant picked up the phone to call the plane. He prayed to any god that would listen that he wouldn’t miss this flight - was there a saint of airplane travel?

“Well, sir, it’s your lucky day.”

Castiel gave the man the most grateful smile he could muster and handed him his boarding pass to scan.

He shuffled down the plane to his row, only to find his window seat taken. He looked at his ticket, then checked the seat number. Yes, there was a man sitting in his seat.

“Excuse me, you’re in my seat.” Castiel was polite, raising his voice only a little to make sure the man would hear him.

Dean looked up and saw pretty blue eyes staring at him. He grinned.

“You can still sit here, I don’t mind sharin.”

Castiel cocked his head, confused for a moment before rolling his eyes.

“Please move.”

“Aw come on, sunshine,” Dean stretched, “I’ve had a long day of middle seats - let me have this window.” Dean winked at him.

Castiel, feeling the opposite of charmed, frowned and furrowed his brow.

“Move.”

“Ugh,” Dean scowled and got up. The woman from the aisle seat was already impatiently waiting in the aisle. Dean shoved against Castiel’s shoulder with his own as he exited the row. “Oops. Sorry.”

Castiel glared at him, but said nothing while he slid in to take his seat and buckle up. Dean dropped down into the seat next to him, yanking his own seatbelt to get it fastened while grumbling under his breath. Castiel could smell the whiskey.

“Ah, that explains it.” Castiel quipped.

“Explains what?” Dean sneered back.

“Maybe you’d be less vile if you hadn’t drank a liquor store before getting on the plane.”

“What did you just say to-“ Dean started to say as he twisted toward the man.

“Ladies and Gentleman, thank you for choosing us as your airline today. Please be sure to have your seats in the upright position, and any of your belongings in the overhead bins or underneath your seat. Soon we’ll also ask you to shut off your electronic devices, or set them to airplane mode.”

Castiel sighed and closed his eyes, resting his temple against the wall.

“What did you just say to me, dick?”

Castiel opened his eyes, but didn’t move. “Nothing.”

Dean let out a humorless laugh. “You suit-and-tie assholes are all the same.”

“Yes, and drunks are all the same as well.”

Dean turned hot and twisted toward Castiel again.

“Ow!” The woman in the aisle seat squeaked. Dean turned back to see he’d bumped her elbow.

“Aw darlin, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just, can we all relax and get through this flight?”

“Well, sure thing, sweetheart. I’m already feelin more relaxed sittin next to you here.”

Castiel couldn’t contain his laugh.

“Okay fucker, that’s it.” Dean unclasped his seatbelt and started to stand.

“Ladies and gentleman, we are sorry to report that there are mechanical problems that must be fixed before this plane can fly. We will need to deplane and everyone will get put on new flights to your destination. Please be patient and listen for announcements in the terminal.”

“Son of bitch!” Dean yelled from his half-standing position. He sunk back down into his seat, defeated.

Castiel sighed and stared at the seatback in front of him. Both men sat in silence, waiting for their turn to exit the plane.

———

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Dean said again to the woman at the airline counter.

“Again, I’m very sorry, sir. Tomorrow is the soonest flight we can get you on.”

“What am I supposed to do tonight? You expect me to just sit here for 12 hours?”

“You are welcome to stay here in the terminal, or here is a list of nearby accommodations that may have availability.”

“Lady, I saw the line I just waited through, pretty sure there’s no vacancies at this point.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Maybe try the nearby hostels here at the bottom? Those usually don’t fill up as quick.”

Dean sighed and took the paper over to an empty spot against the wall. He looked around the terminal, weighing his options. He could try to stay in the terminal, but apparently bad weather in the Northeast grounded some flights and people were everywhere.

Dean shook his head and started making calls on his flip phone. After the first couple hotels were either full or way out of his price range, he finally went to the bottom of the list and called a couple hostels.

“We are actually mostly full, buttt…” Dean sat on the floor in the middle of the airport as he listened to what sounded like a teenage boy humm and tap on a keyboard.

“Yeah so no single rooms available, but looks like we have one spot in a double shared room. So if you’re okay with sharing…”

“Wait, like one bed for two people?” Dean had stayed in many crummy motels in his life, but never at a hostel so he had no idea how they worked.

“Ha, no dude. It’s two single beds in a room.”

Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. A toddler had been having a fit in the terminal for going on 30 minutes. Dean could feel a headache creeping up, especially with the last bit of alcohol leaving his system.

“Fine, yeah, I’ll take it.”

———

Dean checked in at the hostel front desk and got his room key. Music was blaring from a bar on the first level and several young people were milling around, making Dean feel ancient in comparison.

He went up the elevator and through a few halls before finally getting to his room. But his key wouldn’t work. Because of course his key wouldn’t work. He tried it several times, jiggling it this way and that to no avail. He leaned his forehead against the door, eyes closed, and whined out loud to himself.

Or so he thought.

The door opened and Dean fell forward into the man who opened it. The man held out his hands to help steady Dean as he stood up straight.

“Hey, sorry to wake ya man, my key just -“ Dean looked up into familiar blue eyes. “You gotta be shittin me.”

“Wonderful.” Castiel sighed as he walked back into the room, leaving Dean at the open door. “Close the door, please, it took forever for the room to get warm.”

Dean walked in, roughly shutting and locking the door. “Perfect end to a perfect day.”

“Listen, I’m exhausted, you’re exhausted. We’re here to sleep, so let’s just sleep and leave each other alone.”

“Fine by me.”

Castiel got back into his twin bed and turned away from Dean, facing the wall. Dean examined his bed and surroundings. Satisfied there weren’t any biohazards around - none he hadn’t survived before at least - he undressed down to his t-shirt and boxers and lay down. A groan escaped his lips as he was finally able to stretch out.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been laying there before he felt a drip. Then another drip, then faster drips. He finally woke up enough to connect that something wet - please god let it be water - was dripping on him in bed. He jumped out and turned the lights on.

