#but i'm still managing in a way that i think is working for now. but it does mean that i'm not always easy to talk to.

[rosyhoneydew]

if I'm honest I think that Tommy is okay for a while. I don't think he cries or breaks down when he leaves. I think he goes home and cracks a beer and doesn't think. he wakes up the next morning and goes to work and doesn't think. he sends a text in the harbor gc: plans changed. free this weekend and doesn't think, doesn't even respond to the barrage of ??? He works on his truck, finally power washes his deck, and upgrades the weather stripping in his house and he's fine.

But then he lets his guard down. He catches the Lakers game on TV at the station and he wonders if Evan is there. He spots Evan's aftershave in a CVS and swears he can still smell the way it clung to his skin. He turns the overhead fan on before bed, and it strikes him that he'd picked up the habit when Evan had started sleeping over and just hadn't stopped. And each crack that forms splits him open a little more every time. He copes, but it's harder now. He skips nights out and stops going to Muay Thai. He's tired and he can't help but ache for the nights that Evan would stay with him, arms around him, tight and too hot, but loving and so sweet. He tries to throw himself into work as much as he can but he can't stop thinking about what he lost. What he gave up on.

And then I think he waits. He sits with the hurt for as long as he can, content, in a way, to keep it contained to himself. He tries to control the spread because the last thing he wants is to break Evan like this. And he manages, but he doesn't get over it. How could he? But when he crosses paths with Evan again, a few weeks or months later, he sees the same splinters and he thinks about how those cracks are from him. His responsibility. And the sudden desire to mend them burns hot enough that he can't stop himself from asking how are you? Are you broken like me? Can I fix it? Please let me fix it. I know how. I'm good with my hands, I'll stop any more damage.

And when Evan looks at him, takes his hands, and responds as long as you'll let me fix yours the rush of it hits him. The color comes sweeping back into his world and he cries. How could he not? And he feels Evan's hands on his cheeks, brushing the tears away, and he's okay.

[kinardsevan]

𝐢'𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤

listen. i'm still so convinced it's Tommy up on that crane in 807 that my brain keeps writing scenes 😂😂😂😂 so have this:

"Buck, you need to-"

He can't hear Bobby's words as he races up the ladder, panic rising faster and faster in his chest.

"Hey no no no no no!" He yells, throwing himself over the side. His hands grasp tight around Tommy's. "Stop stop stop! Please!" The words are coming out of him in sobs, but large hands grip around his wrists and a moment later, the older man tilts his head up and his eyes lock with Evan's.

"Ev-..." He cuts himself off, his voice wobbly and raspy from his current predicament.

"Just stop," Evan replies, snuffling as tears run down his face. "Stop moving, stop- just stop."

"Ok," Tommy replies, his voice weary as his fingers tighten around Evan's wrists that much more. The blonde glances up toward Chimney on the opposite crane. He's still working to get the harness unstuck, but apparently only having mild success with it.

"My legs are numb," Tommy states, blinking slowly. Chim looks up at them.

"Fuck this. I'm going to cut him down. The 217 can get the line fixed," Chimney states before heading back down the ladder in quick succession. "I need bolt cutters!"

"Evan," Tommy rasps. His hands are sweaty now, hanging onto the other man's arms.

"No," Evan replies, his voice tinged with anger now. "You have to hang on."

"You have to let go," Tommy counters to him, his voice exhausted. "Evan-" His grip slips on Evan's arm, and beneath them there's scrambling to get the inflatable placed properly. He glances over at the other crane as Chimney finishes reascending it.

"I can't," Evan replies, his own voice strained as he grips onto Tommy's arm with both hands now. "Fuck, Tommy, I can't."

"Why not," he asks wearily.

"Because!" Evan yells at him. Several tears fall off his face in quick succession, one landing on Tommy's own face as it continues its descent downward.

Somehow, even from beneath him, even with most of his blood volume hanging out in the lower half of his body with no way to make it circulate properly, Tommy manages to give him that look, the one that says he's really paying attention.

"Evan." He says it like it's Evan who needs to be talked off the ledge, like he's the one hanging in the middle of the air being held up by a crane.

"You don't get to give up now," Evan growls at him. "You already did that to me once this week."

"Are we really talking about this now," Tommy asks him. His fingers slip a few millimeters, but Evan curls his hand tight under Tommy's elbow, trying to pull him up.

"Seems as good a time as any," he replies. A humorless laugh slips out of him.

"I've almost got it," Chimney calls from the other crane.

Evan gulps. "It was too much, too fast," he states. "Asking you to move in. I s-said things that made it sound like I wasn't invested-.."

"It's fine," Tommy replies, sounding mildly exasperated.

"No its not," Evan argues, squeezing tighter on Tommy's arm. "it's not. Because it made me sound like I was asking you to move in because it's the easy option, like I wanted you to stay without any consideration of what your life looks like outside of what we are. Or were."

Tommy stares up at him, still blinking slow and long. Evan pulls his arm up inches higher, trying to take more of the weight off of his lower body.

"But it's not that," he says, sniffling again. "I lept before thinking, a-and made it into a thing that it wasn't and has never been." He sniffles again. "I didn't ask you to move in because I wanted to be impulsive. I said it because I want a life with you, a-and I was afraid to own that and what that means for me." He pauses and gulps, lets out a breath. "I was so pissed at you for breaking up with me, a-and you were doing the same thing I did. You were protecting yourself." Tommy stares up at him, eyebrows quirked slightly in confusion.

"I thought if I didn't say it, it was safer, that we-..." He shakes his head at himself as he feels the tension pulling Tommy back toward Chimney starting to wane as the bolt cutters work through the metal. "But I also want the whole damn thing with you. I'm not in it because it's easy, or because you were the first man to kiss me. I'm in it because I'm in love with you."

Tommy stares up at him still, giving him that damn look again, and the slack goes looser, his weight becoming even heavier on Evan's arms.

"I love you," he repeats. "I love you so damn much."

Tommy grants him a weary smile. "I love you too, Evan."

His weight falls entirely on Evan then, and both of their arms jerk out straight, Evan leaned roughly over the crane as he tries to keep holding on.

"Evan, let go," Tommy tells him.

"Please," Evan begs him, and he's not even entirely sure what it is he's begging for. "Tommy-.."

"I love you too," he repeats. "But you have to let go."

Evan gulps, forces a breath in, forces his tunnel vision to open up, and realizes the inflatable is ready and will catch Tommy. "I'll meet you at the bottom."

"Sounds good," Tommy rasps. And then, against everything that tells him he should, Evan lets go, watching as Tommy drops the 30 feet onto the inflatable crash pad. As soon as his body hits, Evan is already double-timing his way down the ladder. He makes it down in what he's sure is record time, running past everyone else to get to Tommy's side. Hen already has him on a stretcher, attached to a dozen leads and assessing his legs.

"Risk of compartment syndrome," she states. "Likely dislocation of the left hip. He needs x-rays and we need to go."

"I'm going with," Evan announces, refusing to hear reason to any other option. His hand is tight in Tommy's as soon as he's next to him, his other hand combing down the other man's hair as he stares down into those blue eyes. They're already brighter from his circulation picking back up. "I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you."

"Good lord just kiss the man already," Gerrard calls from the back of the crowd. Evan whips his head around and Tommy leans up off he gurney, both of them giving the old grump a shocked expression.

"What?" He asks. He has that grumpy look on his face once more, like he still thinks that their lifestyle is beneath him (at the very least). "We all know it's what you're thinking. I just said it."

Evan turns back toward Tommy, and the blue eyes meet.

"My boyfriend's sister once said there better ways to get someone's attention than this," Tommy says. Evan lets out a laugh, color flushing through his cheeks at the dignification of boyfriend. He curls two fingers under Tommy's chin and kisses him, both of them ignorant of the whooping and hollering happening around them.

"Like that," he whispers when they finally part, pressing his forehead into Tommy's. Tommy has a hand fisted around Evan's shirt, keeping him close.

"Yeah, that works," he whispers back. "I love you, too, Evan. I love you, too."

[oldsoul007]

taste

nicholas chavez x ex!reader

a/n: no disrespect to either of them or relationship all of this is just fiction!

Nicholas and y/n had a special connection when they dated. Their time together was filled with laughter, shared secrets, and memorable moments. However, as life moved on, they drifted apart, and Nicholas eventually found himself in a new relationship with a girl named Victoria.

Victoria is wonderful—kind, smart, and everything Nicholas could ask for in a girlfriend. Yet, despite his happiness with her, y/n is always in the back of his mind. He often finds himself reminiscing about the times he spent with y/n, the unique bond they shared, and the way she understood him like no one else.

Even though Nicholas tries to focus on his present with Victoria, there are moments when a song, a place, or a random memory brings y/n back to the forefront of his thoughts. He wonders how she's doing, if she thinks about him too, and whether their paths will cross again. This lingering presence of y/n in his mind makes him question if he ever truly moved on, or if a part of him will always belong to her.

Nicholas and Victoria were out for a casual stroll one Saturday afternoon when they unexpectedly ran into y/n. The encounter took Nicholas by surprise, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Y/n looked as beautiful and confident as ever, and seeing her brought a rush of memories flooding back.

"Hey, y/n. It's been a while. How have you been?" Nicholas asked, trying to keep his composure.

"I've been good. Just busy with work and everything. How about you?" Y/n replied with a warm smile.

"I've been alright. This is Victoria, by the way. Victoria, this is y/n," Nicholas introduced them, his voice slightly shaky.

"Nice to meet you, y/n!" Victoria said cheerfully.

"Nice to meet you too, Victoria. So, what have you been up to, Nicholas?" Y/n asked, her eyes lingering on him.

"Oh, you know, just the usual. Work's been keeping me busy. It's really good to see you, though," Nicholas responded, feeling a mix of emotions.

"Yeah, it's good to see you too. You look well," y/n said, her smile softening.

"Thanks. You too," Nicholas managed to say, his mind racing.

Victoria, sensing the tension, chimed in, "We should catch up sometime, all of us. It would be fun."

"Sure, that sounds nice," y/n agreed. "Well, I should get going. It was great running into you both."

"Yeah, take care, y/n," Nicholas said, watching her walk away.

As y/n disappeared into the crowd, Nicholas couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. He realized that his feelings for her were still very much alive, leaving him deep in thought about what to do next.

Victoria and Nicholas had been having a wonderful evening at home when the topic of y/n came up. It started innocently enough, with Nicholas mentioning their recent encounter.

"You know, it was really nice seeing y/n the other day," Nicholas said, trying to keep his tone casual.

