#and had him see the elevator for the first time

[pathologicalreid]

falling flat | s.r.

in which you call Spencer for help with a flat tire, and he comes to help with you car troubles - and then some

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: allusions to the reaper, car trouble, blood, tetanus vaccine, kindergarten teacher!reader, flirting, protective!spencer, takes place following 5x22 "the internet is forever", hastily edited word count: 1.87k a/n: rahhhh an old prompt from may 2024 that ended up working for a margovember request rahhh.

The absolute last place you wanted to be was on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere Virginia, with a flat tire. You weren’t entirely helpless until your tire jack broke, sending metal flying everywhere and cutting your hand open.

You slumped down next to your car, pulling your phone from your pocket before calling the first people you could think of. Every single one of them ended up going to voicemail. Some of them didn’t even let it get past the first ring before declining your call—traitors.

With your thumb hovering over the call button, you thought of Spencer. He had a PhD in engineering, but you weren’t entirely sure that would come in handy in this instance. It was late, almost midnight, and you weren’t even sure he’d answer.

At this point, what choice did you have?

As the phone rang, part of you hoped he wouldn’t answer. When he asked you about it the next time you saw him, you’d wave it off as a butt dial and he’d be none the wiser.

“Hello,” he said through the phone, leaving your plans quashed.

This was awkward, you had been on four dates with the guy over the span of two months, and now you were calling him in the middle of the night. “This isn’t a booty call,” You blurted, cringing inwardly and banging your head back on the passenger door of your car.

Spencer laughed lightly, “I didn’t think it was, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You asked, his job had a lot of long hours, and you didn’t want to bother him if he was catching up on sleep. If he was even home, “Wait, where are you?”

There was a rustling on his end of the call, “No, I wasn’t asleep, I’m at work. We just got off of a case.”

You let out a sigh of relief, at least you weren’t being a total nuisance. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. I just… my tire blew out on the highway and my jack broke and no one else is answering their phone,” you told him, verging on rambling.

“You’re kind of cutting out, where are you?” He asked, he sounded concerned, and if there was a moment where you weren’t sure you still had feelings for him, it was fleeting.

Looking to either side of you for a mile marker, you stood up, looking at the ground so you didn’t step on any metal, “I don’t really know. There aren’t any signs, I’m somewhere on 28, I think?”

Spencer cleared his throat, “Do you have your location on your phone?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I have enough service to check it,” you said, all you could see were trees.

You could hear him talking to someone, holding the receiver away from his mouth, “That’s fine, I’ll have someone look, just stay on the phone.”

It would seem that dating someone in the FBI does have its perks, “Oh, cool.” You overheard Spencer explaining your situation to someone, hearing the other person in the room say something about Reid’s girlfriend and you couldn’t help but smile. The two of you were very unofficially official.

“Hey, I’ll be there in half an hour,” An elevator dinged in the background. “Is that alright?”

You hummed, leaning your hip against the front of your car. “I mean, I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

Another ding of the elevator, “Will you do me a favor?”

In exchange for this? You’d do just about anything within the realm of legality, “Name it.”

“Get in your car and lock the doors,” he responded. “Turn your hazards on because right now you’re a sitting duck. If someone doesn’t see your car, they could hit you.”

As a favor, he was asking you to make sure you’re safe, “Okay, I’m getting in now, should I leave the car running?”

You heard the sound of a car lock disengaging through the phone, “As long as the cooling system on your car is in good shape, it shouldn’t be a problem to leave it running while you wait. Just remember what I told you about the hazards.”

Nodding despite the fact that he can’t see you, you got in the car, turning the key in the ignition before pushing the button for your hazard lights, “Okay, I’m in the car.”

“I can’t drive and be on the phone at the same time, but I’ll be there soon. Don’t unlock the doors for anyone except for me,” he told you, and you thanked him for his help before hanging up and settling yourself in your driver’s seat.

You pulled the hoodie you kept stashed in your car over your head, your school mascot—a panther—proudly displayed in the front, and made sure your car doors were locked. If you said you weren’t a little unnerved, you’d be lying to yourself.

Spencer had a worrisome job; it was something you were aware of before he ever asked you on that first date. It became alarmingly obvious to you when he revealed that he’d been shot a few months prior, which was an appropriate second-date conversation with an FBI agent. It made sense to you that he’d be concerned about you, in your idle car, on the side of the road, but you wondered if there was a case that he was thinking of. Someone with a flat tire who had met an untimely demise.

Shuddering, you turned up the heat in your car, flipping through radio stations until someone knocked on your window. You jumped at the noise, hitting your head against the roof of the car before looking outside to see Spencer. Sighing in relief, you unlocked your car door, and he opened it for you, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Is your head alright?”

You peered up at him, casually leaning over your car door. “You cut your hair,” you observed. You’d seen him just last week, where his hair still touched his shoulders, and now it was considerably shorter.

Self-consciously, he reached up a hand and thumbed one of the tendrils, “Yeah, it just got too long—and heavy.”

Resisting the urge to ruffle his hair, your head bobbed, “I like it. Did you do it yourself?”

“You can tell?” He asked, following you around the back of your car to your busted tire. Spencer sets his tire jack down before looking back at you, putting his hands on his hips.

Grinning at him, you shrugged, “I teach kindergarten, I’m basically a professional at noticing DIY haircuts.”

On a towel that you had previously set out, the two of you sat along the side of your car, and you tried to ignore the fact that Spencer still had his weapon holstered. It made sense, he’d come straight from work, but you wondered if there was a reason he didn’t leave it in his car. “Where’s your lug wrench?”

“I can change it myself,” you insisted, “I just needed a different car jack.” You gestured to the pieces of yours that were now all over the side of the road.

Alarm flashed on Spencer’s face, “Nothing fell on you, right?”

You shook your head, “No, just a cut from the metal.”

Holding out your hand, you let Spencer take a look at the cut on your palm. “When was your last tetanus shot?”

Blinking rapidly, you frowned at him, “Uh, when I was in college?”

“That might need stitches,” he responded, letting you take your hand back. “I’ll change your tire, I don’t want you using that hand for anything,” he informed you, pushing the hydraulic jack beneath your car.

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you watched him take your old tire off, muttering under his breath about how your old jack was practically an artifact, seeing how it literally fell apart under pressure. “How was your case?” You asked softly, fully aware that you were likely opening a can of worms by asking about work.

Spencer’s movements faltered slightly at your question, “It’s closed. We were in Boise,” he answered tactfully, leaving out any case details and cluing you into the fact that he didn’t want to talk about it. “What are you doing out here?”

You sighed, leaning back on your hands and watching him work, “I had a meeting with the other schools in our conference. It’s annual, and this year they happened to pick the school furthest away from mine.”

“Well, I suppose it worked out well that your tire blew out so close to me, then,” Spencer said, swapping out the busted tire for the donut and looking over at you. There was something nervous in his eyes, and you didn’t know if it was related to work or you.

Humming, you tried to watch the tire rather than just watching him, “Is there something bothering you?”

He was tightening the lug nuts on the spare tire, “Are you driving home after this?”

You furrowed your brows, “Yeah, where else could I be going?”

“It’s almost a two-hour drive to your place from here,” he reminded you, his tone laced with concern. “You won’t get home until almost one in the morning,” the displeasure in his voice was plain, but you don’t have anywhere else to go. “Plus, you really shouldn’t travel that far on a spare tire, they’re not made to travel far distances.”

Crossing your arms in front of your stomach, you let your shoulders slump forward, “So, what do you suggest I do? Get a hotel?”

Spencer mumbled something inaudibly, trying to finish tightening the bolts on the tire before sighing, “You can stay with me,” he blushes, a swipe of pink across his cheeks.

Your lips parted in surprise, “Uh, I don’t… I’m not…” you faltered. Utterly failing to come up with a good enough reason to tell him no, “I don’t want you to feel inclined. This isn’t what I was looking for when I called you for help.”

He let the car down, staying quiet while the two of you cleaned up, and Spencer swatted your hand away when you tried to pick things up. “So, you can come back to my place tonight. My work-issued first-aid kit has your name all over it,” he told you, eyes flickering down to the cut on your hand.

“Okay,” you breathed, unable to conjure a reason to refuse his hospitality.

He was grinning at you, hair just barely brushing his eyebrows, “So tomorrow, maybe we can get coffee and drop your car off to get a new tire?”

You smiled back at him, “That sounds great, date number five.”

“You know where you’re going, right?”

“Yeah,” you’d been to his place once to pick him up, “Hey, Spence?”

He turned around, fishing his car keys from his pocket. He looked ready to respond to you, but you pressed your lips to his before he had a chance to speak.

You kissed him softly, whispering against his mouth, “Thank you for coming.”

He chuckled lightly, gently resting a hand on your waist, “Thank you for calling.” 

[bubbleddisasters]

I’m bored so DORM SET UP HEADCANONS!

———-

Heartstabyl:

-With the stairs constantly moving, most second and third years have somewhat memorized the patterns, yet never tell the first years.

It’s like a right of passage to figure it out for yourself.

-Similarly to how each of the other dorms has their special little extra area (Ex: Pomfieores Hidden Lab, Savannaclaws Colosseum etc) Heartstabyl has a literal courtroom that goes often unused, but sometimes if Drama or Arguments gets too much, they will have a court session to debate it, or just joke debates.

-Due to it nearly breaching capacity, the third years do not have their own dorms, but share with one other student, of their choice if mutual or random otherwise. Trey and Cater share a room, which has been jokily dubbed the Leprechaun room. (Clover suit with green hair and goldenish eyes + Ginger with soul sucking bright green eyes)

-There is a confiscation room that only Trey and Riddle are SUPPOSED to have access to. Unfortunately for them, Che’nya does exist and can be bribed into robbery with (good) cheese, (good) cheesecake, or cool trinkets as long as the confiscated item isn’t overly dangerous or too illegal.

-Ace and Deuce’s room is known for being the loudest and has received an unorthodox amount of noise complaints.

-Some students make the hedgehogs outfits and little hats.

____________

Savannaclaw:

——

-As it’s literally made of ROCK, there are many incidents and injuries from running into walls or tripping.

-If food goes missing, their is actually war fare and it is taken personally, but Ruggie has managed to escape suspicion for his entire stay so far.

-Not a goddamn vegetable in sight, Jack has a stash of them and is so far one of three students to do so.

-Dumbest dorm in the club with the highest drop out (usually for pursing a sports scholarship at another school) , expulsion and injury rates.

-Due to fights, sports and literal brain damage from being hit in the head with a discus one too many times, the dorm members are often at the nurses office.

-Sometimes gets ABO jokes from (mostly) Ignihyde students, and has literally no clue what they’re talking about unless directly explained. Jack didn’t say anything to the majority of the school for about a week after Ortho explained it to him.

-From what we see in Leonas Room atleast, all the windows are glassless, so some students will straight up jump out the windows or fall through them on the regular.

-There actually IS a vice housewarden, atleast on paper, since it was required, but nobody knows who it is, not even the vice themselves.

Leona picked a student from his dorms name at random, and Crowley never checked in with the student, and has been under the assumption they’re constantly busy or just neglectful thanks to Leona gaslighting.

The only thing he has told Savannaclaw is that he can confirm it’s not Ruggie, since he didn’t know he existed at the time.

-Rook has crawled through Leonas window ATLEAST ONCE to bother him, and after that he put up drapes so he had a better chance of hearing him coming.

___________

Octavinelle:

_____

-ALL the drama and ALL the blackmail. Literally a dorm of Regina George level dramatics. Pomefiore has nothing on them.

-Gaslighting and Manipulation extraordinares

-As Ursula herself is based on a Drag Queen (Divine), I imagine they have Drag Nights at the lounge, and they’re extremely popular.

-Alot of the non-mer students make jokes about drowning if the barrier ever gets removing, and as most of the mers likely blush blue instead of pink/red, usually many first year humans think their literally choking/ can’t breath for a hot sec.

Also alot of strange incidents and firsts for them, like finding out your roommate is bioluminescent.

-24/7 Elevator music in the lounge, so it drives them absolutely INSANE if played around the dorms too.

-The music was never actually turned off during Azuls OB, as Jade, Floyd or Azul himself probably had the key to the audio room, or was already locked into the bluetooth, so everyone was losing their shit whilst spa music was playing in the background. Sort of like that one Markaplier quote:

“If purple guy is the creator, then what does it all mean- CAN WE CUT THE CASUAL BONGOS?!!”

-I KNOW we see the beds aren’t this way from the Octatrios beds but I hate the basic ass design of Octavinelles actual inner dorm, so y’know what? Clamshell and/or Oyster beds that can open and close like the ones Ariel and her sisters have in the movies.

I’m also changing the color scheme because where the fuck dId they get MAJORITY WHITE AHD LIGHT FUCKING LAVENDER FROM?? URSULAS COLORS ARE BLACK, SILVER/PEARL AND PLUM??

So yea fuck you, Plum, Pearl/Silver, Black, Blue and dark teal color schemes with alot of corals, underwater cove and ocean themed furniture.

-If the dorm were to ever run out of transformation potions, things would get wild real quick.

-They have a pool that is basically just an aquarium you can swim in. Floyd was banned for a month once for trying to drown someone. (Jade was infact not only an accomplice, but the one who gave Floyd the idea in the first place, and immediately threw Floyd under the bus when Azul caught them)

-Azul has a secret private pool hidden behind a door wall thing.

-Jade has a Room of Shrooms that is locked off to the general students.

-Many of the students learn serving tricks to get extra tips.

-Will spitefully bring someone who came laters order first if you’re being a pain. Repeatedly if you really earned it.

-A student once brought heelies, and Floyd immediately jumped on the idea. So yes, some students will heelie over to your table for the sake of “convenience”

______

Scarabia:

—-

-Introverts: Welcome to hell.

-As another dorm with open windows, there are some falling issues.

-Jamil does that mom thing where internally he’s like “Nobody helps me in this fucking house” or will passively aggressively say something like “Well if you want to do this more often, maybe you could start helping out.” but when the dorm students actually offer to help 9 times out of 10 he’s like “absolutely not you’ll mess it up.”

-Schemers canonically but both negatively and positively. Like would say the most sweet and positive plans like their planning a mutiny.

-Like that one “If Antinious was actually a sweet guy” remix of Hold Him Down from Epic :

“Haven’t you noticed who’s missing? Don’t you know the prince is not around?

I heard today is Telemachus birthday, and I heard today he comes back to town so-

I say we gather near the beaches, I say we wait til he arrives~

I’ll slip away while you all distract him so I can go PREPARE THE SURPRISES.

Hold him down…While I’m in the kitchen~

Hold Him down…While I start to bake~

Hold him down while we slowly bring his buddies his family and Favorite Cakeeee~

Cut it down….into tiny pieces

For the prince…Serve it Alamode…

When the prince wonders what his gift is…ONLY HIS MOTHER AND I WILL KNOWWWWW”

Yea thats Scarabia student planning core.

-Steal one thing from this dorm and you can probably feed a family of four for a month.

-You can get a medical pass to be exempt from being in the dorm during the day if you’re sensitive to heat.

-Not all the students actually like the parties, but participate in them for the free food regardless.

-Its concerningly easy to lockpick most of the treasuries, but nobody has done it sheerly because they would feel bad if Kalim still forgave them.

-Its common for first years unused to the heat to straight up pass out before even making it to the dorm since from the map, its a concerningly long walk, so they had to install a mini secondary teleporter sheerly to avoid constant heat stroke.

_______

Pomfieore

——

-Smells like a Sephora and Bath and Body Works with a side of Chanel Perfume

-Many of them are very invested in celebrity drama.

-There is what has been nicknamed “The Garden of Death”, which is a small garden in the back of Pomfieore containing many poisonous plants used to create, and this may come as a surprise, poisons.

-Second highest drop out rate, mostly due to struggles with pursuing a budding career in the entertainment and/or artisic industry and balancing school aswell.

Vil usually does try to dissuade them, but unfortunately it is a good point that he was, even if he did his career work on his own, still had the Schronheit name behind him, creating a high bias with many directors and companies, so he already had higher chances then the average budding actor since the start, and I can imagine alot of the students pointing that out if they didn’t have the same.

-Some students, when they think Vil is not looking, will sit on the throne as a joke.

-The amount of makeup and mirrors in this dorm is crazy.

-Epel has, on more than one occasion, jumped out of windows to escape Vil/Rook, so 80% of the common area windows are locked.

-The walls and carpets in the main areas actually have very thin sheets on them to prevent makeup stains.

-As one of the chonkiest dorms, both in length and width, walking around can be hell if you’re in a rush. So many stairs, so little time.

-The Secret Lab has a Emperor’s New Groove like lever system that only the dorm students know which is which, but sometimes mistakes are made.

_____________

Ignihyde:

——

-When I say you can HEAR the electricity moving through the wires EVERYWHERE.

-Actually blinding to walk into at night due to the amount of screens.

-The kitchen is actually souped up and super clean because it’s nearly never used.

-They have Streaming Parties whenever a new season of a well liked anime or show among the students comes out, and on very rare occasions, Vocaloid Raves when a new album comes out.

These are the ONLY parties Idia attends and actually assists in the setup of, so you know it’s absolutely wild. Its a unanimous agreement that nobody is allowed to tell any other dorms about it (Ramshackle excluded)

-Ortho is the world’s nicest hall monitor at night when he’s bored and Idias actually asleep for once, but it can give students whatever the equivalent of FNAF is flashbacks.

-It’s a dorm joke to say “I’m tired, i’m heading home to Hell” or “I’ve got to catch the Ferry to the Underworld, see ya later”

-The projects the students are cooking up in this dorm makes Elon Musk look like a toy maker.

-These motherfuckers are also nocturnal sometimes. The main room is more active at night then during the day.

-They have a constant cat visitor that they’ve yet to realize or find out is Che’nya in a cat form. Trey once noticed Idia walking to a vending machine with a purple and pink cat on his shoulder and simply aggressively sighed.

-The Cat is lowkey pampered, and it actually started when Che’nya was making a getaway and accidentally ran into Ignihyde in his secondary form.

-Least Magic using dorm. Literally that one meme where it’s a few characters using normal weapons and then it’s a character from the same series with a gun. Ignihyde is that character.

The Genya of the NRC dorms.

________

Diasomnia:

——

-Will practically go into nuclear reactor evacuation if Lilia manages to get into the kitchen.

-They have an entire armory of everything but firearms. However there is a bazooka that Lilia donated for comedical reasons.

