#but the rest of them should be faster because there's less to do

[faglovesongs]

first character sheet done- adrien!! i'm planning on doing the rest of the gang this week

(please reblog this if you give it a like!)

[infiniteglitterfall]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

[appocalipse]

MAKE IT EASY (part 2) : ̗̀➛ STEVE HARRINGTON

・❥・part 1・part 2・❥・3k words

Summary: steve asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner. the problem is: after all is said and done, he gives you the cold shoulder. have you done something wrong?

Steve has a problem.

No, scratch that. He created a problem for himself, actually, about a week ago. A big, confusing problem that he now has no idea how to solve, so naturally what he's doing is plan B, which is the next best thing: avoiding the problem until it somehow resolves itself.

You are Steve Harrington's problem.

You, with your disarming smile, your gratuitous kindness and your impossible-to-forget laugh. You had made his parents like you, for God's sake. If that's not proof enough that you have some kind of magic working behind your smile, Steve doesn't know what is.

Oh! And of course, there is that damn dress.

Steve lowers his head until his forehead rests on the counter and sighs. Ah, that dress. Steve probably shouldn't think about it, let alone what was beneath it, the warm skin he touched for just a few seconds…no. He shouldn't think about it if he wanted to keep his sanity intact. But apparently, he likes to torture himself.

Steve stays in this awkward position for all of five dramatic seconds until his spine hurts. He straightens up again, with another sigh.

"You should talk to her."

It's Robin (of course) giving her opinion (that no one asked, Steve thinks bitterly) as she walks past him with a stack of tapes in her hands.

"I should never talk to her again. In fact," he argues, speaking a little louder so Robin can hear him from the back of the store, "if you're really my friend, you should make sure that I don't talk to her for the rest of my life."

"Coward."

"Maybe I am."

Even from this distance, Steve is under the impression that he hears Robin sighing.

She walks so fast that he doesn't even register the sound of her footsteps until Robin is in front of him, on the other side of Family Video's front counter, looking at him the way a mother would look at a child throwing a tantrum.

"You are going to talk to her," says Robin, with the certainty of someone who says the sky is blue.

"No."

She smiles. Steve is certain he recognizes that smile. It's the one that scares him, the same that precedes the moment when Dustin or one of the other kids says something like "just trust me, I have an idea", and the idea usually involves a robbery, a murder or interdimensional travel. Sometimes, all three of them.

"Robin-"

She has her backpack on her back.

"End of my shift," Robin hums, suspiciously happy. She takes a step back which, Steve thinks, is quite prudent considering what she says next, "…which means, my dear Steve, that you are obligated to serve our customers. Any customer. Even if you don't want to speak to this specific customer, you'll have to-"

Steve leans over the counter — to do what exactly, he's not sure; strangle her, perhaps — but Robin, as always, is faster. She laughs, and before he can do anything other than practically beg her to stay, Robin is out the front door yelling I'm sorry! over her shoulder, even though Steve knows she's not sorry at all.

Less than ten minutes later, the bell above the door rings again, and Steve wouldn't even have to look to know it's you.

You enter the store and your steps are quick, hurried, a clear goal in your mind.

You stop in front of Steve, almost exactly where Robin had stood a few minutes ago, but the look in your eyes is completely different for more reasons than one.

Steve swallows hard. You had been here two other times this week, and both times Steve managed to somehow force Robin to distract you, acting as if he was too busy to see you. You had clearly decided to talk to her behind his back, because all this had definitely been an elaborate plan between the two of you so that Steve couldn't get away.

You get to the point, crossing your arms. "You are avoiding me."

You're not asking; you're telling him. You know. You noticed.

Well, of course you did. You're smart. Smarter than him for sure.

Steve can only hope you haven't found out about the reason why he's avoiding you these past few days. That would be hard to explain.

He clears his throat. It's like he's trying to breathe with a couple of birds inside his ribcage.

"I'm not avoiding you," he says, but he looks away so quickly he doubts you believe him. "I've just got a lot going on lately…" he trails off, racking his brain for an excuse that would make sense without revealing too much.

It isn't fair — you're the last person he wants to hurt, and yet it took some elaborate plan between you and Robin to get him to stand in front of you again.

Pathetic.

You don't seem impressed. In fact, you laugh before he's even finished speaking, but it's not your usual light, happy laugh; It's a low, wry chuckle that makes Steve feel instantly irritated, even though he knows he probably doesn't even have that right after everything.

He knows he hurt you. He knows. He never wanted that. But you…you have no idea how torturous that night, that dinner had been for him. So yes; he does get a little angry.

"You've got nothing new going on lately!" you retort, growing angry yourself. "You just- I don't know. Have I…done something wrong? Did I make your parents mad that night or something? Because all of a sudden-"

"No!" he snaps, the word coming out harsher than he intended, and definitely louder. His cheeks flush with anger, and then embarrassment, and suddenly Steve desperately wants to crawl into a hole somewhere.

He clears his throat.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong," he repeats, softer this time. "It's just…it's complicated."

"It's complicated?" you ask, and now you're all but yelling too. Great. "That's your excuse for flat out ignoring me for the past week?"

"I'm not ignoring you!" he protests, his voice a bit higher than usual.

The truth is: he has been avoiding you. Every time he sees you, he feels this strange pull towards you - a mix of attraction and annoyance that he can't quite figure out. And every time he talks to you, he worries that maybe he'll say too much, or worse yet, say nothing at all and you, with your annoyingly sharp mind, will read him like a book.

As if that wasn't enough, Steve thinks, tormented, you decide to walk around the counter to literally stand in front of him, nothing else between the two of you besides a couple of steps.

This proximity feels like a trap. Steve takes another step back and his hipbone hits the counter. Dear God.

"Yes, you are!" you argue, crossing your arms and taking a step forward almost without realizing it. "You asked me to pretend to be your girlfriend for one night so that your parents would leave you alone, and I did. I thought it was okay. But then you pretty much ran out of my house afterwards and refused all my attempts to talk to you ever since."

You sigh. You lift your chin and look up at him, and, alarmed, Steve notices that your eyes are a little red, as if you're holding yourself back from crying.

He's making you cry?

Shit. The last thing he wants in the world is to make you cry.

"Tell me what I did wrong," you say, and the sudden softness of your voice catches Steve off-guard. "You owe me at least that, don't you? If seeing me is such a problem for you, just..tell me what I did wrong and I'll leave you alone. I'll go…clearly that's what you want."

"No, that's not what I want," he says quickly, stepping closer to you before his mind can catch up on his intentions. "Look, I'm sorry. I just…I don't know how to handle this."

He runs a hand through his tousled hair, and you probably notice the desperation in his tone, because you just stand there, looking at him. Waiting, he realizes. You don't move.

Then you ask, sounding so innocently confused that Steve almost feels like screaming:

"How to handle…what?"

It's not possible, he thinks. There's no way you didn't notice. You would have to be blind, deaf and…well, maybe not even then. Steve had thought things had gotten pretty clear the week before, at your place, when you had asked him to unzip your damn dress and he had gotten so carried away he almost kissed you and…

Well.

"You," he answers immediately, looking you square in the eye with all the genuine honesty he still has the capacity for. "I don't know how to handle the fact that I…" Steve swallows.

"That you..?" you encourage, taking a tentative step closer.

"Do you really want to know?" he asks, not moving an inch.

"Yes."

Steve's heart skips a beat, a beat that could very well be his last. "Look-"

"Tell me."

"I think you already know."

"I don't."

"Oh, come on," Steve says, his voice cracking as he lets out a humourless chuckle. "You can't tell me you didn't notice the way I looked at you last week. I mean, Jesus, I asked you to pretend to be my girlfriend for dinner with my parents, and then I almost…"

He trails off.

And there it is; that funny feeling inside your chest, that warmth you can't even begin to explain.

"You almost what?"

He chuckles again. "Why do you think I left like that?"

"I honestly have no fucking idea, Steve."

"You asked me to unzip your dress."

"And?"

Steve looks at you like you'd just grown an extra limb.

"You can't be serious."

"Okay, fine, I'm sorry I asked you to do that, but I didn't mean to make you, uh…uncomfortable. You could have said no if-"

"That's not it." Steve cuts you off, frustrated because God help him, you don't get it. You still, somehow, don't get it. He doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

So what he does instead is turn around, placing his hands on the counter, his back turned to you so that he can think clearly for a moment without being distracted by the way you're looking at him.

But you…oh, you never let things go, do you?

"What is it then, Steve, huh?" you ask, shortening the distance between the two of you by half. You know the answer, or at least a part of you does. But the other part, the part that's stubborn and insecure and tired…wants to hear him say it. Needs to hear him say it. "What is it? Because it feels like you just want to hurt me. You asked me to pretend to be your girlfriend for one night, but it didn't feel like we were…"

Pretending. Is that what you were going to say?

You stop speaking abruptly, eyes wide as if the words had come out of your mouth on their own. Judging by how angry you sounded, Steve thinks that's exactly what happened.

"Then you just…decided to ignore me."

For one moment, the only thing between you two is the silence.

"I didn't do that to hurt you," his voice is a whisper.

"Then what the fuck were you trying to do, Steve?"

"Get over you!"

"I...what?"

It feels like you're taunting him at this point.

"What, not what you expected?" He says, voice tight as he turns around to face you again, a bitter laugh trapped inside his throat. "C'mon, are you that oblivious?" 

He's getting closer to you as he speaks now, voice growing more intense, more desperate; but you don't back away, he notices. You don't move, don't push him away. All you do is look up at him with those pretty eyes of yours, waiting, searching for something in his expression. 

"I-I fucked up, okay? I told you it was just play pretend but the truth is…I didn't have to pretend one bit," he confesses, eyes finding yours, and immediately that anger — or whatever it was — dissipates, his tone softening as a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "I should have known that having you for one night, even if it was just pretend, would just make it that much worse. That's why I tried to avoid you. To get over you…and clearly that didn't work."

There's so much you want to say that you feel like you're choking on your own words. "I don't- you, I mean-"

"No, it's alright, just…" He looks down at the ground, then steps back again with a small, empty chuckle. "Go ahead and reject me. Make it easy for me."

"I-what? Reject you?" If a demogorgon suddenly showed up and swallowed your left leg whole, you're pretty sure you would have been less taken aback.

"I know it's not what you want to hear. It's not how I wanted things to go either. But I'm trying to be honest here," he says, taking another step back, feeling more and more exposed with every stupid word that comes out of his mouth. "I care about you. And I know that if I don't get over this, it's going to ruin everything. So, please, just-"

"Oh my God, you are so stupid!"

Your tone of voice changed completely. Steve lifts his head to look at you, and to his complete and utter confusion, you're laughing.

Laughing.

For a terrible moment, the thought that you're laughing at him crosses his mind, but then…

You hug him. You hug him so tightly, in fact, that Steve is pushed back a step or two, and suddenly he's pressed up against the counter once again.

“You didn’t kiss me,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your cheek pressed against his chest. 

He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your hair and feeling the soft cotton of your shirt under his fingers. He can feel the warmth of your body against his. It's almost painful, how good it feels to be this close to you. 

He wonders if he heard it wrong.

No — he certainly heard it wrong. He's hallucinating. Must be.

"Wait, I…what?"

You don't move an inch, but Steve feels as you take a deep breath against his shirt. He wishes he could see your face. 

"That night," you explain, finally looking up at him. You look more flustered than he's ever seen you. Closing one of your hands into a fist, you hit Steve's chest without any real force. "I thought you were going to kiss me, but then you just ran off without saying anything. How was I supposed to guess that you actually liked me, Steve Harrington?"

He almost chuckles. Steve feels like his heart is in his throat, he can't believe what he's hearing. You like him? You, the girl he's been crushing on for what feels like forever, actually like him? 

It's too much to process. He tries to form a response, but all that comes out is a strangled sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

So instead of trying to use any stupid words, he reaches out and cups your face in his hands, feeling the warmth of your skin against his. He leans down slowly, his heart pounding in his chest, and finally, finally, when you don't move away…he brushes his lips against yours. 

It's just a soft, tentative touch, but it's enough to make him forget about everything else. 

Steve pulls back then, waiting for you to pull away, to tell him no…but you don't. You close your eyes and lean into him, opening your mouth a little more against his, inviting him in. He takes the invitation, pressing his lips against yours again, more firmly this time, feeling your soft, warm tongue slide against his. He presses harder, deepening the kiss, feeling your hands curl into his shirt as he pulls you even closer.

You feel dizzy, light-headed, and utterly, perfectly lost in this moment. 

Your hands cling to his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscles there as you, too, attempt to pull him closer, as close as possible…and then, the bell above the front door rings, announcing that someone just entered the store.

Fuck. 

Steve groans as you pull back immediately.

It's just a customer, an older man with a newspaper under his arm, looking around curiously. Steve knows it's not his fault, but he doesn't think he's ever hated anyone quite so strongly.

He looks down at you and it's a mistake; you look so beautiful with your cheeks flushed, lips swollen from the kiss, a soft, embarrassed smile on your mouth. Steve doesn't know what to say, he's not even sure he knows how to find his voice right now, so one of his hands finds its way up to cup your cheek again, fingers curling gently while the man walks around the store looking for God knows what.

Steve feels like he's on cloud nine. He wants nothing more than to lose himself in you again, and to hell with Family Video's customers. But you, on the other hand…

You grin. "You should probably-"

"Don't go anywhere," Steve tells you with a grin of his own. "I'll be right back."

Apparently, he wasn't aware that he wouldn't be able to get rid of you if he tried.

tags (i hope i haven't forgotten anyone, sorry!): @siriuslysmoking @sebastiansstanswhore @sorchateas @boomitsallie1 @vivzzi @mel119g @skrzydlak

my masterlist | buy me a coffee

[burnthoneydrops]

Paper Flowers (b.b. x fem!reader)

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: classism, anxious/slightly insecure reader, use of "young lady" and feminine descriptors

a/n: the second part of Language of Flowers is here! Thank you so much for all the love on the first part and I hope you enjoy the second one just as much! I set it up to have more parts in the future so if anyone is interested in that, let me know!!

The eyes of the ton were as insufferable as ever. One would have thought that a lady in simpler attire would attract less attention than those in large adornments or hair pieces, but today appeared the opposite indeed. Sure, when you were personally delivering large floral orders to people’s estates, you had eyes on you, but you could ignore them then. Then, you knew you would not be in their line of vision for long and you could rest assured with the guarantee that no one would remember past that moment. Now, however, now you were out walking in your simple attire with a lord. A lord of one of the most illustrious families no less. You had tried to convince Benedict to take the less occupied back roads, but he insisted that his desired destination would be faster reached should you take the main road. Not wanting to make a scene in public, you were left to be made a spectacle. 

The looks you were receiving were not lost on Benedict, but he chose to keep his head up high, nodding and smiling when someone was about to pull an ugly face. Perhaps the ton were weary as to why someone of his status was walking with a working class young lady, but frankly, he was too happy that he had gotten you on this walk in the first place to even consider how wild it might appear on the surface. He nearly reached out to grab your hand when he saw the Cowpers were approaching from the modiste, but realised just in time how much worse the physical affection might be and refrained, choosing to wipe some imaginary dust off of his trousers instead. 

“Something else will catch their attention by morning, do not fret,” he whispered with his head tilted in your direction but looking over your head rather than at you in an effort to look less obvious. 

You had been so caught up in the whirlwind of emotions that were entrapped in him appearing at the shop and your parents sending you away that you had not had the time to think about presentation at all. You had heard girls lamenting to each other about their lacklustre presentations to the Queen and you could imagine that it felt something similar to this. All eyes on you, no one truly seeing you, yet everyone so quick to make a passing judgement. 