Victoria's expression changed slightly. "Yeah, it was. But, Nicholas, I've noticed you talk about her a lot lately."

Nicholas looked puzzled. "What do you mean? She's just an old friend."

"Is she really just an old friend?" Victoria asked, her voice growing more tense. "Because it feels like there's more to it."

Nicholas sighed. "Victoria, you're overthinking this. Y/n and I have history, but that's all in the past. You're the one I'm with now."

Victoria shook her head. "I don't know, Nicholas. It just feels like there's something unresolved between you two. And it bothers me."

Nicholas's frustration began to show. "What do you want me to do, Victoria? I can't erase my past. Y/n is a part of it, but she doesn't have to be a threat to us."

"I just need to know that you're fully committed to us," Victoria said, her eyes pleading.

"I am committed to us," Nicholas said firmly. "But I can't change the fact that y/n was a big part of my life. You have to trust me."

Victoria looked away, tears welling up in her eyes. "It's hard to trust when I see how you look at her."

Nicholas softened, stepping closer to her. "Victoria, I love you. I'll do whatever it takes to make you feel secure. But you have to believe me when I say that Lauren is just a friend now."

Victoria nodded slowly, wiping her tears. "Okay, Nicholas. I believe you. But let's not talk about y/n anymore. Let's focus on us."

"Agreed," Nicholas said, pulling her into a hug. "Let's focus on us."

As they held each other, Nicholas hoped that this would be the end of the tension between them. He knew he had to prove his commitment to Victoria and make sure she felt secure in their relationship.

Nicholas and Victoria were at the local bar when they unexpectedly bumped into y/n again. It was a moment of surprise for all three, but Victoria's reaction was different. As she watched Nicholas and y/n exchange warm smiles and familiar glances, something clicked in her mind. She realized that the connection between Nicholas and y/n was deeper than she had ever imagined. It was in that instant that Victoria understood the true nature of their bond, and a mix of emotions washed over her, leaving her both intrigued and contemplative about what this meant for their future.

Nicholas and Victoria were sitting in their living room when the tension that had been building up finally reached a boiling point. The topic of y/n had come up once again, and it was clear that Victoria was not happy about it.

"Nicholas, I can't believe you're still hung up on her," Victoria said, frustration evident in her voice. "Every time we run into y/n, you act like she's the only person in the room."

Nicholas sighed, rubbing his temples. "Victoria, it's not like that. Y/n and I have a history, yes, but it doesn't mean I'm still in love with her. We're just friends now."

"Friends? Really?" Victoria shot back. "Because it sure doesn't seem that way. You get this look in your eyes whenever she's around, like you're remembering something more than just a friendship."

"That's not fair," Nicholas replied, his voice rising. "I can't control how I feel. But I'm with you now, and that's what matters."

"But is it really?" Victoria asked, her eyes filling with tears. "Because it feels like I'm always competing with her ghost. I need to know that you're fully here with me, not just physically but emotionally too."

Nicholas took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Victoria, I care about you a lot. I don't want you to feel like you're second to anyone. I'm sorry if I've made you feel that way."

Victoria looked at him, her expression softening slightly. "I just need to know that I can trust you, Nicholas. That you're not going to run back to her the moment things get tough between us."

"I promise you, Victoria," Nicholas said, taking her hand. "I'm committed to us. I'll do whatever it takes to prove that to you."

As they sat there, holding each other's hands, they both realized that this was a turning point in their relationship. They had to work through these issues if they wanted to move forward together.

Nicholas had been feeling increasingly guilty about his relationship with Victoria. He knew deep down that he couldn't continue pretending everything was fine. One evening, he finally mustered the courage to talk to her.

"Victoria, we need to talk," Nicholas began, his voice heavy with emotion. "I can't keep doing this. It's not fair to you or to me. I still have feelings for y/n, and it's not right to lead you on."

Victoria looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of hurt and understanding. "I knew this was coming, Nicholas. I just hoped things would change."

"I'm so sorry," Nicholas said, his heart breaking at the sight of her tears. "You deserve someone who can give you their whole heart, and I can't do that right now."

After the difficult conversation, Nicholas felt a weight lift off his shoulders, but he was also filled with a sense of loss. He decided to reach out to y/n, needing someone to talk to.

"Y/n, I ended things with Victoria," he confessed over the phone. "I couldn't keep pretending. But now, I feel so lost."

Y/n’s voice was gentle but firm. "Nicholas, I still love you, but we can't be together. Not right now. You need to figure things out for yourself first."

Nicholas sighed, feeling the sting of her words. "I understand, y/n. I just needed to hear your voice."

They both knew that this was a time for healing and self-discovery. Even though they couldn't be together, their connection remained a source of comfort and strength for Nicholas.

[ayrtonswnna]

hello there!

Can I request a Franco x reader? But where Ayrton Senna is alive in this universe and the reader is Senna? If not, then fine. It's up to you. Thanks in advance 😊😊

ʚɞ a/n: that is my moment!!!!!!!! i often imagine how would it be to have ayrton in contemporary scenarios it's unhealthy lol. i really think he'd be full of jokes and a fun guy just like he was off track. thanks for the request, it was a real nice one to write! (and if anyone has any senna request, i'll be more tham happy to take it! (i'm even willing to write stuff with senna himself))

ʚïɞ "you got me good" FC43

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀↳ masterlist ↳ drop a request! ↳ more franco fluff!

✧₊⁺ franco colapinto x cecília senna (senna!female oc)

✧₊⁺ word count: 1,6k⠀⠀⠀⠀✧₊⁺, gender: crack, fluff.

✧₊⁺ summary: franco and cecília kept a secret relationship and when they decide to come clean, her father was ahead of it and he's a total menace.

✧₊⁺ warnings: alternative universe where that may 1th 1994 didn't happen and ayrton grew old like he deserved to, my hyper focus on that man shown in references, a bit of portuguese properly translated, kinda short and poorly contextualized, curse words, franco is a baby, just soft and light content for the win.

"What do you mean he doesn't know about it?"

Franco took a deep breath, massaging his own scalp as his friend and co-worker continued talking, a mix of excitement and judgment in his words.

"You are not making this any better," he mouthed.

"You are dating his daughter! You are da-ting. The man's daughter. Like... The man's daughter. The hell haven't you met her family!?"

"I am scared, okay!? If I get rejected by her family... It's not just my girlfriend's family. It's simply Senna himself! Should I what!? Drop the job? Hide in a cave?"

Alex laughed, the words and the tone easing the tension. The guy was worried to death and things might be simpler than he thought. Everyone knew Senna was a fun person.

Dating Cecília Senna felt almost like marrying into royalty. It's a good feeling, though. Bagging Cecília Senna could easily be added to one of Franco's big achievements — and he's a former F2 driver called in last minute to fill a Formula One seat — and he's doing great.

But still, it's Cecília Senna, the only child of a legend, someone he looked up to growing up, someone he saw in the paddock many times before ending up in his daughter's sheets.

"Hello, everyone!"

God, his heart might have dropped to the floor just now. The retired driver walked into the garage happily, with his daughter attached to his arm and waving familiarly.

Everyone gathered around them immediately, though Cecília's eyes instantly met Franco's. She knew he was scared and had made fun of him until she couldn't anymore, teasing him in every way she could.

"I've heard the news on the Argentinian! You guys are lucky you got away easily!"

Alright, it's time to pray. What news? That he's fucking his daughter? That they meet every week? That she wanted a Williams' box pass so badly just because of him? Or... That they hid it from everyone just to gain a bit more time?

"We got quality, mate! That's it." Vowels took his cue to fill in the blank, the people dispersing and going back to their work. "Found the kid sparring and made him a beast."

"Yeah, of course," the Brazilian laughed. "What's up, buddy! Feeling the pressure?"

Franco mentally cursed Cecília for raising her eyebrows and doubling the meaning of the question, but he managed to stand up and dry his sweaty hands on his pants.

"I try not to, honestly. Not... think about it a lot," he said, feeling he could have worded the sentence a bit better as they shook hands.

"That's the spirit! I heard a lot about you, little man. Do you know my daughter? Cecília?"

Tricky question. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Tricky question.

If he had heard about it, then he knew about them. Franco could say "yes" and end up with a lecture, or say "no" and be caught in a lie.

"You guys think you are smart, huh? Fooling around, hiding from cameras..."

Oh, it's over. It's over for him. The "drop the job and hide in a cave" plan was almost running in his veins right now. Maybe he should Sebastian Vettel his way around, retire early, and move to a countryside home in Switzerland. Yes, that's a good plan.

"Pai... Para com isso." Cecília shoved her dad's side, rolling her eyes. (Dad... Stop that.)

"What? You guys thought you got away with it?"

"Pai! Ele tá ficando sem graça!" she insisted. (Dad! He's getting uncomfortable!)

Franco thought of speaking up, but the nerves were all up and maybe he should let it be.

"Yeah! He should!" Ayrton still had a serious look on his face, making Franco shiver.

"Pai, sério." (Dad, I'm serious.)

"Sir, I know it—"

"Come on, Franquinho! I'm fooling around, take that scared look off your face!" In a matter of seconds, Ayrton's grin turned into a playful smile, and his arm was hooked over Franco's shoulder, messing up his hair and leaving him even more confused. "Did I scare you? You should have seen your eyes!"

Franco laughed, still a bit dulled. That was a big one.

"You're a bastard," Cecília rolled her eyes once again, aware of the father she had.

The man was a natural jokester, full of little jokes and loved making uncomfortable scenarios in the name of fun. He was a handful.

"And you guys should have told me about this before! You lost it all, Franquinho. Angra, the travels... You need to be introduced to the family!"

He had heard about Angra; the beach house Cecília went to every now and then, how much she and her father loved the place. He even saw an old interview where Ayrton said that his retirement plans included being "Angra's nature inspector."

"Yeah- Yeah, sim." Franco risked some Portuguese, patting Ayrton on the back before they both stepped apart. "Sorry for... for taking too long to meet you, I was- Damn, you got me good."

"I could see!" Senna didn't waste a single laugh. "Don't worry, little boy. You're a good investment. And Cecília is pretty happy, so... you got my support."

"I'm even happier to hear it." Franco chuckled. "Thank you, very much. Your daughter also makes me really happy."

"Of course! Her bad jokes make everyone laugh." Ayrton kept the teasing going. "Now you better show me some racing! I've been in your place and to keep the daughter you need to be as good as dad!"

"You should have seen your face, baby!"

Franco glanced at his girlfriend as he turned his head, their first alone time since the morning's humiliation session.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he mouthed, shirt off and focus switching. "That was traumatizing."