-Nearly everyone in the dorm despises Sebek for a multitude of reasons. It’s unfortunate but by god is it true. He is mostly unaware of this and the fact they were near ready to throw a party when he started hanging around Ramshackle more.

However, The only thing keeping Sebek from being literally mass jumped is the fact they don’t want to risk pissing off Lilia or Malleus and thats about it.

-Very Pointy furniture. Everything is VERY POINTY. Poke at your own risk.

-When leaving their room at night, their constantly on guard because of Lilias jumpscaring streak.

-The bridge is the worst thing ever if you have a fear of heights as it’s extremely cracky and thin.

-Some students genuinely think Silver is dead when they find him in random spots asleep.

-Lilia can turn into a bat and you cannot convince me otherwise, therefore alot of the students will eye bats on the ceiling with suspicion trying to see if A: Lilias among them. Or B: If they’ll snitch to Lilia if they’re doing something they shouldn’t.

-Sometimes they’ll polish the gargoyles and grotesques for Malleus.

_____

Ramshackle:

_______

-Yuu/MC has a string of Polaroid photos taken with the Ghost Camera in their room.

-Creakiest couch known to man, and everything within the dorm has some scorch or scratch marks from Grim Zoomies.

-The ghosts become cool Great Uncles, and Knit like crazy during october, since they can’t really touch things afterwards, so MC ends up with a pile of blankets, sweaters, scarves, hats and more.

-They also tell MC the tea with the other school ghosts.

-Skully actually haunts Ramshackle, but the secret area below it, which used to be the main dorm, but nobody dares go into the basement, so nobody really knows about it anymore. If MC were to find it, he would be BEYOND thrilled.

-Everytime a new idiot is initiated into the first year squad, they usually end up with their own “room”, since Ramshackle has way too many empty ones anyway.

-Originally Ace and Deuce just shared one since most of the rooms were broken down and they weren’t taking chances, plus there was only one next to MC and it would feel weird if they were an entire dorm apart.

-This came in useful during Book 5 because alot of their stuff was already kinda just…there anyway.

-Jack just uses his room for Cacti. Thats really it, since the last time he tried to store weights in there, it didn’t end well.

-Epels is excess Apple Storage and a Vil-Free Safe zone, which is often raided by the rest but mostly Grim since Apples.

-Orthos is just a charging port and some movies and games. It does look very strange compared to the rest with all the near SCI-FI theme going on.

-Sebeks is just more of a reading and training room now then anything else, and there are swords in there that Yuu/MC is permitted to use for self defense.

But it used to be, for awhile, jokily named the Room of Shame, because Ace consistently managed to trick him into going in and would lock the door when he made one too many human discriminative comments and wasn’t allowed out until he apologized.

-Ramshackles outer doors and windows actually use a super old enchanted lock with only 5 keys in existence (Yuu’s and the 4 extra you can give in the guest room) , so its unable to lockpick, to Rooks dismay, he’s banished to only looking through the windows

-Unfortunately, Ace did get his grubby little hands on one of the key’s at some point, so he is a constant B&Er of Ramshackle (truly best friend core) and often drags Deuce with him.

-Ramshackle has a themed mess of items, as many are gifts from the other dorms, a Kettle from Ramshackle, Rug from Savannaclaw, “Accidentally over ordered extras” of chairs and a table from Octavinelle, Silks and Culinary equipment from Scarabia, etc etc.

-Sebek did fall through the floor once because he was stomping around like he was kinda used to in Diasomnia, and overestimated the durability of Ramshackles Floors.

-This happened multiple times to Floyd aswell during their occupation of Ramshackle in Book 3.

-A ton of random trinkets from Malleus exist within the dorm, some found, some not.

-Lilia will sometimes follow Malleus and MC on their midnight walks as a bat, and Grim once tried to fight him, telling MC a random bat he saw on the porch was being fishy.

_______

I’m tired so thats about it.

Enjoy

[alchemistc]

kiss in the rain, don't let me get on that plane

an: it feels like this might be part of a series. every iteration of a fix-it my brain comes up with penned to paper, as it were.

The air is crisper up here, the sky more blue.

Air operations is a county-wide endeavor here, with five volunteer departments in the surrounding towns to drive the engines where they're needed, but the hangar in the valley below him houses six helicopters, two engines, and one functioning ambulance. The other one is, apparently, out of commission and the yearly budget won't be available for another three months.

His station doesn't work with Air Ops very often, but once a month they host a county-wide dinner and Buck had volunteered to cook the bulk of it, this time.

He's full - with food, with laughter, with a lot of light hearted teasing from the other captains about how he'd only gotten the call because he's essentially indestructible on the job (I've died twice doesn't seem to have much effect when he's standing across from them living and breathing)

He's been getting his lungs used to the elevation for a while now but he can't quite blame the thin air when his breath stops in his throat at the sight that meets him when he crests the hill towards his Jeep.

Buck feels his fist tighten around the shoulder of his duffle.

"Hey," Tommy says, and he looks -

Well he looks exactly like he'd looked three months ago at Buck's going away party.

Eddie had flown in with Chris for it, the smile reaching his eyes for the first time in a while, and Buck maybe just hadn't noticed the mischievous tilt to his grin when Eddie had pulled away from a back slapping hug, or maybe he just couldn't have clocked exactly why he looked quite like that.

He'd just been happy to see him after seven months without the comfort of a key to Eddie's place on his keyring, of knowing he'd get to see and talk to and be teased by his closest friend within a few days of the last time. He'd been ecstatic, actually, the grin refusing to leave his face while he hugged Christopher longer than necessary, while he listened to Eddie whine about his mother in a way Buck had never heard before, like he was actually a little amused by her rather than angry with her.

He'd been happy to be distracted by Bobby and Athena as they began their recollections of all the stupid shit he used to get up to, the calls he'd proved to be vital on, the ways he'd grown and changed in the near decade he'd been a firefighter.

"They're lucky to have you," Bobby had said when there were tears of laughter in everyone's eyes, and maybe he had or hadn't noticed Maddie clock-watching but he certainly noticed when front door opened and wide shoulders filled the frame - large hands curling around the handle, the downslope of a familiar nose hitting the open air before the rest of a familiar face. Thick arms framing a barrel chest and long legs in tight jeans.

It'd taken Buck another four hours and a series of hushed confessions whispered across a shared pillowcase for him to notice the slash of new silver along his temples.

He notices them now, again, as Tommy drops from the driver's side of his truck and tips his hip against the frame, sunlight catching in the lighter hairs. Tommy looks more wary than Buck's ever seen him. More hopeful, too.

"Did you mean it?" Tommy asks, and - Buck had said a lot of things, that night.

He can make an educated guess, but he's actually thinking he needs to make Tommy work for it, this time. It's startling to realize he's actually making moves to be a little selfish when his heart is pounding in his ears like this. He tips his chin. Drifts a yard and a half closer.

Tommy's gaze shifts. "Evan," and it's been three months since that night but they've talked, text threads that switch between bickering and serious and flirty and friendly, a few phone calls on hushed evenings when the cabin walls creak with wind around him. Buck hasn't heard Tommy say his name like that since it'd slipped out by mistake, three months ago, when Buck shifted his hips just enough to hit Tommy's prostate dead on. "I sold my house."

This is the big gesture, then. The one they'd talked about like it was a little bit silly, like it was still the kind of thing people did in movies that didn't really translate to a lived life.

"I literally talked to you yesterday," Buck says, and contemplates throwing something at him out of frustrated elation. A conversation from two days ago clicks. "Eddie knew, didn't he?"

Eddie with a smug tilt to his grin as he tipped the camera away from an unimpressed Christopher, Eddie pressing and pushing and wonderingly asking Buck if he'd thought about actually moving in to the house they'd offered up to him as part of the captaincy package. How Buck had scoffed, content to putz around his little bachelor cabin in the woods.

Tommy shrugs. "I shipped him all the mats from my garage when I was packing. Apparently I'm a shitty liar so he didn't quite believe me when I told him I was just upgrading."

He's beautiful, as he shifts his weight and drifts away from his truck, towards Buck, backlit by the gold-flecked, fluffy clouds hanging low over the jagged horizon line.

Buck checks his grip on his duffle.

"What happened to the car lift?"

It's - it's stupid, actually, but Buck feels like the next ten-twenty-fifty years of his life might hinge on the answer to it. Tommy steps closer - close enough for Buck to smell the aftershave on his very freshly shaved jaw. "I'm, uh. Thinking of having it shipped up from storage. If I find a place to stay."

He's got three more months he can't get out of on the cabin lease. The captains house is currently being occupied by his three most reckless probies and he won't just kick them out on a whim.

There's that ranch he sees tucked away in the valley, every time he drives into work, the one that's had a For Sale sign up since the first time he'd visited, four and a half months ago.

Buck drops the duffle and reaches forward to tug at the loops of Tommy's jeans.

The kiss is warm, soft, familiar. He shoves three and a half years worth of longing into it, in the way he hadn't, three drinks too deep with his ex after all his friends and family had wished him farewell. He'd spent six months after the breakup angry and hoping to make Tommy eat his fucking words; no one kisses like Tommy.

No one curls fingers so delicately around his ear before he lays his palm flat to Buck's scalp and tugs at Buck's hair, no one opens his mouth and licks in with a swirl and a groan like that, no one shifts their weight closer and breathes him in on a gasp.

"Tommy," Buck says, when they're both breathless and overwhelmed. He thinks of the text he'd sent, three weeks ago, after a phone call with Tommy about the kid who'd died in the air with him at the controls.

(Firsts and lasts are never guaranteed, and he hadn't meant it to sound petty, he'd really just meant to make a point about how a first high school dance and a last high school dance weren't so diametrically opposed.

Getting back a string of unpunctuated texts with misspelled words and no order or coherence had been enough to turn on his bedside lamp and call.

Tommy's voice had been tired, defeated, words slurred in a way Buck can't remember ever hearing before. It was a wall breaking down that he'd honestly never expected. Not after he'd thought he was chipping away at them only to realize Tommy had just been reinforcing them at the base.

"God, I fucking miss you," he'd said, while Buck stumbled through a speech about the survival mechanisms of the African beetle bug. Three and a half years, three semi-serious relationships between them and now over a thousand miles separated them as they'd been. A night of tipsy fucking before Buck kissed his sleeping forehead and hopped on a plane didn't change that.

But there in the quiet spaces between their breaths over the phone, he'd felt the weight of being missed by Tommy Kinard.)

"No one calls me Buck up here," Buck tells him, while they both press into each other, hands shifting over clothes, limbs stretching to meet, faces tucked in close. "You'll have to get used to Evan not being so special."

Tommy sighs. A finger draws a line from his temple to the curve of his jaw.

"Evan will always be special to me."

He's the first person since Buck began to ever call him that just because. There have been others, since then, no longer exclusive to the man who laughed as they soared through clouds and the one who'd brought him so fucking low he'd felt parts of himself fully fracture.

Buck is pretty fucking sure this means he wants to be the last. Still. He can tell his expression shutters by the way Tommy looks momentarily browbeaten, but his eyes clear, and he tugs Buck further into his chest, bundles his arms around him. "Ask me again," he says, and Buck stares into his eyes and tries to imagine what they'd look like against a skyline without smog, high up in the air, the ground falling away from them.

"That ranch I was telling you about is still for sale," Buck says, and tries desperately to keep his expression neutral as he continues. "Maybe in a couple years, you can help me with the mortgage payments."

Tommy nips at his nose, his laugh soft and quiet, warm. His eyes are a little misty.

"You're breaking my heart, Evan Buckley," and he has to clear his throat, corners of his eyes going wet. "Always knew you would."

Right now it's little more than a gesture and a promise. Buck's had three years to reflect, to understand that for all that Tommy had been the one who'd helped him reach this current update of Buck, they'd never actually dealt with too many of the hard parts. They'll have to fight for it. They'll have to talk through stupid shit, and miscommunications, and fear and regret and the love, too.

He thinks maybe Tommy's finally ready to fight.

---

Eddie looks smug as he catches sight of Tommy stumbling blearily down the stairs behind Buck on the video call.

Buck makes a face.

"Do you know how many times one of you thwarted my parent trap-esque plans for you two assholes? When you were both single six months ago I nearly hired some creep off Facebook marketplace to kidnap you both and lock you in a room."

Tommy ruffles Buck's hair, flips off the camera, navigates his way to the coffee pot, out of Eddie's view.

"And that's my cue to go," Eddie says, and Bucks gaze darts guiltily from Tommy's ass. "I better be the first one you guys invite to the housewarming." And he hangs up before either of them can argue that this is brand fucking new and they really haven't worked through the details.

He's right, though. He's right. Buck's got his teeth in the back of Tommy's neck twenty seconds later, and when Tommy leans back into it he holds up his phone and shows Buck the listing for the ranch he's been daydreaming about sharing with someone (this someone) since the first time he saw it.

[2amriize]

𖹭.ᐟ RIIZE as love tropes ༉‧₊˚.

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ friends with benefits You and Shotaro had been friends for a long time, but your relationship changed one night at a party while playing a game with friends, you ended up having to kiss. Both of you were surprised at how much you enjoyed it. Though you met up to talk about it and decided it wouldn’t happen again to avoid ruining your friendship, you couldn’t help but break that agreement. Since then, every time it happened, you promised it would be the last, but you both knew it wouldn’t be.

⭑.ᐟ eunseok . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ brother’s best friend You had known Eunseok for years; in fact, he’d watched you grow up. He had been like a second brother to you. But the way you saw him completely changed as you got older, starting to develop a crush on him. It wasn’t just because you found him attractive but also because of the way he treated you, always trying to make you nervous and winking at you when your brother wasn’t around. You’ll never forget his expression when you stole a kiss in the hallway. From that moment on, you both decided to keep a secret relationship, trying to keep your brother from finding out.

⭑.ᐟ sungchan . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ fake dating When your neighbor Sungchan asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend at a work event, you couldn’t have been more confused. It wasn’t required to bring a date, but Sungchan really just wanted a coworker who kept asking him out (even after he had turned her down multiple times) to stop. It was odd for you to have to act like Sungchan’s girlfriend since you only knew him from running into him in the elevator. You couldn’t help but get nervous whenever he placed a hand on your waist or looked into your eyes with the sweetest gaze you’d ever seen. How was he so good at this? Even though it was a one-time thing, you couldn’t stop thinking about him after he dropped you off at home.

⭑.ᐟ wonbin . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ enemies to lovers He was too perfect to be real; everyone idolized him and wanted to be close to him, but all you could feel was anger and resentment when you saw him. Wonbin felt the same way about you, and everyone knew the tension between you every time you ended up in the same dance class. You both wanted everyone’s eyes on you, so you did everything you could to improve and capture everyone’s attention. While you got along with everyone else in your dance group, neither you nor Wonbin could even look at each other, and if you were in the same conversation, you’d ignore each other entirely. Things got complicated when you were paired up for a couple’s dance; your instructor had assigned the partners, and the entire class fell silent when your names were called. Neither of you imagined that the hatred you felt would change because of this dance.

⭑.ᐟ seunghan . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ soulmates It always felt like fate that you and Seunghan met. From the first time you met, you connected deeply, and somehow, even when your paths drifted apart, you always found your way back to each other. You had so many things in common—practically everything—that talking to him always felt natural and easy, like speaking with someone you’d known all your life. You were friends for a long time until finally, after years without seeing each other, you met again in the same place where you’d first seen each other, and you both accepted that you wanted to be together forever.

⭑.ᐟ sohee . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ friends to lovers For years, you and Sohee had been friends; you had practically grown up together. You’d spent all of your adolescence together, met each other's partners, fought, and even stopped speaking for months. But in the end, you were always there for each other as friends. After spending an entire night catching up, talking about the old days, and updating each other on what was new in your lives, you both realized, after exchanging glances for a few moments, what you had truly felt for each other all those years. Without fully realizing it, you and Sohee had held feelings for each other for a long time, though you’d never accepted it until that day.

⭑.ᐟ anton . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ rich x poor Anton was the son of one of the most important corporations in the world, while you were just a student. Your family had never had much money, so for years, you focused on your studies to secure scholarships and provide a better future for your family. You never expected to meet Anton in an elevator at one of the companies where you were interviewing. He asked to see you again. Things became complicated when Anton’s father found out about your relationship, forbidding him from seeing you again because you were not of the same social class. Even so, Anton would be willing to give up his wealth just to be with you.

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies

[mymegrokosmos]

biker wonwoo brainrot anyone? just a quick mention. i was left unsupervised at 4am again. enjoy.

if anyone had told you that wonwoo was just a silly little nerd when you'd first met, you might not have believed them. that is to say, if this grown up version of your boyfriend was the one you'd met nearly ten years ago now. unfortunately for them, the wonu you knew wore big wire-rimmed glasses, lived in mis-matched sweatsuits, went through novels like water and spent most of his free time in the spare bedroom you'd helped him turn into a gaming den.

The version of jeon wonwoo you knew dog-eared the pages of all his books, scribbled notes in margins of anything and everything, liked to lay sprawled out on your lap while you watched romance kdramas together and loved when you ran your fingers through his hair. your boyfriend was often quiet and when he did speak his voice was always soft, even when he tossed out sarcastc remarks sharp enough to cut glass with that mischievous little cat smile of his. he was the definition of a homebody and an introvert.

he had walked into the busy coffee shop where you were working on a paper during finals week and asked if the seat across from you at your small table of two was taken because every other seat in the place was full. you'd seen him every week after that. it had taken him a month to actually speak to you and two to make small conversations a regular thing between you.

despite all that, he did have a bit of a hidden bravery about him. you wouldn't call it adrenaline junkie behaviour but he wasn't scared of a lot of things. where mingyu tended to jump at his own shadow wonwoo was often a steady, practial, stable person it took a lot to throw off balance. he expected everything. prepared for every scenario. it made him hard to surprise, or pull one over on, and often you were grateful for the constistency he provided.

so, when he pulled up outside your office on his motorbike and made a little show of hopping off to come kiss you, you couldn't help but shake your head a little.

"showoff."