“Unbelievable!”

“What are you doing?” Castiel grumbled.

“There’s a leak. Because of course there’s a leak.”

“A what?” Castiel sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the light before seeing the trickling stream of water dripping onto the middle of Dean’s bed.

“I’ll be back.” And with that, Dean left the room.

———

The slamming door woke Castiel. He’d tried to stay awake until Dean got back, but ended up falling asleep sitting up.

Dean sat down on the foot of his bed, away from the drip, and roughly raked his fingers through his hair.

“So?”

Dean jerked his head up, but instead of looking angry, he simply looked wrung out.

“So. There are no other rooms. They put a ticket in about the leak, but no one will be out til the morning to fix it. So. I’m fucked.”

Castiel couldn’t help but feel bad for the man. He didn’t know how much better he’d be holding up if it was his bed under the leak. That gave him an idea.

“Why don’t you move the bed?”

Dean looked at him like he was crazy. “Where? You see the size of this room right?”

Castiel stood up, and looked at the room, sizing things up. He paused and thought before presenting his suggestion.

“Just move it to the center.”

“The center?”

“Yeah it should get it out of the way of the leak.”

Dean stood up next to Castiel and looked at the room. He was right, but-

“Dude that puts the bed right up against yours.”

“I’m aware. Look, I’m not thrilled either, but it’s that or the floor. I’m going to bed.”

Castiel got back into his bed and faced the wall again. Dean looked at the floor, then his bed, then Castiel’s back.

There was no option. Dean was not going to sleep on this floor.

The frame scraped on the floor as Dean pushed and pulled it over to the center of the room. He laid down and looked over at his sleeping roommate. It wasn’t so bad. I mean, it wasn’t that many hours ago that he wanted to get up close and personal to him after looking into his baby blues. Felt like an eternity ago, though.

What a long day. Three flights, middle seats, layovers, drinking to ease his nerves, drinking to bury any thought of what he was journeying toward.

But the drinks were long gone and now he lay in a dark, musty room with the faint sounds of dance music coming up through the floor, and the soft breathing of a stranger sleeping next to him.

Bobby was gone. Dean would never see him again. Never be able to call him with a question about a car or for updates on family friends or stories about his long gone parents.

His second dad was gone.

Dean didn’t even realize he was crying until a sob escaped. He tried to stifle the rest.

“Are you okay?” The man next him asked, voice deep with sleep.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Dean quickly wiped the moisture from his cheeks, as if that would hide the sounds that already gave him away. He heard shuffling next to him.

“You’re not. What’s wrong?” The man’s voice was clearer and a little closer now that he wasn’t facing the wall.

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Why do you care? We’re strangers. It’s fine man, go to sleep.”

There was a brief moment of silence and Dean thought the man had taken his advice.

“I’m Castiel. Novak. What’s your name?”

Dean turned his head toward Castiel’s voice. “Uh, Dean. Dean Winchester? Why?”

Castiel shrugged in the dark. “We’re not strangers anymore. Will you tell me what’s wrong now?”

Dean smiled. He had to give it to the guy. Clever.

“Eh. Just life. And death, I guess.”

“Death?”

Dean didn’t know why he was still talking to this jackass, but he was tired and it felt a bit like confession. A dark room where he didn’t have to look anyone in the eyes while he talked.

“My Uncle. He died. It’s uh, why I’m flying. His funeral.”

“I’m so sorry. I take it you were close?”

“Yeah, you could say that. He was like a second dad, I guess. Especially after my dad died.”

“That’s so hard. I’m glad you had someone to spend time with after your dad.”

Dean fell quiet at that. Thinking of all the times he probably could have traveled back to spend more time with Bobby, but didn’t.

“I’m sorry, I’m prying. It’s in my nature, and I forget sometimes that it’s not always appropriate.”

“No, it’s. It’s fine. It’s been a bit since I’ve seen him is all. I hate flying, and you know, a ton of other bullshit excuses. It’s been awhile.”

“You hate flying?”

“It’s unnatural, man! A giant metal tube that weighs, I-don’t-even-know-how-much, shouldn’t be in the sky.”

“Oh, so you have a phobia.”

Dean sighed. He hated that he had a fear of anything. “Yeah. I guess.”

“You really loved him - you’re pushing through your fear to get to his funeral. He knew that you loved him too.”

Dean turned onto his side, mirroring Castiel’s position. “How would you know?”

“Parents know. It’s normal to feel like you didn’t see them enough when they die, Dean. But parents know their children love them.”

Dean swallowed to fight back more tears as he thought about Bobby as his parent. And hoped that what this man said was true, that Bobby knew how much he meant to him. He cleared his throat.

“So uh, what about you, what are you flyin the friendly skies for?”

“I’m heading home actually. Was at a conference for work.”

“And what does Catstiel - Casteel? Do for work?

Castiel chuckled, “it’s Cas-ti-el. And I’ll tell you, but don’t panic.”

“What? Are you a contract killer or somethin?”

Castiel smiled. “Mmm. Much worse. I’m a Psychiatrist.”

Dean lifted his head from the pillow, his mouth opened but no words came. A laugh burst out instead.

“So you been shrinkin my head this whole time? That’s slick, doc.”

“Thanks for the compliment? I think? But no, I haven’t been analyzing you. We’re just talking. I’m a normal person.”

“Well if your attitude on the plane earlier is any indicator then yes, you’re a normal person.”

“MY attitude? You’re the one that tried to charm me out of my seat and then turned aggressive when I didn’t acquiesce.”

Castiel’s calm, playful tone took Dean off guard, keeping this from turning into an actual argument.