“Had I cared about the opinions of others, I would not have asked for your time. But I am here because I care not about them, but about you. Keep your head high, we are almost there,” Benedict whispered once again. While his words were nice, they did little to soothe your anxiety. Nonetheless, you raised your chin up higher, realising you had been staring at the cobblestone more than what was in front of you. You soon found yourself quickly approaching a luscious green field that left you wondering how Benedict had ever found it. It was much closer to the shops than his estate, and with the ton spending most of their months in the country, you questioned how his discovery of this place might have come about. “We have arrived,” Benedict commented with a small smile on his face, waving his arm out to the side in demonstration. 

“However did you find this place?” You questioned. 

“Being a child in a clan of eight means a lot of time to make daring escapes during family shopping trips,” he smiles, mischievous as you ever saw. The smile gives the impression that he looked back on those memories fondly, as you did with memories of you and your sisters. Maybe you had never had big family shopping trips into town, but the moral of the story lies in the bonds strengthened with those you were with. You started to believe you might have more in common than you previously imagined. 

“I figured we could sit and admire the view. Talk for a little, if it suits you,” Benedict looked over at you, gesturing to a place clear of any wandering eyes where you could lean against the sturdy tree trunk and watch the breeze create waves over the pond. 

“It suits me very well,” you nodded, a small smile etching its way onto your face as he sat down first, offering his hand as to assist you in doing the same. 

“I’d say the way the sun hits suits you very nicely as well,” he complimented, “you’re practically glowing”. 

“A fan of flattery are we Mr. Bridgerton?” you asked, teasingly but trying not to show it. 

“Only when I feel it necessary”. 

Though you were promised conversation, Benedict did not want to force it, so the two of you sat in silence, taking in the sights and sounds of this hidden paradise. The silence was not uncomfortable, mind you, but rather a space in which the two of you could gather all of your thoughts. The grass waved to and fro in the light breeze, catching glimmers of sunlight in every direction. It looked as though someone had sprinkled fairy dust and every sparkle was destined to catch your eye. The tree you were leaning on had a small hole in the trunk, and you quickly caught two squirrels dashing in and out of it, dancing on the tree branches above you. 

“This place is-” “I wanted to ask-” you realised you had started speaking at the same time. You nodded at Benedict, silently urging him to continue first. 

“I wanted to ask why you were so adamant about disliking me upon our first visit”. 

You paused. You knew this question was going to appear sooner or later and yet you did not have a precise answer. Not one that felt worthy enough of your anger anyway. It was not unlike you to get an idea stuck in your head and run with it, so unchanging that you had to apologise many a time to family members for such unwavering anger. It always felt silly a few days later, as it did now, to have held onto an unsupported emotion for so long, but you liked admitting your faults just as much as you liked giving Benedict the time of day when you first met. Surely your idea was not so drastic this time, as you had met many men of the ton and of the working class who held women in low regard, instantly annoying you, but you also knew that this time you were angered more because of his brother than because of him. You had just happened to meet him first. 

You decided it would be easier to just tell Benedict as such, and he sat there quietly during your entire speech. He did not interrupt, did not interject, did not even look away while you were explaining. It made you feel even sillier that he was listening so attentively to a situation you grew more and more embarrassed about. Ending your spiel, you placed your head in your hands, leaning your elbows against your knees as to become as small as possible. Benedict was quick to remedy this, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling your arm away from your face. He looked at you with a goofy smile before reaching for an inner pocket in his jacket. 

“So your problem lies not with me, but with my brother?” 

“I do not believe I actually have a problem with any of you. Not a reasonable one anyway; I was merely already agitated and the situation you laid before me sounded so similar to ones I had heard before that I clumped you all together. This is not to dismiss the derogatory nature that men in the ton and of the working class have I just-” 

“I believe I understand,” Benedict cut you off, but only so you would not have to repeat your feelings in order to feel that you had explained them properly. “Now that we are at least a little on the same page, I did not want you to think that I had left you out of my gifting endeavours entirely,” he pulled something out of his inner pocket and you immediately noticed a delicate pale pink ribbon tying little cards together. “I couldn’t entirely fight the urge  to gift flowers, even though you work with them constantly, so I figured some longer lasting ones might be nicer”. He handed you the stack of cards and you gingerly unwrapped the bow from the front in order to get a better look. Now it was Benedict’s turn to become embarrassed, as he feared you may not like or appreciate them. You came from a family of florists, of course it was a low blow to gift you something related to your trade. This was a terrible idea and he should have never- 

“These are…beautiful,” you sighed, shifting through the cards with soft eyes. He had painted multiple flowers with their meanings listed under them in the fashion of miniatures. They were incredibly detailed and gorgeous that you could not imagine the amount of effort it took not only for him to create each flower but find their meaning as well. “You are an artist, I take it”. 

“I…dabble”. 

“Do not be modest Mr. Bridgerton. If this is dabbling I would love to see what your proper art looks like,” you smiled up at him and felt all worry about his gift choices melt away. You liked them and that is all that mattered. 

“My mother is quite well versed in the language of flowers, so I figured I would use what talent I have for you”. 

“My little sister, Abigail, keeps our flower book on her shelf so it is quite nice that now I can have one of my own. No matter how versed one might be, there is always the fear that one might forget, so these will prove quite useful I think.” 

Everything was going perfectly in Benedict’s mind. You liked his gift, you enjoyed the space you were in, you were smiling. You carefully tied the cards back together with the pale ribbon, turning them over and over again in your hand as if you couldn’t believe someone had taken the time to gift you such a thing. In truth you couldn’t; your family were certainly not the wealthiest in England, so gifts were small or hard to come by. They only really happened during holidays and birthdays, but half the time you ended up sharing with your sisters. Not that you were complaining, you loved your sisters dearly and were grateful for anything you received, but being able to have something to call your own was magical. 

A quick glance at Benedict’s pocket watch caused the whole scene to come crashing down, however, as he jumped up and informed you that he was late for a family event. You urged him to go, thanking him for the gift and the time, assuming this would be the end of your time together indefinitely. Benedict seemed to have other ideas. 

“There is a party. Two nights from now and I would love if you would come with me”. 

“Should you not be worried about bringing me?” 

“Whatever for?” Your question seemed lost on him. 

“Bringing someone of a lower status to a ton party would surely cause scandal, would it not?” 

“No, see, this is a party where everyone is invited. All types of people mingling together for an evening, doing whatever the night calls them to do. It is truly wonderful and it would be even more wonderful if you would attend. It would be after shop hours, so you would not have to worry about leaving your family to fend for themselves,” he teased and you laughed, “and I could come pick you up, make sure you arrive safely and all”. 

“If you are sure,” to which Benedict nodded enthusiastically, “then I suppose I shall”. 

His smile grew wide as he lightly grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it before starting the walk in the opposite direction back towards Mayfair. You were still wary of what had taken place, and the promise you just made, but you supposed if one of you was certain enough about it that it would be fine. Or at least you hoped.

people who asked to be tagged: @easybrainrot34, @imgondeletedis, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

[whenikissedthegiyuu]

Kinktober 2024

Raw Sex w/ Tsugikuni Yoriichi

word count 951

18+ mdni. fem!reader, smut, no protection, sex (p in v), using spit as lubrication, squirting, set in modern times, written in 2nd pov

kinktober 2024 mlist can also read on ao3

You looked up into Yoriichi’s eyes as he caged you in, leaning on his forearms to cover your face with kisses. Soft laughter escaped you, your hands cupping his jaw.

He smiled at your happiness. He wanted nothing more than to be the reason for it for the rest of your lives.

He laid between your parted thighs, both of you completely naked as he took it upon himself to kiss every inch of your skin. He reached your lips again and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before sitting up to reach toward the bedside table. His long hair was loose, tickling your chest as he leaned over you.

You glanced at the open drawer where the condoms were stored. You hesitated for less than a second before reaching for his hand and plucking the packet from his fingers. “I was thinking…”

He smirked in acknowledgment, hiding the fact that he throbbed against your thigh at what you were implying when you took the condom.

“Since I started birth control, I was thinking if you wanted to skip…” Your cheeks flushed under his intense gaze as you held the foil up between the two of you. “It’s been three weeks already. Doctor said I should be good after a week.”

You probably failed to hide how much you wanted to feel his cock inside you without any barriers, but Yoriichi didn’t seem to mind because he nearly ripped the condom from your grip and threw it back onto the nightstand. You pulled him down to kiss you again.

His lips moved against yours as he cupped your cheek, a mess of tongues and teeth as you both grew desperate to feel the other. Your hands reached between the two of you to guide him to your entrance, but he forced himself away from your lips and sat between your legs. He grabbed your thighs and pushed them back until they touched your chest, eyes focused on your cunt.

He opened his mouth and his tongue lolled out to let a drop of spit fall between you. He smeared it over your folds and used the lubrication to rub your clit. He grabbed your hands and placed them on the back of your thighs so you would hold yourself open for him.

He held the base of his dick with his other hand and pushed into you. Watching him with half lidded eyes, you let out a soft moan as you felt every single vein as he slid inside you. He choked out a moan, his hands returning to the underside of your thighs once he bottomed out. He squeezed gently when you clenched around him.

“Please, don’t do that.” He laughed, the sound coming out more breathy than he expected. You just felt so perfect, so hot and wet. “I’m trying to last more than a minute, love.”

You couldn’t help the way you clenched again, knowing he was just as affected as you. His head fell forward as he looked down between your joined bodies.

“Not doing it on purpose. Just feels so good.” You whispered, your walls tightening around him a third time when he pulled out almost completely and thrusted forward, burying himself completely in you.

He finally started thrusting into you, although at a slow pace, his eyebrows furrowing together in concentration. He looked up to meet your eyes, finding you already staring at him. He smiled at your sudden shyness as you turned your head to the side.

He fell forward, holding himself above you with one arm. His other hand went to grab your waist, his fingers digging into your skin.

“I’m balls deep inside you and you get embarrassed of being caught staring at me?” He murmured near your ear. He adored the way his voice made your legs twitch and your cunt tighten. He knew he could never go back to using a condom with you.

His hand moved up your side, his thumb brushing the curve of your breast. You met his maroon gaze again, but your eyes rolled back a moment later when he started thrusting harder, faster into you. His hips slammed against your thighs, his eyes lowering again to watch his dick disappearing inside you.

Yoriichi sat up again, pressing a hand to your stomach as he pounded into you. You gasped immediately as the tip of his cock abused the spongy spot inside you, mixed in with the press of his palm, it suddenly felt like too much and not enough. You felt light headed, eyes fluttering shut as you debated pushing him away or pulling him closer.

Your legs trembled as you felt yourself gushing around him. His thrusts didn’t falter for a moment, he watched with parted lips as your head fell back against the windows and your release squirted out of your pussy, coating his abdomen, your thighs, the bed. He pulled out just in time, fingers wrapping around his dick and stroking twice before his own cum spurted out onto your stomach.

He collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight. He pressed his lips to your jaw, then he trailed kisses over your cheek. You hummed almost sleepily before he finally reached your lips, his tongue immediately darting out to lick your lip in search of yours. His cock stirred against your thigh, still half hard.

“You are insatiable.” You whined against his lips, parting them to let him lick into your mouth.

He pulled away only to catch his breath, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth before letting it go. “It’s your fault for letting me fuck you raw.”

You gladly accepted the consequences.

[willowsnook]

Can I get a Carlos one where they lowkey hate each other bc they constantly fight on track but there’s a bunch of tension between them. Maybe something happens on track and afterwards she goes to bitch him out and then he just kisses her or something ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

yesss just a little different

carlos sainz x williams driver reader

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

You had been nervous when you joined the grid a year ago as the first female driver but everyone had been pretty welcoming and treated you the same as the rest of the competition. You honestly were glad to join Williams because it was a lot less pressure on you than it was for your friends Oscar and Kimi at McLaren and Mercedes. Last season you had finished 12th in the drivers standings which was pretty good in your opinion. This year had been a lot different thanks to the new arrival of Carlos Sainz.

He didn't want to be here, that was very clear. Honestly you didn't blame him, with his record he should have been in a top car but when the 8 time world champion comes knocking...what can ya do?

It seemed like he definitely expected to easily be driver #1 and to be treated as such. Most people probably shared that same opinion but you didn't. You weren't going to be a supporting actor in this kind of cut throat sport. Things had started cordial in the offseason with the two of you doing a lot of PR together but you just didn't really have that same bond that you did with your former teammate Alex. It only got worse from there.

First race of the 2025 season, you had out-qualified Carlos heading into race number one sitting P8 while he was behind at P12. He was not pleased. While everyone congratulated you after your run, he stood in the garage with his arms crossed, anger radiating off of him. This escalated the next day to him trying to overtake you resulting in both of you spinning out into the barriers. Instead of jumping out of the car and heading back to the paddock like a good girl, you stormed over to him as he was getting out of his car.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You yelled, pulling off your helmet.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?" He yelled back glaring up at you. "You are supposed to let me pass?" You scoffed.

"Oh I'm sorry, I forgot who I was talking to," you retorted. "I'm so sorry Mr. Sainz I forgot that I have to let you win even though I'm faster and you're washed."

He stomped over from his car putting his finger in your face.

"Watch your fucking tone," he said angrily.

"Or what?" You spit back. The two of you spun around and barged back towards the garage.

As you headed into summer break, the two of you had crashed into each other three more times with probably equal blame in total. It was a disaster for team points and a PR nightmare. At this point they couldn't even get the two of you in the same room without it ending up in you trying to bite each others heads off. You had fun with it though, because by now you knew all the Spainard's tells. Like how he clenched his jaw when he was starting to get annoyed, or fisting his hands when you were close to pushing him over the edge. It's like the two of you were magnets, you'd always find each other no matter how hard the team tried to keep you separate.

---------- Last week of summer break------------

You were lounging by the pool with Oscar and his gf Lily at an airbnb in Australia trying to enjoy your last couple of days of freedom before having to be back.

"Have you talked to Carlos at all this break?" Oscar asked nonchalantly and you saw Lily shoot him a look.

"Why would I waste my precious breath?" You replied not even looking up from your book. Oscar sighed.

"Don't you think you guys should fix whatever this thing is that's going on?

"He's the one that fucking started it," you hissed shooting him a glare. He put his hands up in surrender.

"It's just like I've gotten to know him, and he's a great guy," he said. "I feel like you guys could be friends if you just sat and talked like normal people."

"I think that is literally impossible," you said. "We can't go longer than 2 minutes without him swiping at me."

"Hmm, and do you think he's unprovoked?" Oscar asked and Lily laughed. You flipped both of them off.

"Look, I tried to be nice at first but it's kind of hard when he came in and just expected me to roll over because he's been racing longer," you admitted. "It was offensive and things just went from there."

"I know how he came in was wrong," he said. "But I think you should give him some grace looking at it from his perspective. He should be in a faster car, we both know that. So it was insulting for him to have to come to Williams but that has nothing to do with you." You sighed, knowing he was half right.

"I don't know how to fix it Oscar, I really don't."

---------Dutch Grand Prix--------------

Things had been going well in Zandort so far, you and Carlos had been mostly avoiding each other and when you were together you kept it civil. You'd had good free practices and now were gearing up for qualifying.

You'd easily sped into Q2 and then jut inched by Fernando to make it into the top ten. The car felt good and you were feeling pretty confident you could get even faster in the last session. You were flying on your fast lap, on track to make it to P5 but heading into the corner you could see another car not getting out of the way. Of course it was none other than your teammate. He moved away but it was a little too late as you already had to slow down to swerve around him, losing time.

"What the fuck is he doing?" you screamed into the radio.

"Uhh he said he didn't see you coming, sorry y/n." Your engineer replied to you and you slammed your fist into the steering wheel. You managed to get one more lap in but the loss of focus put you in P9.