"why shouldn't i be?"

you couldn't care less if any of your coworkers was watching as you let wonwoo store your purse in the compartment under the seat and, with a familiarity that came with lots of years of practice at it, strapped on the helmet he handed you. maybe you stared a little as he climbed back onto the bike, who could blame you when those jeans did great things for his ass and the leather jacket only served to highlight how broad his shoulders had gotten since he'd started joining gyu and cheol in the gym more often.

no one could see you ogling him from behind the tinted visor but he didn’t need to see your eyes to know they were on him. the smirk he flashed you before sliding his own helmet's visor back down spoke volumes.

you didn't waste time swinging a leg over the back of the bike and hopping on behind him. and if your grip around his waist was a little tighter than usual, well maybe it would deter that creep from accounting who you definitely hadn't told wonwoo about to stop flirting with you every time you stayed late and got stuck taking the elevator down to the lobby with him again.

if he was watching, and you couldn’t dismiss the possibility that your boyfriend had planned his timing just right to ensure that he was, you'd leave him wondering about just what exactly it was that wonwoo did for a living. let him make up his own scenarios. you were kind of partial to the race car driver guess if you had to pick one, or maybe the pit crew suggestion, that one had made you both laugh last week.

it was a privilege to know you saw a side of your large, intimidating, softie of a boyfriend that not many other people outside of his close friends and family did. surely you could gatekeep that part of him just a little, right?

[httyd-art-requests]

Heya! I wasn't sure if this was a legal request since it wasnt listed in your bio, but it is an official httyd video game

I'd love to see the goofy guy Patch from dawn of new riders! Chimeragons really made one appearance, became way too op, and then disappeared into obscurity. But look at the guy...he so ugly and goofy I love him

Your art is gorgeous btw!

( @yuendelahoya )

So funny story. I watched a playthrough of this game when it first came out in 2019, and it's been on my wish list ever since (mostly because of the flight mechanics lol) And now that I found these asks in my inbox again, I checked the Nintendo Store just in case, and it had a 55% discount??? So I got the game and spent the last 2 days playing it and now I'm a changed man (as of posting this, the discount lasts for 2 more days!)

Dragon #125 - MLM Patch (and Scribbler)

I hope they're doing well, wherever they are...

More thoughts and spoilers for the game under the cut!

I made Patch MLM colored instead of some other random Chimeragon, because the game has shown us that he can change colors with every rebirth, which I think is pretty neat :) It also explains why neither Scribbler nor Eir recognize Patch, even after he grows to be a Broadwing and then a Titanwing- if he changes his colors every time he hatches again, then yeah, no wonder they believed there's more than one Chimeragon

I knew what the big twist was going to be at the end because of the playthrough, but MAN does this game not hold its punches. The writers really asked "How can we elevate the Best Friends Forever thing to a whole new level?" and then made Scribbler witness the death and rebirth of his best friend, and now I have to draw these guys with literal tears in my eyes 👍

The sentiment that their friendship literally transcends life and death is so meaningful to me. Patch will continue to die and resurrect, and Scribbler will be there every time to welcome him and forge their bond all over again. The mystery of Scribbler's past, his involvement with Grimmel, and the open ending leave so much room for speculation and theorizing and it's just so incredibly up my alley, it's like it was made in a lab for me lol

This game ended up being a lot darker than I was expecting, but it was honestly so refreshing. The mechanics are simple enough for younger kids to learn, and the artstyle is very evidently targeted at kids as well, but some of the dialogue and the entire theme of death and inevitable loss feels surprisingly mature in contrast. They make you go to Vanaheim and hold a burial for Patch before he resurrects, literally what other kids' game does that?? /pos

Anyways play this game, it's a short and sweet little self-contained adventure, which accomplishes the one task it set out to accomplish: making me cry, specifically

[littlemissshoei]

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ — MR. MACHETE who first thought of you as a weakling with no hopes of survival when you didn't try to attack him, considering you boring and an easy target. He never expected you to fight back with all your might, waking a certain curiosity within him. The monster couldn't help but be taken aback by your sudden change in attitude as you desperately tried to crush him to death, wondering if there was more to you than met the eye.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ — MR. MACHETE who came to your rescue when you got captured by MR. HUGE FACE, not understanding why he did it.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ — MR. MACHETE who killed to protect you, not feeling even the slightest of remorse about his actions. As long as he was able to defeat whatever crossed his path, nothing mattered.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ — MR. MACHETE who ran away when he realized he couldn't take on the opponent, opening up in his own strange way to you when you ask him about it. It's either fight or flight if you want to survive down there.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ — MR. MACHETE who found your idea of finding a "new world" funny, deciding to assist you in hopes of coming across a new rush of adrenaline.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ — MR. MACHETE who despite his stubborn mindset takes a moment to listen to your words, considering his actions in a way to make you feel somewhat comfortable.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ — MR. MACHETE who starts to take a liking to you in his own strange way, protecting you as you search for an exit out of the nightmare you stumbled upon.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ — MR. MACHETE who watches as you take on that huge faced idiot, rushing to your side and feeding you his blood to stop you from fainting. During your journey together you had realized that the only reason he was able to survive for so long was because of the fact he cared only about himself. Things seemed to have changed though.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ — MR. MACHETE who follows you into the elevator, quietly observing you. Once the two of you step out of it you find yourself inside a strange, eerie hallway. The monster looked back to make sure you were there, not wanting to continue the journey without you anymore.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ — MR. MACHETE who despite the terrible first impression he gave you, turned out to be someone you could see yourself relying on. The more time passed, the more he started to open up, and the more you realized that deep within that monstrous exterior there was a person with real feelings. While it was complicated at first, you were more than content to stay around him for a little longer, even if it meant to haunt a weird apartment complex that seemed to have no exit. As long as you had him, you knew everything was going to be alright.

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Astronaut AU - Epilogue

Masterpost Read on AO3

AU Summary: the boys as modern day NASA astronauts. Taking place in 2025, Bucky is heading to the moon as mission commander of Artemis III while Buck is CAPCOM at NASA. Established relationship (obnoxiously in love).

Author's Note: We made it. Thank you a million times over to every single one of you who has engaged with this story. It means a lot to have you along for the ride.

---

Something funny happens when you fly faster than the speed of sound, nothing but a hunk of metal separating you from the sky. Time doesn’t seem to work right anymore; everything can move slow and fast all at once. You take a breath. It feels peaceful, somehow. Sacred. 

Even when you pull so many Gs that it presses a stone to your chest and strangles your lungs until they burn, as long as you can push through the tunnel vision and the dizziness, suddenly everything becomes clearer. Perspective, some might say. Others just call it exhilaration. Freedom. The feeling of being alive.

Bucky Egan is seriously addicted to that feeling. For months now, he’s gone without it. He spends more time than he should standing out at JSC’s Ellington Field, closing his eyes and breathing deeply as other astronauts perform flight tests and training exercises overhead. He listens to the rumbling sounds of the jets, wondering if he’ll ever be up there again. Free.

A jet, a prop plane, a space capsule. He’d take any one of them, really, if he can’t have all of them anymore. 

Some things are written in stone. Bucky knew seemingly out of the womb that he wanted to fly. He wouldn’t settle for anything else, wouldn’t settle at all. He was going to become an Air Force pilot, and then – once he learned that there were real people flying aboard something called the Space Station, orbiting around the planet 16 times per day – he was going to become an astronaut. From the very second he even knew it was an option, he wanted his feet to be off of this Earth. He wanted to feel what it felt like. He wanted to see what it looked like. He wanted to hear what it sounded like. 

He wanted all of it, and he never much minded the risk. Flight, after all, was his first love, and Bucky Egan will do just about anything for what he loves. A part of him always figured, if he had to die, he wanted it to be in the sky. If he had to die, it would be worth it, as long as flight was what claimed his life. Commit his soul to the stars, a supernova in the dark.

But then, of course, there was Gale. 

The night they met, two young boys standing awkwardly in a college dorm, Gale told Bucky that he didn’t intend to be an astronaut. He had Bucky wrapped around his finger from that very first smile, but he wanted to become an engineer for the Air Force. Maybe, if he got lucky, work his way into NASA’s space program. Someone back home to keep his feet on the ground may have done John Egan some good. But, in the end, it was him that looked at Gale and told him that all of that was bull. It was Bucky that pulled him along with strings tied to their hearts, convinced him to just give it all a shot – what’d he have to lose? And here he is, nearly two decades later, an everyday flyboy.

This life they’ve built, orbiting one another like a binary star system, is greater than any adventure Bucky ever could have imagined. The way he’s lived it, he figures he’s lucky he’s made it as far as he has. He’s lucky to be alive after that little stunt on the moon. He’s lucky to have the most amazing husband this side of the universe. He’s damn lucky for all of it. Maybe he’s a fool to ask for more.

But he’s not ready to keep his feet on the ground.

Not yet.

—

July 17, 2026 Houston, TX

Admittedly, this was maybe not Bucky’s brightest plan, taking a video call in the dimly lit Orion cabin, where he has to lay on his back, legs elevated, staring up at a brightly lit screen. He can feel a bit of a headache coming on, and he isn’t sure if the vague throbbing in his leg is real or just a figment of his haywire imagination. He might be losing feeling in his feet; he isn’t really sure. Is he setting himself up for failure? Maybe. This afternoon he needs to be in top form, or at least as close to it as he can get. But he’s committed now, and he’s too stubborn to move.

So here he is in the mock-up, like any other mission sim, tucked into his commander’s seat. Or, really, he supposes it’s Gale’s now. The Artemis 4 crew has been doing their fair share of sims in recent months, and Gale has been pulling longer and longer hours as they get closer to launch, as Bucky needs him at his side less and less.

Maybe that’s exactly why Bucky’s sitting here now. To feel close to his husband during a time when their careers, as usual, tend to pull them apart. Or maybe he’s sitting here because he needs the reminder, a silent dedication to who he is, what he’s meant to be doing, what he so badly needs to keep striving for.

Or maybe, he’s only sitting here because the seat of a cockpit is always where he’s felt the safest.

Safe isn’t the right word. 

In control, maybe. Most like himself. A cockpit is always where he’s best understood the world around him: sky above, Earth below, his heart strangled with a love for the unknown. The Orion capsule is another home to him. Things might go wrong – sometimes horribly, horribly wrong – but everything about it was constructed and tested with the singular goal of helping Bucky and his crew break boundaries, make history. Every single thing about it is so specific, so familiar, so carefully planned and crafted. John Egan knows this spacecraft better than he knows himself. In the chaos that is his life, it’s the capsule that carried him away from this planet that best keeps him grounded.

So he sits, laying on his back in the commander’s seat that once was his and is now Gale’s. He doesn’t really remember the process of getting here, but he remembers the intense need to be here, like he didn’t have a single other choice. When he first answered Gale’s video call, his husband stared at him for a long moment, then laughed and said something about “only John Egan has an emotional support spacecraft.” He didn’t say anything about how strange it is, considering Bucky almost died in this spacecraft. Maybe, in some weird, fucked up, convoluted way that he’ll have to talk to his therapist about later, that’s one reason he finds being in this tiny space so reassuring.

He’s not a psychologist. He’s hardly even an astronaut.

In any case, fully convinced that this was exactly where he needed to be to call his husband today – a day that has his nerves all shaken up like a can of soda – he duct taped his phone to the console above his head so that he can look at Gale without having to hold it up above his face the whole time. It fell and smacked him squarely on the nose once at the beginning of the call, but it’s been holding well enough since then. 

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been talking. Surely it’s been longer than they’d scheduled for, and someone’s gotta be looking for him by now, grabbing onto unassuming JSC employees and asking in a mild panic “Have you seen Major Egan?” Gale’s crew is no doubt waiting for him, too, perhaps just out of view of the camera, reminding him that they have to get started on some task or another. A part of Bucky feels guilty for holding Gale up for so long, but the rest of him needs this desperately.

This is the first time since Bucky splashed down in the Pacific last November that they’ve been apart for more than even a day. Scratch that, for more than 12 hours. Gale has stayed at his side, for better or worse, since the night he first laid eyes on Bucky again in the hospital. It feels like forever ago, and yet it feels like yesterday. Sometimes Bucky still wakes up convinced he’s dying, convinced that his hands don’t work, phantom pain burning through his leg, unable to speak. 

It was a long winter, and a long spring. Bucky has gaps admittedly, times when the brain fog whisked him away from reality, made it hard to stay in the moment, hard to figure out what was real. It all but disappeared with time, thankfully. He still has a moment here and there, especially when he first wakes up or if he’s stressed or nervous (not that he’ll admit to anyone but Gale that he’s even capable of being nervous), but they’re becoming less and less common.

Getting that leg to heal was a complete bitch. Turns out micro- and zero-gravity aren’t very kind to broken bones. Eventually the cast came off, and he progressed to a brace, walking with a cane, slowly, slowly working toward walking on his own again.

Gale was there the whole time. Holding him up, steadying him, cheering him on, taking the brunt of Bucky’s frustration and fear. No matter how many times Bucky lost his temper or wanted to give up or refused to get out of bed or go to PT or OT or his CT scans, Gale stayed. Gale didn’t give up on him. Gale loved him through it all.

It’s July now. Almost eight whole months since Bucky fell to this Earth, broken and barely breathing under a bright Pacific sky. It’s the dog days of summer, long and hot and busy as ever here at JSC. Gale has been gone for six whole days, training in Iceland with the Artemis 4 crew. Weirdly enough, the volcanic, rocky landscape of Iceland’s arctic desert is a perfect training ground for astronauts headed to the moon, and it has acted as such since the Apollo days. With Artemis in full swing, NASA has started sending the lunar crews out there again to conduct simulated missions that mimic what they’ll be faced with on the lunar surface.

Bucky misses those days, training and bonding with his crew – his best friends – as they bounded across the dark, eerie Icelandic rock in fake moon gear, out of their minds with excitement for what they were training to do. He’s spent much of this video call asking Gale about Iceland and their simulated missions, half wanting to relive it and half hoping maybe Gale would forget why Bucky wanted to call so bad in the first place. He can see on Gale’s face that he’s failing.

Sure enough, after indulging him for longer than Bucky honestly expected, Gale sighs and tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. “How do you feel?”

Bucky doesn’t quite know what Gale means when he asks this. The implications have changed so much over the years. 

In college, he’d ask Bucky How do you feel? when he woke up with a hangover after a night of drinking too much with their friends. Or that time he got terribly sick in the middle of midterm season and shoved through a Statics exam with a fever. When he pulled an all-nighter trying to finish a class project. When he passed Thermo by the skin of his teeth. From the first day of classes to the day they graduated.

How do you feel?

As young adults in the Air Force, or at NASA, he’d ask Bucky how he felt before going up for a mission or a training exercise. Or after survival training in the desert, wandering to the finish line dehydrated and sunburnt but alive and ahead of the rest of their astronaut class. He’d ask him after long training days or messy flights or after they’d been apart for days, weeks, months. He asked him when they both sat, shell-shocked, after losing a friend in the flames of a crash landing. How do you feel?

Before their wedding day, when Bucky was terrified of their future but knew without a doubt this was everything he ever wanted, Gale asked him, How do you feel?

During quarantine. Before the launch. On the pad. How do you feel?

Every day over CAPCOM or video call. Even when Bucky couldn’t hear him, couldn’t say anything back. How do you feel?

When Bucky came home, Gale would ask him that question several times a day. It was tough; there’s no use lying. There were times Bucky wanted to give up, couldn’t bring himself to leave the house or do much of anything. It was painful and it was confusing and it was messy, and sometimes all Bucky could do was stew in silence or, once or twice, tell Gale to fuck off. But every time his awareness drifted or he had to be moved with his bum leg, every time he woke up in pain or had to be left alone for any period of time, Gale, his voice gentle and concerned and so full of love, would ask him, How do you feel?

So what does he mean now?

Bucky doesn’t know how he feels. He should feel good. Excited. It’s about damn time this day came around. He’s John fucking Egan, not afraid of anything, born for the sky. He should feel as sure of himself as the day he climbed aboard the SLS.

So why doesn’t he?

He is excited. Don’t get him wrong. He’s been waiting for this since he woke up in a Houston hospital. But there’s a pit in his stomach and a weird, fluttery feeling in his chest and a weight settling over his shoulders that he can’t seem to shake.

He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel. He wants it to be the same as it was before. But it isn’t. It can’t be. 

Not anymore. 

“I’m fine.”

Gale frowns in that concerned, knowing way that he does. He looks so soft now, comfy in Bucky’s Yankees sweatshirt with his hair messy, no doubt fresh from debriefing after a ‘mission’ or about ready to get prepped for another. But Bucky squirms and looks away from his gaze; it sees right through him. It always has. 

“Try again,” Gale insists.

“I’m…” Bucky feels a weird phantom twinge in his leg. Blinks and it goes away. He rolls his eyes. At the question? At himself? Get it together. “I’m fuckin’ nervous,” he admits uncomfortably. “Of course I’m fuckin’ nervous, Buck. What if I get out there and…”

What if I get out there and I can’t do it anymore? What if I can’t handle it? Physically. Mentally. What if today just proves what we were all so worried about months ago: Bucky Egan is grounded. For good. 

“Fuck.” He can’t say any of it, can’t risk speaking the death of his career into existence. The melodramatic part of him thinks the bugler might as well start playing Taps right damn now if today doesn’t go his way. Fold up a flag and present it to Gale as the jets fly overhead.

He can only imagine the way Gale would frown and grit his teeth if Bucky said such a thing out loud.

His husband full well knows what Bucky means, though, and he’s quiet, thinking it over. Bucky can see half formed placations tumbling through his head like desperate dreams running on fumes. But eventually, he says, “it’s gonna be okay, John.” His voice is careful and easy, and he doesn’t even sound like he’s faking it. 

It makes Bucky’s heart clench.

“Gale,” he whispers, and he hates how vulnerable his voice sounds. It rings in his ears, echoing back and forth and back and forth as he roughly scrubs a hand over his eyes, squeezing them shut tight. 

He’s always felt most in control inside of a cockpit. He knows the way an aircraft moves better than he knows anything or anyone on this Earth, except maybe his husband. Flight makes him know who he is, gives him his metaphorical wings. And yet he’s also never felt more out of control than he has in a cockpit. 

If he goes up there, he has no idea what’ll happen. He has no idea what his body will do when it gets crushed into the seat by several times the force of gravity. He has no idea if the thing that used to lift him up will carry him again, or if it’ll spit him onto the ground in a pathetic heap of has-been.

So how is he supposed to feel right now?

Starbursts of pain color Bucky’s vision. Skull-splitting. All-consuming. It’s burning him alive from the inside out like a physical force trying to rip him apart. He thinks falling into a black hole would hurt less.

He feels sick. The G forces are too much.

He can’t think a coherent thought that isn’t something along the lines of ‘please make it stop.’ Somewhere, deep in his brain that won’t work, he hates himself for that. Knows he should be better.