“Well, you’re the one who resorted to name-calling.”

“I did not.”

“Dude, you basically called me a drunk.”

“Were you drunk?

“That’s besides the point.”

“Well, I apologize for calling you a drunk. I should have been more specific in my statement.”

Dean chuckled and sighed. He felt just a little lighter than a few minutes ago. It was a nice reprieve.

“So you thought I was charming, huh?”

Castiel rolled his eyes and a yawn overtook him unexpectedly.

Dean sighed. “Yeah we should get back to sleep.”

“You sure? We can talk more if you need, I don’t mind.” Castiel tried to stifle another yawn.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Um. Thanks for. Just. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Dean.” Castiel reached over and gently squeezed Dean’s shoulder before turning onto his back to sleep. “Good night.”

“Night, doc.”

———

Dean slowly stirred from sleep, feeling warm and safe. His face rested on a smooth shoulder as he breathed in the faint scent of cologne. The chin resting on the top of his head moved slightly, ruffling his hair and waking him fully.

His eyes opened wide as he remembered where he was - in a hostel with the good doctor. He was curled into the side of Castiel, who was laying on his back with his arm outstretched, serving as Dean’s pillow. Dean’s upper leg was slung over one of Castiel’s.

Dean slowly tipped his head up, hoping to find Castiel still asleep.

Those wide blue eyes were very much awake and looking back at him.

They both looked at each other in silence, neither moving a muscle. Dean swallowed and let out nervous laugh.

“Mornin, sunshine.”

“Good morning, Dean.”

Dean moved first to get off the poor man. “Sorry, man, didn’t mean to uh- yeah sorry.” He ran his fingers through his hair and walked over to put his clothes from yesterday back on.

Castiel shimmied across the second bed to get up and get dressed himself.

“No reason to apologize.”

“Alright, but uh, were you watching me sleep?”

Castiel’s cheeks turned pink. “What? No! I had just woken up like you, I swear!”

Dean chuckled. “Dude, I’m just messing with you.”

Both men startled when a loud knock came from the door. “Maintenance!”

“Guess it’s time to go - share a shuttle back to the airport?”

“I’d like that.” Castiel gave Dean the cutest smile that should not be allowed to come from a full grown man.

———

“Well, doc, guess this is it.” Dean stood up, hearing the announcement that his group was boarding now.

Castiel was put on a different flight, leaving an hour after Dean’s.

“Guess it is,” Castiel smiled. Dean thought he looked a little sad, but he was probably imagining that.

“Thanks for the, uh, chat. Have a good trip home.” Dean reached out and shook Castiel’s hand.

“Yes, you have a good trip as well. I mean.”

Dean smiled, “I know what you mean. Thank you.”

Dean turned away, and Castiel panicked, “Wait, Dean.”

Dean turned back, brow raised. “Yeah?”

Castiel pulled his wallet out and grabbed a business card, handing it to dean. Dean read it:

“Good things do happen.” Castiel Novak, MD Psychiatrist

“Damn, you must think I need a lot of help.” Dean half-joked with him.

Castiel’s eyes went wide. “No. Oh no no, um wait.” Castiel plucked the card from his hand. He looked around and then leaned over to a woman sitting nearby. “I’m sorry ma’am, do you have a pen I can borrow?” After digging in her purse for a moment, she handed a pen over to a very grateful Castiel.

Castiel wrote on the back of the card, hesitated, then wrote something else before handing the card back to Dean.

“That’s my personal number. Call me, I mean if you want. If you need someone to talk to about the funeral and everything. Not as a shrink. As a friend.” Castiel’s cheeks were pink once again.

Dean smiled and started to look down at the card when final boarding was called for his flight.

“Shit, Cas, I gotta go. I cannot miss this flight. Thanks again!” Dean ran for the gate.

Dean sat in his window seat - a seat he was sure to request as soon as he arrived at the airport that morning. The plane started to back away from the gate, so Dean searched his pocket for gum to chew during take-off. He felt Castiel’s business card and pulled it out.

He read the card again and then flipped it over to the back. A wide grin broke out on his face as he blushed at the scribbled numbers and note:

Call me  XX

———

It’d been a long week. Lots of shed tears, laughter, hugs, and paperwork. No one talks about the paperwork. Dean was exhausted but he’d made it through. Sammy ended up being able to take time away from his law firm, so having his baby brother there with him helped a lot.

It was Saturday morning, and Dean sat on the porch at Bobby’s house - now Dean’s house according to the will - drinking coffee to keep warm. He pulled out the business card that he’d kept in his pocket all week and dialed the scribbled number on the back.

One ring. Two Rings. Three.

“This is Dr. Novak.”

Dean smiled at hearing that familiar deep voice.

“Mornin, sunshine.”

One beat. Two beats. Three.

“Hello, Dean.”

[tlcwrites]

Two Hearts Make a Whole

Prompt: “Kiss me again, like you mean it.” Photo prompt below.

Summary: NYC Pride is for celebration, and occasionally, long-overdue revelations.

Word Count: 2,001

Tags/Content warnings: Marvel. Stucky. If you have a problem with it, there's the door. SFW. Slight TFATWS spoilers so read at your own risk. Platonic Reader. Two idiots in love. Technically canon-divergent because I'm still in my everyone-is-alive-and-in-this-timeline happy place that I will never ever leave fuck you very much Russo brothers but not AU. Found family. All the feels. Complete and total LGBTQ+ support. Lots of bad language words because #me. Un-beta'd.

Author’s Note: Okay so yes this is technically 4 weeks late for @autumnleaves1991-blog's Writer Wednesday weekly challenge. BUT, it was incredibly important to me to finish this one before Pride month is over. Made it by the skin of my teeth.