"I told you he's a clown." Her shoulders went up a bit. "But he wasn't lying at the end! He likes you!"

"I got that part. Now I know where you got that dark humor from." The blue-eyed boy stood in the middle of his room, hands on his waist as he let his girlfriend use her eyes.

"What can I say? I am my father's daughter." She smiled mischievously. "He wants you to spend some time, though. Before Vegas, maybe?"

"I could've Max Verstappen my way around and have stayed for the week... But we waited until your dad could scare me to death in the middle of the box so... Yeah, it can be next week." He started simple, voice steady.

But then Cecília approached and her hands liked to touch. All over his torso while she traced a good way for his hair.

"You ain't seen nothing yet." The smile was still on her face, lips coming closer and closer to his. "But I am really happy, you know? Now we can just be and enjoy some time... I can take you to Angra, and I don't need to hide in your driver's room. I was done with pretending I was investing in Williams just so I had a reason to watch the races here."

"Told you about it... You could afford my seat."

Another joke. Ever since he got into F1 as an emergency call, she did say she only had to call her dad and his 2025 seat would be secured.

"You're gonna get it because you deserve it, I am not affording that." She flashed her eyelashes, rimming a single syllable as his hands also started to travel.

Inside her expensive shirt, up and down her back in good pressure before they found room at her waist.

"You know what else I deserve?"

"You freak! Go shower and I'll be waiting for you outside. My dad is around!"

It took them no time. Within weeks, Ayrton and Franco became partners in crime, and suddenly, Cecília was having a taste of her own medicine.

"Turn it off! Now!" Ayrton whispered in a screaming tone, the last signal Franco needed before turning off the power for the whole house.

Cecília had just come back from the beach and Franco finally knew the Angra house. It was dark, and the prank was not very well planned.

"Porra." (Shit.) they heard the Brazilian swearing. "Que inferno, de novo? PAAAAI?" (What the hell, again? DAAAAD?)

He knew some words in Portuguese and it only made it funnier. Him and his father-in-law were hiding in the small laundry room as Cecília searched for them.

"Ready, kid?"

"No, but I'll do it anyways."

"Good kid. You're a great one." The old man, as a new custom, messed with the Argentinian's hair, before opening the door and waiting for him to leave.

"Eu juro, se vocês estiverem armando pra cima de mim eu— Ah— FRANCO! NO!" (I swear, if you guys are planning something against me I—)

He's fast even with his limited knowledge about the furniture in the house, walking in the dark before he could lift her and throw her over his shoulder.

It's the fourth time she's thrown in the pool and she just knows it's her father opening the glass door for the exterior area before she's sinking in cold water.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ALL!" Cecília screamed. "I JUST WASHED MY HAIR! OH MY GOD! PUTTING YOU TWO TOGETHER WAS THE WORST THING I EVER DID!"

"Não reclama, princesinha..." (Don't you complain, little princess...) her father played, now standing besides her boyfriend. "Bate aqui, you passed the test. Welcome to the family." (High five,)

"I hate you guys. Eu odeio vocês, los odio. Whatever. Don't ever talk to me again." Cecília stomped her way out of the pool, walking straight past them.

"Don't get mad, baby... It's just a joke!"

"Well, boy... It's your girlfriend. Go ease her nerves. You're called Colapinto for a reason."

ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2024. check my masterlist or drop a request (: reblogs and feedback are always welcome (:

[azrielwingspan]

THE CYBORG WHO STOLE MY HEART (Bucky X F!reader)

A/N: I know I know, there's another Bucky fanfic that I'm already working on and yet here I am starting a whole new one. Why you ask? Because I'm a dumbass. The idea just popped up into my head and I HAD TO write it down. Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 1 :

Chapter summary: Bucky and Sam come across a woman who seems to have lost her mind. Literally. Using Bucky’s cyborg brain, they try to figure out who she is.

Chapter warnings: Mild swearing.

You know when you're having a great dream with a hot guy that could only possibly exist in dreams ? The happiness that breathing the same air as him brings you? That's what you were feeling right now.

Eyes as blue as the ocean, veins that were easy to put an IV in and that black shirt phew. Was it possible to drool in dreams? You were going to have a great day once you woke up. That was for sure.

Why was he looking at you like that though? Weren't they supposed to be flirting with you or puckering their lips in your dreams by now? Was this supposed to be a slow burn or enemies to lovers genre dream?

"Why is she staring at me like that?" the hot guy asks the air next to him.

"She's just coming into it, give her a second." it responds back to him.

Wait, what ?

"Are we sure she's alright and not having an absence seizure?" the air voice asks.

"She's alright. Probably in shock." another voice responds.

Shock? From seeing that beautiful man in front of me? Sure.

Okay, focus.

Wait, it's a dream. Why do you need to focus?

Eyes, the colour of piss , come into focus. "Cannn youuu hearrr meee?"

"Why are you speaking like that?" you manage to ask, still trying to figure out if you'd accidentally taken shrooms.

"Not a seizure then." the voice from earlier comments.

Piss eyes looks proud of himself. "I told you, she's in shock."

If this really was a dream, it would have to be the strangest one you have had in a while. What in the actual cockfuck was happening?

"Youu areee in theee hosp-ee-taalll. Weee---" piss eyes sounded like he was having the seizure.

"Stop talking like that." you say, blinking rapidly to clear the dark spots from your eyes. Things were starting to feel more...real. A heaviness settled over your head, every breath seemed to send a slight sliver of pain through your side and your arm felt numb.

Dreams weren't usually ultra-realistic, were they? Only one way to find out now.

"Is she...pinching herself?" hot guy asks, that strange look on his face.

A set of cold hands clamp your hands down.

"HEY." you say, the slight sting of your pinch confirming your doubts.

"Self hurt or mutilation can be a side effect. We need to restrain her for her own safety." Piss eyes speaks rapidly and you hear him muttering to himself.

"I'm not...is this not a dream?" you finally ask leaving the room in pin drop silence.

"I don't think so...unless Wanda is upto something again." air voice sounds a bit unsure himself.

"Wanda?" the name seemed familiar but in this state , you could barely remember your own name.

You try to get up only to be gently pushed back down by piss eyes. "You probably shouldn't be doing that. Bed rest for the next 10 days, I'm afraid." he says not sounding apologetic about it at all.

"What even happened? And---" you're cut off by air voice.

"Where are you? Well, the Avengers compound. Now, don't get too excited and all. We can make you sign a NDA , but we aren't going to because we're hoping you're trustworthy. Stark said you might be...useful. Now, if you're feeling upto it, how the hell did you end up in the middle of a cemetry half dead?"

You blinked once, twice, thrice.

"Who is Stark?"

"Listen, man. She's got to be living under a rock if she doesn't know who Stark is. That guy has been stuffed down everyone's fucking throat." Sam tells Bucky as he takes off he looks at their new visitor.

Bucky doesn't respond and instead stares at Sam with a poker face.

"What's going on in that cyborg brain of yours?" Sam isn't phased by Bucky and his staring anymore. He was however very sure that Bucky would not be bringing home any ladies with that serial killer look.

"What if she's lying?" Bucky finally says, turning to look at the CCTV recording of the room you were in. You were sleeping again, knocked out by the pain killers.

"Lying about not knowing Stark or not being able to remember what happened to her?"

"Both."

"What purpose does that serve her?"

"Well, that's what we're supposed to find out."

“How exactly are you planning on doing that?” Crossing his arms over his chest , Sam raised an eyebrow at his cyborg friend.

“I’ll think about it.” Bucky walked past him, grabbing his jacket on the way. “With my cyborg brain.”

“I understand that you want to get some answers” you said for what seemed like the 100th time, exasperation taking hold of you. “I honestly cannot remember what happened. I’ve thought myself into a headache. I’m sorry, okay?”

Sam looked defeated as he let he shook his head. “It’s been two whole days. Now, I don’t want to seem like a dick and question you in this state but we need some goddamn answers.”

“Too late for that I guess.” you muttered under your breath.

“Huh?”

“She said ‘too late for that I guess.’” The hot guy, Bucky, was his name chimed in.

How the hell did he hear that? As if reading the question on your face, he simply said “Advanced hearing.”

Okkayyyy.

Sam on the other hand was giving you a flat look. You gave him one back.

“I’m feeling much better now. Can I atleast get out of this damn bed?” you scratched near the iv line, wanting to just rip it out. “Piss eyes told me I shouldn’t but I cannot stay like this.”

“Piss eyes?” Sam was clearly running out of patience.

“The doc. Is he even a doctor? He’s very…”

“Sort of.”

That explains it.

“She’s right.” Bucky takes a step forward, looking at Sam. “Walking around will help her recover faster.”

“THANK YOU. See , I knew you were the smart one.” you give him a wide smile to which you get a poker face in return. Embarrassing. Not letting it deter you, you pull the iv out.

“Hey !!” Sam steps forward, surprised at your show of stupidity.

Before he can reach you to help you out of bed, you’ve already stood up. Which was another stupid move considering that the entire room was spinning around. Holding on to the wall next to you for support, you blinked rapidly.

“That’s another concussion waiting to happen.” Bucky commented dryly.

After regaining some semblance of direction, you managed to stand up straight ignoring the slight stab of pain in your chest.

“Much better.” you say, taking a step forward. The pastel pink tee and pants that had been given to you did not compliment your current condition, you knew. To be quite frank, you were a good looking woman too. Always have been. Then why the hell was Bucky looking at you like he was going to stab you right then and there?

“Uhhh…now what?” your suddenly felt extremely awkward in front of the two men.

“Don’t ask me, you were the one who wanted to do this.” Sam still had an arm out, ready to jump into action in case you cracked your head on the tiles again. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Bucky make a slight movement. Thank fuck you did because the next thing you knew , you were holding a dagger 2 inches away from your chest by the handle.

Silence engulfed the room for a good 20 seconds before it was broken by a very calm “What. The. Fuck.” from Sam.

You looked at Bucky who stood in the same spot like nothing shocking had even happened. Finally a crack of a smile appeared on his face.

“Told you she was lying.”