And out of all of that – this crushing, crunching, nausea-inducing pain that has Curt yelling at him not to throw up in his suit – the words that pop up into his head like a cartoon thought bubble are “the Big Crunch.” 

It’s Gale’s favorite theory for how the universe might end. Because Gale is a space physics nerd that has a favorite theory for how the universe might end.

It’s like the opposite of the Big Bang – an exploding outward from an infinitesimal point, 0 to 73.3 kilometers per second per megaparsec in about a trillionth of a second flat. The Big Crunch would be an imploding inward, a collapsing into a single infinitesimal point at a similarly impossible to comprehend rate. Theoretically, this point could be anywhere in the universe.

John wonders if that would feel something like how he feels – crunching, disconnecting, reconnecting, blinding, unbearable. He sort of wishes it would just happen right now, with that point somewhere in this spacecraft. He’ll take the whole universe down with him. He doesn’t really mind, if it’ll make this stop.

“Gale?” He finds himself crying out the only word he can get past his lips. The only word that matters. The only word that can come remotely close to making any of this better. 

“Gale?”

Why won’t it work? Why won’t Gale save him?

He’s getting more desperate. Please. 

“Gale?”

“John? You with me?”

Bucky blinks. He looks back at his phone, sees Gale’s face, all worried and shit. It makes his heart sink, because Gale’s been looking at him like that a lot in recent months. Today is a big day, and Bucky knows Gale is worrying he won’t be able to handle it. He also knows that Gale feels guilty for worrying he can’t handle it. 

But Bucky’s worried, too.

“I wish you were here.” He says these words so quietly he isn’t sure Gale will hear them. He isn’t sure he wants Gale to hear them. He looks away from the phone as he says it, feeling too vulnerable and too raw on this day when he’s supposed to be Major John Egan: cool, cocky, composed. 

He can pretend for everyone else. Everyone besides Gale. He’ll tell them that he’s ready, even if he isn’t.

He won’t ever be ready until he does it anyway.

The lights are dim around him. In the glow of the console in front of his face, he strokes his fingers gently over the tactile buttons beside the screen. They feel so familiar; he thinks he could press one with his eyes closed and know exactly what it would do.

“I wish I was, too.” Gale’s voice comes back soft and real, bringing Bucky’s attention back to his phone screen. The way Gale’s face is so open and genuine – so unlike what the rest of the world gets to see of him, with a crooked half-smile half-frown accentuating the mix of emotions in his eyes, wide and searching Bucky’s for some answer he doesn’t have – makes Bucky want to pull him through the screen and hug him tight.

He wants Gale to hug him tight. He wants Gale to pull his feet back down to this planet and tell him he’s safe and protect him from everything that has hurt him so badly. He wants Gale to make sure the stars keep burning at night and the world keeps turning and the darkness doesn’t swallow them whole. He wants Gale to quiet the buzzing in his brain and the ringing in his ears. The little voice that’s telling him he can’t do it, can’t do any of it. He wants Gale to come home right damn now and make all of it go away.

But Gale won’t do that. Because he knows that, right this very moment, Bucky needs to climb the rest of the way up this mountain. He needs to stand at the top himself in order to understand that he can do it, he can make it. Gale can’t do anything but stand beside him.

“Do you think I’m ready?” Bucky asks. He says it with a mindless air, looking away as he traces his thumb over the bottom of the console, but there’s a jagged edge to his voice that gives him away. He doesn’t know if he wants Gale’s reply. There was a time when it didn’t matter what anyone else thought – even Buck. Bucky Egan would do what Bucky Egan wanted to do, whatever he convinced himself he was capable of doing.

Some things change. Sometimes forever, and sometimes only for a moment.

He makes tentative eye contact with his husband through the screen. Gale nods – a curt, somewhat hesitant little thing. “Maybe,” he says honestly. “You’re ready to at least try. But if it doesn’t go the way you want it to, you just keep workin’, and you’ll try again. You’re Bucky Egan. Nothing can keep your feet on the ground forever.”

Bucky is about to say something snarky and maybe self-deprecating back, but before he can, there’s a voice in the background of Gale’s side of the call. His eyes widen and he looks off screen, putting a hand up to whoever was trying to get his attention. He looks back at Bucky and sighs. “I gotta go, darlin’. You’ll be alright, hear me?”

Bucky forces a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, obviously.”

“I love you,” Gale says, shoving every bit of adoration he has into those words, and Bucky wants to bottle it up somehow, hold onto it for when he needs a reminder. 

“I love you, too,” he says. 

The corner of Gale’s mouth lifts into a shy smile. “Ad lunam, ad astra,” he says, and then he’s gone.

Alone again, Bucky reaches up to turn off his phone, and he lets his hand fall down to rest over his chest. He rubs his thumb over his wedding band, twists it around and around his finger. “Ad lunam, ad astra,” he whispers to himself. 

When the master alarm starts blaring through the cabin seconds later, red lights flashing in Bucky’s eyes, his heart rate shoots up as he instinctively starts thinking through every single thing that could possibly be wrong. His eyes scan the console in front of him, searching for system statuses that aren’t there, and he blinks in confusion before he shakes his head, remembering that he isn’t in a training exercise. Someone’s tracked him down. 

He turns off the alarm and lets silence fill the cabin again. 

“You know, when you said you were gonna find somewhere quiet to flirt with your husband, we thought you meant your office or a shady tree or somethin’.” 

Bucky turns his head awkwardly to see Rosie outside, his head ducked down to peek through the hatch at him.  

“It was quiet before you came and scared me half to death,” Bucky retorts. He reaches up and rips his duct taped phone off the console, picking the tape off and rolling it into a ball. 

“If that scares you, you’re in the wrong place,” Rosie quips. He freezes, just for a second, his eyes going that little bit wider, and Bucky sees the moment he realizes what he said. A harmless joke. A truth, if nothing else. Something that would’ve made Bucky throw a meaningless little insult right back at him a year ago. 

Everyone’s been walking on eggshells for a while now. No one would dare even insinuate that John Egan doesn’t belong here, especially not while he’s working so hard to claw his way back. 

But he takes Rosie’s words for what they are, rolls his eyes, and brushes a hand back through his hair. “If you ain’t a little scared you’re doin’ it wrong. Or you’re crazy.”

Rosie lets himself smile, shaking his head, and he crawls in through the hatch. He pulls himself into the seat beside Bucky, where Curt would usually sit. Bucky sticks the tape ball to his shoulder, and Rosie grabs it, shoves it into his pocket before Bucky can bug him with it any more. 

“Man, can you believe we spent weeks cramped up in this thing?” he muses, his eyes skimming over the industrial walls of the tapered conical cabin. He’s talking about the real Orion capsule, not to mention the hundreds of hours logged in this very simulator. 

Bucky glances around. This glorified minivan of a spacecraft is the stuff of his childhood dreams, like something straight from science fiction. “We’re astronauts, Rosie,” he points out, as if he doesn’t wonder every day how he managed to make it this far. “I can’t believe we left the planet at all.” Rosie scoffs, and they share a look, like neither of them are certain anything that’s happened in the last year was real. 

Bucky shakes his head, adding, “not like we ain’t used to it.”

“At least on the station we got more than one cramped space.”

Bucky doesn’t ask the question that surges through his brain at the mention of the station: Do you think I’ll ever go back? He isn’t ready for the answer. And he doesn’t want to hear ‘I don’t know’ or ‘Of course you will’ or ‘You’re John Egan, you can do anything.’

John Egan couldn’t sign his own name with a pen a few months ago.

Instead he looks over at the fake window on the side of the fake capsule, assessing the distance from it to him. It’s so close. “Felt like that window was a world away during the return trip.” He remembers being led over to it. The feeling of Beary Egan’s fur between his fingers. The throbbing in his head. The unbearable burning in his leg. The nausea in his stomach. Everything spinning around him.

But out the window, stars. So many stars. And he was going to get to them one way or another.

Rosie looks at the window, then back at Bucky. The crew physician remembers all of it, all too well. Part of him wishes he could forget the worst parts, but another part of him feels a need to be the keeper of those memories. He thanks the universe everyday for guiding all of them home. “Everything seems further away when your body doesn’t know if it’ll make it to tomorrow.”

They’re quiet for a long time, just two crew members in a capsule mock-up. It has snapshot memories flashing through Bucky’s mind, and he rubs his thumb over his wedding ring again to ground himself. He thinks about Rosie’s words. “I made it,” he whispers. 

“Yeah,” Rosie agrees. “Yes you fuckin’ did.”

It’s a truth that John has been trying to remind himself of every single day for months. He made it; he’s alive. 

But is that enough?

What do you do when the best experience of your life was also your worst? What do you do when the thing you love nearly killed you? What do you do when all is said and done, when there’s nothing left to do but forgive, even though you will never, ever be able to forget?

What do you do when the universe tries to strip away your identity, leaving nothing but a trembling shell, the pieces strewn about for you to pick up one by one?

You rebuild yourself, step by step. And what do you do when the edges don’t fit anymore, rough corners scrubbing at wounds that won’t heal, nothing but sheer grit and determination gluing you together?

Is it enough? Do the pieces fit well enough for you to be whole again? Will time sand away the jagged edges, sew together the messy seams? Pieces lost and pieces gained, and all you can do is search in the dark for who you were and who you thought you were and who you still can be. 

And you wonder, is it enough?

Bucky holds his hand up in front of his face. Out in zero G, there’s no up or down. You’re weightless, every part of you. Holding your hand up in the air takes no more effort than holding it out to the side or down or back or forward. On Earth, though, there’s good old gravity. 9.8 meters per second squared. 32 feet per second per second. A reliable force keeping your heels on the ground so you don’t just float away. With the way Orion’s seats are oriented, Bucky and Rosie lay on their backs, staring up at the tapered ceiling of the capsule and the screens set up in front of their faces.

Here on Earth, holding his hand up in front of his face takes effort. He’s not weightless down here, and as he experimentally pinches his fingers together, he watches the way they shake.

He bites his lip, takes a breath, closes his eyes. He doesn’t open them.

Gale once told him about the conversations he had with Dr. Huston – the fear that even if Bucky even made it home, he may never be the same. Now he wonders if that fear came true. Is he the same? Will he be the same? He doesn’t know.

He wonders if Gale does. He wonders what Gale sees now, when he looks at him.

He squeezes his eyes shut even tighter.

Ad lunam. Ad astra.

“You’re gonna be fine, John.” Rosie’s voice cuts through the ringing in Bucky’s ears, quieting it. “This is what you’re meant to do.”

Bucky swallows thickly, willing his voice not to come out a strangled mess. “What if… what if I’m not anymore? What if it doesn’t come back like it’s s’posed to?”

“You’ve been training.”

“What if I never...”

“Take a breath.”

Bucky does. There’s no room for panic. No room for doubt. Just him and the sky. 

“Open your eyes.”

When Bucky releases himself from the darkness, his hand is perfectly still in front of him. He straightens his fingers, bends them again, straightens them. They don’t shake.

“You’re ready, John.”

—

The sun is bright over Ellington Field late that afternoon, and Bucky pushes his aviators up the bridge of his nose. He tugs at the collar of his flight suit as he strides down the runway, adjusting it beneath the straps of his parachute pack, and he squares his shoulders, lifting his chin. He feels the hard pavement beneath his boots, hears the beat of his footsteps. The ground crew waits for him.

When he stops in front of the Northrop T-38 Talon, he squints against the light reflecting off its sleek white side, and he feels his breath catch in his throat at the sight of this beautifully engineered machine that will launch him into the blue. He curls his fingers into a fist, spreads them out wide, and slowly, steadily, he presses his hand to the nose of the jet standing in front of him, just waiting to come to life. The T-38 jet trainers are used by NASA for training exercises and keeping the astronaut corps’ flying skills up to par. He knows this aircraft as well as he knows Orion, but he hasn’t flown it since last July, a whole year ago now. 

“Hey there,” he whispers, letting his eyes roam over it – the fuselage, the engines, the wings, the tail, the wheels. A beautiful bird. It was designed long before Bucky was even born, but it doesn’t look it. “Long time no see.”

“Worried she won’t remember you?”

As Bucky’s eyes stay trained on the ground, studying the wheels, his hand still pressed to the nose, he feels someone else’s presence at his side. He looks up, pulling his hand away. Curt’s there, watching him with a teasing smile on his face. He’s wearing the same gear as Bucky: blue NASA flight suit, G-suit, parachute pack, a helmet tucked under his arm. His other hand grips the shoulder strap of his harness.

“Not one bit,” Bucky replies.

Curt chuckles and pulls Bucky into a tight one-armed hug, as if they haven’t seen each other in months even though Curt makes a point out of bugging him every day. “You ready?” he asks when he pulls away.

Bucky nods and grins in that wild, daring way, as if he hasn’t had a single doubt this whole time. As if he wasn’t just freaking out to Gale and Rosie over what he’s about to do. He brushes his hair back and gazes at the jet again. “Let’s see how well I remember her.”

After passing his sunglasses off to a ground crew member, he climbs the ladder leading to the Talon’s second seat, behind Curt’s. They each stow their procedure documents in the cockpit and hang their helmets on the rail before hopping back down for a walkaround inspection. This thing’s been checked at least twice over by ground crew already, but Curt and John don’t fly without giving their own seal of approval.

When Bucky climbs the ladder again and, at long last, settles into the tight cockpit of a real, flight-ready jet, adrenaline rises in his chest at the same time that a sense of belonging presses him into the seat. He sits back, and staring at the instrument panel just beyond his fingertips feels something like coming home. He can’t stop the grin that spreads over his face. The crew chief helps Curt and Bucky strap in and connect their G-suits, and then Bucky slides his helmet over his head so he can hook up to the oxygen supply and comms. He sighs deeply; for the duration of this test flight, this jet is a part of him, or he’s a part of it.

Ladders stowed and systems checks complete, Curt gives the signal for air, and the ground crewmen oblige, pumping life into the Talon’s engines. Once they’ve completed the last of their pre-flight checks, Bucky hears Curt’s voice buzzing in his ear. It crackles over the comms, a sound Bucky hasn’t heard coherently since he was bounding along the side of Shackleton crater.

“It feels damn good to fly with you again, Major.”

“Cut the crap, Biddick,” Bucky teases. “Without me around, you’re officially NASA’s best pilot.”

Curt scoffs at that, and Bucky imagines him rolling his eyes as he double checks the takeoff and landing data. “Should’ve left your ass on the moon… astrofag.”

Bucky rolls his eyes right back, but he can’t help but laugh. Whether he’ll admit it or not, the name is growing on him. He shrugs, reviewing the same numbers. “Only one way to get back there.”

Chick’s voice cuts in from the tower, and it makes Bucky feel something like relief to know Harding is here for this, rooting for him. “One step at a time, boys.”

As Curt starts taxiing, Bucky looks out over the side of the aircraft. The wings of the Talon and the still-open canopies shake as the tarmac rolls by beneath the wheels, bumping them along. He and Gale have taken their prop plane out a few times this month and last; Bucky even took over the controls for a while one time. But this, today, is his first time back in a supersonic jet trainer. He’s only flying second seat, leaving most of the piloting to Curt, but today is a major stepping stone toward feeling whole again: today he finds out if he can handle supersonic flight.

Since his neurologists cleared him for it a couple months ago, he’s been training for this day in earth-bound simulators. At first, the Gs were too much for him, leaving him feeling weak, pathetic, and discouraged as he passed out or started feeling sick at embarrassingly low G forces. But it’s been coming back to him in recent weeks. 

The Talon – capable of flying at Mach 1.3 and climbing 30,000 feet in just one minute – can easily pull 7 Gs. Bucky thinks he’s ready. He wants so badly to be ready. He wouldn’t be flying today if anyone thought he wasn’t ready.

They’re at the end of the runway, staring down the length of it as Curt pivots the Talon so its nose points straight ahead. When Chick clears them, they lower their canopies, and Bucky feels the cabin pressurize. He blinks in surprise as they lurch forward, and then they’re barrelling ahead, faster, faster, faster, until they lift up off the ground, ascending into the clear sky.

He breathes deeply as they climb, picking up speed as they shoot up into their airspace, approaching 16,000 feet. They coast there for a minute, making sure everything is still in order up at altitude. 

“Doin’ alright back there?” Curt asks as they both check their systems again.

“We’re go back here,” Bucky affirms. “Let’s fuckin’ do it.”

“Your wish is my command, Major,” Curt says. He lowers the nose of the jet, and they pick up speed as they drop again, getting up to about 500 knots, three-quarters of the speed of sound. Curt brings the stick back then, sharply pulling the Talon’s nose up, and Bucky watches the G-meter gradually kick up to 5 as they shoot upwards. The force presses him back into his seat, making it hard to breathe, and he clenches his muscles as he feels his G-suit get to work trying to keep the blood from draining away from his head. The needle creeps toward 6, goes a little over it. He grits his teeth hard, feeling his heart start to beat harder, faster as his vision starts to tunnel. His head feels funnier than he wishes it would, but he forces himself to focus, strains to breathe, determined to keep going. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, tensing his lower body as he and his suit fight to prevent G-LOC.

Chick’s voice crackles in Bucky’s ears. “You’re doin’ fine, son.”

Curt keeps pulling back until they’re up around 20,000 feet and the nose passes vertical; they’re now flying inverted. The nose of the Talon is like an arrow, going wherever you point it, and currently it’s looping them over backward at Curt’s command, with the ground through the canopy where the sky should be. The G-meter starts to chill out, dropping again as they lose speed. Bucky’s vision clears as the blood returns to his head, and he breathes in deeply.

Through the canopy, he catches a glimpse of two lonely, fluffy clouds in the distant sky, and below, little buildings and invisible people and dark, sparkling bodies of water spread out across the Earth. Stardust, he thinks, smiling just a little bit as he watches the world around him, trying to see it through Gale’s eyes. Bucky’s always found it beautiful, but more than anything, he’s always cared about the flight, the adrenaline, the excitement. Gale cares about the beauty, the wonder, the imperfect perfection.

“You still with me, Bucky?”

“Yeah,” Bucky assures Curt. “I’m here.”

Curt expertly flips them around and levels back out, upright once again and coasting along at a smooth 400 knot clip. “You ready?” he asks after giving Bucky some time to recover.

“I didn’t come all this way not to be.”

“I don’t need the sass,” Curt shoots back, but it’s light, like normal. “You have the controls.” Bucky’s pretty sure he hears the word ‘asshole’ muttered at the end of that sentence, and it makes him smile.