You didn't say a word to anyone getting out of the car and the garage was tense, a lot of engineers shooting you sympathetic looks. You stormed off towards your driver room and were a step away before you heard him call your name.

"Y/n," Carlos called out and you turned to see him walking towards yo you down the hallway. Instead of your rage boiling over you felt your eyes fill up with tears as you just felt defeated. You put your hand up to stop him from getting any closer.

"I just don't understand why you hate me so much," you yelled, your voice breaking. "Do you know how hard it was for me to get here? How hard it is to listen to the media constantly tell me I'm here because having a female driver is good PR? I have worked so hard for everything just for you to try time and time again to take it all away."

Tears were starting to leak from your eyes as you shouted and Carlos's eyes were wide with panic. He tried to take another step towards you but you moved back.

"No, I don't want to see you and I don't want to talk to you," you got out before turning and slamming your driver's door in his face. You sunk down to the floor crying and heard a loud bang, as if someone had punched a wall.

You laid in your driver's room for what felt like forever just staring at your ceiling before changing into a pair of sweats and a tank top. As you were collecting your stuff you heard someone knock on your door and open it. You looked over to see Kimi's sympathetic face which caused your eyes to water again. He opened his arms and you walked into them burying your head in his shoulder.

"Come on, let's go get dinner," he said leading you out of the garage.

You spent the rest of the night hanging out with him and his friends before heading back to the hotel to get a good night rest. You stepped out of the elevator onto your floor and saw someone standing by your hotel room. As you got closer you could see it was Carlos. He had changed too into a pair of Williams sweats and a tight fitted tshirt. His right hand was wrapped up with gauze, explaining the noise you heard earlier.

"Here to rub more salt in the wound?" You joked weakly as you came closer to him. His head snapped up and his raked over you getting sadder.

"No, I came to apologize," he said and you rolled your eyes motioning for him to move so you could unlock your door.

"What did PR promise you in order to get you here?" You bit back as you stepped inside, him following close behind.

"Nothing y/n, we need to talk," he said his tone more firm.

"Well I don't really feel like talking," you said turning to him, throwing your hands up. "Now why don't you go back to James and figure out how to get me off the team, I'm sure whatever plan you have will work."

His jaw clenched and you knew that one landed. You should have stopped there but something about him brought out the fight in you.

"I'm sorry that you're washed and the only way for you to beat me is by taking me out," you started, not even believing what you were saying, just wanting to hurt him like he did you. "That's the only apology I want to hear from you." Carlos took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair.

"Or maybe you should go back begging to Mercedes to get a seat to get away from me."

"Do you ever shut the fuck up?" He asked glaring at me and I crossed my arms.

"Make me," you replied daring him.

Within two seconds your back was against the wall and his lips were on yours. When your brain turned back on you found yourself wrapping a hand around his neck pulling you closer. Your lips fought for dominance but you both were clinging together like you could never let go. Your other hand was tangled in his hair as you slightly pulled causing him to groan into you. He pulled away, resting his forehead on yours and you brought your fingers up to touch your swollen lips.

"If I knew that was how I could get you to stop talking I would have done that a long time ago," he said smirking and you shoved him off.

"You caught me in a moment of weakness," you grumbled before flopping onto the bed. He came over to where you were and pulled you up so that you were facing him as he towered over you. His eyes softened as he looked down at you.

"You are a good driver, one of the best I've ever raced again," he started and you stayed quiet. "I should have came in as a leader to make the both of us better and this a competitive team. Instead I was too wrapped up in how I got burned and acted like an ass. It should have never gotten this far and I'm sorry."

You didn't know what to say as you'd never really seen this side of him. He pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear as he met your eyes again, waiting for a response.

"Was that a real answer or a PR one?" You joked with a small smile causing him to relax.

"A PR one cariño, the real answer is that you're too hot when you're mad at me so I couldn't stop," he said and you laughed. He pulled you off the bed and you wrapped your arms around him.

"This is so weird," you said. "I'm so used to hating you."

"I know, but we got to go be seen in public as friends," he said. "That's an actual request from the PR team."

"Yeah yeah, you can buy me ice cream and I'll forgive you for today," you said heading to the door.

"And then we can start over?" He said hopefully.

"If you let me pass tomorrow too," you said smirking at him. He kissed your forehead as he passed you holding his hand out.

"Not a chance."

[buckevantommy]

What about all of this is real? We are.

This is not how they end. 

It hasn’t even been a week but it feels like a fucking eternity. It’s not the first time Buck’s been dumped, not the first time someone has walked out on him when he wanted more, but it’s the worst heartache he’s ever felt and he knows– he knows it’s because this isn’t how things are supposed to go for them. 

He’s done feeling sorry for himself. He’s not giving up on Tommy, on what they have together. 

And he doesn’t think Tommy is done with them, either. 

* 

The drive to Tommy’s house isn’t fast but it passes in a blur; between the peak hour traffic and usual gridlock he has plenty of time to ruminate on everything he wants to say, and all the arguments Tommy can throw at him and all the ways Buck can rebut them. 

Pulling into the drive, he doesn’t notice the unfamiliar car parked next to Tommy’s truck. He’s walking up the front path and knocking with insistent force before he even registers leaving the jeep. He’s on a mission. 

Soon as the door opens Buck is barging his way inside. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me or how I feel!” 

With a resigned, if somewhat bitchy sigh, Tommy mutters, “Come on in,” and closes the door behind him. 

“I know how I feel about you and it isn’t some passing infatuation, Tommy– I love you!” He goes harder than he means to, and heavier on the blame, but he thinks he gets the main points across. 

Tommy stares at him for a moment, not saying anything. Buck starts getting restless again. If Tommy has nothing to say to that then Buck has plenty more. He gears up to lay the rest of his cards on the table–

When someone clears their throat behind him. 

Buck whips around to find a strange man standing in Tommy’s living room, beer bottle in hand. 

“Oh.” A pang of something ugly lances through Buck’s heart. “Guess you moved on faster than I did,” he mutters darkly.

The mystery man cracks a humorless laugh. “Not fucking likely.” 

Buck doesn’t know what to do with that.

“Sal Deluca,” the man says, stepping forward and extending his hand. Buck takes it, incandescent jealousy and the throbbing heartache that’s made breathing difficult all week making way for a numb sort of recognition. He’s heard mentions of Sal, and the face clicks with some old photos he’s seen in Tommy’s photo albums; because Tommy’s old school like that and has printed photos in physical albums people can flip through. Sal is an old friend of his who moved away years ago. “Worked with this lug back at the 118,” he says. “And we are not boning or romancin’ each other.” 

Buck catches Tommy rolling his eyes. 

“In fact, I’m in town for the first time in almost a year and what do I find? This idiot throwing away the best thing that’s ever happened to him.” 

“Sal.” 

Sal ignores Tommy’s warning tone, trains his eyes on Buck, his voice pitched low and sincere. “I don’t even know you, but I know that much.” 

He leaves with a clap to Tommy’s shoulder and something muttered that sounds like, “Don’t screw this up again,” and then he’s out the door. 

“You should go,” Tommy says quietly, when it’s just the two of them standing there, too far apart.

Now that Buck gets a better look at him, Tommy looks tired. Ragged. Like he hasn’t slept in a week. Buck can relate. “No.”

“Buck–”

“Don’t you dare.” He tries sounding fierce but it just comes out broken. He’s never been ‘Buck’ to Tommy and he sure as hell doesn’t wanna start now. That name means they’re over, and he’s not letting that happen without a fight. “I said, I love you.”

“I heard you.”

“And, what? You don’t believe me? Or you think I’m too dumb to know when I’m in love with someone?”

“I never said that–”

“I’ve been in love before, Tommy– more than once. And just because they were women and you’re the first guy I fell for doesn’t make what I feel any less real!” 

“But it doesn’t mean it’s going to last.”

He sounds tired, too. Like maybe he’s been up all night every night thinking about them. Maybe he leaned on Sal like Buck’s been leaning on Eddie; a good friend who lets you pour your heart out until there’s nothing left but a hollow ache in your chest, drained eyes and confusion. 

But the worst part is how resigned he seems, like it’s over and there’s nothing to be done about it. There’s a lot Tommy hasn’t thought through properly. 

“I may be new to being bisexual, but that doesn’t mean my heart is new. And frankly, it’s pretty insulting of you to assume I don’t know what I’m feeling, or how I’ll feel months or years from now.” 

That seems to land like a blow, Tommy’s already creased brow pinching as he looks away. “You don’t have experience with men–” 

And that fucking does it. “I’m not a kid, Tommy! I don’t need you to tell me what I need! And I’m not any of those guys who hurt you– doesn’t matter if they were gay, or bi, or whatever!” Buck wants to yell at him some more: call him a coward, an asshole for predicting the worst in people.  

Tommy shakes his head. He still doesn’t look at Buck.

“You don’t get to just end this because you’re scared. That’s not how this works– we’re supposed to talk about it.” It’s been a constant in their relationship: talking things through. It’s the first relationship Buck’s had with such an open and honest line of communication, and there’s no way he could go back to anything else. 

Tommy looks up, then, and meets Buck’s gaze. His eyes are watery and his words come out choked. “I don’t want to end this.” 

“Then don’t,” Buck pleads, daring to close a bit of the distance between them. 

Tommy pulls back. Not far, and not much with his feet, more with his shoulders, but it’s enough to make Buck’s heart sink. 

Because Tommy is denying himself – like that night before he first kissed Buck and changed his life for the better; he was so hesitant to believe that he was part of their team, too – he’s not letting himself have something good because he doesn’t think he deserves it, doesn’t think it’s real. “We’re not too good to be true.”

“What?” 

“You said that, about the parking space,” Buck recalls. He’s run the conversation over in his head a thousand times since that night.

“That’s.. not what I meant.” Tommy seems less convinced by his own words, now. 

“Every other relationship I’ve had has fallen apart because I didn’t see the end coming,” Buck admits. “Because we weren’t compatible. And part of me was worried with you, at first, because I’d always been the one who ends up alone.” It’s painful to think about, to think Tommy could be just another in a long line of people Buck wore his heart on his sleeve for but who didn’t want him as much in return. “But you kept proving to me over, and over that you were there for me, and you wanted me around, and you didn’t think I was too much.” Buck has to swallow around the desperate rasp coming through in his voice now. He blinks to keep his vision clear.

There’s something there, then: a look on Tommy’s face telling him plainly that he could never be too much for him, that that’s not what this about. And there’s something else familiar, too: fear. The same glimpse of fear Buck saw that night before Tommy walked out on him. The same kind of fear Buck’s seen in the mirror his whole life. 

Tommy’s afraid they won’t last. 

Tommy’s afraid he’s not enough. 

“Please don’t think like that,” Buck pleads again. “Like there’s an expiration date for us.” 

“I can’t help it.”

“Yes, you can!” Buck erupts again, frustrated with how willing Tommy is to just roll over and let their relationship die. “Just believe in us! Tell me what I have to do to get you to believe how serious I am about you– how much I care about you, and see you for who you are, and want all of you for as long as possible.” 

Tommy shakes his head, eyes downcast, and Buck can’t take it anymore– he closes the remaining distance between them. Stands toe to toe with Tommy, proximity alone silently demanding he listen to what he has to say.

“Hey,” he says softly, but with that same dogged determination that’s been distilled over the years into something less reckless and more mindful. He curls a finger under Tommy’s chin, gently nudging it up until he looks at him. 

There’s armor in place, but Tommy’s peeking through. And he hasn’t moved away. He hasn’t given up, not completely. He needs Buck to fight for them, to know they’re worth fighting for. Maybe then he’ll finally believe they can make it.

“I love you. I’ve been searching my whole life for a love like this, so don’t tell me this isn’t real– I know how I feel,” Buck insists, then calms. “And I think you feel the same.” 

“Evan–”

“I’m not giving up on us. So you can fight me, or you can fight for us.” 

Tommy exhales a shaky breath, averting his eyes again. Buck can see the tears making them wet, tracking down his cheeks as he ducks his head. He can hear them in the way Tommy’s voice wavers. “You think too highly of me, kid.” It’s not a jab, the name. Tommy’s protecting his vulnerable underbelly. 

“Do you trust me?” 

Tommy takes a beat. “I want to,” he confesses, quiet in the small space where their bodies don’t touch, could touch but not yet; he’s holding his breath. 

Buck braces himself. “Do you love me?” It’s a simple question, one he’s pretty sure he knows the answer to. But those few seconds before Tommy speaks are nerve wracking as hell and long enough for a thread of doubt to try to weave its way back into his mind – the same doubt he’d finally quashed before he jumped in his jeep and drove across town: what if he read this all wrong? What if Tommy doesn’t actually love him? His own breath catches painfully in his lungs; he’s on a precipice, heart balanced for a freefall that could see him plummet to the ground, or.. or spread wings, and.. fly. 

Tommy lifts his head, his beautiful eyes rimmed red and making his irises that much bluer by contrast. “Evan, I’m so in love with you,” he breathes out; a sigh of anguish, like truth and painful honesty, airing grievance out into the world so that it might ease the weight sitting on his chest, the kind that makes it hard to breath, hard to exist. “You’ll be the death of me, kid.” 

It’s not the first time he’s said that, although the other times were under very different circumstances. But it was always playful, and Buck can see the words for what they are now: a defense mechanism. Buck’s heart aches for him, but Tommy’s admission also sets something aglow in his own chest, something warm and pure and precious. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he promises. 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I do know it. We’ve both been hurt before– but we don’t need to hurt each other. And, I get it– you were trying to protect yourself when you walked out on me that night.”

Tommy moves to turn away, ends up just shuffling in place. He still wants to be close to Buck. 

“Why can’t we just try? ‘Cause if you think you’re the only one who’d be heartbroken if this doesn’t work out, you’re wrong.” He’s realized some things this past week: he doesn’t adhere to whatever bullshit stereotype there is about men who are bi or people who come to terms with their queerness later in life – he doesn’t need to play the field or experiment or whatever crap Tommy tried to pass off as reason enough to justify his fears. He also realized that he loves Tommy – more than he’s ever loved anyone, more than he thought was possible to love someone but maybe always secretly hoped was in his future, even when that dark voice in his head tried to convince him no one would ever love him as much. 

But Tommy does. Tommy loves him so much the thought of Buck breaking up with him scared him into ending things before he could get his own heart broken. But what he feels for Tommy isn’t some kind of puppy love or something he’ll grow out of or get bored of; it’s real, and Tommy thinking he’s not enough, that he’s not forever-kind-of-love material doesn’t dissuade Buck any; he’s intimately familiar with issues of self worth.

Whatever insecurities Tommy has about being someone’s last love doesn’t apply to Buck. “You’re enough, for me. You’re everything, actually. Everything I ever wanted and more I didn’t know I could want.” 

A heavy moment passes between them where Buck sees his words sink in. They seem to weigh Tommy down, even more. 

He wants so badly to reach out, to speak the words into his mouth, press them into his skin until Tommy can’t deny how real they are because he’ll feel them with every breath, every movement.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Tommy admits, voice soft and more vulnerable than Buck’s ever heard it. “I can’t lose you, Evan. If you ask me to try, and then–” he cuts himself off, shakes the thought away, tries to barricade himself back behind his armor. 

Maybe Buck can’t fully understand Tommy’s fear because he hasn’t experienced what he has, but he knows what it’s like to try and fail, to love and be left. But the two of them are on the same page this time – for everything that matters – not reading from separate books like Buck and all of his exes. “Did I ever tell you about Thomas and Mitchell?” 

“Um, no. I don’t think so. Friends of yours?” Buck can see Tommy’s still raw, still hiding, but he goes along with it, gives him the opening, like he’s always done.

“No, they uh.” Buck swallows, the memory still affects him even all these years later. “They were an elderly gay couple I met on a call a few years back. Well, I met Thomas. Sat with him after he watched his husband die.” 