[jojotichakorn]

i started penning a post about how i always find it narratively unsatisfying when an arc ends with a conclusion the following arc breaks, regardless of how realistic the repetition of the same mistake might be, which is still true, but i actually want to talk about something else right now.

i feel like, at least at this stage, jack is in a position that is both generally unrealistic and untrue to the specific events of the series. 'jack and joker' has a clear focus on poverty and money and class issues, but it seems to treat jack in a very special way. he somehow manages to stand on the moral high ground above other characters. specifically, other poor characters. which is, first of all, a little ridiculous, since he was indeed a debt collector and, in fact, almost became the boss's son. and, second of all, is generally Not Great, because it does idolise the idea that if you "just try hard enough", you won't "allow" yourself to be backed into a corner and therefore won't have to do bad things.

now, don't get me wrong, i am not saying that our characters who have made mistakes are completely blameless. tattoo did shitty things (and hoy followed suit), safe did shitty things, hope frankly admitted to enjoying doing shitty things. however, if we zoom out a little, we will see that all these characters are in a situation that is inherently unfair to them. we have all of these poor people in immense amounts of debt and then we have this disgusting rich motherfucker whose entire wealth is literally based on making their lives as miserable and unfair as they are. and i think that, in this particular case, the series would have actually benefited from a dichotomy. don't get me wrong, i'm usually absolutely brimming with nuance and also asking "what lies outside of it?" but this shall be my exception. (though you could say that joke already brings some nuance to it - he is initially from a well-off family and he actively makes choices to the benefit of poor people, despite it resulting in him being ostracised from said family and its riches).

jack walks the line of being poor and managing not to do anything "too bad" like he is a fucking circus performer on a wire. and, don't get me wrong, he is genuinely a selfless character. he makes choices that a lot of other characters in the same circumstances wouldn't make. he remains in debt and continues working for the boss because he keeps trying to help people and pay off their debts first - that is admirable. however, he himself was already set up for more success than others. sure, being forced to become a debt collector isn't a walk in the park, but most other debtors didn't even have that choice. jack has to work for the boss in order to stay afloat - that is an undeniably hard task. the other people the boss collects debts from, however, have to come up with a lot of money out of thin air - that is not simply a hard task, that is an impossible one that is designed to trap them in the cycle of doing this impossible task forever. that being said, ultimately, jack is still poor. his own hamster wheel should be somewhere around the corner, that's always the case. this idea is where i wish they would have taken jack's arc.

from the moment when he refused to marry rose, there was no escape for him. finally, much like our other poor characters, he found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. (and i think that it's very thematically appropriate for jack's particular "i can't do this anymore, i deserve to live a full life" sentiment to be connected to love, since he is, after all, a lead of a romance drama). he made the decision to say "no" and from that point on, he was completely and utterly fucked. because, realistically, that conversation that he had with the boss after refusing rose was insane. i don't know what he would have done to jack exactly, if that was a genuine conversation and there was no exchange of jack's freedom for the ring, but it would not have been anything good.

so i wish jack had to make the actual tough call there, instead of having joke save him all on his own (and later take the fall for it). and if it was, at least in some capacity, jack's decision to steal that ring, he would finally be placed in a situation where every other poor character already inevitably found themselves in. because the entire system is rigged against all of them and they are eventually always forced to do things that they should have never even had to consider in the first place. but they deserve better than living a life set up for them by evil rich people who literally live off of their suffering and they are allowed - no, at some point they simply have no choice but to - fight for a better life.

this, in my opinion, would have been a much more powerful message and - not to circle back to my personal preferences - would have also not left us with joke making the very same mistake that we decided we should never make again at the end of the previous arc.

[badger-tales]

Sick Days// W.W x Reader

a/n: I'm so excited to write my first deadpool request i love wade so much!!!!!!!

request: If it’s possible, can I have Deadpool x nb!reader fluff? I feel like he doesn’t get enough fluff in fanfics. Basically, they’re married (shocker that Deadpool’s dumbass can get married ik). Nb!reader is off from work for being sick (like fever or something probably) and Wade decides to not take any bounties (taking this for the movies kinda so he’s basically a hit man-ish??) to take care of his partner. Thanks if you decide to do it!!!

-🎀 (yes ik it’s a weird signature)

word count: 3.6k

Wade clumsily waltzed into the bedroom, balancing a tray of what could only barely be called breakfast—burnt toast, a misshapen omelette, and an oversized cup of orange juice that sloshed dangerously with each step. The tray wobbled as he approached the bed, his eyes fixed on y/n, who was bundled under layers of blankets, their cheeks flushed from the fever. Wade paused dramatically at the foot of the bed, clearing his throat.

“My darling, my sick little munchkin, I present to you... the finest cuisine this side of the apartment building.” He gave an exaggerated bow, managing to keep the tray steady through sheer luck and questionable balance. y/n blinked blearily at the scene, stifling a laugh as they pushed themselves up on their elbows.

“Wade, is that supposed to be an omelette, or did you just fight it?” they asked, their voice croaky but full of amusement.

Wade gasped, his hand flying to his chest in mock indignation. “I’ll have you know this omelette put up quite the fight. I took it down for you, love. You should've seen the flips it was trying to do in the pan—but I was like, ‘No way, Mr. Egg. Not today.’” He set the tray down on their lap with a flourish, tilting his head as he took in the chaotic sight of breakfast. 

y/n smiled, despite the pounding headache and the heat radiating from their skin. They picked up a piece of burnt toast, eyeing it thoughtfully. “You know, it’s not half bad,” they said, taking a small bite. Wade practically beamed, settling on the edge of the bed beside them.

“Really? I mean, of course not! It’s made with love—and maybe a little bit of ash from the toaster. But hey, nothing says ‘I love you’ like breakfast that might give you extra crunch.” He reached over and gently adjusted the blanket around y/n’s shoulders, his movements softer now, the usual chaos tempered by genuine care.

“Thanks, Wade,” y/n said, their voice barely a whisper as they leaned back against the pillows. “For everything. Even the crunchy toast.”

Wade waved a dismissive hand, but his eyes softened behind the mask. “Hey, you’re my favorite person to take care of. Even if you are all sweaty and gross right now.” He paused, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Don’t tell anyone, but I think the sweaty look kinda works for you.”

They rolled their eyes, nudging him lightly. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you married me,” he shot back, his voice full of that playful warmth that made everything feel just a bit better. He picked up the oversized cup of orange juice and held it out to them, the liquid still threatening to spill. “Now, drink up, my love. Vitamin C is the key to beating this fever… or at least, that’s what the internet said after I ignored all the pop-ups about enlarging certain body parts.”

y/n laughed, a real one this time, and took the cup from him. “To good health and burnt breakfasts,” they said, raising the cup in a toast.

Wade tapped an imaginary glass against theirs. “To my favorite patient. May you get better soon so I can go back to being the one who needs all the attention.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to their temple. 

And for a moment, despite the fever and the exhaustion, y/n felt warm in the best possible way.

“You know what you need? A Wade Wilson patented cuddle burrito,” Wade declared, yanking the comforter off the bed. Before y/n could protest, he wrapped it around them like a human burrito, tucking it tightly so that only their head poked out. Wade grinned proudly at his handiwork, stepping back to admire the blanket-wrapped figure before diving onto the bed beside them.

y/n gave an exasperated sigh, though a smile tugged at their lips. “Wade, I can’t move at all,” they said, their voice muffled by the layers of fabric.

“Exactly! Now you’re safe from all potential threats—and by threats, I mean me, because I’m about to unleash the most intense cuddles known to humankind,” Wade said, his voice dropping dramatically as he wiggled his way closer to them.

He snuggled up to y/n, his arms wrapping around the burrito-wrapped form. “There. Snug as a bug in a Deadpool hug,” he whispered, rubbing his masked nose against theirs in an Eskimo kiss. y/n rolled their eyes playfully, warmth spreading through their chest despite the fever that still lingered.

“Wade, you’re ridiculous,” they muttered, though their tone held no real annoyance.

“Ridiculously awesome, maybe,” Wade replied, giving them a gentle squeeze. He shifted a little, making sure the blanket was still snug around them. “Besides, I read somewhere that the best medicine is plenty of cuddles. And I am nothing if not a dedicated cuddle doctor.”

y/n couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, though it quickly turned into a cough. Wade patted their back gently, his tone softening. “Hey, easy there, patient zero. I’ve got you. No coughing your way out of this burrito.”

y/n settled back against him, the tension easing from their body as they relaxed into the warmth of Wade’s embrace. Despite everything—the fever, the exhaustion—it was hard not to feel just a little bit better wrapped up and warm with Wade’s over-the-top affection. They closed their eyes, allowing themselves to enjoy the comfort.

“Thanks, Wade,” they murmured, their voice barely audible. Wade’s grip tightened slightly, and even though they couldn’t see his face beneath the mask, they knew he was smiling.

“Anything for you, my favorite burrito,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of their head.

“Who needs bounties when I can be a professional nurse-slash-chef-slash-best-husband-ever?” Wade muttered to himself as he stirred a pot of what could generously be called chicken soup. The broth looked a little… green. Maybe chicken soup wasn’t supposed to look green? He frowned, shrugging off the doubt as he poured a bowl anyway, determination etched in every exaggerated movement.

He strutted into the bedroom, bowl in hand, a wide grin plastered on his face beneath the mask. “Soup’s on! Literally!” He presented the bowl to y/n with a flourish, as if he’d just served up a five-star gourmet meal. They blinked at it, their eyes narrowing slightly as they took in the strange, greenish hue.

“Uh, Wade… why is it green?” they asked, their voice a little hoarse from the lingering sickness.

Wade tilted his head, examining the bowl as if he were seeing it for the first time. “Extra vitamins?” he offered, sounding more hopeful than confident.

Y/n chuckled weakly, shaking their head. “I think I’ll stick to tea for now,” they said, the warmth of their smile softening the rejection.

Wade gasped dramatically, clutching his chest with his free hand. “You wound me, my love. This is the finest soup this side of the multiverse. Gordon Ramsay himself would cry tears of joy—or tears of rage, it’s hard to tell with that guy.”

They couldn’t help but smile at his antics, their head resting back against the pillow. “I’m sure it’s… something, Wade. But I think tea is all I can handle right now.”

Wade set the bowl down on the nightstand, giving a resigned nod. “Fine, fine. Tea it is. But I’m still counting this as a win. You laughed, and that’s all that matters,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to their forehead.

Y/n closed their eyes, feeling the warmth of his affection through the cool fabric. “Thanks for taking care of me,” they murmured, their voice barely above a whisper.

Wade’s eyes softened, and he reached out to adjust the blankets around them. “Always, my favorite patient,” he whispered back, brushing a gloved hand gently against their cheek. “Even if you won’t eat my magical green soup.”

Y/n smiled, their eyes growing heavy. “Maybe next time,” they muttered, already drifting off.

Wade grinned, standing up straight and giving a mock salute. “I’ll hold you to that, sweetheart. Rest up. We’ve got more ridiculousness to get to when you’re feeling better.”

And with that, he tiptoed out of the room, leaving y/n to drift into a peaceful sleep, their heart warmed by his unwavering love and care.