He shakes the stick in confirmation, and suddenly he has all the power of the Talon right there in his hands. His eyes flick down to where his fingers grip the stick, his heart skipping a beat, but his hand is perfectly still. “I have the aircraft,” he says, and he hopes Chick is still listening.

He sends them into a roll, feeling giddy as his head gets snapped to the side and his body seems to remember exactly what it’s supposed to do. Flying this thing is ingrained within him, like riding a bike – a bike that’s 46 feet long with a 25 foot wingspan, 3,000 pounds of thrust, a 55,000 foot altitude ceiling, and a top speed of 858 miles per hour. 

He asks the plane for a little more, a little more, pushing them higher, faster, forward. He hears Curt whoop loudly into the comms: “Come on baby! We’re fuckin’ back!” And Bucky hasn’t felt this alive since he was on the moon.

After a few minutes of unfiltered glee at the helm of his long-lost ship, feeling pieces of his soul sink back into him, he banks them around and hands the controls back over to Curt for the grand finale, their final test of the day. At about 32,000 feet, they enter a shallow dive, using it to increase their speed again. Bucky feels himself being pressed back, but with a more comfortable amount of force this time as the sky blurs by. He watches the airspeed indicator. Mach 0.92… 0.96… 0.98… 0.99. The indicator jumps, out of sync, as the bow shock passes.

Bucky nearly gasps as they hit Mach 1… 1.02… 1.06… 1.11. 

A strange feeling of calm descends on him. They’re flying faster than the speed of sound; they’re flying faster than anything else on Earth. There’s a certain beauty to it that Bucky’s missed in the last eight months, and he blinks away stubborn tears as the world starts to make sense again. He looks out the window, sees nothing but blue skies, and he lets oxygen fill his lungs as he grins beneath his mask. He laughs, and he hears Curt laugh with him.

—

Back on the ground, once the canopies are up and Curt’s parked them squarely in the Talon’s hangar, the crew chief secures the ladders to the side of the aircraft, giving the pilots their exit. He asks Bucky if he feels alright, and Bucky nods once his helmet is off, leaving dark, sweaty hair sticking up in all directions. “Never better,” he says.

In his head is a steady mantra: I am an astronaut. I am an Air Force officer. I am a pilot.

He just proved it to himself, even if he still has more work to do. He is a pilot. He is all of those things. Not was… he is. 

He climbs down slowly, gripping tight to the sides of the ladder in a way that has him second guessing how much brain power he needs to dedicate to his grip strength. Just a few months ago, his fingers wouldn’t listen well enough to do even this. But he studies his hands for just a split second, one foot on the rungs of the ladder and the other hanging mid-air, and he realizes that his fingers are working just fine right now. His legs feel a little weak as he steps down, down, down, and he holds his breath as he lowers himself the last big step to solid ground. His head goes just a little fuzzy, and for a nerve-wracking half second, he worries his knee might give out and send him crashing to the pavement, but his toes find contact, and he lets himself hop down. His head clears. He takes another deep breath.

His heart is beating fast; he still feels the adrenaline thrumming in his chest, and it makes him feel so goddamn alive. The world around him feels so unreal, the feeling of Curt clapping him on the shoulder so far away that it makes Bucky stumble to the side. He laughs and shakes his head before turning to press his hand to the jet one more time. 

“Next stop, flyin’ her yourself,” Curt says.

For the first time in months, Bucky actually believes it might happen. It’s not even a half-truth said to the media, a manifesto spoken to shove him through PT, a dream to get him out of bed in the morning. It’s right here in front of him, just inches away, and he’s so close. 

He doesn’t say any of it out loud, but he knows Curt can see it, too. They all can see it. Someday soon, John Egan won’t be grounded anymore.

He tucks his helmet under his arm and takes his aviators from the crew chief with a nod of thanks before putting them on. With a glance over at his best co-pilot as they walk away from the aircraft, out of the hangar, he ruffles Curt’s sweaty hair. “What the fuck?” Curt says, but he’s looking somewhere out ahead of them when he says it.

Bucky squints into the early evening summer sun at a small silhouette running fast toward them. After a second of confusion, he laughs and sinks down to his knees just in time for a wriggly husky to crash into his chest. “Pep!” A second one runs up to his side, licking at his ear before going after Curt. “And Meatball,” Bucky laughs. Pepper shoves her nose into his face, making him lean his head back, pushing her away even as he curls his fingers into her thick coat. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Flyin’ looks good on you major,” a voice calls out. Bucky’s heart skips a beat, and his head shoots up, his hands freezing in the middle of scratching Pepper’s ears. Meatball trots away, toward the group of people approaching them. 

There’s Benny and Marge – here for support and for media updates respectively – as Bucky expected. Then there’s Chick, fresh from the tower and looking something like a proud father, or maybe just a relieved boss.

And then there’s Gale.

Bucky’s husband – the same one that Bucky was supposedly video calling in Iceland just hours ago – is now also in a NASA flight suit with his hair gelled back. He’s walking across the tarmac to him, illuminated by the sun. 

“Holy shit, man!” Benny exclaims, giving Bucky a firm, excited side hug before slapping Curt on the shoulder. “Bucky Egan is back.”

“That’s right, you can’t get rid of me,” Bucky jokes as Marge comes forward to hug him. He knows she’ll want some pictures of him and Curt by the Talon in a minute, but for now she just whispers in his ear that she’s proud of him, and she squeezes him tight.

Chick pulls him into a rare hug, patting him on the back. “You did damn good,” he says. “Damn good.”

And then there’s Gale. He stands in front of Bucky, looking a little sheepish but tall and proud and beautiful. He raises an eyebrow, and Bucky can’t do anything but stare at him for a long moment. He stares, and stares some more, before finally he blinks and surges forward. Gale grunts at the force of Bucky’s body hitting his, but he firmly plants his feet and wraps his arms around him. “Hello to you, too.”

“Hey, angel,” Bucky whispers. He presses his nose into Gale’s hair, inhales the scent of his shampoo and product. He smells like Houston, like the gulf, like waking up to sunlight shining through the windows, like all the things Bucky loves. He smells like home. “All that about what you were doin’ in Iceland today was bullshit, huh?” 

Gale shrugs. “Surprise?”

Bucky grips the fabric of Gale’s flight suit, twisting it in his fingers. “Were you… did you see?”

Gale nods. “I saw all of it.”

Bucky bites back a grin, hiding it against the side of Gale’s head. He hears Marge take their picture. It’ll be framed and on his desk within the week.

—

By the time the sun’s gone down, the Talon tucked away in its hangar and the ground crew gone for the day, Bucky is back at Ellington Field, sitting on the hard pavement of the runway. There’s the lightest breeze drifting around him, carried in off the bay to relieve Houston from the oppressive heat of the daylight. Major Egan is still in his flight suit, adorned with patches – his name, John Egan, written in neat script beneath a set of wings; the NASA logo; the U.S. flag; his ISS mission patch; and finally, Artemis III.

There’s a crescent moon peeking out of the darkness, set against a backdrop of dark blue-black sky pockmarked with the stars that have guided Bucky his entire life. He stares up at them, the moon and the stars, his mind jumping from one thing to the next. Running through his flight today, everything good and bad about it; thinking through how much further he still has to go until his body is 100% ready to fly alone again; wondering if Gale is looking for him, if he knows Bucky well enough to know where to find him. He’s remembering walking on that moon – every day he works to reconcile it all in his brain, what went wrong and what went right. He’s thinking about what it will be like when Gale goes up there in just a short four or so months.

He can hear footsteps walking over the pavement, and he breathes out in a huff. His husband knows him like the back of his own hand after all.

He spares a glance over as Gale settles on the ground beside him, pulling his knees to his chest in a way that Bucky thinks can’t possibly be comfortable anymore at their age. They sit, close enough that their arms brush, and they look up at the sky that has laid the path for their entire existence.

“Everyone’s headin’ to the Hundred Proof,” Gale says. “Thought you’d wanna drink to being back in the cockpit.”

Bucky hums. “Guess that’s somethin’ I oughta do.” Since he was released from the hospital last December, the Hundred Proof has become a place of celebration and camaraderie again, rather than one of collective grief and worry. His Artemis portrait went up on the walls of the bar just before the new year, along with Curt’s, Rosie’s, and Alex’s. Soon enough, Gale’s ISS portrait will be switched out for his Artemis 4 one, too. Buck and Bucky; one is never far behind the other. 

Bucky crosses his legs and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, still looking up as if he can see the entire universe if he only squints hard enough. “We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?”

“Have we?”

Bucky looks over at Gale again, scoffing in disbelief, but he finds Gale hiding a smirk as he presses his cheek to his knee, watching Bucky. His hair is messy again from running his hand through it, the gel never holding for long, and Bucky rolls his eyes, reaching a hand out to ruffle it some more. 

“It’s worth it,” he says matter of factly, letting his eyes drift back to the stars.

Gale scoots closer and lets his head fall against Bucky’s shoulder. “It’s our life,” he agrees. He doesn’t need to emphasize the our; it’s as if there was never any doubt in this universe that his life would be John’s and John’s would be his.

“Sometimes I can’t really believe I made it here.”

“You were never gonna take no for an answer.” Gale doesn’t know exactly which part of Bucky’s life they’re talking about. He wasn’t going to settle for less than the astronaut corps. And he wasn’t going to settle for less than Gale either. 

“I said sometimes,” Bucky mutters, but there comes a point, no matter how badly you’ve always wanted something, where it doesn’t feel real anyways. He doesn’t quite know what he did right to make it to this very spot, even if he can trace his exact path, every single step and crossroads and difficult decision. Sometimes, all he feels is fucking lucky.

Gale scoffs and turns his head, pressing his nose against Bucky’s neck, above the collar of his flight suit. He kisses the delicate skin there. “I never had a doubt,” he whispers. “I’m proud of you.”

Bucky leans back, pulling Gale with him until they’re both laying on the hard ground. It’s uncomfortable as hell, but Gale curls against Bucky’s body anyway, shifting so his head lays right over his heart. Bucky’s fingers curl into his hair. They don’t shake. They don’t even hesitate.

“It’s a damn good life,” Bucky breathes out, the words floating up to the heavens and wrapping around them both. He means it with everything he has. 

Gale hums in agreement. With his ear pressed to Bucky’s chest, he can hear his heartbeat, steady and strong. It’s a sound that he took for granted before, but he never, ever gets tired of it now. He squeezes his eyes shut and silently counts along. One. Two. Three. Four.

“You’ll come home, right?” Bucky asks. Few people in this world would be able to distinguish the slight tremble to his voice, the way it jumps almost imperceptibly, nerves twining through it. But Gale hears it loud and clear. With his cheek pressed to Bucky’s chest, he feels the rise and fall start to slow, feels the way Bucky is nearly holding his breath.

Gale closes his eyes, bites at his lower lip. He knows that Bucky knows better than to ask that question. Both of them know that their line of work has never, not once, come with guarantees. They know better than anyone that promises like that are as good as empty. And yet, without promises, what is there to keep them moving forward?

So Gale buries his face in Bucky’s chest and says the only thing he can say. “When have you ever known me not to come home?”

Bucky scoffs quietly at that, but Gale knows that’s all he wanted to hear. They both know that, technically, the odds of him making it home are high; the opposite outcome, statistically, has little to no standing. Bucky takes Gale’s hand, and he mindlessly fiddles with Gale’s fingers in a way that feels normal and domestic, like they’re just any other married couple in this funny little world. Like they’re just them – awkward teenagers and reckless young adults and newlyweds all at once.

Gale could count the days until he launches out of this planet’s orbit. The hours. The minutes. He could mentally tally them as they tick by, pulling them closer and closer to the next adventure, the next mission, the next dream. The clock is running.

But, despite it looming over them, with all of the excitement and adrenaline and worry that it entails, at this exact moment, beneath a sky full of stars, it feels far away. He could count down the seconds. He could feel the anticipation of it winding through his body with every beat of his heart. 

But instead, he focuses on Bucky. He counts his husband’s heartbeats, the purest sign that they are both alive, that they are both exactly where they need to be. One. Two. Three. Four.

“Ad lunam, ad astra,” Bucky whispers into the night.

Gale hides a smile against the fabric of Bucky’s flight suit. It smells like flight – fuel and sweat. He focuses on that, on the rise and fall of Bucky’s chest, on the feeling of warmth between them, the sticky summer air drifting through their hair. 

“To the moon, to the stars,” he repeats back. And with a soft smile, he lets himself breathe.

[yagiichan]

cod x fem!reader EDC Week

cod x fem!reader

cod members reaction to you when they first see you out of your tactical gear, and you’re actually dressed up for EDC.

Warning: mentions of smut, 18+ Minors DNI, language. Mentions of breeding.

A/N: EDC literally just happened in my city, and I’ve been into the COD x reader stories recently. It’s not going to be anything impressive, but I hope ya’ll like it. Again, this is my HC for whatever reason. IDK, I don’t really make sense to myself neither, so don’t @ me. :3 This is also my first time posting on tumblr, so please be nice.

FYI I do not know a whole lot of lore, I’m just here for the fun of it, so please do not flame me for any inaccurate/unplausible storytelling I am about to convey.

P.S. I drew the design of the dress, but I referenced an image on pinterest. I apologize as I do not know the original artist for the figure.

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

Chatter amongst the operatives broke out, as everyone began filing out of the room, from another long debriefing. You were new to the squad, and just barely began speaking to anyone. Layered in heavy combat armor, and face covered with a balaclava and dark round shades every time you’re on base. You don’t like it when people gawk at you, especially when conducting professional business.

You find it easier when you’re covered up. People treated you like a normal soldier, rather than a piece of meat. Though, doesn’t really stop the flirtatious comments coming from your companions.

Soap would linger sometimes, making fun little passes, “What’ve you got hidin’ under there, bird?” You’d laugh him off and just tell him nothing he’d be interested in. He’d quip back “Bet there’s loads I can find interesting, dove…” You continue to laugh, making your way down the dim hallway. The other members, following behind. Gaz would chime in with a “knock-it-off” comment every now and then, but he was just as curious how you’d look too.

Pretty much, everyone has seen one another, considering how long they’ve been enlisted together, so it’s no surprise that fresh meat would immediately attract the attention of wolves.

Ghost, Konig, and Horangi followed from behind, watching you laugh.

“What’s the fresh meat good at anyways?” Ghost asked nonchalantly. Horangi shrugged his shoulders, with a soft “mm-mm”. Konig shook his head at the both of them “Hand-to-hand combat and reconnaissance. Apparently, she’s managed to close the distance on the Captain and threw him straight into the wall.” Ghost scoffed, attempting to burn a hole in the back of your skull. “She is? Look at her” he pointed with his chin, “A literal fuckin’ gnome is what she is.” Horangi chortled a little bit, Konig staying silent.

Price picking up on their conversation, cleared his throat, “You’ll see in due time lads. Someone like that can be the least expected.”

“So, since it’s the start of the weekend why don’t we start with a bang and head down to the pub for a fill?”

 Soap suggested eagerly. The week prior had been incredibly taxing, so everyone was privy to the idea, besides you.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry. I’ve actually got plans this weekend,” you sheepishly laughed. Soap whined, prodding you on what your plans are. You didn’t budge, only that it was already planned some time ago and you can’t miss you. Despite the constant badgering, Soap deflated in defeat, as Gaz patted his back. Despite the initial rejection, Soap bounced back almost immediately.

Chatting away with you, talking about coming out with them another time. You laughed along, apologizing that you couldn’t attend now, but promised to meet in the future.

Making your way towards your apartment complex on base, you noticed everyone else also shuttling into the freight elevator with you. You tilted your head in confusion, queueing Price,

“Well, we all share the same apartment complex. Compliment of the base we currently reside on. Wants to make sure we’re on the ready for when things go down.”

 You slowly nodded in understanding. You clicked your floor number, 10 and noticed that nobody else clicked a floor number besides 14. You looked at Price again, who sheepishly explained that squads are assigned to their own floors. That, since you’re now part of their operation, you’ll probably need to get the changes made soon.

“S’pparently supposed to bring us ‘closer’, build a bond with one another?”

You hummed in acknowledgement, thinking it was cute, “Yeah, I suppose it makes sense.” Chatter continued, until you reached your floor. Getting off, you said your goodnights to everyone. Soap continued to moan, hoping to get a glimpse of you at some point. Gaz agreeing, and Price chuckling at them.

The brooding bunch discussed themselves the best bar to pick from for the night. As the elevator finally reached their floor Soap clapped his hands together “Welp! How’s bout we all meet up again in an hour aye? Freshen up a lil bit. Maybe catch us a pretty bird tonight,” wiggling his eyebrows with the suggestion.

Sighing at Soap’s obvious desperation everyone agreed to meet in the hallway before heading down to the pub.

“Right! Now, let’s get this party started!” Soap howled, looking like he pregame’d before meeting up with the crew.

Everyone had transferred themselves into fresher clothing, finally peeling away the grime of the week. Excitement slowly brews in the group as they can finally wind down for the weekend. Although everyone had changed into more comfortable attire, the three brooding bunch kept their visages concealed.  All members shuffling into the freight elevator, chattering happily amongst themselves.

As the freight elevator begins its slow descent towards the ground floor, it suddenly stops at floor 10. Voices begin to hush as the door slowly slides open, revealing a woman with a high slit dress, stopping at the waist. Four thin black bands wrapped around strong thighs.

Her upper torso covered with black cloth besides the diamond cut pattern, exposing her breasts with dangerous allure. Her lower face covered by a black cloth that looked infused with the rest of the dress, leaving only her eyes visible, and hair to flow freely.

The unknown woman continued to adjust herself, before looking up into the elevator, capturing the eyes of every man on board.

----

Your eyes gleamed with happiness, pulling your mask down, smiling brightly at the lot.

“Hey team!” You chirped.

Silence.

“Heading out to the pub now?”

More silence. Eyes continued to stare you down. Not sure what to make of who you are. You started to feel awkward. Not realizing that this is their first time seeing you, especially like this.

“Erm… well then, off we go…? Heh…” you laughed nervously, with the door sliding closed once more, and the lift beginning its descent once more.

The ride down was silent and awkward, at least for the men. You just continued to tap away at your phone, not a care in the world, making plans to meet your friend at the festival entrance.

“(Y/N)?? Is that you?” Gaz piped up, still inspecting you from head to toe. You turned towards Gaz, nodding your head and smiling.

“Suppose this is the first time you guys have seen me outside of my Michelin Man outfit huh?”

You laughed at your own joke, not ever noticing the way their eyes grew hungrier by the second.