Happy Pride, y’all. If you’re out, you’re amazing. If you’re closeted, you’re amazing. However you identify is valid and important. Trans folx are LGBTQ+. Bisexuals are LGBTQ+. Ace folx are LGBTQ+. Anyone who identifies or thinks they may be as queer is LGBTQ+. All are welcome in the family. You have the right to choose your pronouns and we have the responsibility to use them. Live whatever your truth looks like to you and love each other. Love is love is love is love. If your family doesn’t accept you for you, I’m your mom now and I’ve got mom hugs available on demand. Homophobes and TERFS can fuck off and roll in poison ivy. Always punch Nazis. Pride shouldn't be limited to the month of June. And don’t you dare forget that Black and Brown trans women were the ones who rioted at Stonewall, and we owe everything to their bravery. Don’t forget that much of popular ‘gay’ culture was appropriated from Black women. And for more facts about Pride that you should absolutely know, Rawiyah Tariq (@ mammyisdead on Instagram) has a phenomenally good overview.

“Oh my god.” You gasp loudly. "Oh my GOD. Is that-"

“What?!” Instantly in First Avenger Protective Mode™️, Steve surveys the crowd, wishing he had an actual shield instead of the screen printed one on his shirt. “What is it?”

You gasp again, smacking Sam’s arm repeatedly. “OHMYGOD IT IS HOLY FUCK.”

“First; ow.” Now-Cap rubs his bicep. “Second; clue in the class before Steve has an aneurysm, please.”

Vibrating with excitement doesn’t begin to describe your current state. “HER ROYAL HIGHNESS MISS LEMON MERINGUE IS STANDING RIGHT FUCKING THERE.”

With the finesse of a shampoo commercial, Bucky's dark locks fly as he whips around. “What?!”

“RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE.” You abandon a relieved Sam and latch on to Bucky’s vibranium arm. “Oh my GOD I love her so fucking much.”

“She was robbed, absolutely fucking robbed,” he agrees, craning his neck to get a better view. “Divine Tension’s lip sync was shameful.”

Sam glances at Steve, who is slowly coming out of protector mode. “What the ever-loving hell are they talking about?”

“RuPaul’s Drag Race.” Nat flicks more confetti at both Cap-the-former and Cap-the-current. “They watch it every week.”

“Really, Steven, for a guy with enhanced super senses, you miss a lot.” Tony hefts a bedazzled Morgan higher on his back. The toddler, accompanied by Scott playing air-piano on the ground, sings along with the ABBA song being blasted at full volume through the street. Tony continues as if this is an everyday occurrence. “Why do you think both of your People disappear every Friday evening?”

Ears pink, Steve mumbles something.

“What?!” The only other one with hearing enhanced enough to hear a murmur over the cacophony of several thousand people belting out the chorus of ‘Dancing Queen’ at the top of their lungs, Bucky turns to stare at his friend. “You thought we were datin’?”

Steve’s blush extends down his neck.

You and Bucky stare at each other for a moment before you both collapse on each other, exploding into stomach clenching, thigh slapping laughter.

“I’m gonna guess that’s a ‘no’?” Clint confirms with Nat.

“Oh, a big ‘no’.” She watches affectionately as you and Bucky calm down enough to look at each other, breathe for a second, and both promptly dissolve into hysterics once more. “Like, the biggest ‘no’.”

Sam crossed his arms across his chest, his stoic stance so reminiscent of Steve it’s amusing (as well as a beautiful disparity to the sequined crop top he’s sporting. Oof, those abs.). “How do I not know about this?”

“Because you’re not a former super spy?” The usually-Black-but-today-Rainbow Widow tosses the last of her confetti at Tony, who spins a jubilant Morgan into it. “Or because you and that leggy barista from the lobby coffee shop are too busy playing hide-the-“

“-Baby Shark!” Morgan suddenly shrieks, flailing towards a guy on roller blades wearing a fin and tail (and not much else).

“Yeah,” Nat finishes with a smirk, “Hide-the-Baby Shark.”

Sam flips her a gesture that makes Clint laugh and Bruce sigh.

You and Bucky have finally managed to pull yourselves together. “Oh my god, Steven Grant,” you gasp, wiping tears from your eyes. “That’s the funniest fucking shit I’ve ever fucking heard.”

“Language!”

Steve glares at Tony. “One. Time. It was one. Time.”

Bucky slings his flesh arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Oh, punk. You may have perfect vision now, but sometimes you’re still as blind as you were before.”

Visiortn himself nods sagely. “Humans can be quite unperceptive when it comes to matters of the heart.” Vision casts a fond smile at Wanda, who is using her powers to make Pietro’s tinsel wig fly on and off. “Sometimes you have to look harder to see what’s right in front of your nose.”

A confused frown on that handsome face, Captain Clueless looks at Bucky. “Why do I feel like everyone else knows something that I don’t?”

His bestie sighs deeply. “Because, Stevie, almost everyone else on this planet knows that my tastes tend towards tall, blonde, blue-eyed knuckleheads who have zero sense of self-preservation.”

“And an ass you could bounce a quarter off of,” Scott helpfully supplies.

“And that,” Bucky agrees.

Steve frowns.

You press your palms to your eyes in vexation. “You, Steve. He’s talking about you.” (Seriously, how has this idiot survived for over a century while being so dumb?)

Whatever he was expecting, it was certainly not that. “He-“ The Man With A Plan gapes as he turns to his oldest friend. “You-“

“Me,” Bucky says gently.

Even though you’re slightly surprised that Bucky is going to do this in such a public forum, you can’t help but be so proud of your friend. It has taken a long time for Bucky to believe he deserves to be happy. There are days he still sinks into that dark place, where his inner demons whisper that he should have fought harder against his Hydra captors, and that his past actions were still somehow his fault. Those are the days no amount of baking or Modern Marvels will bring him out of his funk. You, Steve, Sam, and Nat have all held those strong shoulders as they shook with sobs, overwhelmed by the shame and horror at what his hands had done without his consent.