—-

Wade settled down beside y/n on the couch, remote in hand. “Alright, babe, I picked out the perfect movie for a sick day. *The Notebook*. Because nothing says 'get well soon' like Ryan Gosling crying.” He hit play and then snuggled in beside them, wrapping an arm around their shoulder.

Y/n gave a small chuckle, leaning into Wade. “I never thought I’d see the day you willingly watched *The Notebook*,” they teased, their voice still a little raspy.

Wade gasped dramatically. “How dare you! I’m a sensitive soul. I have layers, like an onion. Or a parfait. Plus,” he added with a wink, “I’m just here for the kissy parts.”

Y/n smiled, shaking their head slightly as they rested against him. Wade gently rubbed their arm, his attention shifting between the movie and y/n’s face. Every time they coughed or shivered, he’d pull them a little closer, wrapping the blanket tighter around them.

“Plus, I’ll be here to provide director’s commentary. Spoiler: Ryan Gosling doesn’t wear a mask. Rookie move,” Wade added, his voice laced with humor.

Y/n looked up at him, their tired eyes full of warmth. “I’m just glad you’re here,” they whispered, their voice sincere.

Wade looked down at them, his eyes softening. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he said, his voice losing some of its usual bravado. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of their head, holding them close as the movie played on.

As the rain-soaked scene between Noah and Allie unfolded, Wade sighed dramatically. “See, that’s where he went wrong. Should’ve worn a red suit and used a few jokes. Guaranteed happy ending every time.”

Y/n laughed softly, their head resting against his shoulder. “You’re impossible,” they murmured, their eyes growing heavy.

“And yet, you still love me,” Wade replied, his tone softer now, filled with affection.

“Always,” they whispered.

Wade smiled, tightening his hold on them slightly as he turned his attention back to the movie. “Sleep tight, babe. I’ll keep Gosling and all those pesky feels at bay,” he whispered, his voice filled with love.

“Alright, time for the fun part,” Wade said, shaking the bottle of cough syrup enthusiastically, the liquid inside sloshing against the glass. He approached the bed with all the seriousness of a doctor ready to perform a major operation. “Open wide, sweetheart,” he instructed, holding up a spoon filled to the brim with the sticky liquid.

Y/n gave him a suspicious look, eyeing both Wade and the syrup. “Wade, do you even know how much to give me?” they asked, their voice skeptical.

Wade squinted at the bottle, turning it around a few times as if the instructions might magically reveal themselves to him. “Of course I do!” he declared with exaggerated confidence. “It says right here, ‘enough to knock out a bear, but not enough to call poison control.’ Totally safe. Trust me, I’m practically a doctor,” he added, giving a thumbs-up.

Y/n groaned, rubbing their forehead. “Why do I feel like I should be worried right now?”

“Because you’re a rational person,” Wade said, “but also because you clearly don’t appreciate the finesse of my medical expertise. Now, come on. Down the hatch! It’ll make you feel better. And I’ll even give you a kiss after. The good kind, not the peck-on-the-forehead kind.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, though the effect was somewhat lost under the mask.

Y/n sighed, their shoulders slumping in resignation. “You better make it a good one,” they muttered before reluctantly opening their mouth. Wade brought the spoon to their lips, his hand surprisingly steady as he carefully fed them the cough syrup.

“There we go. That’s my brave little patient,” Wade cooed, setting the spoon aside once they swallowed the syrup, their face contorting in disgust at the bitter taste.

“Ugh, that’s awful,” y/n said, shuddering. Wade gave an exaggerated nod of sympathy.

“Yeah, no one said getting better was gonna taste like chocolate cake. But fear not!” He leaned in dramatically,“Time for the promised reward.”

He gently pressed his lips against theirs, his kiss soft and lingering, full of affection. Y/n melted into the kiss, their earlier annoyance dissipating. When he pulled away, Wade wiggled his eyebrows again. “See? Told ya it’d be worth it.”

Y/n smiled, their cheeks flushed—not just from the fever. “Okay, maybe it was,” they admitted, leaning back against the pillows.

Wade beamed, pulling the blanket up around them snugly. “Alright, you rest up. Doctor Wade prescribes plenty of fluids, a lot of cuddles, and maybe some more of those kisses—strictly for medicinal purposes, of course.”

Y/n chuckled, closing their eyes as they felt the exhaustion beginning to pull them under. “Thanks, Wade,” they murmured.

“Anything for you, babe,” Wade replied, his voice softening as he brushed a gloved hand through their hair. He stayed by their side, watching over them protectively as they drifted off to sleep, his heart swelling with love for the person who somehow made his chaotic life feel a little more complete.

—-

“Alright, so once upon a time, there was a super sexy mercenary named Wade, and his equally sexy partner, who was sick in bed,” Wade began, sitting cross-legged beside y/n, holding a comic book as if it were a storybook. He cleared his throat dramatically, flipping open the comic book and pretending to read. “And Wade, being the hero he is, fought off the evil Fever Monster with nothing but his charm, rugged good looks, and the most amazing butt in all the land.”

Y/n laughed, though the laugh quickly turned into a cough. Wade immediately shifted closer, patting their back gently. “Hey, hey, careful there. The story’s supposed to heal you, not kill you,” he said, his voice softening. He paused until y/n caught their breath, then continued with renewed enthusiasm.

“So, where was I? Oh, right—the super sexy mercenary. So, Wade, with his trusty sidekick Blanket Burrito—you, by the way—decided to venture into the treacherous land of Sickville.” He waved his hand dramatically, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It was a terrible place, filled with snotty tissues, terrible coughs, and the worst of all… bitter cough syrup.”

Y/n smiled, resting their head back on the pillow as they watched Wade with tired but amused eyes. “Did they make it out?” they asked, playing along.

“Did they make it out?” Wade repeated, looking appalled. “Of course they did! Not only did they make it out, but they did it in style. Wade distracted the Fever Monster by showing off his amazing dance moves.” He wiggled his hips for emphasis, causing y/n to let out another chuckle. “And Blanket Burrito used their secret weapon—being absolutely adorable. The Fever Monster didn’t stand a chance.”

Wade flipped the comic book page dramatically, even though it was blank. “And then, after a lot of cuddles and some truly heroic soup-making attempts, they defeated the Fever Monster and lived happily ever after, cuddled up in bed with Wade never leaving their side.” He closed the comic book with a flourish, bowing his head toward y/n.

Y/n smiled, their eyes beginning to droop as exhaustion set in. “Sounds like a good ending,” they murmured, their voice barely audible.

Wade’s expression softened behind the mask. He reached over, gently brushing a few strands of hair away from their forehead. “The best ending,” he whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to their temple. “And, spoiler alert, there’s a sequel. It involves more cuddles, more ridiculous stories, and a very stubborn mercenary who refuses to leave your side.”

Y/n closed their eyes, their lips curving into a small smile. “Can’t wait,” they whispered, already drifting off.

Wade settled down beside them, his voice dropping to a low, comforting murmur. “Sleep tight, my love. I’ll be right here, ready to fight off any more Fever Monsters that try to mess with you. You’re stuck with me, y/n.”

——

Wade burst into the bedroom, music blasting from his phone. “I heard the best cure for a fever is… a dance party!” He started doing his best (or worst) dance moves, flailing his arms and shaking his hips. Y/n watched from the bed, trying not to laugh too hard, but the ridiculous sight of Wade’s limbs moving in ways that should defy physics was too much. “Wade, you’re ridiculous,” they muttered, but they couldn’t help the smile spreading across their face.

He spun around dramatically, pointing both fingers at y/n. “C’mon, you know you wanna join me. I’m breaking out all my best moves—look, it’s the sprinkler!” He mimicked a sprinkler, spinning in slow, exaggerated circles. Y/n shook their head, their voice still hoarse. “Maybe when I’m not dying of a fever.”

Wade pouted, stopping his sprinkler dance. “Aw, but you look like you’re already feeling better! Just a little shimmy?” He hopped onto the bed, careful not to jostle them too much. “Fine, fine, I’ll just dance for both of us.” He turned the music up a little, starting to moonwalk across the bed, his socks sliding comically over the blanket.

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, their eyes watering slightly from the effort. Wade looked over at them, his face lighting up at the sound. “There it is! Laughter—nature’s best medicine. Right after dance parties and questionable amounts of orange juice, of course.” He flopped down next to them, still bopping his head to the beat of the music.

“You’re impossible,” y/n murmured, shaking their head, but their smile remained.

Wade grinned, leaning closer. “Impossible is my middle name. Well, technically, it’s Winston, but let’s not get into that right now.” He wrapped an arm around y/n, pulling them gently against his side. “You know, you could just sit here and let me do all the work. You get all the fun of a dance party without the sweating part.”

Y/n snuggled against him, their body feeling heavy with exhaustion but comforted by his warmth. “Thanks, Wade,” they whispered, their eyelids growing heavier.

“Anything for you, my sick little dance partner,” Wade whispered back, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of their head. He reached over to turn the volume down, the music fading into the background as he settled in beside them. “Rest up, babe. We’ll have a proper dance-off when you’re feeling better. Spoiler alert: I’m totally winning.”

And as Wade quietly hummed along to the fading music, they felt the warmth of his love and care surround them, making even the fever seem a little less daunting.

As the day came to an end, y/n lay back against the pillows, feeling drained but grateful. Wade was sitting on the edge of the bed, his mask pulled halfway up, feeding them spoonfuls of ice cream. The cold sweetness helped soothe their sore throat, and the warmth of Wade’s presence made everything feel a little more bearable.

“You know, you’re pretty good at this whole taking-care-of-me thing,” y/n said, their voice still raspy but filled with affection. Wade’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, a glimmer of tenderness shining through his usual bravado.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I’m still a badass mercenary. But for you, I guess I can be a nurse every now and then.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to their forehead, his lips lingering for a moment longer than usual. “Love you, even when you’re all gross and sick.”

Y/n chuckled weakly, their eyes fluttering closed as they savored the simple, intimate moment. “Love you too, Wade,” they whispered, their voice barely audible.

Wade shifted closer, placing the empty ice cream cup on the nightstand before wrapping an arm around y/n, pulling them gently into his side. “You know, you’re kind of ruining my reputation,” he murmured, his tone playful. “If anyone finds out that I’m capable of this much mushy, lovey-dovey stuff, I’ll be out of the mercenary business in no time.”

Y/n snuggled into his warmth, a small smile playing on their lips. “Your secret’s safe with me,” they muttered sleepily.

“Good,” Wade replied, resting his chin on top of their head. He could feel the rise and fall of their breathing as they started to drift off, the steady rhythm bringing him a sense of peace he rarely experienced.