You never noticed the way Price stood just a little bit closer, in hopes of accidentally bumping into you. He’d blame it on how crowded the elevator was.

You never noticed the way Soap suddenly started spilling all over his words. His face slowly heating up with every time you laughed at his silly antics.

You never noticed the way Gaz was literally, so star struck, only nodding and laughing at whatever you were saying.

You never noticed the way Ghost suddenly stood up a little straighter, rather than leaning towards the rail of the elevator, trying to make himself look taller. More attractive for you.

Or the way Horangi adjusted his glasses every now and then to make sure you don’t catch him staring at you.

Or the way Konig began to fidget anxiously, staring intently at your being, hands held together to hide something that slowly began to rage in his pants. He was sweating profusely.

“Konig?” you questioned, staring up at the hulking 6’10” man.

Shit.

“Are you alright? You’re sweating up a storm.” Everyone began to turn towards him, suddenly finding himself embarrassed. With a few ‘legit’ coughs Konig spoke.

“Just need some air s’all.” He played it off way too cool. The others glared at him with jealousy when you showed concern for him. Konig, though his face not visible to others, smiled a triumphant smile under his facemask.

You smiled brightly at him, breathing a sigh of relief, tugging at his heartstrings even more. Glances were stolen every now and then by your team members. Assessing your body, and trying to determine if it’s the trick of the light, or your thighs are just that delicious. Toned, large, and ready to crush heads.

Oh, how they wished to have their heads between your legs. To have that pretty black dress lifted over their heads, and to hear your sweet voice calling out their names in ecstasy. Your hair sticking to your skin, drenched in the sweat and tears of your pheromones.

To watch the rise and fall of your heaving chest, as your honey coats their face and tongues. Once you’ve had your high, the dress comes off and you smile that bright smile at them, hands cupping their faces whisper-begging.

“Come here, darling… Come to me. I need you, so badly.” You’d pant out, with tears in your eyes, and a wobbly smile on your face, just begging to be ravaged by them. To be pumped with their loads.

Oh, they all wanted you, and you didn’t even know it.

The ride down felt like forever, until the soft ding of elevator is heard throughout, indicating your destination of the ground floor.

----

“So, where are you heading, dressed up like this?” Price inquired.

“EDC. It’s going on for 3 days, but I’ll only be going for two.” You stated excitedly.

“EDC? Wassall that then hen?” Now Soap asking the questions.

“It’s just a music festival. Electric Dance Carnival. Been dying to go, and since we’re out here I wanted to take the chance.” You informed the bunch. They all walked along side you, the rest in silence as Soap continued his barrage of questions.

“Oh, but I won’t be getting insanely lit or anything like that! It’s just an opportunity is all! I’m meeting some friends.” You corrected yourself, not wanting to have your team think you’re some sort of degenerate (hehe).

As you continued to happily chat away, your taxi pulled up. Bounding towards the door you turn back towards your fellow soldiers, not missing a beat.

“Ay, be safe, okay? If you need anything, don’t hesitate to phone me.” You chirped once more.

“Anyways, I’m off then! Be seeing you around!” You waved as you got into your taxi, driving away into the city.

----

Sitting around a table, with a dimly lit light hanging above them, Ghost groaned at the thought of phoning you to let you know that he isn’t feeling well. That he might need some of that ‘comfort’ you were giving to Konig earlier. Felt kind of sweaty. Might need you to take care of him, if you get what I’m laying down.

Price, Konig, and Horangi sat around the table, watching Gaz and Soap playing rounds of pool, but not really committing to it. Something on their mind, pretty sure knowing what, or who, it could be.

“If I died tomorrow, I’d want it to be those thighs wrapped around my head.” Soap dreamt, leaning on his pole.

“Yeah, no shit. Wasn’t expecting any of that. Reckon I’d begin howling at the moon just to have a bite.” Gaz chuckled.

Eyes snapped up at the duo, and then at each other.

Price laid a hefty pat on Ghosts shoulder, reminding him of his comment earlier.

“Still not what you were expecting, weren’t you lad?”  laughing heartily. Ghost grunted at his comment, as did Horangi and Konig.

“I… must admit… I too, was not expecting such a treat tonight.” Horangi shuttered with each word. Konig nodded vigorously.

Still fantasizing about your worry over him. Fretting over his comfort. He was already fantasizing about your wedding. The life you’ll lead together. Breeding you up with his young, having you cry under his weight, with your legs wrapped tightly around him as he drilled his throbbing member deep into your core. Konig shuttered at the thought.

“I’m going to make her mind” Konig stated out of the blue. Suddenly, all eyes snapped at him. Flashes of competitiveness and want evident on everyone’s face. Now, everyone was vying for your affection. And you didn’t even have an inkling of an idea that any of this was going down.

----

I hope ya’ll liked my story. It’s probably all over the place, and that’s okay. It was something I’ve been needing to get out of my system. Something I can go back to when I’m feeling that little itch.  I may build on this for our individual heroes. IDK.

[whateverisbeautiful]

I love ur Richonne post. My question is, who do u think is the strongest (not just physically but also mentally) female twd character? Who had the arc in the female category? What is one thing u wished TOWL would have expanded on?

Thank you! And my answer would be Michonne hands down. Along with her physical and mental strength, I also think she is the most well-rounded character in the show as well. I’ve always felt that pretty much any admirable trait another TWD character has (heart, resilience, leadership, grit, intelligence, kindness, strength, gentleness, selflessness, warmth, etc.) Michonne has it as well with her own personal and elevated spin on it too. And while some women in the show had more drastic arcs and transformations, I really love Michonne’s arc from being introduced as a lone wolf to becoming a leader/wife/mother. 

That’s a good question about what I wish they had expanded on in TOWL. They already gave me so much of what I wanted to see. But I did think of two things that would have been nice to dive into more, even tho these things I list are more just because I’d want to see it rather than feeling like TOWL was missing something without it. I wrote them out below ⬇️ 💗:

#1: I’d love to have seen how Rick first described Michonne and Judith to the portraitist Benjiro. I’m so curious about the details Rick gave about his wife and daughter to the artist. Plus, I remember when Michonne was talking to Ezekiel in season 10, it was such a pleasant surprise to hear her voice an external trait she loved and missed about Rick when she smiled and said “that walk.” I loved getting insight into one of the physical things she found attractive about Rick. And in TOWL, I would have loved to hear Rick also voice a physical trait he found attractive about Michonne too. Of course, through every look and action, it’s made more than clear that he’s extremely attracted to her, so I’d love if we got to hear him comment on her beauty when describing her.

#2: Since there was a pretty big time jump after the bridge for both Rick and Michonne, I would have been interested to hear them both expand more on what that time was like for them during those first 6 years apart and especially in the days directly after the bridge explosion. Including things like Michonne sharing when/how she found out she was pregnant and about the day she gave birth to RJ and just how that time was for her emotionally. And for Rick, hearing him share about his initial recovery process and early escapes when he arrived at the Civic Republic.

[more-than-a-princess]

She'd had, she remembered as she dressed, given him a run for his money. It wasn't as if she'd even grown up at arcades, but having a best friend who was a professional gamer did help at times. Even more so that she was patient, eager to instruct, and mostly just wanted to have a friend to play games with whether it brought her any amount of competition or not. Sonia smiled at the thought: she'd have to tell Chiaki about this soon.

Though perhaps, in an effort not to worry her, she'd leave the part about how Wylan had brought several firearms illegally (she guessed) into France as some sort of backup measure.

"How did you plan to use them, if so? On me?" She asked, perhaps in a tone far too light for the question. If just for the fact she didn't think he would, but he'd brought them for a reason. A roundabout question to get to the real one: What are you afraid of?

Another question for another day, particularly after the previous night had been so exhausting in a multitude of ways. Besides, he'd steered the conversation into something else meaningful: the denial they shared about their feelings for one another. Nevertheless, it still didn't stop her pausing as she applied her lipstick: he too had loved her, enjoyed her company, when she'd been either too oblivious or too wrapped up in her own self-sabotage to tell him as such.

"Did you, now," She spoke after her hands had moved again and finished applying the deep rose shade to her lips. Finishing, she placed the cap on the tube and the tube in her purse before standing up to face him. "I thought I was the only one. If I'd said something, I figured you would've pushed me away. I suppose spontaneously kissing you to distract another European aristocrat from recognizing me was a feeble attempt at a diversion and to express myself: how much I enjoyed being around you, seeing all the sights Las Vegas had to offer." Restaurants filled with junk food, fake castles that housed casinos, frozen alcoholic drinks in sizes Sonia hadn't known drinks to be served in. So much of it was a blur for so long but with him there, now, she was recalling the highlights of their adventure away from their lives, or at least her security.

Paris, however, didn't quite offer the same level of frivolity and tackiness, unless one knew where to go. Maybe she'd lead him to something equivalent later but first, clothes. "Oh, I would say this is our first date, yes," She replied, grinning as she let him pull her close. Sonia had guessed that, in their absence, the rest of the party would scatter. Her security, to prepare to discreetly tail them the entire day (though knowing Wylan, she felt certain he'd know their presence and approximate distance everywhere they went). Her family, because they didn't want to risk hearing anything they really didn't wish to. "If we are going on an outing where we are honest with one another about what we are feeling. Though I suppose with that logic, last night counts? Or does a date count if we went out with feelings for one another that went unshared?" She thought briefly of the various instances where he'd be telling jokes and attempting to get under her skin and she highly considered responding in kind with kissing him and seeing what happened.

Actually, that wasn't the worst idea to try now. But maybe not on the streets of Paris, after taking the elevator to the lobby and quickly crossing through it, head down and pressed into Wylan's side. She would do her best not to be recognized, though it was far easier at night than it was late morning.

"What would you consider our first date, then?" She inquired as she led the way north, away from the Tuileries and towards the famed opera house, near to where the department store was located. She hadn't really thought about it until then, but Sonia was reluctant to call the previous evening their first date: they'd both been hungry, for food and other things and were so emotionally wrung out that it simply felt like relief when they'd both been fed. But today...today was different. Today felt lighter, warmer, even if it was simply being held against him as they walked through the busy streets, avoiding various tourists, shoppers, and locals simply wanting to get from point A to point B.

It wasn't a long walk, the most difficult part of it all passing every cafe beginning to ready its outdoor seating for the early lunch crowd. Food and clothes could both be taken care of at the department store and rather well, in fact: she wondered if he'd have any interest in the food halls that spanned the Galeries Lafayette's third building. "Here we are," She announced once they'd arrived: less busy than the main store across the street, she'd taken him to the smaller department store of the three: four floors devoted entirely to men's fashion, accessories, and skincare. She'd grabbed the door first, mostly out of habit: without security detail, she relished in getting her own doors, her own shopping trolleys, her own bills. "Admittedly I haven't shopped for clothes with someone in awhile. What sort of style would you like to get?"

"I dunno, you gave me a run for my money at the arcade back when, didn't you?" A brow lifted at her words as the princess comments on her future spouse's ... accessories. Yes, she may have jewelry but Wylan gained confidence through. Other things. "Calling a 1911 a piece of artillery is being a little dramatic, I think. But having guns at all- yeah, I'm not going to deny maybe it was a bit much. The nine millimeter here was just a uh. Backup. In case something else..."

The more he thinks of trying to explain himself, the more Wylan realizes this is rather silly. Not so much bringing the weapons (you're good there champ) but convincing Sonia of the what's or why's of it. Or maybe he was excessive? Was he thinking excessively?

"I'm happy. Happier than I am disappointed that I didn't need to use them. Either way." All roads lead to that fact. A good way to cap of the idea before he starts getting defensive or something of that sort. Sonia was only teasing after all, flirting with various boundaries now that she had the open field to do so. Wylan smiles, realizing the same could be applying to him right now were it not an existential brew of crisis and realization.

Stewing in that happiness is a decent way to... waste time, he realizes. Basking in the afterglow not of sex (for once), but the way her words had made him felt was. Different. Nice. Appreciated. There's no longer a need to rationalize reasons not to like it, nor is there a need to leap from the window. It'd ruin his clothes, anyway.

"Heh. Yeah. There's been a lot of denial between us for awhile, hasn't there? I don't want to judge my past self too harshly but I think I'd be lying if I said there wasn't times before I ... well. Loved you. Really really enjoyed your presence." And now basking in the intimacy of watching her apply makeup and dress, enjoy her all the more.

Tongue glides over lips.

"So."

Wylan was back onto his feet, personal items put into their favored pockets and the coils of his inner springs preparing to add that spring into his step.

"Is this our first date?" He ponders. "I feel like we could call so many other things we got up to as dates, adding in the hindsight we have now as guy and gal." Comes the punctuation, an arm hooking around to take hers, and pulling the woman up to his side with both their preparations concluded. Door to the greater part of the suite thrown open so the two might venture forth.

[buckyscap]

WHY DIDNT ANYBODY TELL ME THERE'S A DELETED SCENE OF KATE & LEOPOLD WHERE LEOPOLD IS NAKED IN A TUB IM GOING TO KMS

[unproduciblesmackdown]

woah... that's some premium human (kittycat?) heart in conflict with itself

(fr everyone in lackadaisy is kittycats to me lmao. going like, whoa, neat humansona ideas....)

and also fr like everyone get in on "mordecai killed atlas even though of course he didn't do it b/c he Wanted to: bet on it" if only for the fun drama of it all....it Is fun & funny to me that like, sure there's only so many major characters, and sure there's no incorrect one to point to like "wow what a delight" but i wasn't really That previously aware that mordecai is like a fan fave like omg the bad bitches (especial popularity) he pulled by being autistic :'] we just don't expect to see it lmao. like this theory should also be more popular then if even just by virtue of that premium kittycat heart in conflict with itself material it supplies. pointing at mordecai like haha he's sooo upset about all this and That Is Why He Quit, not to go investigate marigold which he's also just said he Wasn't doing until just now. we've seen the [oh grief? besot? interesting] bonus material....not that i don't think most people do imagine that of course mordecai has a good amount of emotional investment in things driving him here, but this does ramp it up which i think also works as an argument in its favor; like i'd be inherently more skeptical about any theory that required mordecai to actually care less about things lol than about any that gives him more personal emotional motivation

truly like "we know mordecai wouldn't want to kill atlas..." (agreed) "...so he can't have been the one to kill him" like first of all lol no way is it a Writeoff anyways, like we've got a mystery here but we Won't imagine ways in which [nobody could ever kill someone they didn't want to kill] wouldn't apply? second of all: Think Of The Drama Of Him Killing Him Even Though He Wouldn't Want To

[iisasxia]

I mentioned Bakugou being big and how he cuddles you, but let’s talk about you two ****.

Bakugou has a large frame, I mean you guys are now in university so it’s not surprising he grew. In the beginning of your relationship he was slow and gentle with you at first but now that it’s been a couple of months you’ve gotten used to his rough demeanor.

—

You were laid on your back, a pillow propped below you to elevate you enough for him to fuck your g-spot relentlessly. Your legs were over his shoulders while he held onto your ankles, the pretty anklet dangling against his face and he can’t help but smirk seeing the letter “K” sit so pretty against your skin.

He gently placed your legs down, his biceps now caging you in as he leaned down, no matter how many times you two had done it the eye contact he holds always makes you nervous. His favorite part is knowing because of the way you tighten around him.

“Look at me.” He grunts, the pace he has on your pussy is ruthless and he doesn’t give a shit because seeing you so fucked out and looking dumb over his cock like this is making his body hot.

You bit your lip not wanting to look at him but you do, your eyes are glossy and half-lidded and the look on your face makes you look so needy.

“K-kats, slow d-down, ngh-“ you gently place your hand against his abs and he can’t help but grin at how soft your touch is.

He leans down to whisper against your ear.

“Want you to make a mess for me, yeah?” From the way you tightened around him he knew you liked the sound of that, his lips trailing kisses from your ear to your collarbone and back up to meet your lips. His tongue dancing with yours and all you can do is moan into his mouth and he’s fucking losing it.

He pulls back and sits up, he props you up a little bit with a smaller pillow and places one hand on your lower abdomen. Your eyes slightly widening at the sudden pressure against your g-spot.

“Please-“ you whine, eyes stinging with tears, you grab onto his wrists as he fucks you. Anything to keep you leveled with the Earth because the way he was fucking you made you feel like your soul was going to leave and never come back.

“Please what?”

“Please, don’t stop.” Your grip on his wrists tighten and he knows how close you are, the smirk on his face says it all.

He moves his hands and finds yours, gently cupping them in his as he leans down and whispers to you, the smile in his voice making you melt.

—

“Cum for me pretty girl.”

[hannieehaee]

HOT TO GO!

18+ / mdi

summary: moving into a quiet apartment complex you expected to find nothing but solace, not your most entertaining situationship to date OR the three times you kept it casual with your new neighbor vs the one time he made things serious.

content: neighbor!jungkook, strangers2lovers, situationship (kind of), fwb, jk's a lil bit of a himbo in this fic, afab reader, smut, three smut scenes lol, penetrative sex, dry humping, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, etc.

wc: 7.1k

a/n: this is honestly just a silly and unserious fic that's mostly smut lol i hope u guys enjoy it<3

masterlist | patreon

"Oh, wow, uh, hey."

"Hi?", you looked at the stranger in curiosity, though still very shocked by the adonis of a man who had suddenly knocked on your door.

He cleared his throat and shook his head as if rebuffing himself to speak again, "Fuck, okay, that was such an uncool first impression. What I meant to say was 'Welcome to the neighborhood,' but you just caught me off guard. Sorry."

"I caught you off guard? You're the one who knocked on my door."

"Yeah, not gonna elaborate on that," he chuckled sheepishly, extending his hand, "Hi, I'm Jungkook, your neighbor," he introduced himself.

You chuckled in return, letting his ambiguity slide as you briefly shook his hand, providing him with your name, "Hi, Jungkook. I'm new here, if that wasn't obvious."

"No, yeah, you can really tell the difference between you and the old lady who used to live here. She was- wait, fuck. Did she-"

"No, Jungkook, she's not dead. The landlord told me she just moved into some retirement home," you clarified.

"Thank god," the boy sighed in relief, "Me and Mrs. Louis go way back. She used to bake me cookies on Sundays."

"Oh really? Well, you won't be getting any cookies from me. Sorry," you joked.

Cocking his head to the side, he lifted his eyebrows, "We'll see about that."

"What does that even mean?"

"I can be very convincing."

Was he flirting? Through a cookie euphemism?