But he’s here. He’s free. And he’s smiling nervously at his best friend.

“I-” Steve is short-circuiting. “Me?!”

“Stevie.” With the kind of tender patience that can only be born of a lifetime of keeping (or attempting to keep) an idiot such as one Steven Grant Rogers from flinging himself headlong into every fight he comes across, Bucky moves his flesh hand to the back of Steve’s neck. His face is full of such soft affection that you almost want to look away for fear of intruding on this suddenly intimate moment. “What do you think ‘til the end of the line’ means, you idiot? You’ve been it for me since I was thirteen-years-old.”

Blue eyes are locked with blue eyes as Steve processes this revelation. “I-” He shakes his head as if to declutter his thoughts. “This whole time?”

“Since the first time I saw that asshole knock you down, and your scrawny ass climbed right back up.” A wry chuckle escapes as Bucky reminices. “You were ninety pounds soaking wet, and you stood there, against a guy who was three times your size, and never waivered for a second. It was magnificent.”

“I don’t like bullies,” is Steve’s quiet response.

Bucky’s grin is adoring. “I know, sweetheart.” He gently strokes the back of Steve’s neck with his thumb. “You’ve always had a heart way bigger than your brain.”

Steve is still back on the first part of Bucky’s admission. “If you’ve felt- if you-” He’s practically pleading. “Why didn’t you say anything then?”

Bucky shrugs, attempting and failing nonchalance. “It was a different time, you know?” He’s uncharacteristically unsure of himself, the subtle waiver in his voice revealing the anxiety born of a lifetime of being forced to hide his truth. “I mean, you remember how it was; you didn’t talk about, no one talked about- about being- about people like...” He swallows thickly.  “And I was so scared you didn’t, that you weren’t-” His voice breaks.

Even though you’ve all been emotionally invested in this love story for years, the entire team respectfully pretends not to listen as the former Winter Soldier quietly admits his deepest secret to his closest friend. It’s enraging as Bucky confesses yet another way he's been a victim of his circumstances, and denied his right to live freely without derision. Once more, you’re awed by his resilience.

“-it was a risk I couldn’t take,” Bucky finally gets out, that stubborn fire back in his eyes. “I couldn’t lose you, Steve. I couldn’t chance it. I could live with just being your friend and only your friend so long it meant you were in my life.”

Stunned silence meets the end of his confession. Steve’s face is impassive, those cerulean eyes uncharacteristically inscrutable.

You can all tell Bucky is heading steadily towards dread and heartbreak the longer Steve takes to respond. You and Sam exchange a look, both ready to intervene if Steve demonstrates any of the abhorrent attitudes that were so prevalent in the society of his youth. It would be completely out of character for him, but...

Finally, Steve speaks. “You’re telling me,” he says, his words slow and deliberate, “that you made me wait ninety-three years to tell me you’ve felt the same way about me as I have about you since the day you picked me up out of that alley?!”

The whole found family breaths a collective sigh of relief as Steve pulls Bucky even closer, broad chest to broad chest.

“Okay, to be fair, you were an ice cube for most of that time and I wasn’t exactly available for a relationship.” Bucky’s grin stands in contradiction to his mullish defense. “But yeah, that’s the gist of it.” There’s the Bucky you all know and love, biting his lip with those perfect white teeth. “Now, punk, I’d really like to kiss you now, but first I need you to say you want me to.”

“You-” Steve’s throat works as he attempts- and fails- to rein in his emotions. “You jerk.”

And then the Star Spangled Man seizes the president of the Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club by his ridiculously perfect face and crashes their mouths together.

At any Pride event, seeing two men kissing is, obviously, to be expected. But seeing The First Avenger and The White Wolf attempting to swallow each other’s tongues is not at all routine. As people realize what is happening, the crowd is whipped into a frenzy the likes of which is usually reserved for the aftermath of sporting events and elections that defeat fascists.

Watching the two men embrace, Scott sniffles loudly. “I’m gonna cry, I’m so happy.”

He’s certainly not the only one. Wanda has a watery smile as she wraps her arms around Vision and Pietro; Pepper, Tony, and Bruce are watching with fond parental energy; you and Sam sandwich Peter between the two of you, grins practically splitting your faces. Even Nat’s eyes look suspiciously shiny and she and Clint sling their arms around each other with platonic affection. And that’s not counting the several thousand people who are cheering for love being love being love being love.

When they finally break their embrace, the Centennial twins are startled to see they’ve collected quite an audience.

“Uh, so…” Suddenly bashful, Steve glances back to his- partner? Boyfriend? Soulmate? Is there a word that can accurately describe two people who have found each other time and again in a world that seems hell-bent on keeping them apart?- his ears practically maroon with embarrassment. For a guy with one of the most-recognized faces in the world, Steve is still incredibly and endearingly uncomfortable with attention. “Buck?”

Bucky seems just as stunned as Steve.

Thankfully, the masses demonstrate the usual support that’s the hallmark of Pride. “LOVE IS LOVE!” someone screams in the crowd. It’s quickly echoed, and chants fill the park.

The attention momentarily off them, the former Winter Soldier and his giant himbo of a soulmate look back at each other. You pretend not to watch through the happiest tears as they embrace again, bringing their foreheads together. The relief they share is palpable, as they’re finally able to show the world- and each other- the love they’ve each hidden for so long.

Bucky’s voice is so soft you have to strain to hear it. “You have no idea how much m’in love with you, Stevie.”