He looked down at y/n, his heart swelling with love and protectiveness. “You just focus on getting better, okay?” he whispered, his voice losing some of its usual playfulness. “I’ve got you. Always.”

Y/n gave a small nod, already half-asleep. “Always,” they echoed softly, their voice a mere whisper.

Wade stayed there, holding them close as the room grew quiet. The only sounds were the gentle hum of the heater and the occasional rustle of the blankets as y/n shifted in their sleep. He watched over them, his heart full, feeling more content than he ever thought possible.

“Sleep tight, my love,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to their forehead before settling in beside them. The chaos of the world outside didn’t matter, not when he had this—these quiet moments with the person he loved more than anything.

And as the night wore on, Wade stayed right there, his arm wrapped protectively around y/n, ready to fight off any fever monsters or bad dreams that dared to come their way. For now, all that mattered was that they were together, safe and sound in each other’s arms.

[ariiadnes]

╭ ㅤ⿻ ･ HOLY IS THE LOVE THAT SAVED ME ( part v. )

HOW DELICATE LOVE IS , THIS EBB & FLOW OF SERENITY.

ଓ.° ・ alhaitham ･ kaveh ･ dehya. genshin impact. title cr : juniper vale. repost. ・ ・ ・ part i. part ii. part iii. part iv.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ alhaitham

& LOVE IS A DISASTER, EXISTING IN BOTH MIRACLE AND CURSE INTERTWINED. how she embeds herself in the depths of the heart, spreads with each beat as reminder that you are alive and you are in love. in the days that pass, the blood in your veins burns with the fervor of longing ; the confessions remain stagnant, words of affection lodged in your throat yet dancing on the tip of your tongue. they taste bittersweet, taste like dreams of peace and quiet serenity, taste like something that leaves you desiring more yet can never be satiated.

yes, love is a disaster : inescapable, undeniable, and it is what brings you to this moment, your weight on alhaitham's desk, his hands planted firmly by your sides as he maintains a nearly nonexistent distance between your bodies.

it almost feels like you are suffocating, this feeling here and now, and you wonder if love is supposed to feel this way. you hold your breath, feel the way your lungs burn in protest. something in you wishes to break free, release from this hold, but you resist, succumb to your fear of what could be.

"stop looking at me like that."

his lips twitch-- a subtle smirk you don't quite catch, followed by something all too knowing in his sharp gaze.

"like what? i'm only making an observation."

"it's past your work hours and you don't like making small talk. what do you want?"

"your honesty, firstly."

with your normal banter, he expects you to call him infuriating, irritating-- something along those lines. but there is a reluctance that paints a vulnerability on your countenance, a quelled fear, and so he shifts slightly, rests his hand on yours in a rare act of encouragement and patience. it is a strange weakness that binds you together in this time -- the still air, the understanding in each others eyes-- and your body moves on instinct in the way it draws closer to him-- closer, closer, and closer until your lips press against his in desire. you do not know how long this time lasts, overwhelmed with the knowing of his touch and the feeling of his hand against the small of your back as he holds you tighter.

yes, love is a disaster : inescapable, undeniable, and it is what brings you to this moment, confessions told and yet unspoken, and when you are both ready to confess the words of love, you will.

but for now, alhaitham thinks, chuckling at the way he feels you smile against his lips, this is sufficient enough.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ kaveh

& BEAUTY IS IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER, BUT LOVE IS IN THE HEART OF THE DIVINE, and so there is a worshipping in the way another's existence is a blessing. you know this love to be true in the way it flows through your veins, becomes one with the blood that keeps you alive.

the hand that rests in yours is calloused, worn with craft and devotion to the creation of art. you hum a gentle lullaby, absentminded, a blithe smile on your lips as you watch kaveh blink slowly, unable to fight the heaviness that falls upon his eyes. how exhausted he has been, surviving on so little sleep in the past few weeks.

deadline upon deadline, the pushing of one's strength and stamina during the late hours, and the shedding of tears in frustration in self-doubt and seldom potential in oneself. there is not much you can do for your lover in those times ; try as you may, your wisdom is unmatched to his when it comes to his profession. the only thing you can do is hold him in the nights he manages to find his way to your bedroom, and even then, you do not feel that it is enough. it never is, you think, but he is quick to tell you otherwise, even if his smile is worn the next morning you rise together.

no, there is not much you can do during those times, but it is after that you show him what he is worth, show him what he reflects in the divinity he places in his art.

your fingers trace the lines of his palm, delicate, slow. you note the few scars that adorn his skin, intrigue piqued in the nature of their origins. you do not ask, though, the silence between two lovers too heavy, deafening yet so heard and understood.

when you gaze upon kaveh, the sight that greets you is truly nothing uncommon, yet you find adoration in it nonetheless : the lack of words, the red hues in his cheeks nearly akin to the color of his brilliant eyes. you pull his hand, gently coax him towards you as your arms wrap around his neck. you press a kiss against his nose, rest your forehead against his, and he surely hopes you cannot hear the beating of his heart. it races so, pounds so violently with a love that cannot be contained.

"you worked so hard." you whisper, and it is then that his tears fall, wiped away by your touch. "i'm proud of you, kaveh."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ dehya

& THE WALLS HAVE COME CRASHING DOWN, FALSE PRETENSES OF LOYALTIES RENDERED ASUNDER. a mercenary professes patronage to those who pay high coin, knows the allure of the risks worth taking. she does not follow as blindly as she makes it out to be, the purifying flame, and in the ashes left from the fire, there is only benevolence.

the wounds are nothing new, but she is not numb to the pain. they decorate her body, scattered haphazardly. your blood runs cold at the thought of loss, at the thought of all she has endured, but she has always broken you from such heaviness, rescued you before you fell down the rabbit hole.

you wrap the bandages around her arms, movements slow when you notice her wince from the painful sensations that hit harder than they should. she should be used to this by now, really. a mere hit should not be enough to hurt her this much, but when she looks into your eyes, she does not know if it is truly the physical pain of the steel that has found home in her flesh or if it is the pain you fail to keep at bay.

time after time, home away from home, you sometimes feel that you can never win. what a selfish thought it is ; you have given yourself grief over it so many times before, but you are only human, and what is humanity if not for the longing of it all?

there is a heartache when she comes back to you and a heartache when she is away from you. it is not a suffering, no -- you will not deem it as such, but you wish you could go with her, experience high tales of adventures yourself. but you cannot, so you wait, hope that your lover will return to your arms in the safest way possible.

because you are her sanctuary and she is yours, and you both know this so very much.

"always patching me up." dehya murmurs halfheartedly, and when you catch sight of that wistful gaze, her visage twists into something else, almost unreadable for a moment before she smiles at you. "not a pleasant welcome home gift, is it?"

"i don't mind it."

"liar." she pinches your cheek, laughs at your words of protest. "i know how sad it makes you, seeing me hurt like this." her tone turns somber, the smile dejected, and she places her hands over yours. "i'm sorry."

"don't apologize. you can't help it." there is a lump in your throat and the words threaten to choke you, but you speak nonetheless. you grab her hand, press a kiss against it before you rest it on your cheek. "as long as you come home to me, that's all i need."

[adamnablelittledevil]

on the subject of vampire polyamory specifically in relation to Lestat, Armand, and Louis, I think people are forgetting that there's a difference between an open relationship and a throuple. All 3 of those vampires are pretty poorly equipped to handle an open relationship with Lestat "I don't like sharing" de Lioncourt probably being the worst equipped, however I do think that the three of them could probably manage with a poly relationship where all members of the relationship are dating all other members of the relationship and the relationship is closed.

Thank you! Speaking of relationship configurations as a whole, this is so true. Polyamorous and open relationships are not necessarily the same and people tend to generalize them so much. It's the same with pan and bisexual people, it's not because you're into every gender that you're into every single person. I'm personally all for freer relationships (polyamorous, open, non-exclusive, any and all of them), I keep the door open and yet never used it because there was never a need for it, but it's still open if that changes one day. It's just about not being controlling for me. I feel really weird about trying to police each other's actions, bodies and feelings. So, I'm like, as long as there is love and respect, we're free to follow our heart wherever it takes us. I don't see having more than one parent, kid or friend as a problem, so I don't know why romantic love would be any different. For me, the problem is that it is hard to fall in love, be lucky enough to be reciprocated and accommodate a romance with all the other aspects of your life in the little time humans have with one person, let alone two or more individuals. Also, the risk of pregnancy, diseases etc. Now, vampires that live forever, can't get sick or pregnant? It makes perfect sense.

About Loumandstat, I can definitely see what you're saying. Specially for what I've read on the books so far. I don't know in depth how the chronicles will end, what Rolin will choose to do and if that's logistically possible on a show with only 7-8 episodes per season (I do believe they work miracles with the little time they have, but it's still not the same as having 13 books), but I think there's enough argument to support giving it a try or at least leaving it open to interpretation if they want, even if they don't do it with the main three (or four) characters.

Not to mention they're vampires and I find the idea of living forever with only person and love narrow-minded, limiting and unrealistic (same goes to gender, sexuality and norms in general). It's way more convincing to me that feelings would evolve and relationships would expand over time. I also believe many of their problems come from having just one person to be the lover, friend, therapist, parent and mentor all at the same time.

Ans you can't have one individual playing all the roles in your life... This usually makes things implode and they end up going from one person to nobody and complete loneliness. It just never work, no matter how compatible they are. You need multiple people to spend eternity with and all the love you can find: platonic, familial and, yes, maybe even romantic.

[herefortheships]

What do you think of the Bj and Lydia controversy due to age?

You know, the short answer I have for this is that I do not think it should be an issue that's even brought up anymore. Lydia is now an adult woman in her 50s; plenty of people end up with a partner who is 10+ years older than them, meaning that they would have been a full adult if they would have come across their partner at sixteen. And that's just speaking about the real world; let's not forget Beetlejuice and the characters in that world are all a work of fiction. I don't think the fact that they met when she was a teenager all those years ago should even be an issue to ship it or not. As a matter of fact, people can ship whatever they want. They can even ship it in the first film and it's not an issue... Shipping in itself is inherently innocent. These characters and the situations around them don't even exist, and therefore, whatever you imagine with them, has no effect in the real world. Shipping is no different from a kid grabbing a couple of dolls and making them kiss. It's all in good fun.

Let me tell you, I had written a long freaking essay under this question 😅, but I decided to leave all of that for a separate post. But a few notable points from that essay which I think would be good to include here are the following.