Tommy tries to look unimpressed with having to listen to a sad story – he’s more of a romcom guy; lighthearted storylines and happy endings, Buck knows – but his face crumples a bit in sympathy. 

“He said, Mitchell was his heart, and that they wanted to go together. I could see how heartbroken he was, and the thought of loving someone like that and then losing them? I couldn’t imagine what that must be like.” 

Tommy doesn’t say it but Buck can almost hear his gently snarky tone: we’re not dead, Evan. He can see the words held back behind the purse of Tommy’s lips. 

“I told him I hoped to find a love like that some day. And he told me something I’ve carried with me ever since.” Tommy searches his face, and Buck feels the truth of Old Thomas’ words in this moment. “He said: you don’t find it, you make it.” 

Tommy blinks. “Are you saying you want to grow old with me?”

Buck can’t help his smile; it’s the first real one he’s had because of Tommy all week– one not tinged in pain and regret. There’s the Tommy he knows and loves. “I’m saying, I want to make it with you. Because these past six months have been the best of my life, Tommy. And I realized it’s because I found you– my person– and I want to make a future with you.” 

And there’s that tentative smile – the same one Tommy wore on their makeup coffee date all those months ago when he gave Buck a second chance. 

They deserve a second chance, now. They deserve to try. 

“I can’t move in with you,” Tommy settles on, and it sounds like a but, like: I can’t move in with you, but I want to be with you. 

Buck shakes his head before Tommy even finishes. “That’s okay, we don’t have to live together.” He knows the unspoken yet doesn’t go unnoticed for the way Tommy’s narrowed eyes assess him. There’s no use hiding it. “I do want to live with you, some day. I want to build a life with you. But, we can take it slow.”

“I don’t think ‘slow’ is in your repertoire.” It’s a joke. Tommy’s smile is less fragile, his armor lowered. 

Buck smiles again, hopeful; Tommy’s coming out of hiding. 

He reaches out, fingertips grazing Tommy’s, his movements unhurried. Tommy lets him tangle their fingers together. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Tommy says, “Okay.” 

Buck’s falling, diving, soaring. And he’s not alone. “Would a kiss be out of the question right now?” 

That crinkly smile that Buck loves so much finally makes its return, creasing around Tommy’s eyes like rays of sunshine. He didn’t realize just how much he missed the sight of Tommy’s joy until he’s faced with it head on, bright and gorgeous. He feels nourished in its presence, especially knowing he’s the cause of it. He thinks it’s okay to be a little proud of that. 

Tommy kisses him. Oh– this.. he’s missed this: the press of Tommy’s lips on his, his stubble scraping against Buck’s skin– catching on Buck’s own scruff. He slides a hand up Tommy’s chest, feeling the warm, toned bulk of him. Hooks his fingers around Tommy’s neck to pull him in more, bring their bodies flush, slip his tongue into Tommy’s mouth and get a proper taste of him.

One of Tommy’s large hands fits tentatively to Buck’s hip, one last show of hesitance. Buck disentangles their fingers and covers both of Tommy’s hands, moving them to rest heavier, grip him firmly, with no room for uncertainty.

“No more running away,” Buck murmurs, nose brushing alongside Tommy’s. He feels more than sees Tommy shake his head.

“No more running,” he agrees, following with another lingering kiss that’s begging to be deepened.

Buck breaks it to add: “We’re in this together.” 

Tommy nods. “I’m with you.”

It’s not how he thought their first love confessions would go, but they’ll be stronger for it, he knows that much. And he knows Tommy loves him. And Tommy knows Buck loves him in return. And that’s a pretty good starting place for a second chance. 

[kurogxrix]

Drunkenly In Love

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!reader

IN WHICH you and Bucky ‘accidentally’ get married after a drunken game of truth or dare with the avengers.

WC: 5.4k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, nausea, mentions of puke, drunken decisions, suggestive, angst?.

A/N: In this Bucky and Steve are able to get at least a bit drunk with Asgardian liquor.

Your throat burnt as the alcohol downed its way into your system, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to put the bottle down. None of you could in fact, and it started to look less like the avengers and more like a squad of alcoholics. Nevertheless, you all deserved a night of getting completely shitfaced after saving the world once again, and so this was what you all were doing. 

It was relaxing to see the people that usually stayed sober to care for you all, finally give in to the sheer pleasure of the buzz. What was even funnier, was seeing your teammates with ‘high tolerances’ like Bucky and Steve succumb to the venomous call of Thor’s Adgardian liquor. It wasn’t enought you get them as fucked up as the rest of you, considering that the serum made them filter alcohol way faster than it should. However the mere strength of it gave them a good couple of minutes of intoxication, and with teammates like you and Tony around, a couple of minutes were definitely enough to stir some trouble.

Trouble, the nickname that had been given to you by the team. The notorious partner in crime of none other than Iron Man and The Falcon themselves. You loved stirring trouble and pulling harmless pranks on your teammates, whether it’d be adding food colouring to Steve’s shampoo, which definitely left him a little confused and a little pink for the rest of the week. Or like that one time you and Tony had placed glitter bombs around the tower. Except that one wasn’t as funny as you had originally planned, because having the former Black Widow chasing after you was not the definition of fun.

Past your playful exterior, you were always a teammate that your friends relied on. The rest of the avengers loved you like you were their own sibling, and you’d found sisterhood in the presence of Wanda and Nat. They saw past your flaws and the lack of control that you had with your own powers when you first joined the team, and instead helped you with and through those obstacles like a real family should. 

It took you a while to break through Bucky’s tough exterior, but you didn’t expect any less from the Ex Hydra soldier that was constantly haunted by the memories of what he’d done. Even if none of it was his fault, as you’d remind him constantly, you knew that it was always hard for him to accept when every time he’d close his eyes he was flashed with the images of his hands covered in blood, nobody else’s but his. 

Your outgoing personality also made it very hard to connect with him, because he felt that someone with so much potential of making other friends than ones as messed up in the head as him should go on and do so, but you had never given up. And you were glad that you hadn’t, because over the years, you’d grown fond of seeing that warm smile lift upon his lips at the very rare occasions. 

-

Everything had started out as a shitty game of truth or dare, truly. After Bruce had chosen truth once too many times and Thor kept on complaining that his dares were too ‘serene’, your true mastermind had truly come to show. 

“Come closer dude, we literally can’t see you,” you called out to Thor, throwing an arm over his shoulders to bring him closer to you as you both sat on the luxurious yet oddly long sofa in the Stark Tower. Your front camera was on, an out-of-frame picture of yours and Thor’s forehead being snapped as your hand trembled too much, and the beefy blond was far too impatient for you to retake. 

You’d posted a story on the Avengers instagram account with the encouragement of your peers, and of course the worrying of a typsy Steve. It was probably the worst idea that you could have come up with, because after solely a couple minutes of posting a ‘send us dares’ story, your phones began to blow with notifications. 

It took you all a solid minute to reassemble everyone together to start reading the messages, and you ignored the far too crude ones as you moved to the funny ones. Cue the loud ringing of Sam and Thor’s laughter combined and minutes later, you’d all decided on a couple of ones for the night. 

I’d started off with things such as vision, who he was solely participating in because everyone was borderline pressuring him 

It’d started off with things such as a very sober vision, who was solely participating because everyone was borderline pressuring him due to his lack of ability when it came to being influenced by alcohol, give the AI a break. He had been dared to recreate the spaghetti scene from ‘Lady and The Tramp’ with Clint. Needless to say that they both broke apart the spaghetti centimetres apart, unable to stop the roaring of laughter from raising up their throats. 

Next thing you know is that Wanda was wrapped in toilet paper like a damned mummy, and Tony revealed his inner Magic Mike. But the man used to be a legitimate whore, so it was nothing surprising really. You all had realised somewhere along the night that you’d been acting a little too much like children considering your ages, and instead of switching back to your professional selves, you decided to empty another bottle or two for the night. 

What you hadn’t expected for the night however, was the bold and surprising request of ‘Marry the person to your left’ that was now sitting in your inbox. It sounded so stupidly thought of that you could practically tell that it was coming from a kid, but something inside of you couldn’t care less about the future repercussions of going further on with the dare. 

In fact, you felt your drunken heart accelerating its pace when you were met with the sight of the one and only Bucky Barnes sitting to your left. It did not help that you had been attracted to the man for what seemed like 2 years now, yet you hardly acted on those feelings. It was easier to pretend like your admiration towards the super soldier was nonexistent rather than face his rejection. The rejection that you thought he’d give you if you ever confessed, but if only you knew. 

If only you knew how many nights he’d been spending up rethinking the amount of interactions he could’ve sparked with you if he hadn’t been so hesitant. If only you knew how much Bucky yearned to confront his own self about his self deprecating issues, but deep down he knew that he was right. He knew that a person as charismatic and chaotic as you did not deserve to be chained to a person as grumpy and boring as him. 

You considered shying away when the whole team turned to you asking what your dare was, but it’d be a direct giveaway of your feelings towards the brunette once they’d hear what your dare was. Instead you’d feigned the shock that you had initially felt before the warmness of your imagination seeped in, the thoughts of you being married to Bucky making your brain short circuit. 

“Woahhh and would you look at that,” the lack of surprise in your voice was masked by the slur of your words because of how much you’d drank, and you were glad that everybody else had ingurgitated just as much as you because their faces showed no sign of suspicion as they waited for you to turn your phone around. The first person that you had shown it to was whoever was to your right, and that just happened to be Sam and Scott. 

The duo squealed like little girls at the sight of the dare, but the Falcon’s eyes widened comically as he eyed who exactly was at your left. He’d snatched your phone instantly to show the others, and no matter how much you protested for him to hand it back to you, Sam was like an annoying big brother to you. There was no way you’d be getting it back unless you forcedly found a way to. 

The three other girls in the tower had their hands over their mouths as they read the exact words that this random person had sent you, and Wanda looked more excited than you were. You’d beg her to exchange dares with her if it wasn’t for the bulky super soldier’s family name being on the line, and you had no issue with becoming Mrs.Barnes.

Steve and Bucky on their sides sat there confused as everyone kept on basking Bucky some shocked and amazed looks, which was starting to irritate him greatly because everybody was taking so much time with the phone and nobody was even voicing out what the damned dare was. His vexation had lasted for minutes until the phone had been personally placed in his hands by no other than Sam himself. 

Bucky placed the phone between himself and Steve as their quick eyes skimmed over the text. His only physical reaction to the words was the raise of his eyebrows, but fuck was his heart stammering against his rib cage at a faster pace than the speed at which Steve ran his morning rounds. His reaction had you internally pausing all other thoughts as you imagined that he was slightly disgusted at the idea. 

You knew that he had a dream of domesticity back in the 40’s, but you knew that no man would like to be forced into a marriage with a woman that they didn’t want to marry. And although Bucky admired you in much more than a platonic way, that you didn’t know of yet, he hadn’t necessarily imagined himself being married to you. He was still figuring out how to ask you out without pussing out at the last minute, which had happened to him about 5 times now. Needless to say that Sam had made fun of him all five times. 

He was internally turmoiled, and if not for the alcohol running thick in his system, he’d say no. He’d refuse and say that you deserved better than him and some shitty ceremony based on some even shittier dare. But he couldn’t physically say it now, not when his better judgement was affected and the alcohol let the side that was fond of you control him. 

You were about to open your mouth to tell him that it was okay, that he could decline or worse, you could find another partner. Even if you didn’t want to marry anyone else than him, even less for a game. Yet he cut you off with a deep laugh that startled everyone in the room, it was not sardonic but rather held an amusing tone to it. 

Bucky shook his head as he stood up to look at you, grasping your hands in his bigger ones like some romance movie sap. The Cheshire grin on his face made you want to melt into putty in his embrace, and his stupidly plain words had you doubling back. 

“So…what time’s the wedding?” 

-

“Hurry up, you’re gonna be late to your own wedding!” the teasing sound of Wanda’s voice called out to you, accent thick in her tone. The guys had already rushed your soon-to-be groom into Tony’s room to get him ready, much to the billionaire’s dismay. You couldn’t help but laugh your entire way towards the room, you face up towards the ceiling as you giggled like a mad woman.

Wanda dragged you by the arm and into Nat’s room, who was nose deep inside her wardrobe in search of an appropriate dress for your ‘wedding’. You’d be searching through Pepper's closet given that she had a wider selection, but you couldn’t go there given that the boys were dressing Bucky up in Tony and Pepper’s shared room. 

“What about this one? Or- No, this one!” you snapped your head towards the sound of Wanda’s voice, only to catch her with two dresses in hands. Except these two dresses had little to nothing to do with a wedding, yet alone being the bride to that wedding, but this was Nat’s wardrobe after all. The black Maxi dress in her hands was the definition of the former Black Widow’s wardrobe, tight, dark and sexy if anything. 

You didn’t have much say in the decision because soon enough the two girls were on you, shoving your limbs and whatnot through the holes of the dress to drape it over you. You couldn’t lie when you said that it did fit you well, the stretchy fabric of the dress squeezing and moulding into your body in every way that it should. The dress finished by your ankles, accompanied by spaghetti straps and a pair of pretty heels that had been shoved in your hands for you to slip on. 

Given that the dress did in fact go braless, you did have a little worry about how the chilly air outside would mix with that, but you were far too gone to even care. With some final touches and a brush of makeup, you were finally ready to meet your to-be husband. 

As a kid you’d always imagine your wedding scene to be much more emotional than this. You’d imagine yourself in some stupid movie scene where you’d cry at the first sight of your husband, but now the only tears you were holding back were the ones you were getting from laughing so much. Pepper had to slap you on the back to straighten up after you’d crumpled down from laughter, and you had yet to even meet up with Bucky. 

You could hear the loud and deep voices of the other men past the long hallway that you were currently walking in, and you mentally cursed Tony for being so rich and having such a big Tower because hell were your feet already hurting in those heels.

“Here comes the bride!” The sudden entrance of Clint’s excited voice made your eyes snap upwards, and you instantly realised that you had finally left the never ending hallway. All eyes were on you, but instead of judging your odd wedding outfit, you were relieved to hear their cheers. You couldn’t even tell why you’d gotten anxious about your team being unaccepting of your fit when that odd dare was the genesis of this whole moment. 

Bucky stood out in his black suit amongst the other ‘underdressed’ avengers, and when your eyes met with the familiar blue ones amongst all the others, suddenly all you could focus on was him. Not on your friends around you half heartedly arguing about whether you guys looked like the Addams couple or Lydia Deetz and Beetlejuice because of your attire. In the most adoring way possible, of course. 

Your gaze never left his accept when his eyes cast down to scan your outfit, and you could’ve sworn that there was even more adoration swirling in his baby blue iris when they went back up to meet with yours again. This was at last a little bit how you had expected your wedding to go as when you were a kid, all until…

The loud laughter erupting out of your throats rebounded against the tower’s walls, making you both sound way louder than you actually were. The rest of your friends didn’t even bother with the both of you, just talking over your laughter as you doubled over at how stupid this whole situation was. Yet again you couldn’t take anything seriously when you were sober, now imagine yourself when a drop of alcohol entered your system. 

The sound of Bucky’s laughter was something that you didn’t know you needed today, but fuck did it sound like heaven. You wanted him to keep on laughing like this forever, for that wide smile on his face to stay instead of that usual scowl he wore on his face. You wanted Bucky to continue being so happy and carefree like this, you wanted to keep on making Bucky so happy like this. 

Nevertheless your little moment was shortly interrupted by Wanda yet again grasping onto your arm, this time with a little more pressure as Happy’s impatient honking could be heard all the way from up here in the Tower. As you left, Bucky couldn’t help but keep his eyes glued to your retreating form. Before Steve came to shake his shoulders playfully from the back, muttering something that you couldn’t hear or even care about from where you were, but it didn’t fail to make heat creep up Bucky’s neck. 