“Pretty sure I do,” Steve answers, bringing a hand up to carefully wipe the tears from Bucky’s face. “‘cause it’s as much as I love you, Buck.”

Bucky's answering grin can only be described as saucy. “Then kiss me again, like you mean it.”

And Steve, for once in his long life, does exactly as ordered.

---

A/N: “The Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club” is from Starry_Emerald173’s BRILLIANT The Avengers Wrangler over on AO3. If you haven’t read it yet, drop what you’re doing and do so immediately. Make sure you're not drinking any liquids, or your keyboard/phone may be in peril.

[kerra-and-company]

Okay, throwing some thoughts out here, so miscellaneous Icebrood Saga: Judgment spoilers under the cut!

I AM SO GLAD BRAHAM IS STILL ALIVE. HOLY SHIT. I so wanted to be able to give him a hug when we found him and pulled him out of the snow; why wasn’t that an option? (Kidding in terms of gameplay, but I’m definitely writing a fic at some point where Kerra gives him a hug. Or it’ll just live in my brain. One way or the other.)

I had a feeling that if Braham survived, Ryland would too, and yep, I was right. And he got stabbed because of course, and of course it was Rytlock, and of course he stabbed him with Sohothin. There’s most likely a lore and/or pain post to be written about that one.

I liked that Ryland kept the ice-saw and that it didn’t change back to a flame-saw after Jormag died. Ryland didn’t change without Jormag, so why would his weapon?

I’d missed the instanced content where you can actually talk to people, so I was super happy to see it come back. I don’t absolutely hate the DRMs, but I definitely prefer instanced stuff when it comes to the story.

Aurene using the magic from the ley lines to sever the champions’ connections with their dragons was really neat and I liked that concept! Actually using the fact that she’s a prism for magic, hell yeah! (And we got to do the crystal-wings thing again, which I was very much a fan of!) And having some of the magic go to what I assume is Steve the deep sea dragon made sense and is a decent jumping-off point for EOD.

The aesthetic was excellent, and I loved the art! Primordus and Jormag had excellent designs, and the attacks seemed good to me (though Jormag will absolutely freeze your ass off if you don’t get out of the way in time, be warned).

I almost got exasperated when they were like, “whoops, you have to hit them more than once!” But it wasn’t actually tiresome for me when I went to do it, and they had less health after the first time, so it wasn’t a pain, either. (And it makes sense--it’d take more than one hit to take down an Elder Dragon.)

This could have just been me (‘cause I know I’m not the most experienced player in the world), but Braham was harder to fight than Ryland--and I don’t mean in terms of “I don’t want to fight you” (though that too of course) but in terms of literal mechanics. He moved and jumped so much and it was harder to bring his health bar down. Not super difficult or impossible or anything, just harder than Ryland, which I thought was a neat parallel even if it’s just for me.

The Commander is a hypocrite. Yep, 100% agree, Braham. You still need a nap. And a hug. Anet, let us hug Braham, please.

Aurene felt guilty, and she shouldn’t (in terms of I don’t want her to--it’s definitely in character). Not everything is your fault, sweetheart. Along those lines, I liked that we got to talk to her at the end! And Braham, and Gorrik and Taimi and Jhavi!

Taimi and Braham need to actually talk about things. I know they couldn’t fit in every conversation, but that’s one I would have liked to see, and it’s one I hope they have in the future.

Can’t wait to see Taimi and Gorrik’s research and what they find out (even if we know or can guess at some of the answers).

Ryland insulting Rytlock and Crecia was expected, for sure, but it’s also interesting because he’s insulting who they were at the beginning of the saga, not who they are now, because he doesn’t know enough about them now to give them updated insults.

It also made me very curious if we’re going to get updates on the Khan-Ur situation, which is by far not the most important thing going on and I’m glad they didn’t focus on it here, but I still would like answers at some point.

I just thought of this but Crecia trapped Ryland in flame in a parallel to how she protected Smodur from him earlier in the saga, right after mentioning Cinder. Ow.

And for everyone’s Commander who’s terrified of fire (Kerra included), fighting Braham has an extra nightmare attached to it, so...fun times.

What happened to the Frozen? Are they free? Still trapped? My guess is free since it was magic Jormag ice and Jormag is dead, but that wasn’t answered (I don’t think) and I really would like to know!

Also, what exactly was the death toll from Jormag and Primordus throughout this whole thing? I don’t need super specific numbers, but estimating is hard and my only conclusion is that it was a Lot, which is slightly too vague for my brain.

Is Aurene going to end up as the only Elder Dragon? Can she hold that much magic alone? The fact that the next part is called End of Dragons continues to scare me.

Gonna end this with: I thought this was a decent finale! I almost wish it could have been longer, but that’s more because I love doing story things and crave more of it than because I thought it was badly paced. (I do think they could have made it at least a bit longer, though, and I would have appreciated that.) They didn’t kill Braham, which was my biggest fear, and he gets to recover and be okay. Two Elder Dragons are dead, as is Ryland, and we’ll be going to Cantha eventually.

First living world season that I’ve been around to play during the release of the ending chapter, and I’m pretty satisfied with it! I’m sure I’ll come up with more complaints later since my default mode is positive, and I still have questions, but overall opinion at this point: pretty good!

[florenceandthemachine]

TUMBLR FUCKED UP SOME OF MY ASK POSTS I AM SO SORRY ANYWAY 

@buckleydiazs​ asked:

talk to me about eddie and chris asking buck to move in, pls and thank u 🥰

Their first unplanned night together starts off with a text message.

Ironically enough, it’s not even a message between Eddie and Buck—it’s between Buck and Maddie. Eddie is all smiles as he pulls his truck onto the highway, Buck in the passenger seat, laughing easily at some story Eddie was telling. It was nice. It was easy, easier than most of the relationships Eddie had ever had before, but that wasn’t surprising—at least, not anymore, not with Buck.