"Are you-"

"Anyways, if you need any help with moving in, let me know. Maybe coming over to help build some furniture?", he suggested, "I like to be on a friendly standing with all my neighbors," he smiled as he disregarded his prior flirting, almost as if it had never happened.

"I'm your only neighbor. There's only two apartments per floor," you recalled, still amused by his oddity.

"Exactly," he winked, and with that, he turned to leave, heading back to his own apartment, "See you around."

It was through that very short interaction that you first met your neighbor, Jungkook. Despite how odd he had seemed, he carried a charm that intrigued you (though his pretty appearance also drew you in).

Closing your door, you went back to what you had been doing previously, a smile of disbelief on your face as you tried to come up with some believable reason to scout him for help – as he had offered – just to see him again.

Unfortunately, most of your stuff had not arrived yet, so you truly had nothing you could possibly use as an excuse to get him to come into your apartment so soon. It was nice, though, to know that your new neighbor was as friendly as he was (and as attractive, might you add).

~

"Hey, neighbor."

"Oh, hi, Jungkook. Did I forget to tell you my name last time?", you wondered why he'd omit your name, unless you had been too distracted last time staring at him to remember.

The next time you saw Jungkook was a day later at the apartment complex's laundry room located at the basement of the building. From what you'd seen the few times you'd walked by it on your way to the elevator, no one really seemed to use it. No one except Jungkook, apparently. You'd also come to find out that this apartment complex seemed to be occupied by mostly elderly people, with you and Jungkook being some of the few exceptions.

Eyeing you up and down in a not very discreet way, his eyes landed back on your face before responding, "No, just got distracted, sorry," he chuckled similarly to how he'd done last time.

This was the second time you'd seemingly caught him off guard, but you weren't complaining. The thought of your presence taking him out of focus gave you a slight boost in confidence, especially considering how attractive he was.

You eyed him curiously, noticing he had no laundry with him nor was he using either of the four washing machines located in the room. As soon as he came in, he took a seat on top of the washing machine next to the one you were currently putting your clothes into. When you smiled at him questioningly, he had no reaction, simply smiling back.

"What are you doing?", you asked whilst continuing your prior task, almost paying no mind to him.

"Just hanging out," he responded simply, swinging his feet back and forth as they hovered due to the stature of the washing machine he was currently sitting on.

"What, with me?"

"Yup. Just trying to be neighborly, is all. Shouldn't be down here all alone," he reasoned, "Can I help you? I love doing laundry."

You scoffed at that, "Really? You love doing laundry? Also, I don't need a bodyguard," you hadn't taken offense to his comment, but you'd found it somewhat amusing. He clearly just wanted to spend time with you, which admittedly made you feel slightly bashful. However, there was no harm in making him work for it a little more.

With a huff, he got off the washing machine and leaned down to help you organize your laundry, dividing it between colors, "I'm known as somewhat of a laundry fairy", he nodded seriously.

"Oh, so you do other people's laundry, then?"

"Yep," he nodded, "It's a whole profession. I part-time as bodyguard too," he joked, continuing to shuffle through your clothes.

"The perfect man," you retorted back, sarcasm in your tone.

"Exactly. You could make really good use of me," he winked, finishing up his pile of clothes and moving onto yours, beginning to place them inside the washing machine.

"Are you asking me to use you?", you braved it and flirted back, turning to look up at him.

The air in the room was comfortable, yet it now had a hint of something more. What it was, you weren't sure. Although Jungkook had hinted at being attracted to you when you first met a day prior, you'd never had a flirtation move so quickly. It usually took a bit more conversation before getting to the more suggestive comments, but the pleased look on his face as he looked down at you made you too excited to backtrack.

"I'm surprised it took you this long to get that. Was my self-invite to your apartment yesterday not hint enough?", he followed along, putting down the article of clothing he had in his hands to take a small step towards you, now leaving a very small distance between you.

"Oh? Was that what that was? I think I'm gonna need you to be a bit more specific. Spell it out for me, maybe?", you tilted your head to the side teasingly, almost as if daring him.

"Aw," he placed his hand on his chest, as if hurt, "That's my bad, pretty. I'll be a little more forward from now on, okay?", he coo'd, leaning down and letting his nose nudge against your own lightly.

"So, are you? Or are you all talk?", you dared him, tilting your face upwards, almost meeting his lips.

With a muted grumble, he closed the gap, pulling you towards him with a pull from your waist. Humming against your lips, he pressed you up against him, practically molding you to him as he allowed the kiss to become heated. The air in the room became even heavier somehow, causing you to mute any outside forces that could possibly take you away from a constant chorus of Jungkook playing in your head.

The kiss had no time for hesitance or shy meetings of lips as it instantly occupied the otherwise silent room with wet sounds of tongues intertwining and almost inaudible moans shared between lips. The harsh surface of the washing machine behind you almost felt like nothing as Jungkook's lips continued to distract you while his arms lifted you to sit on it. Legs opening, you welcomed him to stand between them, pulling him in my his shirt to ensure not even one second of distance between you was allowed.

Your head tilted back almost on its own accord as his lips trailed down your neck, humming into your skin after every kiss and occasional nibble of skin.

"J-Jungkook ... What if someone sees?", your common sense finally made an appearance, though you made no move to stop him.

"No one uses the laundry room here, it's fine. We have the place to ourselves," he breathed out between kisses, making his way back up to your lips.

With a scarily practiced finesse, his tongue snuck its way into your mouth, easing yours into copying his movements. Your resolve wore down quickly after that, following along with every touch of his on your skin. Despite not being one for casual hookups, it was impossible for you to deny the immediate chemistry you'd had with your neighbor. Who would casual sex with your neighbor going to hurt anyway?

His lips soon took your mind away from any further thought on the manner, trailing down your neck while his hands came up to wander under your tank top, tracing your skin with his calloused fingertips as goosebumps began to form. With soft hands and a rough tongue, Jungkook had your brain emptying at a worrying speed, now becoming a shell of yourself with nothing but Jungkook in mind. Just some kisses and some hand action already had you as putty under him, what a shame.

"Can I take this off?", he murmured against your lips, hands itching under your shirt as it rode up due to his movements.

"Mhm," you conceded, your own hands going under his shirt and feeling up the muscular skin of his back.

With your consent, his hands trailed their way back out from under your shirt, reaching down to help you out of it. Underneath was a tiny piece of fabric you could barely call a bralette, doing a terrible job of hiding the goosebumps on your skin or the hardness of your nipples. His tatted hand went up to toy with a clothed breast, murmuring praise against your cheek as he angled his head to look down at your chest. His eyes trailed to yours, finding them empty of any thought and far too wanting of more of his touch.

"How about this?" he practically whispered, one hand on your breast while the other went to toy at the strap of your bralette that had fallen from your shoulder to the meatier part of your arm, fingering at it softly, almost as if teasing whether or not he'd pull it all the way down or not.

"Yes," you almost whimpered, needing the skin-to-skin touch on your chest. Your back was already arched towards his chest, your body pleading him for more without any further words necessary.

He sighed once the job was done, your chest now fully naked for him and the rest of you almost equally as nude. It was only a tiny pair of shorts with some teeny tiny panties underneath that prevented him from your full nudity. In the meantime, he was still fully clothed. But somehow you didn't mind. His touch on your body was enough to keep you satiated. Surely you'd have your turn to enjoy his own nudity later on.

A groan left him upon hastily removing your shorts, now able to feel the heat coming from between your legs through the offensively thin panties you had on. Dragging you from your thighs, he placed you on the edge of the washing machine as he himself pulled down his pants just enough to leave him with boxers and some beaten up tank top. With a huff, he began intermittently connecting your crotches, bumping his hardness against your heat with a grumble. The art of dry humping might've been lost among many, but you were thanking any higher power that Jungkook was not one of the many to disengage with it.

"You're so warm already," he sighed, face pushing its way to your neck, nosing at your scent, "'n smell so fucking good ..."

Your nails dug to the skin of his shoulders, obsessed with the drag of his cock against you. He was hitting that sensitive, swollen spot that bad you wanting to give him a key to your apartment just so he could come over and do it over and over again.

"So fucking soft n pretty," he mumbled, "God, can't believe I got such a pretty little neighbor all to myself," he rambled on and on, "Gonna make you cum like this, okay, gorgeous? Promise I'll give you more next time, just- fuck ... just caught me off guard again's all ..." all his words were slurred, clearly marking the approximation of an early orgasm. What might've been a turn off for many others had your own high approaching just as fast. A hunk of a man such as Jungkook losing himself to mere dry humping? Sign you up!

"Me too," you almost whined, mouth open as you practically drooled at the feeling of that size and girth, excitement growing within you.

"Yeah? God, so fucking good n perfect," the praise was never ending, greatly aiding your impending orgasm.

With one last groan of your name, Jungkook's hips sped up, now dragging you more harshly into him in desperation for his orgasm. It was only a few moments into his own orgasm that you came too, too stimulated from his extensive play with your chest earlier on and simply too wound up to not find release with someone as attractive as he was.

In other circumstances you would've been embarrassed at how easily your body reacted to his own, but Jungkook seemed just as affected, still panting at the exertion his high had taken from him.

"Sorry," he chuckled breathlessly a few moments later, wide boba eyes staring at you with a shy smile, "I don't usually welcome people to the neighborhood by jumping them like that, hah, I hope I didn't overstep," he needlessly apologized as he helped you clean up with nearby towels and aided you in redressing you and himself.

Giggling at him couldn't be helped — he was far too cute. He was the perfect mixture of cuteness and hotness that it made you frustrated if you thought about it for too long.

"Jungkook, I promise you that was a very appreciated welcome," you laughed as you patted his shoulder reassuringly, stepping down from the washing machine.

"Great," he nodded with a smile, though still a but shy, "Let me help you with your laundry now, then? I won't jump you again, I promise."

"Maybe for next time, then?", you attempted to flirt, high fiving yourself internally when you pulled a shy chuckle out of him.

Next time you saw Jungkook was back in your apartment.

Maybe you should've expected him to be on the other side of that door, specially considering you hadn't met anyone else since moving here, but you also hadn't expected him to be so continuously forward.

Within less than a week of being here, you'd met Jungkook, flirted with him, hooked up in the laundry room and proceeded to wash your clothes with his aid — as it turned out, he really was better than the average person at doing laundry. And now, you were curious as to what the next thing to come would be.

After a few knocks on your door, you resumed drying off your hair and walked over to the door, skin still damp and thin robe wrapped around you. Being almost nude, you decided to be smart and look through the peephole before admitting a stranger into your home. Looking through it, you found the one person you'd hoped to see every time you left the apartment; Jungkook.

Had it been anyone else, maybe you would've bothered to ask him for a few minutes in order to get dressed before attending to the door. However, seeing as Jungkook had already seen you almost fully nude, it seemed dumb to do so. That, plus the fact that you were pretty sure how today's visit would go.

"Hey," he said casually when the door was opened.

Donning yet another tank top, the contour of his muscles could be easily seen as he leaned against the frame of the door. A confident and suave smile was on his lips the moment his eyes did a once-over of your body, clearly taking notice of the singular layer of clothing you had on.

"Huh," he hummed, "You're making this too easy for me," he chuckled, letting himself in when you stepped aside to silently welcome him.

"Hello, Jungkook," you ignored him, closing the door behind him, "Are you here to help me unpack?", you questioned upon seeing him approach the few boxes located in your living room and eyeing their contents curiously.

"Yeah. Figured you were taking too long to invite me over, might as well invite myself," he said distractedly, focus all spent on a bunny figurine he found in your boxes, mumbling a quiet 'cute' to himself.

"Let me get dressed and then we can start," you said, beginning to walk to your room while he sat on the floor, beginning to open some boxed furniture you hadn't even bothered to eye since its arrival.

Already in the other room, you heard Jungkook call over before you could close your door, mentioning something about 'You'll end up undressed anyways, but okay,' causing you to chuckle to yourself.

It only took you a few minutes to moisturize and dress yourself in some comfortable loungewear, able to hear Jungkook's ruckus all the way from your room. Despite his slight awkwardness shining through sometimes, he seemed to be a very confident guy, so it made sense to you that he'd made himself at home almost immediately upon his arrival.

Heading back to your living room, you found him sat comfortably on the floor, boxed materials to build what appeared to be a bookshelf laid in front of him while he eyed a manual. Originally, he had implied that his intention to go visit you had been for another hookup, so it amused you that he had actually taken his own words literally and decided to help you out with your furniture.

As you took a seat next to him, you decided to voice out this thought to him, "Wow, you're actually going to help me unpack?" you asked amusedly, hands reaching out to copy the way in which he assembled some pieces together.

He shrugged, "It's the neighborly thing to do," he reasoned, "Plus, the sooner you're unpacked, the sooner we can do more fun stuff."

Despite it being said so casually, it was more than enough encouragement for you to put your mind to the task, knowing that the unexpected help of your hot neighbor was way better than the alternative of getting all your moving in duties done by yourself.

It took about two hours to get done with most of your unpacking, combined with putting together the few pieces of furniture you had bought and neglected to build. The last of it was found in your bedroom in the form of a few boxes of skincare and clothing you'd been too lazy to unbox, opting to instead use whatever you needed at the time and leaving the rest unpacked. Jungkook tutted at you disappointingly at this, lightheartedly scolding you for not simply organizing your stuff as soon as you moved in and revealing to you how organized he was himself.

"Is there any box you want me to stay away from?", he wondered as he rummaged through one of the various boxes you'd moved onto your bed to organize.

"Nope, what do you mean?", you wondered, pulling out a hair dryer and placing it in its rightful spot before walking back over to the bed.

"Well, for instance ..." he trailed off, pulling out a tiny piece of lace you'd forgotten was in the box labeled as 'clothes' Jungkook was currently going through. He gave you an awkward smirk, his mind seemingly battling between being smug at the thong in his hands and affected by the thought of you wearing such a garment.

Immediately, your eyes widened, a gasp trapped in your throat before you jumped at him to grab at the lace, only for him to pull it back with a laugh, now holding it above your reach. You continued to pull at him, letting out an annoyed 'Jungkook!' to express your annoyance, but still laughing at how childish he was behaving.

He let you take hold of the thong after a few more slaps to his hard chest, laughing at your frustration. To prevent your further attacks, he grabbed onto your wrists, deciding to hold you against him as you let go of the panties and paid mind to him instead. Far too casually, he leaned down and trapped you in a soft kiss, humming against your lips as his hands wrapped around your waist and your own went to his shoulders. You damned him in your mind, chastising yourself for how easily it was for you to become entranced by his touch.

"You knew what was in there, didn't you? Hmm? Seductress," he joked against your lips, though the tone of his voice didn't make you laugh, especially not when it was said in an airy whisper between open mouthed kisses.

"Shut up," you grumbled, pulling him closer, unwilling to let the kiss end.

With masterful expertise, Jungkook managed to lay you down on the space of the bed empty of boxes, hands going under your shirt to trace the soft skin of your back. His lips trailed down to your neck and reaching down to the space of your chest not covered by your tank top, grumbling against your skin.

"You smell so nice," he sighed, "So fucking soft too," he continued, not shy in feeling your skin and even breathing you in.

Tuned with you, he disconnected from you to eye you for permission to remove your shirt, dragging it away from your body after a nod of confirmation from you and proceeding to remove his own. Your hands imitated his own, also feeling up his toned body as you continued to kiss. Now leaning atop you, he ground his crotch against your own, groaning into your lips at the basic pleasure he received from it.

"How far do you wanna go?", he murmured as he ground into you, "I'll do whatever you want. I owe you, remember?", he continued, referring to your encounter at the laundry room where he promised to fuck you properly next time.

"Do whatever you want," you replied, looping your lips again, "Just- fuck, do anything," you practically pleaded.

Chuckling, he nodded, opting to lay you down properly, moving aside any boxes that were in the way so you could lay all the way back while he trailed his way down your body, tugging down the tiny shorts you'd opted for a few hours earlier. You sighed at the realization of what was to come, ashamed to admit you'd been wondering how that piercing would feel between your legs.

"So soft here too," he mumbled, kissing up your thighs distractedly, making his way up to that area between your legs that was calling his name, "Fuck, 'n smell so good," his nose practically pressed up against the very thin layer of cloth separating him from your cunt, shamelessly breathing you in as he dragged his nose to press into your clit before pulling away.

A mute whine was pulled out of you, making your thighs attempt to close without much thought, only to make his arms wrap around your legs and pull them in opposite directions in order to separate them. He took a quick moment to pull your underwear down your legs, immediately going back to wrap around your legs to keep a wide enough space for him to enjoy you.

He began tentatively, almost as if testing out how he would go about having you. It only took some encouraging mewls from you for him to really put his heart into it, diving in as his tongue delved into your cunt, moaning against you. He hummed and groaned into your cunt, especially so whenever your hands would pull at his overgrown mullet, pulling him even closer to you. Taking advantage of his large nose, he nosed at your clit while his tongue played with your cunt. Your mewls and the scratching against his scalp should've been more than enough indicator that he had you at the palm of his hand.

"Baby," he moaned against you, refusing to create any distance between you, "you taste so good, fuck," he cried out, as if he were the receiver of the pleasure. But then again, maybe he was — or at least that's the gist you got from the commotion happening under you as the bed bumped with every movement of Jungkook's hips humping against it.

"K-kook, fuck, right the- oh, fuck ... right there!", you cried when his fingers joined in on the equation, tongue focused on your clit while his fingers curled inside you to perfection.

It was embarrassing how soon you felt your orgasm approaching, but you didn't blame yourself, not when a 10 was on his knees, whimpering against your cunt and letting endless muffled praise leave his lips while his tongue refused to let out. You lost control of yourself at some point, unashamed in the way you pushed his face against you, closing your thighs around his head and ground into his face. This only caused a high pitched whine to leave Jungkook, following your silent instruction for more and giving in to you twice as hard.

"Cum, baby. Wanna taste, fuck, please," he pleaded, looking up at you for a quick moment, making your brain leave you entirely at the pretty eyes he was making up at you, practically begging for your orgasm to come.

If you were boneless and defeated before, you were more so now, losing yourself to your orgasm as the pretty boy continued to lick and suck at your release, humming as if he had just been provided the most satiating meal. The humping of his hips never stopped either, only accelerating upon your high and only halting when you'd gone down from it, insisting on pulling him up the bed to claim his lips, wanting to enjoy them while the arousal was still fresh on him.

"God, fuck, you're nasty," he chuckled breathlessly when your tongue quite literally attacked his mouth, insistent on tasting yourself on his lips. This was clearly not a complaint, but more like a happy realization, as Jungkook practically reached down your throat as he tongued at your mouth, providing you with your own taste and moaning endlessly as he did so.