-

The ride in Stark’s limousine was just as fun as the rest of the night itself, except that now they were popping a bottle of champagne to honorate your soon to be ‘wedding’. Honestly you had up to zero idea as to how all of your stomachs could support so much liquids in one night, but you were 100% sure that Happy had snuck in sparkling juice inside the limousine fridge because he was starting to get a little worried. The sight of Scott literally gagging while trying to keep everything down his throat nearly made you puke everything that you’d drank throughout the night, but you forced your glance away from the man to avoid any accidents. 

The poor bruce looked drunkenly traumatised as Tony conducted a little karaoke at the back of his limousine, which was the least surprising for the billionaire. You got a good laugh once more out of the ride, which was heading towards somewhere for you both to sign the register and finally make you Mrs.Barnes. Oh and how many times had you dreamt of this moment before, yet it didn’t happen like this in your fantasy.

The car finally stopping signed a peace treaty for the poor nauseous scott, and he could finally breathe again without feeling like his stomach was flipping inside out. You all could barely even make it out of the car without stumbling your ways out. Fuck and how did you all even manage to get this fucked up? You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d gotten so drunk that you could barely even stand up straight, but it was most probably during your college years.

Being part of the troupe that saves the world from the devil's grip was not an easy job. There'd be days where you’d be gone for weeks on nothing else but a simple mission, and you couldn’t even guarantee that you’d even return as a whole from the other ones. So while you could, you’d enjoy your holidays and be free, fuck if it meant playing some stupidly childish game of drunken truth or dare. 

All eyes were of you guys from the moment you’d stepped out of the limousine and into the courthouse. Of course Tony hadn’t reserved a normal courtroom in some random courthouse, no instead he’d reserved you the most pristine and elegant one you’d ever seen. The marble stairs and luxurious railings left you speechless, but yet you couldn’t expect little if it was coming from one and only Iron Man. 

A civil ceremony wasn’t what the little you had envisioned for her big day, but her dreams were being forgotten today because you were still young and you could always have a traditional wedding ceremony afterwards if this one didn’t satisfy you anyways. 

You received a bunch of odd looks from whoever was working at the courthouse as you made way into the room. Either from the fact that you were dressed the furthest away from what a bride usually looks like, or from the amount of noise that your team was making. The officiant clearly looked like he wanted to tell you to rethink this, perhaps when you were sober and stable enough to actually think. Though Tony had paid him a stack of cash high enough for him to keep quiet, but his eyes were speaking for himself. 

“Look at my children, they’re growing up so fast!” Same wiped a fake tear on his face as he tried to conceal his laughter as sobs. Scott besides him was wiping tears too, though his didn’t quite seem fake…

Like any wedding ceremony, you’d all taken some corny pictures that you could laugh at while sitting by a campfire in a couple of years. You’d decided that the bride would take pictures with the groomsmen and the groom would take pictures with the bridesmaids, because this was no ordinary wedding, so you might as well make it laugh worthy. One of your matching pictures had you standing perched on both of Steve’s and Scott’s shoulders as they both held onto your ankles in case you happened to slip back. The rest of the boys you considered family posed in the most boyish yet stupidly cute pose as the flash blinded the whole of you. 

In your husband’s photos, Bucky was being suspended up in the air as some red aura kind of magic enveloped him. Queue an annoyed looking Pepper and Natasha standing besides Wanda as she lifted the man up in the air, their arms crossed across their chests as they gave Bucky an unimpressed look. The annoyance was all pretend, considering that after the camera’s click went off, they all rekindled their cheerful selves. 

“You guys need to end the night with a kiss, there’s no bride or groom going back home right now before you guys smooch!” Wanda slurred, her cheeks pink from the heat of the alcohol. Vision had to keep an arm around her waist at all times in case she fell over, and the AI sighed at everyone’s stupidity. At this point you were sure that everyone in the courtroom other than you guys was starting to get irritated with the noise so you decided to cut this short and just sign the damn papers already.

Except that now everyone was pressing on to what Wanda had said, and your nerves were running thick. You wanted to with no doubt, kiss the extremely handsome super soldier that you were somewhat about to marry, but you feared that you’d be going too far. Sure this whole thing was a whole joke, so what if he’d agree for the sake of the joke as well? You could always dream and delude yourself about the fact that he’d actually accepted the dare because he liked you just like you did him but you’d never know until you asked. 

Instead, you stayed quiet and tried to ignore the high pitched yelling coming from your teammates as the officiant passed you the pen. Your hand shook as you stared at the paper before you, and for a second you had to remind yourself that none of this was real. And so finally, you bent over to sign the papers that laid on a strangely low table.

Natasha’s teasing wolf whistle made your nerves dissipate and a goofy smile crawl up your face as she called you out for your position, or rather the way that your dress was tightening further with the position. Your hands were swift as you worked on the signature, little to no care for the lines of text that you were supposed to consider before officially tying yourself to the man that would also sign the same paper. 

You watched with a grin as Bucky approached the table to do the same, teasingly getting into the same position as you previously were to hear the loud screeching cheers of your teammates. You watched as he signed the paper off with the flick of his wrist, a hidden elegance in the way he moved being a surprise turn on for you. 

Bucky had not even had time to barely stand back up straight again before you had both started getting bombarded with a ‘kiss to seal the deal’ request from your friends, and you did agree that it’d only make sense to kiss your other half on your wedding day. You didn’t want to make it seem like you were all too eager to smooch the former Winter Soldier, although on the inside you were shaking with anticipation. 

His touch took you off guard as you felt time stop as his large palm slotted itself in the crevice of your back, the warmth of his hand seeping through the dress. You felt as he pulled you closer to him with that hand, but you couldn’t look elsewhere than his eyes. You got the moto to finally close your eyes instead of staring at him like some creep as you felt his other palm closing on your cheek. Your palms came to rest on his chest as he dipped you like in those cheesy rom coms from the 40’s, and you guessed that was his inspiration. 

The kiss was much needed, you felt like it’d cut through some of the tension that you’d both built throughout the past months. Bucky’s nose flashed against yours as he kissed you with need, near desperation. His lips slotted over yours perfectly, the slight dip of his head making you go feral as he reached deeper like he was trying to devour you whole. 

Asif you and your friends couldn’t get any louder, their yelling had yet ceased to stop. Truly a sight for the people who knew the Avengers as the universe’s saviour. The end of the night had left a usually happy and unusually smiling Bucky, and not to forget, the whole group of tipsy Avengers in the back. 

The initial energy that you all had at the start of the day had eventually worn out by the time you were making your way back to the car. It didn’t mean that the ride back was silent though, you’d all participated in a round of karaoke before sitting down and finally for the first time this entire night, calmly talking like normal people. 

-

Waking up with a pounding headache and no water in sight wasn’t necessarily the best way to wake up, but that’s how Bucky’s morning was going anyway. The plush mattress felt uncomfortable to him, and Bucky wondered what he was even doing on a bed considering he’d gotten used to sleeping on the floor ever since his Soldat days. His eyes held a grogginess that irritated him, in fact everything from the scratchy material of the cotton sheets to his headache was annoying him, and he could blame nothing else but the trace of alcohol that he knew he’d drunk yesterday night. 

It was obvious that he was under the influence yesterday and had gotten back home just as faded, because he could feel the fabric of a suit on his body as his hands roamed freely. His pants were still fastened on with the tight belt, which he’d removed with a content sigh. Bucky’s fingers rubbed at his eyes until he got most of the sleepiness out of them, but his muscles suddenly froze as the sound of shuffling beside him. 

His heart stopped for a second, before resuming its pounding just 3x the original speed. He couldn’t remember much of yesterday, and surely not that he’d brought someone back home with him. He was relieved at the memory of his suit still very much on him, the tight belt telling him that it hadn’t been removed ever since he’d put it on him. He’d love to beat himself at the thought of having to pick up his courage to turn around and meet whoever was in his bed, given that a super soldier like him had gone through scarier scenarios.

His breath caught stuck in his throat as he turned around to be met with the sight of…you? It felt like the planet earth had stopped orbiting for a second as he felt ten times more dizzy than he’d felt at his wake. His confusion ran thick as he watched you comfortably snoozing off in his bed. His bed? Bucky thought about it again, there was no way that he wasn’t currently in the Stark Tower, and he could tell that the room looked nothing like his despite the little lighting that he had to observe his surroundings. 

He was in your room, on your bed. How he’d arrive here was a mystery, but that was something to decipher later on. Bucky’s eyes gazed over your sleeping form, from the way your cheeks were adorably squished against your pillow with your hands tucked under them. His eyes trailed down towards your outfit, and he wanted to yell at himself for the way that he ogled a little too long at the sight of the thin, tight fabric resting against your chest. The dress was all out of place because of how much you’d move in your sleep, it looked like it would completely expose your breast if you moved just a little more. 

Bucky felt much guilt coursing through his veins as he continued to eye you like some crude teenage boy, yet he couldn’t get himself to stop. He could’ve sworn that he had to hold himself back from drooling at the sight of your long dress all scrunched up around your hips, exposing a bit of your legs to him. The sheer black fabric left much to the imagination as it wrapped perfectly around your thighs, that were perfectly plumped out for him in the fetal position that you slept in. 

He had to physically run a hand down his face to distract the flow of blood reaching the unconventional spot right now, and instead tried to focus on finding out how he’d end up here. Sure he had no problems with sharing a bed with you, matter of fact he’d dreamt of it for months now ever since he’d developed a ‘crush’ on you as Steve would annoy him with. Yet, he felt that it was wrong as he could clearly smell the pungent smell of liquor on the both of you. 

He grunted as he sat up, cracking his back like the old man that he was. Bucky checked up on you once more to find you peacefully sleeping the morning away, probably due to the amount that you drank yesterday, yet he didn’t care because it looked like you were having the best sleep of your life. As he fumbled with something along your bedside table, Bucky’s hand accidently came to crumble the side of a piece of paper.

Cursing to himself, he grabbed the sheet to try and smooth it out before you killed him for messing with your shit. Though he cared little for what that paper was, the words in bold ‘Marriage’ that he’d caught in the corner of his eye had surprised him, so he allowed himself to peek a little into your private life. A sudden new fear coursed through his body as he looked back at you for another second. Were you married and living a double life? Fuck, now he felt even more shitty as he laid on a bed with you, what would your husband think of all of this? Was your husband a shitty guy? Was that why you’d never mentioned him? 

All sorts of questions ran through his head, but not once had he berated or blamed you in his head. He knew that you were nothing more than loyal, so it confused him even more as to how wedding papers were just casually laying there on the table. However, as he opened the sheet of paper to pry into your life, his heart stopped at the clear handwriting that could belong to nobody else than him. His signature and name needed no explanation or proof, they were all clearly written by him. 

Bucky’s heart picked up the pace once more, only this time he felt like he was going to have a panic attack like he did after reliving his horrors through nightmares. He could barely remember shit of what had happened last night, and next thing he knows, he’s waking up next to the woman he fancies and apparently they’re married? 

He fumbled with the paper in a stressed out attempt at scampering, he needed answers, and if nobody had them then he surely knew that the multiple cameras around the Tower had them. He needed to talk to Steve about this mess, and as he prepared to stand up, he froze at the sound of your yawn. He laid there unmoving for a solid minute, wishing that you’d solely changed positions and went back to sleep. After a whole minute of silence, Bucky’s shoulders dropped in relief, all until-

“Bucky…?”

-

let’s pretend like the avengers are all united, happy and alive lmao:)

[m00nh1gh]

OLDER

Bsf's dad!Bang Chan x reader

You knew you had a thing for older men but you didn't expect to be in this situation.

Contains: Unprotected car sex, masturbation (f), fingering, there's an age gap, but the reader is legal AND they didn't know each other when she was a minor, just a little heads up.

Word count: 3.1k.

Sleepovers at your best friend's house were always the best. You'd watch plenty of movies (or videos on YouTube) and cook together when her dad wasn't home. You had done all of that tonight and even had a photoshoot for new profile pictures and posts for Instagram. You really went all out for it, too.

Though, there was always one thing that bothered you at those sleepovers and it was the sleep part. Yuna snored a lot and it lead to insomnia for you. You'd usually be okay with it, because you never failed to bring your headphones, but this time, you had let them at your house. 

You grunted for the fifth time in a whole minute before letting go of the pillow you'd been using against your ears to try and muffle the sounds, but to no avail. You decided it could be good to take a little walk in her house. You guys were alone anyway, so it wouldn't bother anyone. 

You slowly opened the door of her bedroom, walked out and made sure to close it behind you. You looked around to make sure her dad wasn't here and went to the kitchen silently.

You poured yourself some water in the glass you used tonight and took a big sip of it. You could finally relax once you were away from Yuna. You didn't even know exactly why snoring irritated you so much. It made you feel bad to complain about it so much, but you just had to.

"Y/n? It's late, why aren't you sleeping?"

You jumped and put a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from yelping. You had never heard him coming in the house, even less walking in the room and leaning against the doorframe. He didn't look annoyed or bored. He was, in fact, smiling at you with a raised brow. It made you blush - as usual - and you looked down.

"Sorry, I couldn't sleep. I just came here to get some water.

- You know it's alright, you should still get some rest though," he placed his coat on the kitchen island as he walked to the fridge, which was right beside you.

His sleeves were rolled up and you couldn't help but to take a look at his arms and hands as he took a plate Yuna and you had prepared for him earlier. He placed it in the microwave for one minute and thirty seconds and then he looked back at you.

"She's snoring again, right?

- Yeah."

He laughed and suddenly, your heart started beating faster. This wasn't right. You shouldn't feel like this around him. He's your best friend's dad, for God's sake!

"I'll be awake for a while more, wanna come to my office? I could use some company. 

- Oh, but I don't want to bother you…

- You won't. I really would appreciate your company. But if you wanna go back to sleep, then it's good too!" His dimples are so hot. His office outfit is so hot. You felt hot.

"No, I'm not going to sleep," you smiled at him before following his lead to his office that was on the second floor. It was the first time you steeped into it and it somehow felt intimate; Yuna had always told you her dad did not let anyone in there while he was gone and now he invited you to sit on the small couch that was settled next to a bookshelf.

"Don't tell Yuna about this, she'll start coming here without my permission," the man sighed as he sat on his chair behind his desk. He turned his computer on and looked back at you while it loaded. "You can do whatever you want, I have books there and other stuff… Just don't touch what's on my desk, not that I think you would anyway," he gave you a wink and a smile as he laid back on his chair, turning his attention back to the screen.

Some time passed since your last interaction with Christopher. You had picked a book from his shelf, but quite honestly, it was just to make yourself look busy. You surely couldn't concentrate on it when you could see him shift on his seat and hear him sigh from time to time, clicking his tongue and grunting. You didn't know what he was working on, but it surely made him frustrated.

You looked at the cover of the book since you didn't even know which one you had picked. That's how uninterested you were about it, but maybe that you should start being, because Christopher's noises made you think some stuff that you shouldn't think about.

"100 Cocktail Recipes; Spice your Drinks Up!"  What the fuck?

"Is everything alright?" You opted on asking, coming to the conclusion that you wouldn't read anything tonight.

"Yeah, yeah. Just work stuff, you know?" He looked rather enthusiastic about you finally talking to him. You guessed he needed a little break from work.

"Yeah, I know," you looked around the room, suddenly feeling really awkward and regretting having talked to him.

"I guess I could take a small break," he sighed and leaned back on his chair, his hands behind his head as he looked back at his screen. "Wanna go on a little drive?

- I'd actually like that, yes," you smiled and you both got up to walk out of the office. 