Once Buck had gotten the stick out of his ass, Eddie realized how easily the two of them would get along almost immediately. Buck was... well, he was a far better person than Eddie was, and Eddie would be the first to admit that, but Buck seemed to be oblivious to the fact that he could basically out shine the sun with one of his big toothy smiles.

Their relationship was unique, certainly; they had survived things that went beyond the real of “regular people”; tsunamis, earthquakes, bombs, and most stressful of all (weirdly enough), a lawsuit. somehow, the lawsuit was the straw that broke the back on their friendship—Eddie had finally pulled his head out of his ass, realized how miserable his life had been without Bucky, and asked him out on a proper date a week after Buck's first call back on the team.

Though they spent a lot of time together as friends, and that had only grown after their first official ‘date’, they had been carpooling out of necessity for the week—Bobby had been good enough to match their schedules up while Buck’s Jeep was in the shop—and Eddie insisted that it wasn’t too much of a detour to shuttle Buck back and forth to work.

The mood in the truck was easy and light, and Buck was still laughing when he pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping at the screen a few times—and like someone had switched on a vacuum, the good mood was sucked through the window in less than a second.

“It’s Maddie. She says Taylor Kelly is at my apartment complex. Apparently there was a pretty big drug bust in the building across the way, she has her van camped out in our lot.”

And, well, Eddie wasn’t about to tolerate that, wasn’t about to tolerate anything that made Buck unhappy, anything that could suck the joy out of him in an instant, for reasons that he chose not to dive too deep into. He focused instead on the problem (and yeah, Taylor Kelly was a problem with a capital B), and what he figured was the easiest solution.

“Oh. Well, then you’re staying at our place tonight.”

As expected, Buck started up a whole litany of protests. It was a little sad, Eddie thought, how eager Buck was to talk himself out of a good time, and if he didn’t have the backup of a year of knowing Buck as well as he did, Eddie might have actually taken his ramblings at face value.

As it was, though, he had an ace in the hole. A surefire way to get Buck to shut up and accept some good in his life. He didn’t like to play it, but he knew that he had to as soon as Buck mentioned “I’ll just stay at the firehouse tonight, it’s really no issue, I’ll order take out, and—”

“Buck, it’s fine. Chris has been begging me to invite 'his Buck’ over for dinner for a week now anyway.”

“...oh. Okay.”

Was it wrong for Eddie to use his son so easily, knowing that Buck was as wrapped around Chris’ finger to the degree that nearly rivaled himself? Probably. Could Eddie bring himself to care? Nope.

Especially not when Chris basically launched himself into Bucks arms, completely overjoyed that Buck was here for a “surprise sleepover”. 

Dinner had gone off without a hitch, with Chris easily dominating most of the conversation, rattling off facts, figures, stories from school, information about his friends, and Buck had eaten it up. 

Eddie had found himself staring at Buck—more than once—with a little bit of a dopey look on his face, he was sure, as Buck got more and more animated, making Christopher laugh, telling stories of his own, and he hadn’t even bothered to look away when Buck caught him staring.

Buck was a blusher. Eddie loved it.

Now, though, Chris had disappeared to brush his teeth and put on his pajamas, and Eddie and Buck were working in companionable quiet as they started to clean the table.

"You know, if Taylor being at my apartment means I get to spend the evening with my two favorite guys...” Buck said with a smile, closing the fridge as he leaned against it, keeping an ear out for Chris as he turned the faucet in the bathroom on. “...I’ll have to invite her over next time.”

Eddie shrugged, gesturing vaguely with a spoon, though he couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as he rose a brow. “Buck, you know you don’t need excuses, right? You’re allowed to like this. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I am as wrapped around your finger as you are Chris’s.”

Buck was blushing again, and that was all the encouragement Eddie needed to step forward, his arms wrapping around Buck as Buck started to speak again. “You... you know the feeling is mutual, right?” he asked, and Eddie felt himself light up. “And I... don’t really want to wait for a next time to spend some time with you either.”

Buck wasn’t sure which God was on his side, but either way, he was immensely thankful that Chris didn’t barge in until long after Eddie and Buck had separated, even if they were still breathing a little heavily.

--

The next unexpected visit, it turns out, was only four weeks and three planned dates later. 

Buck had had many a sleepless night after the tsunami, but after the lawsuit, his nightmares had become even worse, more intense, more real. There were nights where he had to tell himself, ten times, that Chris was okay, that he was alive, and then there were nights like tonight, where he let the fear outweigh the guilt and he called Eddie.

(It was probably telling that he was never afraid of his own death—only Chris’. If he had a therapist, he would probably bring that up, but... well, therapy had never been a great idea for Buck before.)

To his credit, Eddie hadn’t let it ring even twice before picking up. 

“Buck, Chris is okay. He’s okay. You saved him, Buck, and I can never thank you enough for that.”

“Ed—he was right there, and I lost him, and I—”

“He is okay. Buck, seriously, he’s okay. Here, you should come over. See for yourself?”

“What? No.” Buck may have been coming out of a nightmare, but even then, he knew not to risk disturbing Eddie more than he absolutely had to.

“Buck, whatever thoughts are swirling around in that head, you better, get your admittedly very attractive ass over here right now.”

...well, he couldn’t argue with that. 

Eddie could feel his heart break when he opened the door, though, and got an armful of puffy eyed, apologetic Buck in response. They quietly made their way over to Chris’ room and then to Eddies own, where he made no short work of Buck’s apologies, kissing him soundless every time he tried.

At the end of the night, Buck wasn’t sure what had helped him sleep better—seeing Chris alive and well, or spending his night in Eddie’s arms, wrapped up tight enough that he couldn’t break free even if he tried.