Back in the 90s and early 2000s we had ships with pretty big age gaps on network TV and nobody batted an eye about the age gap (as far as I'm concerned). I'm talking about Buffy the Vampire Slayer specifically in this post. This was before social media, but as far as magazines and fandom spaces go, I'm sure the discussions around Buffy's love interests in BTVS centered around which hot vampire was better for Buffy, Angel or Spike. (Even nowadays we see this kind of article, exhibit A). And you don't see these articles starting with disclaimers and trigger warnings, either.

For those who haven't watched BTVS, Angel was around 240-something when he slept with 17 year old Buffy. He slept with her the night she turned 17, by the way; they were already together while she was 16. At the time he was turned into a vampire, Angel was around 26 years old. Angel met Buffy when she was 16, but he was stalking watching Buffy since she was 15:

Now about Spike. Spike met Buffy when she was 16, but he didn't actually become obsessed with her until she was around 20. Still, they got together and it wasn't ever an issue that he met her when she was a teenager. In Spike's case, he did stick around and interacted with Buffy multiple times before they started dating. In Betelgeuse's case, we know that while he watched Lydia from afar, he never actually managed to interact or even be seen by her during the years they were apart.

A lot of antis throw around the word "grooming" around Beetlebabes; I don't think they understand the meaning of that word. To put it simple, to groom someone is to condition them and emotionally manipulate them for years into a certain behavior, in this context, into falling in love or becoming sexually involved with the groomer. This term, therefore, cannot and will not ever apply to Betelgeuse and Lydia's relationship (it also does not apply to Spuffy, while we're at it). How can it? When they only had a few interactions over 30+ years ago and only met now after all that time.

And about those interactions in the first movie, the fact that Betelgeuse attempted to marry Lydia is attached to an idea of sexual inappropriateness only when that particular idea is projected onto what actually happened in that scene. Objectively, for Betelgeuse, marrying Lydia was a means to an end; there was no sexual or romantic implications in their marriage in that movie.

I believe in the case of Betelgeuse x Lydia versus ships like Buffy x Angel or Buffy x Spike, people are quick to see an issue in one where they never notice an issue in the other for the following reason: While Angel and Spike are hot, young-looking vampires, Betelgeuse is gross and does look like a dead guy. That is literally the difference. Spike and Angel are good-looking hotties; Betelgeuse... I love him lots and he is hot for me, but he is not conventionally attractive. I bet you if Betelgeuse looked like Michael Keaton did playing Bruce Wayne... People wouldn't have an issue that he's lusting after 50-something year old Winona Ryder, (also a hottie herself btw).

Let's add here before I close off this post that both Angel and Spike did objectively horrible things to Buffy when they were soulless (Angel while Buffy was still a minor), and meanwhile Betelgeuse has never harmed Lydia (no, the insta-pregnancy didn't harm her; everything that happened in that scene was an illusion). He didn't even behave inappropriately toward her in the first film when he was wilder and hornier than he is now. And yet shipping Bangel or Spuffy (last I checked lol) isn't widely seen as problematic. I ship Spuffy to the moon and back, and used to ship Bangel as well at some point 🤷🏻‍♀️ and I haven't seen people attacking shippers nor have I seen discussions of these ships being inappropriate (though I'm sure there must be... it's 2024 and the purity culture fandom infection has spread widely), not in the way I see Beetlebabes fans being harassed.

Anyway, I wrote a separate post about this and will post it eventually. This wasn't meant to be this long, but here we are 😅.

[httpskuzuu]

Fault

i wrote this while watching apocalipsisminecraft :D

Anyway, I'm not very good at writing dialogues, so I hope it's okay

Yandere!Dazai x Reader

English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes

summary: you deal with the silent treatment after an argument.

tw: angst¿, toxic relationship, manipulation

The silence is simply punishing, it always was. Your body was intact, balled up on your bed, but your mind wasn't as lucky. The silent treatment was a problem, one that hurt more than you'd like to admit, but your still-wet cheeks gave you away.

It hurt you that Dazai ignored you. You had tried to distract yourself in a thousand ways these days: you went out with your friends (the few you had left), spent the days away from home, concentrated on your hobbies. Nothing seemed to work, it's as if Dazai had planted a seed in your psyche that keeps growing and growing, every day his silence was getting worse.

You can't win an argument because this is what happens, talking or complaining about Osamu's toxic behavior would only ensure you that wordless jail. You had every right to complain! Because of him you lost many friends, he distanced you from them in a way that made you only realize it when it was too late, after you had already cut the total bond with them and they didn't want to see you again.

You don't blame them either, if a friend had a toxic boyfriend and ignored you for him all day, not letting help them, you would be angry too. They have been very patient because they know the details of your life with Dazai well, but everyone has limits.

Now you are alone, even Dazai doesn't seem to love you.

You try to hold back your tears at that thought, but it is impossible, you can only cover your mouth with your hand to hide your sobs. That's one of the things you had tried to avoid, if Dazai really loved you he wouldn't do this to you.

He knows of your suffering and yet he continues to treat you as if you were a ghost, you can't help but doubt his feelings for you. You think that maybe you are just a sadistic desire of his, that he only wants to pretend to love you and then leave you abandoned like a toy. Yes, you are just that, his toy.

There's not much to complain about either, you're aware of your situation and yet here you are, by his side. It's not that you wouldn't have tried to leave him, you did once, but he came back to beg your forgiveness and you simply couldn't refuse. You become weak with just one look from him.

And that cycle was always repeating itself. Whenever there was a fight big enough to overshadow your love for Osamu, he was the one who apologized. You wished it was like that this time too, but it's not.

Know what, fuck it, who needs friends anyway? You need Dazai, it hurts not being together with him. It eats you up inside with anger and shame for letting yourself fall for his manipulation, but what else are you going to do? You're not going to keep crying in bed until you fall asleep.

You head towards the living room where you know for sure that Dazai is, watching TV. He doesn't even turn to look at you even though you are sure he heard your footsteps.

“Osamu.” Saying his name is a mixture of pain and love that infiltrates your brain. Sometimes you wish you had never met him, but you think better of it when you remember that he is the only one who loves you. Who else could love you with your attitude?

He still does not respond and a look of sadness invades you, you try to remove it, but it comes back each time. Finally you give up, Dazai already knows how weak and useless you are and knows well your character, so you allow yourself to cry.

You don't hesitate to lie on his body and hug him while you try to form a sentence, any sentence, but only incoherent sobs come out.

You don't see Osamu's reaction, you just wish he was as affected as you are. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the crown of your head lovingly. You missed him so much, you don't even know how you managed to survive these days without his love and touch. “What is it, Belladonna?”

You press your face against his chest as shame clutches tightly at your throat. He mocks you even your current state and that is like a stab in the heart, you feel the pain in every detail.

“You hate me, you hate me.” Stifled meaningless sobs come out of your mouth, but still Osamu manages to hear them.

“And why would you say such a stupid thing?”

“You were ignoring me! If you really loved me you wouldn't do that.”

“So now I'm the bad guy.” His tone of voice changes to a more distant one and his hug loses strength. In response you can only hug him tighter, afraid that, if you loosen his arms a little, he will leave you alone again. “You didn't try to talk to me either.”

You raise your gaze, an indignant one, which is accompanied by furrowed eyebrows. You want to look annoyed, but you just look pathetic.

“That's because you always do the same thing! We fight and you stop talking to me!” Pain trickles through your words, but Dazai doesn't seem to care enough to comfort you. “What am I going to humiliate myself for when I know you're going to ignore me?”

"Oh, poor little Belladonna, always the victim of the story." His condescending voice makes you feel like an idiot, you come to think that you really are. "Didn't you ever think I just needed space? Come on, you're so clingy and I was just trying to protect you from getting hurt.”

Seeing your puzzled expression, he can only laugh.

“Well of course you haven't thought about it. That cute little head of yours is good for nothing but victimization.”

“I- I'm sorry, I didn't know you felt this way...” Your voice trembles and his words linger in your mind. Maybe it's all your fault after all, you've never tried to put yourself in the opposite shoes and that makes you feel like the biggest useless.

The award for the worst partner in the world should be given to you, you think.

Dazai has no reaction at first, looking at you with those cold eyes, but they soften after a few seconds. He can't resist you after all.

Osamu's warm arms squeeze you again, you almost cry with joy thanks to how nice it feels to be held like that.

"It's okay, my sweet." Osamu ends up whispering near your ear, which sends a pleasurable shiver throughout your body. “Let me show you how much I love you now.”

and if I make a second part nsfw? 👀

[wehavefoundthestars]

"No problem," Elio can't help but be stunned for a few seconds after he feels the soft peck on his cheek. He hadn't expected him to do so in front of Viveka. But since he requested a moment alone with her he quickly shook it off and walked over to the other side of the car lingering a bit before opening the door. This all seemed to come easily to Daithi and she didn't seem to mind or if she did she didn't show it. There was a little spark of hope that grew a little inside of him but he didn't yet dare to think of it. They had only just met and an emergency was not ideal to get to know someone new. Despite his hope, it still felt weird to accidentally catch Daithi looking with concern at Viveka and kissing her on her forehead. It made him feel odd and a tad jealous. Even if Daithi was now heading his way again to show him work his car and giving him a look that was just as full of care.

"Yeah I'll be okay don't worry. I have driven a car before you know. Just not one as big as this." He reassures him with a smile and he feels himself melt into the gentle kiss, despite knowing that she looking. Was that weird? Or was he just making it weird by thinking about it too much? Probably the latter since she didn't seem to mind. "Don't mention it. I'm not the type of person to ignore someone in need."

He briefly watches Daithi with the motorcycle which seems like second nature to him. It looked hot. There was no time to think about that now though he had to file it away for later. Just when he's about to start the car Viveka speaks and he feels his cheeks turn red. "I… Thank you." He stammers, "You're lucky too." After all, she had been lucky enough to meet him first and she undoubtedly knew him better than anyone else.