"Wait just a bit, I'm gonna go change into something else," you nodded and he came back a few minutes later with a t-shirt and simple jeans. The shirt was tight. You didn't even know how it didn't tear because the man is muscular. You shook your head a little to let go of your thoughts and followed Christopher to the entry door.

Once your shoes were on, he let you get out first and he locked the door behind him.

"Let's hope Yuna doesn't wake up," he chuckled and unlocked his car. You smiled and mentally prayed that she wouldn't notice you were out too, walking to the car and getting in the passenger seat as Christopher sat at the driver's seat.

"So, where are we going?

- Anywhere, it's up to you.

- I know a pretty spot somewhere. Let's get snacks and then go there. Yeah?

- Sounds good," you smiled at him and he returned it, starting the engine and driving to a small convenience store Yuna and you went to often. It was the only one that was open the whole night, so when you ever craved something late, you walked there and took whatever you needed. You even became friends with the cashier.

"Hey, Y/n!" Jeongin waved at you and nodded at Christopher. You walked to him as Christopher picked some snacks in the store.

"Is that your dad?

- No, that's Yuna's dad," you looked behind to make sure he wasn't near you and you leaned forward. "He's fucking hot."

Jeongin laughed and shook his head.

"Do you even know how old he is? Not that he looks 60, but that's still her dad.

- He's like in his half 40's, it's alright.

- What are you guys talking about?"

You jumped as Christopher put food and drinks on the counter. Jeongin stayed silent as he scanned the items and you cleared your throat.

"Are you two dating?

- What? No, no!" Jeongin finally spoke.

"That's Yuna's boyfriend," you added, side eyeing Jeongin whose cheeks reddened significantly.

"Am not.

- Not yet," you teased and Christopher laughed.

"I'll be looking forward to our first family dinner with you, then," he paid for the stuff and took the plastic bag after Jeongin put the receipt in it. You said your goodbyes and walked out with a smile still sitting on your face, thinking back to Jeongin's shyness at the mention of your best friend.

"They'd look cute together," Christopher said as you both got back in the car.

"I know, right? But they're both so oblivious that it hurts me sometimes.

- Give them time and eventually, they'll confess."

It was a ten minute drive until Christopher parked his car in an empty parking lot, which was right in front of a small river. There were benches along it and lampposts beside each one of them. It was a pretty spot indeed, but you wished you'd brought a jacket with you if you were to get out of the car.

"We can stay in the car if you want, you're not wearing something adequate to the weather," he remarked and you agreed.

He took out two bottles of water and handed one to you. You opened it and immediately took a sip. You hadn't noticed how thirsty you were, and the water felt refreshing in your throat.

"And what about you? Do you have a boyfriend?

- No, guys at school aren't for me.

- Ah, I see," it was silent for a little moment until you heard him unbuckle his seat so he could turn to you the way he wanted to. "What about older guys? You know, you're old enough to have a little age gap in relationships now."

You played with the cap of your bottle nervously, your heart pounded hard in your chest and you could hear it. "Yeah, I like older men.

- Men, huh?" He smirked and turned your head towards him with a hand placed on your cheek. "Have you tried talking to them?"

You shook your head and hardly swallowed, suddenly needing another sip of water. But, you couldn't move. Christopher looked too beautiful in the dark of the night, with only a small amount of light that hit the side of his face. His lips looked extra kissable and they were still a little wet due to his drink and you felt yourself getting needy.

"No, I haven't.

- Then talk to me," he leaned close to your ear, you could feel his hot breath on your neck and you closed your eyes, "Am I old enough for you?

- Yeah," you whispered, and you swore you could hear his smirk. He looked back at you, and it was hard for you not to look away. He was way too intimidating for you to hold eye contact.

"I knew you'd be a good girl for me," he kissed you shortly once, and then the second one was deep. His lips- God, his lips felt so good against yours. They were so soft and fit perfectly with yours, driving you insane and you undid your seatbelt to get closer to him. Christopher groaned lowly as his tongue entered your mouth, and his hand found its way to your thigh, slowly hiking up your shorts. Well, as much as he could.

You shivered at his touch and softly bit on his lower lip, making a moan escape from his lips and that was it: now you were wet for sure and he broke away from the kiss, looking at you with lustful eyes.

"Tell me what you want," he said, his voice deeper than usual.

"I just want you," you admitted, placing a hand on his chest. It trailed down to the end of his shirt. 

"Then I'll show you how much I want you too," he reclined his seat a little and gestured for you to come sit on his lap. You obeyed and immediately felt him through his pants. He was already half hard for sure.

"So fucking beautiful," he took a strand of your hair between his fingers, then putting his hand at the back of your head to pull you closer so he could kiss you. He slid his hand down your waist, making its way under your shorts. His other hand cupped one of your boobs through your tank top. You whimpered and put your hands around his biceps, feeling his muscles flexing under them.

His lips were so rough against yours that it added an edge of excitement to the moment. You were completely lost in this touch, his hand was back out of your shorts and was settled on your hip. His other one was sliding down your sides, feeling your curves.

"You're going to drive me insane," you hummed against his lips and rolled your hips a little, making him groan and pull you away from the kiss. "Touch yourself, baby," he commanded, moving one hand to grab your ass and squeezing it.

"What?" You asked with a small voice, unsure of what he meant by this.

"I want to see you touching yourself," he clarified, his voice as rough as his touch. A hand under your top now, he found your nipple and teasingly brushed against it. You reacted to it, pulling yourself closer to him, and you nodded, spreading your thighs a little. You slid a hand under your shorts and panties, reaching your clit immediately.

His hand finally pinched your nipple and it earned him a moan from you. "That's it, baby," he breathed. "You look so fucking hot."

You hummed again, rubbing small circles on your clit as you absorbed everything he told you.

"So obedient. You like being my good girl? Like touching yourself for me?

- Yeah," you moaned as your hips bucked up, looking down at him.

"Tell me more," he demanded. He wanted you to beg for him, to show him just how much power he held over you.

"I like being your good girl, only yours," you said, pulling the fabric of your panties and shorts to the side so he could have a glimpse at what was going on under your clothes.

"You're such a tease," he teasingly traced a finger along your wet folds. "Look at how wet you are for me."

You whimpered and stopped touching yourself for him to take over. Your hands went back to his biceps. 

"Do you like being teased?" He asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He continued teasing your pussy, ignoring how you tried getting away due to how sensitive you had gotten.

"No," you closed your thighs around his hand. 

"Yes, you do," he said, leaning in to kiss you like a hungry man. His free hand squeezed your breasts, pinching your hardened nipple as he started rubbing on your clit. You moaned against his lips, spreading your thighs for him to touch you better as you tugged at the sleeves of his shirt.

With a low chuckle, he pushed your panties to the side more and slid a finger into your sloppy hole, immediately finding your g spot. "Want me to make you cum?" He assumed you were already ready for a second finger, so he slid another one inside you.

"Yes, please. Please," you breathed out, getting used to his fingers inside you. 

"That's it," he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of you. "Feels good?" He asked, placing hot kisses over your neck as he continued with the right amount of pressure and speed.

"Good," you agreed, lifting his shirt up a little so you could have a look at his toned abs, finally touching the skin. That made him groan again, his fingers digging deeper into you as you touched every inch of his chest. Once your hand reached lower, his hips grinded against it slightly, and you didn't waste another second before unzipping his pants and cupping his dick through his boxers.

He moaned, his hips grinding a little more against your palm. "You're so hot,"

You moaned when his finger brushed against a certain spot inside you and it made you squeeze his cock a little. He lifted himself up a little so you could slide his pants and boxers down a little. Christopher's breath hitched a little and his eyes locked with yours, filled with lust and anticipation. "Fuck."

"Want you inside me, Chris. Please?" You asked, pumping his dick slowly to spread his precum all over his shaft.

"Alright, baby," he hissed a little at your touch. "If that's what you want. But I can't guarantee I'll be gentle," he warned, guiding himself to your entrance once your hand had left him. You nodded and pushed yourself down on his dick a little so his tip was already inside you. You moaned and put a hand on the back of the seat for support as you sunk down painfully slowly.

Christopher lost some of his patience and grabbed your hips harshly, thrusting into you sharply without warning. You gasped and threw your head back, feeling the stretch of his dick clearly. It hurt for sure, but you didn't say anything. He knew to give you some time to get used to him. He brought you closer and started kissing your neck. "Told you I can't be gentle," he mumbled as he softly nibbled at your skin.

"Can move," you said, rolling your hips against him. He moaned and guided you, giving a small slap at your ass as you rode him. It was your first time, but by Christopher's moans, you guessed you did good, and you found the hem of his shirt to tug at it. 

He got the hint and quickly got it off, throwing it at the back of the car, completely forgetting about it and giving his complete attention to you. Your hands quickly found their way to his upper chest, pawing at the skin. "Fuck, Chris," you moaned against his ear.

His eyes rolled back as you touched him and moaned in his ear that way, picking up the pace of your movements as he guided you on him. "Yeah, feel good, baby? Like having sex with older men? They're better at it, right? They have more experience… I know what's good for you," his lips trailed down your collarbones, and you moved so he could mouth your boob through your top. He softly bit, making your back arch and you lost control of yourself, becoming unstable on top of him.

He cursed and held your hips up, now he was the one pounding up into you at a rapid and rough pace. Everytime his pelvis met your clit, it sent waves of pleasures throughout your whole body and you felt yourself coming closer to your orgasm.

"Shit, gonna cum," he said in a whisper almost and you moaned in response. "Gonna cum soon too, baby?

- Yeah," you agreed and rubbed your clit as he continued thrusting into you. Both of your movements became sloppy and right when he was about to release, he pulled out of you and fucked his own fist until he came all over his stomach. With that vise in front of you, your orgasm hit you fast and your hips stuttered above him as he was still riding his own orgasm out.

"Fuck," you whimpered and collapsed on him. You were both panting heavily and he was now stroking your hair softly.

"Y/n, you're fucking crazy," he said and you laughed.

___

One of my fav chapters frfr

[staraxiaa]

in your silence

pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn! reader content : angst, implied character death, aged up, pro hero collection: lacuna | work one of three

Katsuki is five when they tell him that he’ll be hard of hearing for the rest of his life.

He is five, then, and it's not by much: a few intonations that he can’t hear as well as the others, and even fewer that he can’t hear at all. The inevitable byproduct of his Quirk usage, they tell him, no matter how controlled he is, nor how careful.

He is older, now, and the remnants of this childhood recklessness have never quite gone away. It's worsened, too, though not by much; not enough to hold him back, and not enough that it warrants more of an obvious problem. And it doesn't matter, he tells himself, because it has never and will never make him any less of a hero, because he is already fully functional in all the ways that do.

But when he gets the call, the silence is all he can think of or hear.

Not the sound of the villain's voice, loud and incessant, but the silence of yours. The space between his head and his thoughts⏤ I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you, I’LL KILL YOU⏤ he’s screaming down the line, louder than he ever has for anything, but all he can hear is the space between your breaths, despite how slow, how quiet you try to make them. 

There is a hand on his shoulder he cannot feel, a red-haired man before him he cannot see. Wind, too, as he blasts through the world, faster than he has before, faster than he should. On the other side of the line, you breathe, and he would know the sound of it, blind and in the dark, because despite how slow and quiet you try to make them, you have never been able to hide this from him. He knows the sound of you, your laughs and your sorrows and your fears, your terror and your resignation.

He is screaming down the line, but you know just as well as he does that this time, he will not make it in time to hold you. 

He hears the silence of your shared apartment, he hears the silence on the other side of the bed. He hears the silence after a long shift, he hears the silence in the kitchen, in the living room, and in the quiet hours, long into the dead of night. 

“I love you, Katsuki,” You say.

He is screaming down the line, but all he can hear is the silence of it, the silence that comes after, on the other side, a silence that rings loud in the carved-out absence of your voice.

The silence of his world, bereft of you.

wc: 447

[a-d-nox]

hello there can we please have something about human designs and how to decipher them ? Thanks

human design: the five types

i have being doing some reading on the subject so we can talk about it here and learn together!

manifestor

motor center: ego, solar plexus, root

defined: throat

undefined: sacral

keywords: rare, impulsive, self-made, powerful, energetic, powerful, driven, frustrated, influential, self-absorbed, successful, lone-wolf, impatient, mysterious, secretive, etc.

mission: more communication, less asking for permission - tell people what you are doing. this works the other way for people dealing with manifests - don't ask them, tell them.

trends in relationships: they often can't finish what they start (they need to do things when they have a burst of energy), their mind tends to move faster than their mouth does (they tend to miscommunicate/under-communicate), they don't tend to slow down for others (they end up alone because their focus is on a task instead of a team), etc. these people don't need others for growth and often find themselves alone.

how to manage a manifestor: set boundaries and let them rein free within them. trying to quiet them causes them to become angry/tense - instead let them talk/be frustrated. you don't even really have to actively listen or comment in their rants its more so letting them have the space to express their thoughts/emotions that matters.

generator

motor center: solar plexus

defined: sacral

undefined: possibly the throat

keywords: everyday, consistent, sustainability, sexually magnetic, high energy, masterful, self-aware, easily frustrated by life, quick to quit, slow and steady wins the race, morning bird, focused, yes or no answers, etc.

mission: pause; these people tend to jump the gun. it is very important they take a pause before doing something too rashly. it is likely to make them anxious, but it will be better they wait then do something and regret it.

trends in relationships: they are meant to be with others. they have to engage with others to grow. however, it is unlikely that they will make the first move in any of their relationships. they need signs of interest in order to try anything / make a move.

how to manage a generator: they shouldn't be told what to do. they should be coaxed to do a would you rather and pick the one that interests them most. make sure they are well rested and they will be just fine.

manifesting generator

motor center: solar plexus that connects to throat

defined: sacral

undefined: -

keywords: energetic, doer, getting the job done, finds the shortcut, multitasker, self-aware, angry, easily frustrated, rushes, "make it happen", impatient, lacks follow through, quick, scattered, etc.

mission: visualize. inform. respond. inform and respond are basically the combo of the manifestor and the generator missions. visualizing is the new mission here - they have to know what it is they are chasing in order to catch it.

trends in relationships: take an adventure this these people - disappear for hours at a time to spark creativity. like a generator they are not supposed to be told what to do but rather they need would you rather questions to make headway and get things done.

how to manage a manifesting generator: these people need a lot of stimulation- they are very go-go-go energied so just let them do their thing. let them do a lot physically and mentally so they can properly deplete their energy daily. they need freedom to do what they want, so do your best to not get in their way - let them experience new things don't stress over it being the wrong move. they need to learn for themselves what is good and bad for them. try to make it their idea and not solely yours.

projector

motor center: solar plexus

defined: -

undefined: sacral

keywords: manager, guide, direct, sees the bigger picture, wise, insightful, intuitive, magnetic, attractive, focused, lazy, sensitive, lacks self awareness, bitter, misunderstood, lacks work ethic, playful, etc.

mission: wait to be recognized/invited. these people often feel unheard and as though they are never really acknowledged. so it is important to wait until they have full attention before sharing - what they have to say is worthwhile.

trends in relationships: they have a hard time knowing themselves and their needs though they can often see others and know them. they don't need tons of friends but rather they just need a few great ones and a partner who has time to listen to them and be present. strange as it may sound in this generation but in a relationship, they sleep best when they have their own bed.

how to manage a projector: give them recognition - ask them to share and you will be pleasantly surprised. whatever you do, don't ignore them it just leads to them getting frustrated and saying something that will cause you to listen.

reflector

motor center: -

defined: -

undefined: all

keywords: very rare, the 1%, talkative, passionate, unique, peaceful, prosperous, highly sensitive, easily disappointed, needs consistency, struggles with grounding, clingy, "right place right time", honor, valued, value system, sympathetic/empathetic, etc.

mission: wait. they are lunar beings so it is important to wait 28 days to make sure that they are doing what they truly want. if they don't, then they are often very disappointed by the outcome. if they do wait, they should talk with others before acting.

trends in relationships: they need support and consistency. they are easily disappointed in relationships because one of these areas are lacking. it is equally important that they get alone time so they can shake off the energy they stored from others. they are sensual beings so touch is big for them - a hug goes a long way.

how to manage a reflector: they just need a good environment - somewhere stable and consistent (that goes for the people in that environment too). so value them and their boundaries and everything will be smooth.

like what you read? leave a tip and state what post it is for! please use my "suggest a post topic" button if you want to see more human design posts.

click here for the masterlist

click here for more human design posts

© a-d-nox 2024 all rights reserved

[starberryfarms]

𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐨𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫: warmth

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.1 𝐤

You shiver when you feel the chilly breeze break through your sleeping bag. You curl into yourself hoping that you could trap some heat in, but your attempt to retain some semblance of warmth was futile. You turn over to see that Laios was not too far from you snuggled into his own sleeping bag snoring softly. He looked so peaceful as he laid there, and you had to get near him before you practically froze to death.