Not that he would.

--

“Hi Buck!”

“Hi Christopher!” 

Buck was all smiles as he swooped in to scoop Christopher into a big bear hug, leaning over to kiss Eddie’s cheek as he let Chris back down to the ground and they started walking back to the car. “How was school, buddy?” He asked, easily going into idle listening mode as Eddie’s hand slipped into his. It was an early release day for Christopher, and he had all but demanded that they spent the afternoon hanging out together—and it was moments like these that reminded Buck about how lucky he was, swinging his hand in Eddie’s like a teenager as they walked back to the car, Chris eagerly leading the way.

Honestly, if anything, the fact that a date night for Buck was now spending a night at the museum with his boyfriend and his kid (instead of in a club, or at a bar, or doing something he probably wouldn’t remember the next day) really was a testament to his own personal growth. No drinking, no drugs, no questionable sex with questionable people in questionable locations—just a nerdy firefighter and his kid.

Dinner consisted of hot dogs and pretzels and soda, and somehow Chris was outpacing them on energy as they wandered through the exhibits. Buck never quit being amazed at just how much Chris knew—hell, Buck was an adult and he still didn’t know the difference between a Monet painting and a Manet painting—but Chris was like the little brainiac Energizer bunny, his energy only weaning after they got home and demanded Buck read him two whole stories for bedtime, and Buck was feeling selfish enough to allow himself a few moments with Chris, sleeping on his shoulder, before he tucked the boy in for the night. 

“I’m gonna get going.”

“You don’t have to, you know?”

Eddie kept his voice low as Buck slid Chris’ door shut, his arms finding their way around Buck’s waist on autopilot, easily masking the twinge of annoyance he felt when Buck had the audacity to look surprised.

“What do you mean?”

If he ever met that Abby chick, he was going to give her a piece of his mind. 

“I mean you don’t have to leave. You can stay, sweetheart. I… well, I want you to stay, but I always want you to stay, so I’m a little biased. But you can stay as long as you want, whenever you want.” 

It was better, he hoped, to be direct, because Buck obviously didn’t get the hint after so many subtle cues. Hell, Eddie had given him a key after their third official date, and all Buck had commented was how glad he was to have it, in case of emergencies. Unfortunately, the fact that Buck seemed dumber then a box of rocks didn’t seem to count as an emergency. 

His argument seemed to be well received tonight, at least, because Buck smiled shyly as he looked up to Eddie, his own arms sliding around the other males shoulders. 

“You’re sure I won’t bother you and Chris, right? You really want me to stay tonight?”

“Of course I do.” Eddie said. For the rest of your life, he managed to keep inside. 

--

“Buck, you know you’re always welcome here, right?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

“And you know we love having you here, and we generally hate it when you leave.”

“I get it, Eddie.”

“So you know—“

“Eddie, will you please let me in?”

If Buck wasn’t soaked head to toe, standing on Eddie’s doorstep, he’d probably start to think that the universe was playing a cruel joke on the both of them. It was certainly playing a cruel joke on Eddie, to be honest—they had finished a particularly grueling overnight shift just three hours ago, and he had all but begged Buck to come and get some rest at the house while Christopher was out with Carla that day, and Buck had politely but firmly refused, not wanting to trample on any of the time that he got to take for himself. It was driving Eddie crazy, to be honest—he had really thought that they had made progress on that front, that they had finally gotten to the point where Buck didn’t think he was intruding, or interrupting, or distracting, or whatever. He really had thought he had made his stance clear—that he always loved spending time with Buck, period. 

Well, he was certainly never one to back down from a challenge. 

“What even happened, Buck?”

“The pipe burst in the apartment above me. I got soaked through in the middle of a nap.” 

“Oh, Buck.”

“It’s not funny, Eddie! I was trying to be considerate!”

“Baby, I’m not laughing. I’m just very distracted by how good you look soaking wet.”

“Eddie, I swear to god—“

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“….oh. Oh!”

--

“I meant what I said, you know?”

“Hmm?”

They had gotten down to the lazy, delighted moments of the evening, standing together in the shower, Buck slotted easily into Eddies arms. They were taking advantage of the last twenty minutes they had together before Chris came home, and needless to say, neither of them were exactly jumping at the idea of wearing pants again.

“We love having you here, Chris and I. And we really do hate it when you leave because you think that you have to, or you think that you’re intruding, or you think… well, whatever else that you’re thinking.”

“Eddie…”

Buck turned in his arms, pushing his wet hair back, but Eddie smothered any chance of a self depreciating comment by pressing their lips together. He didn’t pull back until he knew Buck would be breathless, panting, and dazed, and it probably wasn’t fair to fight that way, but Eddie couldn’t handle another comment about how much of a bother Buck perceived himself.

“You’re home to me, Buck. Chris too. He loves you and he looks up to you, and you drive me crazy thinking that you could be anything but welcome in our lives. Buck, I want you to move in with us. Stay. Forever.”

There was a time and a place where Buck’s self doubt would have run rampant faced with a confession like that—hell, Buck 1.0 wouldn’t even have allowed a relationship to get that far—but somehow, looking up at Eddie, nothing could be more perfect. 

“You’re home to me too, Eddie.” He started, softly, a smile on his face. “And if you and Chris really wouldn’t mind—“

“It’s not just that we wouldn’t mind, though. It’s what we want. We want you to live with us, sweetheart.”

“… well, I’ve never been good at denying anything my Diaz boys want, have I?”

--

(Over dinner, Buck had nervously approached the topic with Chris, because no matter how sure Eddie was, Buck had to hear it for himself. 

Chris got so excited he almost threw up. 

Eddie considered everything about that night as a win—but the best part of all was the price, Buck, beautiful Buck, waiting for him in his—no, in their bed.)