"Did you cum?", you asked between kisses, eyebrows pinched with worry that you wouldn't get to play with him this time around either.

He chuckled, a bit embarrassed, "No, pretty. Almost, though. I can just finish myself off if you're tired or-"

"No!" you interrupted, not shy in reaching down to his still clothed cock, feeling the length through his clothed ad he shuddered, "Let me suck you off? Fair trade, right?", you suggested, wanting nothing more than that size inside you one way or another.

"Oh, you sure? I don't want to force you or anything-"

You interrupted again, gesturing at him to flip you over so he could be under you this time around, "No, Kook. Please? I really want it. Can I have it?", you decided to be a bit mean, playing up the begging under the assumption that a guy like Jungkook would probably enjoy it.

You were right.

"O-oh, okay, beautiful," he rasped, hands in a frenzy to undo his sweats so he could give you access to his dick, "Just, fuck, give me a second. I don't wanna cum right away," he blushed, giving you a sweet peck before leading you to your knees while he sat at the edge of the bed.

With an excited giggle, your hands joined his own to help him lower his pants and boxers just enough to give you access to his length — the same one that had dragged against you until completion just a few days prior. His groan at your touch was immediate, body physically shuddering when you wrapped your hand around it and eyed it with hunger. His hands laid on his thighs, fingers itching as he attempted to hold his reactions back.

"Can I?", you asked, leaning closer to it as your hand remained wrapped around it.

"Yes, just, fuck, don't laugh when I cum too soon," he warned with a whine.

Another giggle left you before finally lowering your head down to his own head, lips wrapping around it and suctioning meanly. With a hum, your tongue lightly licked at the tip, earning a mixture of a groan and a sigh from the man north of you. Your hand remained wrapped around his length, twisting while you tortured the tip with your mouth. To ensure you could really drive him crazy, your other hand joined in, playing at his balls and earning yet another sound of supplication from him.

"G-god, fuck, wait- Don't- Fuck, more, baby, please," he begged, hand shyly going to the back of your head to lightly encourage you to engulf him in your mouth.

"Want my mouth?", you asked as you let go of him, though still lightly licking at the sides of his dick, unwilling to stop teasing for as long as you could help it.

"C'mon, baby. I gave you my mouth, just- Oh, fuck, yes," he sighed when you decided to practically down the majority of his dick, enveloping as much as you could while using your hand to jerk off the small percentage of it that couldn't fit into your mouth.

You decided to show off as much as you could, taking him far enough to gag and pushing through it for as long as possible. The whines and whimpers coming from the man above you were more than enough reward for your efforts.

"F-fuck, you don't have to g-gag, baby, shit, don't force yourself," he panted out, barely able to get those words out without effort. This only encouraged you further, puffing out air from your nose in order to obtain as much oxygen as possible. You knew he wad almost at his end, so you used every asset available to you to break him. You took breaks to breathe every so often, but other than that, you were practically a machine attached to his cock.

"Okay, shit, fuck," he stammered out curses, "Gonna cum, pretty, w-where? In your mouth? Please? Fuck, let me cum in your mouth," he rambled while his hands made a mess of your hair as he attempted to keep it away from your face. His hips also began a slow and shy grind against your face — a barely visible movement but still completely present. It represented his lack of control as you blew his mind away, something which went straight to your core.

You nodded, humming against his dick knowing it'd cause a vibration that'd have him keening for his orgasm. And right you were, as his hands shamelessly pushed your head into his cock without a second thought, clearly too overcome with the pleasure of his orgasm to worry about gagging you with his cum. You, however, took it like a champ, reasoning that within some seconds you'd get to breathe properly again.

"G-god, baby, just like that ... C-cumming, shit" he cried, hips still pushing into your mouth. You wished you could see how his whiny demeanor manifested onto his face — those gorgeous features must've looked breathtaking when pleasure was all he felt.

Finally, you gasped out for air after having swallowed as much as you could manage, with some of it dripping past your lips. Jungkook let himself lay back on the bed to catch his breath while you remained on your knees catching yours.

This lasted very little when Jungkook suddenly decided to use his brute strength to drag you up on the bed, sitting your still wet middle on his flaccid self, pulling you in for yet another tongue-filled kiss. He hummed and moaned and whined as he licked every remnant of his essence from your mouth, causing a similar reaction from you.

After the fact, you shuffled yourself off him and made space on the bed to huddle up to his side, which he welcomed by cocooning you under his arm and pulling you flush against him. It was comfortable and silent for a few moments as you continued catching your breaths and letting the sweat on your bodies transpire — you also made a mental note to invite him to take a shower (with you, maybe).

"You moving in next door was not on my bingo card, but thank fucking god for that," he chuckled after a few moments of silence.

"Yeah? You didn't stalk your previous neighbors for a hookup?", you joked, receiving a devious squeeze of his strong arm in retaliation.

"Shut up," he tutted, "You like that I'm like a dog following you around."

Fair enough.

Silence then took over again, up until the two of you were rested enough and decided to get back to the task at hand — putting furniture together and unpacking anything that was left boxed (though you decided to leave any boxes that may contain panties away from his reach).

It was easy for you to fall into fun conversation with Jungkook, which only led to him staying over for far longer than anticipated, taking up your day and even ordering takeout for you to eat after getting all the grunt work out of the way. A shower was had, though you mutually agreed for no funny business (other than a good ten minutes of making out under the water, but that didn't count in your eyes). Since he lived right next door, he managed to extend his visit up until the last minute, entertaining you more than anything had in the past week of moving in.

One month into your new place and you decided the move was probably one of the best decisions you'd ever made. You'd come to find that Jungkook's old neighbor was not the only old lady living in the building, but that the neighborhood was mostly made up of old people (which, granted, Jungkook had warned you of in passing). That gave to a slightly boring home life, but you liked it better this way. Jungkook being your sole young neighbor was more than enough, specially with how often he went out of his way to seek you out.

After those first two hookups, no time for anything else was really had. This made you embarrassingly needy. The anticipation for finally having actual sex with Jungkook was too much too handle, specially when he'd still occasionally bump into you and catch you off guard with a kiss (which usually led to a make-out far too filthy for the public setting). You'd started your new job a week after moving and Jungkook was occupied by some reason or another, meaning that you'd only really see each other in passing. Although you'd text and keep up with each other, the frustration continued to build up.

The third time you were really able to get Jungkook alone was a little over a month after moving in.

You weren't particularly proud of how it is that you got him back in your apartment, but in your defense, you were ovulating that night and feeling particularly needy. Knowing that Jungkook was a bit of an unserious man, you knew that some pull from you and he'd put everything aside to come crawling. The thought itself made you feel powerful.

With a single 'accidental' text (maybe it was a lewd image, you'll never tell), you began to hear obnoxious knocking on your front door — within seconds of delivery, might you add. Excitedly, you walked over to the door, opening it to find a breathless Jungkook holding up his phone with your conversation pulled up, the incriminating picture taking up his screen.

"You're so mean to me," he managed to say before you pulled him in with a kiss, kicking the door behind you and turning around so he could press you up against the now closed door.

"Mean? I didn't do anything," you feigned between kisses, already lightheaded.

"I've been wanting to come over," he sighed into your lips, trailing down to your neck to catch his breath, "Just been so busy, fuck. If you wanted me so bad, you could've just come visit. I'd drop anything to have you," he continued, unable to unglue his lips from your skin. His hands mirrored his sentiment, grabbing at every curve with a desperation you hadn't seen from him before.

"I thought you were the one that was supposed to be chasing after me?", you joked with a breathless chuckle.

"Sometimes I need a little encouragement, baby. Need to know I'm not just bugging you," he replied as he undressed you almost as if it were second nature to him.

Walking you back into what he knew to be your room, he laid you down, now donning nothing but your panties. He soon after matched your nudity, stripping of his muscle tee and sweats, making his way on top of you as he'd done last time.

"Will you be mad if I fuck you?", he rasped, one hand at your boobs and another rubbing at your cunt through the thin layer covering it.

"You're an idiot," you deadpanned, "I'll be mad if you don't."

Needing no further confirmation, his hand slipped past your panties, rubbing circles on the puffiness of your clit while continuing to kiss you. This didn't last for long, simply being used as an aid to lubricate you with your own wetness as his fingers reached a little souther to smear your slick around while his thumb continued to play with the swollen bud.

Already unclothed, Jungkook took his hand away from you, resulting in a whine from your lips to his and moving his hand onto his own arousal. Jerking himself a few times, he stopped kissing you in favor of leaning back to look down at you while twisting his fist on his dick. After quickly fishing for a condom from his discarded pants, he went back to his previous position, rolling it in while you nagged at him to hurry.

Before actually entering you, of course he had to piss you off one last time by teasing your clit with the tip of his cock, groaning when he felt you flutter beneath him. One kick from you was enough for him to chuckle and finally enter you, groaning in unison with you at the feeling.

"Jesus Christ," you groaned when you felt him begin bottoming out, inch by inch filling you up enough to cause an unknown level of pleasurable pain. You hadn't stopped to think what that size would feel like inside you — or at least as much as he was able to get in.

Above you, Jungkook looked tortured, still and with a wincing look on his face as he waited for the green light to begin moving in and out of you. It took you a few moments longer, nimble fingers digging into the muscles of his arms before you finally nodded at him to move.

"Fuck," he groaned upon finally beginning to pick up a pace, biting his lip and his eyes almost rolled back.

"More," you urged, falling in love with the feeling of him immediately.

Your eyes were crossed, your fingers digging far too painfully into his skin, your legs wrapped around him like a vice, everything was far too intense far too quickly. He obeyed your plea immediately, making matters worse for you, having already been blowing your mind prior but now simply melting it.

"How do you feel this good?", he grunted. His arms reached your thighs, pulling you up a bit to hammer into you at a better angle, "Should've fucked you since that first day, shit. How'd I get such a pretty- fuck, such a pretty girl delivered right to my door?", he went on, sweat building on his skin.

The slapping of skin sped up with the proximity of Jungkook's orgasm, just as yours followed along. His hands were restless, attempting to hold you up while also thirsty to feel every possible inch of your body.

"Please tell me you're close, or else this is going to be really embarrassing for me," he muttered onto your skin.

With a chuckle, you confirmed your incoming high, whining when he finally let himself go and sped up in order to reach his own orgasm, now more relaxed knowing you were right with him.

He let out some uncharacteristically high moans as he filled up the condom, groaning and stilling once he was finally done. You joined him mere seconds later, arching your back and pressing your chest against his own as bliss encompassed you. Despite the sticky sweat covering you both, Jungkook let himself fall against you, pulling out and placing the condom aside momentarily so he could lay beside you while you caught your breath.

In the almost silent room, Jungkook nuzzled against you and kissed the sweaty skin he could reach, hands playing with your hair as he pressed you up against him.

"Would it be bad if I asked you out? Or should I have done that before seducing you in the laundry room?", he wondered out loud, leaving love bites on your neck.

You laughed at how random he could be, appreciating how he spoke his thoughts aloud most of the time, "You can ask me out, I won't bite. Unlike some people," you muttered the last part, giggling when he gave you a slightly harsher bite.

"You like it, don't lie," he muttered, suddenly getting up and dragging you with him despite your whine in negation, "C'mon, we're going to take a shower, have a quickie, and then I'm taking you out for some boba," he decided, using his inhuman strength to pull you up and drag you to your restroom.

"But-"

"C'mon, I've been wanting to ask you out since you moved in, I'm already late," he hushed you, carrying your basically limp body to the restroom with the promise of a fun night, something you did not have it in you (nor did you want to) deny.

to read short 1.6k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, oral (f receiving), etc.

wc: 433 (teaser); 1619 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Are you ever going back to your apartment?", you murmured, though it was likely muffled by the large body wrapped around you.

"What, already tired of me?", asked Jungkook as he continued to nose at your skin, a habit you realized he had soon after making things official. He had a sensitive nose, he'd said once, always enjoying the cosmetic products that gave you that floral scent he adored.

After a month of officially dating, Jungkook had become the human manifestation of a leech. It was rare for him to leave tour side whenever you so happened to have free time and would take advantage of the proximity between your apartments.

Being frank, this was something you loved about him. Still in the honeymoon phase, there was nothing better than getting to see your boyfriend at any given time, especially when he was the one seeking you out. He made you feel wanted and like you were a necessity for him, almost as if he had an addiction to you.

That being said, the man just would not leave your apartment.

Now, this wasn't too much of a bother thus far. You liked it, in fact (at least for the most part). He was quite clean while also being laid back, which was a great combination to have in a person who was practically taking on the role of your roommate.

He did, however, prove to become a distraction when it came to your day to day life. You allowed yourself to indulge in his company too much, leading to a huge drop in your productivity.

But what could you do? He was addictive.

"You love having me around, don't lie to yourself," he continued, "What, tired of waking up to head?", he joked, hands making their way under your shirt to cheekily trace your skin.

"Waking up to head?," you asked incredulously, "You woke me up by tickling me, you menace."

He chuckled, adjusting himself on the bed so he could climb on top of you, knees settled on each side of you and hands slowly bringing your top up.

"Okay, fine. Maybe I've been a bad guest. Let me make it up to you?", he grinned, snaking his way down your body until his head was leveled with your stomach, kissing the skin he'd freed just moments prior.

"Better make it worth my while or else I'll start charging you rent for every hour you spend in here."

"I'll move in. Don't threaten me with a good time," he joked, knowing most of his time was spent here with you regardless.

...

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[teaboot]

I've never had a cat before and I'm hoping to get one soon. Do you have any advice?

Treat a new cat as you would a new roommate. Give them space and time to settle, establish a pattern and a rhythm, and in time they may choose to become friends and spend time with you. Dont force a friendship.

Use simple words and repetition to establish communication. Words like breakfast, treat, snack, lunch, supper, dinner, food, and eat all basically mean, "I am feeding you; expect to be fed", but it's a lot for a little guy to remember. I just say "Dinner" when I mean "cat food is coming", and so my boy knows exactly what I mean when I say it. As a plus, using only one word for snack time means he has no idea what the other words mean, so I can talk about food in front of him without ruling him up.

Pay attention to body language. Cats all have different personalities, and you'll learn their likes, dislikes, and messages over time this way. Son boy here loves anything with plumbing but dislikes getting wet- his favourite blanket to chew and snuggle goes on his favourite chair, and he gives me a specific gesture when he wants me to kneel down so he can jump onto my shoulder.

Read into problematic behaviour. Cats pee in weird places when they're hurting, in distress, or have insufficient of unclean litter box space. Biting, attacking feet , and knocking things off tables often means they're understimulated and need you to play with them, or at least need some kind of enrichment or puzzle to tackle. Tail flicking can be frustration or irritation. Purring is usually good, but may also be self-soothing behaviour to alleviate pain, encourage healing, and relieve anxiety, like over-grooming.

Like children, "bad" behaviour isn't malicious- it usually means there's something you aren't seeing.

Learn how your cat expresses love. Loads of people think cats are uncaring, cruel, and indifferent, but the truth is, they're just not dogs. Spending time near you, showing an interest in tools you're using or projects you're working on, sitting the way you sit, laying on their back, rubbing on your legs, wiping their face on your shoes when you get home- these are signs that your cat is enamored with you. You're their family, they feel safe and protected around you, they're curious about things you enjoy and want everyone to know you're family.

Set reasonable expectations. Again, cats are not dogs.We bred dogs to desire our approval- cats walked into our lives themselves. They have no human-programmed need to fulfill a duty or perform a task to your standards.

Training cats to do tricks isn't as hard as people say, but the willingness or interest in doing the trick is more heavily reliant on personality and mood. Some cats will refuse all but the most basic requests- I'm lucky in that Ollie understands and is willing to do several, provided I don't abuse his trust and he's not crowded or overwhelmed or just bored of doing it over and over in a short period.

Ollie, for example, knows Up to stand on his back legs and hold my hand, Down to get to a surface I indicate, Out to emerge from a closed space, Come to find me where I am, Help? when I'm offering to let him use me as an elevator, Dinner when I understand he's hungry and am getting food, and when I put on his collar he knows to climb into his carrier 'cause we're going somewhere. And he'll do any of these about 90% of the time, either ignoring me or phoning it in when there's something interesting somewhere else, or if he's feeling anxious.

Lead by example. If you dread taking them to the vet, they'll see the anxiety in your body language and behaviour and likely learn to hate it, too. Again using my guy an example, I starred taking him on walks long before his first vet appointment, just to get used to his carrier and leash. Then his first checkup was relaxed and informal, with plenty of treats, and I let him explore the examination room with permission from the tech. Now he loves going, so I'm not stressed about taking him, so I don't stress him out in turn, and the vest doesn't have to deal with a stressed out cat slowing things down and fighting with them.

Make sure your sources are good ones, and also good ones for you. I will recommend Jackson Galaxy's YouTube channel for cat advice because a lot of what he does matches up with what I've learned and know to be true. I don't personally recommend Ceasar Milan because I personally find his methods distressing to recreate regardless of efficacy, so even if that advice was useful, *I'd* be miserable, and it'd just be trading one issue for another.

Have a person who can help. You never know when you might end up out of town overnight unexpectedly, or when your place may need serviced or fumigated, or if you may be called out of town. Before getting a cat, research reliable pet sitters, house sitters, pet daycares, whatever, just in case.

Consider pet insurance. No long spiel here, just think about it. Especially if you don't know your cats ancestry or potenyial health risks. An on top of that, fucking vaccinate them.

Dont let them free roam. At all.

I grew up on a farm with free-roaming barn cats. Do you know how many times child-me cried over having to bury them? Illness, disease, pregnancy, vehicles, other territorial cats, ticks, fleas, litter, poisoned prey, malicious humans, local wildlife, predatory birds, scrap metal, extreme heat, freezing temperatures, tainted water sources, poisonous or venomous critters, getting stuck in small or high places, tapeworms, loose nails, old equipment, falling branches...

I've seen some truly body-horror slasher-movie shit- just truly nauseating visual fuckery- and I'm telling you not to let your cat free-roam.

Leash training isn't hard. Supervised walks aren't hard. Even keeping your cat physically fit and entertained indoors isn't an impossible feat. Don't let your fucking cat fucking free-roam. Fuck

Also read up on foods and plants cats can't do, like every houseplant in existence is toxic it's insane

Anyhow yeah that's like. A couple things I guess

Here, have an Ollie Pic