“Hey…Laios…” You whisper not trying to wake the whole party up. You shake him softly to try and wake him, to which he groans and turns over. You shuffle and rub your hands over your arms trying to generate some kind of heat. You were contemplating whether you should go back and risk frostbite, or try and wake him again. 

You decided to give it one more shot as you squat down to shake him again, but harder this time. You say his name a little bit louder. Laios sits up abruptly ready to attack, thinking he was awoken for an emergency. “What happened?” He groggily looks around for a threat that isn’t there. He looks you over to make sure that you are okay, his hands softly grabs your face checking for injury.

 “What’s wrong?” He looks you over and notices your shiver and the small sniffles.

“I’m dying of frostbite.” You dramatically whine as you pull your blanket tighter around your form. Laios chuckles as he gets up without a word and grabs both of your sleeping bags. You watch as he drags both the bags a safe distance from everyone else. You silently follow him confused as to what he was doing. He looks back and grabs your hands and pulls you down to lay with him.

“If you wanted to sleep with me, that's all you had to say.” He jokes as he gets in his sleeping bag,  he folds yours up to use as a pillow for his head. He holds his arms open silently telling you to get in with him. You waste no time getting in beside him and snuggling deep into his warmth.

He jumps when your cold body comes in contact with his own. “Oh my gods, why didn’t you wake me up sooner?” His hands rub up and down your arms hoping the friction will help warm you up faster

“Because you sleep like a rock.” You huff as you try to bury yourself into him, desperate to encapsulate yourself in his warmth. You snuggle your face into his neck, you can feel him tremble when your cold nose grazes across his skin. You already felt warmer being so close to him, he wraps the blanket around you and grasps your hands between his own. His hands bundled up your own, lending warmth with puffs of air heated by his lungs.

You shiver again, but this time not from the cold. Being this close to Laios always made you dizzy, being in his presence made you giddy. His eyes look you over, as his hands continue to try and bring your body temperature back up.

“How are you feeling?” He kisses your fingers and tucks them between your bodies to keep them from the frigid air. You smile softly at the action as you pull your head back to look into his eyes. You could stare into them all day if you were given the chance. Those same captivating eyes look at you with slight worry, with the current state you’re in.

“Much better now…Though I’m still a little cold.” You say with a slightly suggestive tone, hidden in your words. Your eyes glance down to his lips, they are slightly chapped from the cold. There wasn’t much room for alone time, with the current search for Falin going on. You had your priorities straight, you understood the importance of finding her, but it didn’t make you miss your time with Laios any less. 

Laios looks at you with worry, taking your empty words to heart. His hands come up to try and warm you up again. You chuckle as you listen to him mumble his worries, your hand reaches up and lays softly on his cheek, the other resting over his heart. He looks up to meet your eyes, now understanding what you were really trying to convey to him. You can feel his heart fluttering rapidly, your own matching the beat of his.  

He leans closer and his nose brushes softly against your own, his hands sneak under your shirt to caress your back. His warm hands burn into your skin as he pulls you closer, no space left between your bodies. You shudder at the feeling of his callused hands against the sensitive skin of your bare back. 

“Laios…” you whisper desperately and that’s all it takes for his lips to capture your own. The kiss is soft and languid as he rubs his hands across the expanse of your back.  His stubble scratches you as your lips move against his own. You sigh happily as he pulls away, elated from his touch. Moments like these in the dungeon were rare.

As your eyes flutter open, he is already looking down at you with a dopey smile on his face. His cheeks flushed red, despite the biting weather. He leans back down to smother you in small pecks all over your face. You squeal as his hands squeeze your sides, he laughs quietly at your squirms. 

“How was that?” He chuckles. His breathing still slightly labored from the kiss. He takes a hand and feels your nose and hands.

“I’m definitely feeling warmer. That’s for sure.” 

You move your hand to grab his own, your fingers no longer cold to the touch anymore. Your sniffles have long since stopped as your body temperature rose back to a normal state, though Laios was still concerned about you getting sick.

“Maybe in the morning, I can see if Senshi can make some kind of soup… There aren’t many walking mushrooms left though.” You lay with your head now on his chest as you listen to him as he tries to remember if there was enough supplies left. His hand still pursuing your back, his nails softly scratching the skin. Your body tingles at the feeling and he turns to look down at you.

“Are you still cold?”

“Nope that was all you this time” You snuggle deeper into him as your eyes grow heavy.

“Can you talk about monsters? It helps me fall asleep.” Though it bothered everyone else, you loved his love for monsters, and all the little facts that came along with it.

He smiles brightly before rambling on about the monsters and the facts he knew about them. His chest rumbles with words that don’t meet your ears as you drift off to sleep.When he realizes you’ve fallen asleep, sure that you are no longer freezing. He closes his eyes as well, dreaming of the meal you’ll both share tomorrow. 

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 <3 !

© starberryfarms 2024 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ] 

[diyasgarden]

Being Art Donaldson's girlfriend at Stanford when he is still madly in love with Tashi...

I'll never forget how stupid in love I felt / I'll always regret how I couldn't ever tell

You're head over heels for him. You met him during your first couple months at the school, and were instantly enamored. He could tell, because shortly after meeting he asked you out. Before you knew it, you were in a relationship. In retrospect maybe his eagerness to be with you should have raised concerns. Maybe it should have indicated he was trying to push someone else out of his mind. You never realized it during that time. You were too happy to. Even years after you break up, this always makes you feel stupid. How could you have not seen?

That you walked a little faster, left me behind / Kissed me with somebody else in mind

You vividly remember the moment you met Tashi. While he had brought her up once or twice (always in passing, always about tennis), you only actually met her months after you got together. With the time clarity has given you, you realize he probably kept both of you apart on purpose. You met her by accident, running into her on campus while walking with Art. You could tell what he felt for her, from just the way he looked at her. The way he tried to be in step with her when they walked. You knew it the moment you saw them both interact. Your boyfriend was in love with Tashi Duncan. Nothing about your relationship would feel the same again.

I loved you so much / That I settled for less

You knew the truth. You knew he didn't love you. At least not in the way he loved Tashi, but did it matter? You loved him. Couldn't that be enough? That's what you told yourself for the rest of your relationship. It never felt like those first couple months anymore. His behavior hadn't changed. He still treated you the same, but with knowing what he felt for Tashi it felt hollow. You realized it wasn't enough. You stayed regardless.

Oh, you were my everything / I was your second best, mm

It's been years since then. You're older and wiser, but your heart still aches for the girl you were. A girl so in love with Art Donaldson that she didn't leave the minute she learned he was in love with someone else. It wasn't surprising when he broke up with you after her injury. By then you knew the relationship was doomed from the start. He always loved Tashi. He may have been your world, but you were just a place holder. It's been five years since then, but you still think of him. You think of the relationship and feel silly and stupid and wish you could change the past, but you know you'd do the same thing all over again. Regardless, It's no surprise when you see the news of his marriage to Tashi. It was always going to end like this anyway.

[starryeyedjanai]

counting the days till i'm coming home

lake monster steve fic steddie | Explicit | part 1 of 4 | read on ao3

The first time Eddie stumbles across the monster in Lover’s Lake is right after he fails senior year for the second time.

He doesn't know it’s the monster everyone talks about at first—because no one has ever really seen it.

People only talk about how there’s something in the lake, something that sometimes pulls people under, something that’s been there since before Eddie was even born.

He’s sitting at the edge of the lake—just watching it ripple, thinking about how he’s probably going to be stuck here, in Hawkins, for the rest of his life—when he sees something moving out of the corner of his eye.

His head snaps over to look—because for as long as he’s been coming out here to Rick’s, he’s never seen anyone in the lake.

But there’s someone in there now.

This guy, he’s almost ethereal looking—smooth tan skin, hair slicked back from the water.

“What are you doing in there?” he asks before he can stop himself.

The boy looks up at him, his eyes lighting up. He swims over to Eddie—he’s fast, probably faster than anyone on the swim team even.

“Hi,” he says after he stops a handful of feet in front of Eddie.

“Hi,” Eddie says, almost breathless.

He’s even more gorgeous up close, with his full mouth and doe eyes and moles dotting his face and neck and shoulders.

“What are you doing in there?” he asks again.

“What do you mean?” the boy asks.

“People say there’s a monster in the lake. You should be careful.”

A smile tugs at the boy’s mouth as he says, “People say a lot of things. But nothing’s ever happened to me when I swim here.”

Eddie nods. People say all kinds of shit, so he isn't surprised that the monster in Lover’s Lake is probably just a myth that got repeated too many times.

“I’m Eddie,” he says, wondering where this guy came from. He doesn't recognize him from school—he’d remember a face like that—so he must be visiting relatives or something over the summer.

“I’m Steve,” he says, drifting a little closer. “You should come in the water sometime. It’s nice.”

Eddie smiles. “Maybe sometime. Not exactly dressed for it right now though,” he says, a little ruefully, looking down at his jeans.

He kind of wishes he had the confidence to strip down to his briefs and dive into the water, feel its cool touch on his overly warm skin. He’s been sitting out here a while now—and now that he thinks about it, he doesn't remember hearing a splash when Steve got into the water. He must have really been distracted by his thoughts.

Steve shrugs and wades back further into the lake. “I’m here all the time, so if you ever decide to come in, I’ll find you.”

Those words haunt Eddie after he leaves the lake, after watching Steve disappear under the surface and not seeing where he popped back up.

He sees Steve in his dreams that night, whispering the words I’ll find you over and over as he reaches out as if to touch Eddie, but the touch never lands on him. He spends the entire dream craving that touch, wanting it, but never getting it—just listening to him tell him he’ll find him.

He wakes up in a daze, thoughts only on the boy in the lake—his voice, his hair, the way his skin looked in the sunlight.

He slips a hand in his boxers and he isn't surprised to feel how wet he is. The dream was confusing and weird, but craving someone’s touch isn't new.

There have only ever been a handful of guys here in Hawkins that he’s been attracted to, but he’s always only ever crushed on them from afar. There’s no way he’d risk the wrath of some backwater jock by hitting on him.

There’s something alluring about Steve though, even though from what little Eddie’s seen of him probably suggests that he’s also a jock. But he’s not from here. There’s something about that that makes it less scary, thinking about approaching him, asking him if he wants to fool around.

Worst thing that could happen is that he gets the shit kicked out of him and can't go to Lover’s Lake for the rest of the summer. But Steve will be gone back to wherever he came from come September. A guy like him has probably got plans for college already neatly lined up, swimming scholarship or whatever sport he plays that makes him almost inhumanly fast in the water.

So he thinks about it as he touches himself. Thinks about going back to the lake and finding him there, waiting for Eddie.

I knew you’d come back, he’d say when Eddie dove into the lake.

Eddie imagines being brave enough to wade close enough to feel the heat of Steve's skin.

He’d say something like I came back for you or something equally as cheesy.

Eddie fucks two fingers into his cunt, the palm of his hand grinding against his dick as he thinks about Steve reaching out just like in his dream, but this time actually touching him.

He thinks he’d probably gasp at the first touch of Steve's fingers grazing his skin, touching his tits, thumbing at his nipples.

His breathing picks up as he thinks about Steve's hand slipping between his thighs, touching him like he’s touching himself now.

Maybe he’d spin him around and let him feel the expanse of his chest pressed against his back as he touches Eddie’s dick with deft fingers.

He’d press them tight together so Eddie could feel how hard he is for him, just for him.

Maybe he’d take him like that, right there in the lake for anyone walking by to see. He’d press inside him, stretching him out on his cock until Eddie's eye crossed from the pressure building inside him.

Maybe he’d turn Eddie's chin with his free hand and kiss him, slow and deep as he fucks into him from behind.

Eddie comes with his fist pressed against his mouth to keep the noises from spilling out as he clenches around his fingers, riding it out.

He sinks boneless into his sheets, still thinking about warm brown eyes and big hands all over his body.

chapter 2

[ckret2]

Chapter 44 of human Bill Cipher wishing he was trapped in the Mystery Shack again:

The Eclipse: Part 2

Gravity is disappearing, and to find out why, Ford's inspecting the sites where the fabric of spacetime might have been damaged by Weirdmageddon. Dipper's glad to come along.

Bill really, really, really isn't.

"I am genuinely offering you helpful advice, that also happens to be self-serving because you idiots wouldn't trust me if I claimed I was being charitable anyway," Bill went on, as he'd been going on for the past five minutes. "This isn't a trick! I'm not running a con! I'm completely serious: being outside during an eclipse is the stupidest thing you could do. You don't want to watch it, I want to watch it even less, staying inside is mutually beneficial!"

"Do you think I should have brought my camera?" Dipper asked, determinedly ignoring Bill as he trailed behind them.

"What for?" Ford asked, also ignoring Bill.

"I've been trying to expand my Guide to the Unexplained series this summer—I've been doing longer episodes, a couple of them are ten minutes—but I wasn't sure if we'd see anything cool and my backpack was already heavy..."

"Hmm. I suspect either there won't be anything worth seeing—or, if there is, we'll be far too busy dealing with it to record footage."

"Yeah," Dipper sighed, "I guess you're right."

"This is why my journals have more illustrations than photographs."

Bill let out a loud groan of frustration before jogging to catch up with the humans. He checked the trail ahead to make sure he wasn't about to trip, then turned to walk sideways, facing Dipper and Ford as they walked. "Okay, fine, you win. So, just to be clear—the only reason you two are dragging me out here is to check a few locations for these imaginary 'micro-rips' you think are shredding the fabric of reality apart. Right? As soon as we've checked the three places you want, it's over, you admit you were wrong, and we go back to the shack?"

"Yes, Cipher," Ford sighed. "Once we've checked those locations, if we can't find evidence that any of the areas of most concern are near the one hundred thousand micro-rip danger threshold, we'll go home. Since dimensional rips could pop up anywhere around Gravity Falls, there's a possibility there could be clusters over the danger threshold away from the three areas of concern, but with no way to guess where they might be—"

"Fine. Then let's get this over with," Bill said. "Totality is in two days, if we're back home by tomorrow night we'll still avoid it. But if you try to drag me outside again after we get back, I'm hitting everyone with the Amnesia Limina curse and nobody's going outside."

With that threat delivered, Bill cartwheeled ahead of the humans, landed on his feet, and bounded ahead in long moonwalking lopes.

"Any idea why gravity's going down faster for him than the rest of town?" Dipper asked.

"Only that, if there are rips opening between us and the Nightmare Realm, perhaps they're giving Bill back some of his powers," Ford said. "Perhaps his powers are stored in the Nightmare Realm. Although I don't know how that would work." It was a better explanation than Bill's claim that he could just float better than humans, anyway.