He starts the engine and after a bit of fiddling he manages to turn the car and starts following Daithi into the traffic. It requires more effort to pay attention to the road with a vehicle this big. He isn't used to taking up this much space while driving, so he just leaves more room behind Daithi and any other cars he comes across just in case. They arrived at their destination and after some manoeuvring, he managed to park the car.

there's a lift of daithi's brows at elio's comment , stifling the laugh mostly that wanted to bubble up . he sure could fire back quickly when stressed out , something he never held against him . he rather enjoyed the determination that it always set the other in . like now , tasked with a challenge to help viveka , someone he wasn't that that fond of just yet but would help nonetheless . it warmed his heart though , seeing him take charge a bit to help someone in need instead of letting emotions simmer and get in the way . though his nose crinkles just a little at elio mentioning that he's spoken a lot about her . he doesn't mean too , and he feels a little bad about it in the moment because did it upset him when it happened ? he'd have to store this conversation for another time .

he's quick , though , once he sees viveka scooped up with relative ease from elio and jogging the few steps to close the distance to the truck . he pulls the door open and holds it to ensure it didn't try to shut on them . honestly , in charge elio was pretty hot , he wasn't even going to lie . it even caused a soft blush over his cheek bones and he nods a bit . ' i'm just going to check in with her really quick , yeah ? ' he assures softly , blue eyes on the taller male . ' thank you , though , ' he murmurs , leaning in to peck his cheek gently . he shifts in the door way , leaning against it with his hands on the roof area . ' you'll be okay until we get to the hospital ? we're going to the one a few minutes away - i rather you in better care than the one closer . on willis street . i won't try to lose you guys , but you know how to get there . ' which earns him a smile from her and nodding . he leans in to press a kiss to her forehead before he backs up to shut the door and join elio by the driver side of the truck .

he moves into the seat , hand going down to the button to put the seat forward and back , showing him how to adjust that minimally - he was shorter than elio after all . then his foot is on the brake and he touches the start button , offering a smile . ' pretty simple . just press which gear you need - drive , reverse , park . ' he goes over while pointing . he also sets lane assist on since it was dark and didn't want elio to struggle to see the lines of the road since it is a bigger vehicle . he slides out of the now running truck , blue eyes up on him again . ' you'll be okay ? we'll talk later , yeah ? ' he murmurs softly before leaning up and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips . ' and thank you , by the way . for stepping up . ' he offers him one last peck on the lips before he's moving to the toppled bike and putting his weight in it to get up before sliding the helmet on and making sure it starts , sitting in idle to wait for elio to get comfortable and put it in drive before he moves off .

viveka can't help the little laugh that comes at elio's little jab at daithi , shaking her head . they seemed to get along perfectly even in person and it warmed her heart to see it . ' has he now ? ' he questions with a raised brow before smiling just a little bit . ' nice to officially meet you too , though . ' she's heard a lot about elio over the past couple months . she could tell daithi was excited for elio to be making plans to see him and she hated that she had to interrupt their time together because of a clumsy mistake . however there's a tiny squeak at how easily she was scooped up into the other's arms , her arms going around his neck to keep herself up . green eyes look over his face for any struggle but there was nothing she could see . she looks to daithi who is going ahead to open the door and smiles at him , cheeks slightly blushed as well because of the situation .

she uses her hands to scoot herself into the truck a little more , nodding at his question . she's thankful daithi at least checks in with her before they're going to take off , nodding that she knew how to get there . though as she settles in the seat , she can't help but watch the exchange between the boys , the fondness in daithi's look to elio . not scared to give him a kiss in front of her either and it makes her happy to see that she hadn't dampened too much down between them . once elio is back in the truck , she hums briefly as if in thought . ' he's lucky , you know . ' she offers up as she hears her bike start ahead of them , glad it still runs . ' that he has someone like you . ' but she doesn't elaborate , resting back against the seat a bit as she watches daithi take the lead driving .

[mrs-gauche]

Alas, so long as the music plays, we dance.

(Cole's cryptic comments + The Song)

[sysig]

maybe you should doodle however many or few starcon/helix/damned characters as you like (in human or alien form) in cute halloween costumes! imagine... ZEX dressed up as Ariel thelittlemermaid...

Day 26 - "I hadn't realized humans also had aquatic subcultures!" "Oh, well, uhm..."

[icewindandboringhorror]

finally finished all of one character's entire quests/optional dialogue/questions/etc.... 100,000 words... .... aughhh

[dcviated]

"Nah. It's not a party, I didn't get any invitations or hear anything about it. " Since, understandably, Gurin got invited to all of them (guess how many Veril did) "Next one's in a week or something. Look, it's not our problem for now, we deal with that later once we have a better cover story for ourselves if we even need one. And as long as your shit works we don't have anything to worry about that, right?" If only he was aware of how prophetic his words were.

No sooner does he hear the mutterings of Ukolai while navigating the path to the nexus does he recognize the trouble. This is why he thought Blythe was crazy before for wanting to see their archdemon! Ukolai was never alone, he always had-- company. In addition to the shadow guard there was always the showoff and right hand (though it was more like right arm), Dravok.

Gurin knows it before the mass even opens their toothed maw. Their plan is kaput. Blythe is about to shine out to those lenses like a great blasting beacon. There's your party, Veril. You made it!!! The snarl locks between his lips, but the glare he shoots down to the portly demon could burn like a sun if he twisted his gemmed wrist for a spell. Maybe later. Maybe if they live. Hells damn all this. Where was his luck?!

"Counterfeit gems, are you fucking kidding me, Veril? You put Blythe's safety behind counterfeits?! Move." He's seething but his mind is attempting to race past that, to find some way out or some plan. This goes way past feelings or emotions. Is he the only one that realizes that- if this went in any way wrong, it could be a fucking war?! Zeyrfial doesn't joke around with this girl! He doesn't joke around with anything!

"Blythe. You--" He turns to look at the nothing space, face wrinkling. "You stay with me. Aight?"

Ironic, really, that the one most capable of ridding him of the memories haunting him was the one that had inflicted them, isn't it? That cold chill still lingered, and the occasional goosebumps that crawled up his spine were well attributed. And yet, survival can't be sustained by just hiding away, now can it? Lose face? In front of guys like Veril?

Not gonna happen. Gurin has some dignity as a demon. Even if he's not the best guy. Definitely not the kind that Blythe ought to be hanging around, and yet here he was, wasn't he? About to step in front of one of the guard that protected his boss for her. Because. Hells what else could he do?!

Nobody else was going to touch her if he could help it.

"Ah ah ah, oy oy oy, how about you ease up and stand down, Dravok. This one's mine, actually." Gurin sighs out, a gestured up hand tapping a finger to the other's chest and giving them a feeble push back. There's yield, but not a whole lot. Gurin was lacking in the physical stature (who wasn't next to Dravok) (Ukolai really liked to have the model guard be flashy huh). Still, at least now he was a body between them and Blythe. "You think this guy can manage any kind of pull, you kidding?" A thumb over to Veril, who was now going to be the biggest butt of every solution Gurin came up with.

As expected, the belittlement of others is an agreeable course of conversation for the domineering brute, their toothy grin spreading as Gurin continues, lifted brows encouraging all of their amusement.

"Potential man here is potentially our biggest problem sometimes. Ah... But. Listen. This one's a leftover from that shindig with Q last week, trying to keep it hush. I'm trying to get her to The Molten Host since I got a guy who can do the branding and marking there."

Gurin leans over, looking past to the nexus where noise continued.

"Seems like you got bigger issues to deal with than a damned, don't ya? What all's going on there anyhow?" Excuse, remedy, into a diversion of topic. See if a casual 1-2-3 doesn't help clear the air for them.

Blythe was completely enrapt, bright emeralds boring into Gurin as he explained the layout of his home. A clam. They were inside a giant clam! How did that even work? Was it still alive? If they were inside the mollusk then where was the mollusk nestled? Her jaw drops to ask her ever-growing pool of questions, but she hesitates as he continues after a brief pause.

It had been obvious to Blythe that mentions of their first meeting brought him a lot of discomfort. Even just her presence (regardless of their current predicament) seemed to make him uneasy. The memory hadn’t been pleasant for her either, but she didn’t carry any scars from that night other than a deep anxiety to never have Zeyrfial yell at her like that again.

Veril also remembered that night well. He’d found Gurin crumpled, pierced, blood pooling around his hanging form. Gurin cursing as Veril cleaned the wound, used what little healing magic he knew, and bandaged him up. The grumble of thanks as he limped him back to his quarters. Veril hadn’t asked any questions that night, but the pieces were slowly falling into place now that he’d met the cause of the incident.

The red-skinned demon’s smile grew more as he watched his friend flounder. It was so odd. Normally Gurin was so suave with women, whisking them away with a wink and silver tongue. Gurin didn’t need to tell Blythe anything about this place, but it seemed that he was doing so to put her at ease. Not because he wanted to seduce her, but because he wanted to assuage any worries she may have. To give her reassurance that he had a plan, and everything was going to be fine.

And then the elevator doors opened.

Blythe doesn’t move right away, in awe of the main hub, but when she notices the crowd coming for them to take their own elevators to their own destinations, she gasps, scrambling behind Gurin and latching on once again. Veril is quick to reactivate the necklace with the snap of his fingers, hissing as other demons pushed past. “Yea, Brenn! Watch it!” Trying to position himself in a way that would keep Blythe safely nestled between the pair (which was rather difficult now that she was invisible), their merry(?) band made way for the thick of the crowd. How unfortunate that they’d have to pass through in order to make it to the main lifts.

Blythe stays completely silent, using all of her concentration not to trip or bump into anyone, while simultaneously eavesdropping on all the passersby. Veril quirks a brow, throwing a look at Gurin. “Is it a holiday or somethin’? Why’s everyone scrambling around? What’s the hubbub all about?” If Veril would take five seconds to listen in, like Blythe, he would hear the whispers of his coworkers.

“…Ukolai came personally….” “… breach in security…” “….his whole guard…” “An inspection?” “No no! A celebration?”

“Shit.” Veril’s curse startles Blythe, and she looks up to find his gaze trained on a formally dressed, bespeckled demon. “Dravok’s here…. which means….” Dravok was a large demon, and an even larger asshole. You had to be when you were the head of an archdemon’s honor guard… He was doing his job, scanning the perimeter when his eyes fell on an unusual sight. The glasses he was wearing were special. Expensive gems cut thin that allowed those who peered through to dispel any magical tricks or disguises. You never could trust anyone.

Especially those who were invisible…

“VERIL.” Reflexively, the portly demon stiffens, and all eyes shift to what most would see as just a duo. “What in the hells are you hiding this time?! How many times have I had to have a talk with you about using counterfeit gems?! You better have a damn good explanation this time or else.” The crowd parts, allowing the blue-skinned guard a path directly to them, the rest of the guard filling the gap around Ukolai. And it’s only now that Blythe realizes… Dravok is staring right at her.

Panic sets in. Should she run? Should she hide? Maybe she was overreacting? Maybe it would all be fine? She begins to quiver as the guard stands before her, towering, muscular. Blythe is swallowed by his shadow, and there’s no mistaking it. He’s looking down on her. “And who might you be? A new pet?”

Blythe contemplates answering, but instead ops to tug on Gurin, shaking only getting worse. She was caught! What would happen to her now?!