The bracelet around Dipper's wrist momentarily tightened as Bill reached the far end of his invisible tether, then loosened as Dipper continue forward; and then tightened a second time, and a third time. From up the trail, Bill shouted, "Would you hurry up!" 

"You slow down! Some of us still have to walk!"

But even so, the slowly decreasing gravity was making the hike noticeably easier. Their backpacks sat lighter on their shoulders, and each stride seemed to carry them a little higher and farther than they expected. They startled a deer, and then the deer startled itself with how high it jumped.

"On second thought, it might not be a good idea to take him back to the shack while this is going on," Ford said. "Even if there aren't enough micro-rips in the basement, I'm not wholly convinced it won't end up the epicenter of whatever's about to happen. And if Bill wants so badly to be so close to it..."

From further up the trail, Bill shouted, "If you were any more paranoid, you'd be asking your own shadow why it's following you!"

"If you had access to any more of your powers, you'd be possessing my shadow!"

"Ha!" Bill had stopped to perch on a fallen tree that on any other day would have been far too slender to hold an adult's weight, balanced on it like a tightrope, and waited there for the others to catch up. "Fine, we don't need to go back to the shack, whatever makes you happy! As long as we get inside. Stanley's camper, a motel room, the old Corduroy cabin—hey, the Northwest place is pretty empty these days, isn't it? Is Specs renting out rooms, or...?"

"I am not taking you to Northwest Manor," Ford said. "Fiddleford's had enough trouble without letting you into his life again." Although that was only one of several reasons Ford wanted to keep them apart. For Fiddleford's safety, they couldn't risk Bill finding out that Fiddleford had been told his identity; and, now that Bill had confessed he could see through walls, they couldn't give him a chance to peer through the manor's walls and discover the ongoing paradox fuel synthesis project.

Bill laughed in disbelief. "Oh now you're concerned about somebody else's wellbeing, when it's his—fine! Fine, fine, fine! That's just fine! That's great! Terrific!" He hopped off his perch. "No evidence of self-preservation and let's not even think about respecting the triangle's wishes, but when the hillbilly might be in imaginary danger—!"

"That 'hillbilly' is one of the most brilliant men alive and the best friend I've ever known—"

"Ha!" Angrily, Bill yelled, "Some best friend, he erased you straight out of his head! You don't even know what a best friend is!"

Ford winced—he knew he'd never been much of a friend back to Fiddleford—but while he was gearing himself up to defend himself against whatever accusation Bill lobbed next, Bill turned away from the humans and stormed up the trail, leaving them behind as the weaving path took him behind several trees.

Every couple of steps, Dipper's bracelet twitched against his wrist as Bill tried to get even further ahead and was thwarted. He chuckled. "Do you think you touched a nerve?"

The corner of Ford's mouth quirked up; but he shook his head. "He's just mad he's not getting his way. As usual."

####

"I take it this is our first destination," Bill said, hands planted on his hips, looking around the forest. "This looks like the area where Shooting Star gave me the rift."

Dipper said, "You mean the place where you tricked—"

Bill shoved Dipper's hat down over his eyes. "Anyway, that aside, all the glued-shut wormholes and this are a bigger hint." He tapped the tip of one dress shoe—dusty after a walk in the woods—at the start of a long crevasse in the ground weaving through the trees.

"Yes," Ford said distractedly, taking his micro-rip scanner out of his backpack and turning it on. "This is the place." He took an initial reading, frowned, and followed the crevasse deeper into the woods.

Bill trailed along after him, gesturing at the jagged lines of bending light hanging in the air. "You did a terrible repair job, by the way. Stretching the edges of the rips to meet like that puts more stress on the reality in between the rips. You should have sutured them and let them heal naturally," Bill said. "If there are a bunch of tiny rips in the area, your own shoddy work probably caused them."

"Mm-hm," Ford said, fully focused on the scanner.

Bill's shoulders slumped. He hopped to the other side of the crack in the earth from Ford and strode ahead purposefully, ignoring him.

He glanced at a wooden sign staked next to the crack, nearly passed it, and did a double take. The sign read "MABEL'S FAULT". Bill laughed in surprise. "Who did this?"

"What—?" Dipper caught up and saw the sign. "Oh."

####

2012

Mabel's smile faded as she entered the clearing. "Oh. I... think this is the place where—Bill tricked me in Blarblar's body."

"Guess that explains all the rips in this area," Dipper said. He patted Mabel's back.

She looked down—and spotted the new crack in the ground. She gasped, immediately latching on to the distraction. "Hey, what's that! That wasn't here before!" She knelt next to the crack and peered inside. "Whoa!"

"Huh. Maybe it opened up when the rift broke?"

"How deep do you think it goes?" Mabel hopped back up, straddled the gap, and yelled down into it, "Hello!"

"Careful," Dipper said. "What if it's unstable?"

"We should give it a name," Mabel said. "It's a new geographic feature! We can put it on maps and be famous! What'll we call it?"

"Huh." Dipper stroked his chin. "Well... it looks kind of like a miniature fault line... and you were here when it formed, so I guess that kinda means you discovered it... so maybe... 'Mabel's Fault'...?"

Mabel stared at him.

Dipper's eyes widened in horror. "Oh. Ohh no."

Mabel bit her lip.

"I didn't mean it that way! I swear I didn't mean it that way—"

"Dipper!" Mabel cracked up. "We're calling it that."

"No," Dipper said, mortified. "Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. Please please don't—"

"Grunkle Staaan, Grunkle Fooord!" Mabel took off toward where they'd last seen their grunkles. "Did you hear what Dipper said—!"

"I'm sorryyy!"

####

2013

Dipper cringed. "Look, I didn't hear it until I said it out loud, okay—"

Bill burst out in shrill cackles.

"I didn't mean it!"

"Y-you're the worst brother ever!"

Dipper groaned, contemplated climbing down into the fault, and instead settled for pulling his hat down over his face again.

Ford passed by with the scanner, shot Bill a suspicious sideways look, and demanded, "What's so funny?"

Still laughing, Bill gestured at the "MABEL'S FAULT" sign.

"Oh." Ford glanced at Dipper, fought not to smile at the poor kid's embarrassment—he'd gotten enough teasing last summer—and said, "Right." He moved on.

"Hey," Bill called, "What's the score?"

Ford paused, but didn't reply.

"Well?" Bill pressed. "You're already past where the rift broke! Don't you figure that's where the most rips would be?"

Ford said, "The scanner's detecting about fourteen thousand."

Bill whistled. He meandered back to Ford's side of the fault. "Sounds like a lot. I'm telling you, the wormholes in this place should've been sutured, that's what your problem is."

"It is a lot," Ford said brusquely. He hesitated. "But."

"But?" Bill prompted.

"But... it's less than a fifth of what we'd expect to see if the fabric of reality were falling apart."

"Wow. Let me pretend to be surprised." Bill made zero effort to look surprised. "That's because the fabric of reality isn't falling apart. You idiot."

Ford glared at his scanner silently.

"You fool," Bill tried. "You buffoon."

Ford rounded furiously on him. "The more you say it's nothing, the more you just convince me that you're lying!"

"Which is stupid! If you always assume I'm lying, how do you know I'm not saying 'it's nothing' to trick you into thinking it's something when it isn't!"

"I don't know! There's no way to know with you! That's why I'm checking with a scanner!" Ford pointed aggressively at the scanner. "Because I'm a scientist!"

"You're a pretty pathetic scientist if you refuse to listen when the expert on a topic tells you what's—"

"—maybe if the self-proclaimed 'expert' weren't a mythomaniac—"

"Guys," Dipper said tiredly. "You've had this argument three times. Can we move on?"

Ford closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "Right."

"No," Bill said. "Not until I win it."

"Can it, Bill." Ford glanced toward the sky to orient himself, looked around for the path through the trees, and started walking. "Come on. Next site—the place where the rift closed."

Bill clenched his jaw. Under his breath, he muttered, "As if I've ever done anything in my life to make me look untrustworthy..." He glanced up as well—and his gaze lingered on the sky much longer than Ford's.

####

"So I was thinking about what we could do after this," Dipper said, looking hopefully up at Ford.

It took a moment for Ford to drag himself out of his thoughts and look at Dipper. "Yes? You mean after..."

"After the ecl—" Dipper winced, "the... rips get sealed, or whatever's going on." He'd pulled out his journal and was holding it hopefully. "Maybe... I could show you the research I've been doing on the Fremont Nightwigglers? I think they've been stealing pants in town."

He gave Dipper a little more attention. "Is this one of their migration years?" 

"Yeah, I think so! One was caught on a security camera—or at least what looks like one. Here." Dipper flipped open to the two-page spread he was currently working on and held it up for Ford to inspect.

He studied the pictures, smiling slightly. "Would you look at that. Very impressive research. I only experienced one migration during my time in Gravity Falls, and they'd all but moved on by the time I caught wind of it. Never even saw one—I had to interview the townspeople to get a description of them."

"Really? I don't remember seeing them in your journals."

"Ah, they never made it in. I was focused on compiling magical spells and artifacts for Journal 2 at the time. I took some notes with the thought of putting them in Journal 1, but never felt like I'd collected enough information to write about them—especially when I hadn't witnessed one myself," Ford said. "You've already collected more here than I ever did. I wasn't even sure they were real!"

Dipper's face lit up. "Really? It's not that much—I still haven't found one yet either, it's mostly interviews about the crime spree."

"It's more real investigative work than I did on them. I only got as far as asking a couple of people at the diner to describe the local stories. You've got the dates and times they've been hitting the stores."

"I guess so." Dipper beamed proudly. "I haven't heard any 'local stories' about them, though. I only recognized them from a documentary I saw on Californian cryptids."

"That might be the Blind Eye's handiwork. Everyone recognized the name when I lived here. I'll see if I can dig up the notes I took, you might find the information valuable," Ford said. "I'm not sure where I left them, but they're probably still somewhere in my study."

"Scrapbook in your study on the top right corner of your desk," Bill said. "Under the box of glue bottles. You're welcome."

Ford threw him an irritated look. Bill had gotten ahead of them while Ford was looking at Dipper's journal, and now he was crouched beside a creek, scooping up handfuls of water, momentarily inspecting them, and letting them spill back out. The eye on the hood stared balefully up at Ford from Bill's back.

Ford asked, "What in the world are you doing."

"Communing with the dread harbingers of the coming eclipse," Bill said flatly. "You can't see them of course, they're invisible to you."

"Of course." Ford muttered, "I don't know why I bother to ask."

Under his breath, Bill mumbled, "Don't know why he bothered to ask."

Ford studied the creek and checked his map. They were hiking east toward the lake, with the town to their south and the cliff to the north; the creek ran north to south in front of them. On the other side of the creek, southeast of them, was a thicker, overgrown part of the woods, the shadows between the trees darker and quieter. "This seems like a safe place to wait," Ford said. "Dipper, you stay here while I scan the next site. Keep him out of trouble."

Dipper nodded. Bill cast Ford a sullen look, then rolled his eye and looked back at the water.

"After I've checked the next spot, we'll follow the cliffside to the lake," Ford said, pointing northeast, away from the dark area of the forest. "If there's still daylight, we can take a boat behind Trembley Falls and set up camp inside the cave."

"Sounds good." Dipper looked at Bill's tiny borrowed backpack. "You... didn't bring a tent, did you."

"Sorry, do you think I have a tent to bring?" Bill asked. "Do you expect me to slide an entire tipi out of my—"

Ford interrupted, "Dipper, you brought a tent, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Then that's sufficient. You can share my tent and we'll set up Bill's as far from ours as possible. We'll be safer that way."

Bill ignored the implicit accusation with silent dignity.

Dipper nodded. "Good idea." 

"Now, let's see..." Ford studied the creek. It was much wider than he could usually jump, but under the current gravity conditions... He bounced on the balls of his feet a couple of times, testing how light he currently felt; then took a few steps back, got a running start, and with a "hup!" leaped across the creek. He cleared it by several feet and almost ran into a tree.

Dipper gasped. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, Dipper! Just... don't know my own strength." How low was gravity now, he wondered? He could see grass swaying beneath the surface of the creek. It hadn't rained lately; without as much gravity, even water was being pulled down less, letting it rise higher and flood the creek's banks. He hoped they figured out how to reverse this before the lake flooded. When they made it into the cave, they'd have to camp on high ground. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Dipper side-eyed Bill; but when he kept gazing into the water without a word, Dipper said suspiciously, "What, no complaints about camping?"

"What's there to complain about?" Bill asked.

"I don't know, you've complained about everything else so far."

"This is the only part of your expedition that isn't a terrible idea," Bill said. "I love camping! Hypothetically. The Nightmare Realm isn't known for picturesque campgrounds. But hey, I like being surrounded by trees. And a private tent? Deluxe accommodations! It's just too bad you'll be dragging the mood down."

"Hey."

Bill laughed. "You're too easy."

Dipper scowled. "You don't seem like the type to be into camping."

"Why not?"

Dipper thought about it. "Man, I dunno, you just—seem like a city person? You're always talking about how much you want to throw wild parties, that's basically the opposite of camping in the woods."

"Is it?" Bill asked. "Welcome to the cult of Dionysus."

Given what Dipper could remember about Dionysus from the book of Greek mythology he'd read in sixth grade, he supposed wild parties and hanging out in the woods weren't mutually exclusive. So what was it about Bill that made Dipper feel so strongly that he wouldn't be caught dead roughing it?

Finally, Dipper said, "I guess it's the top hat and bow tie."

"They're not a top hat and bow tie."

He gave Bill a perplexed look. "Really? What are they?"

"Did you ever read that horror story about the bride with a velvet ribbon tied in a bow around her neck, and when her new husband unties it, her head falls off her neck and bounces down the stairs—?"

Dipper shuddered. "I'm sorry I asked."

Bill laughed.

After a brief silence, he finally dragged his eyes away from the water and impressively flicked a couple of mosquitoes out of the air with a finger. (Dipper wished he could do that. His arms were coated in soothsquito bite messages. He wondered what "BURN TACK" was supposed to mean.) Bill took off his backpack, rummaged around in it, and muttered, "I should've brought a book." He looked around the bank of the creek for a patch of sunlight, pushed his sleeves and leggings up to expose as much skin as possible, and flopped down in the light, eyes shut and hands laced on his chest over the backpack.

Dipper supposed that meant he was being ignored. He took his journal back out and flipped to the section on the Nightwigglers. He'd need some empty space to add Ford's local folklore once they got home. Was there any open space in the next few pages?

"It really shouldn't be called 'Mabel's Fault,'" Bill said out of the blue. "It's not her fault. It should be called 'Bill's Fault.' I'm the one who made it, aren't I?"

Dipper lowered his journal. "Sorry, are you actually accepting blame for something? You're admitting you did something wrong?"

Bill didn't even open his eyes. "I'm not 'accepting blame,' I'm claiming credit. Weirdmageddon was great. Can't help that you're all too boring to see that."

"But you said 'Bill's Fault.' Not 'Bill's Triumph' or something."

"Sure, because we're talking about a geological fault. Don't read too deep into it, kid."

"Pff, no, you definitely said it was your fault. I can't believe Grunkle Ford missed that—"

Bill abruptly sat up. "Hey. What's the 'next site.'"

"What?"

Bill counted off on his fingers, "Six-Fingers said there are four sites you want to hit, right? The place where the rift formed, the place Weirdmageddon started, the place the rift was during Weirdmageddon, and the place Weirdmageddon ended. The rift formed at the portal—been there—Weirdmageddon started at the fault—been there—during Weirdmageddon it was in the sky—going there tomorrow—so where did Weirdmageddon end? Wasn't it in the sky too?"

"Oh," Dipper said. "It's just. Y'know. It's just a... place."

Bill gave him a sharp look.

Dipper swallowed hard. "No big deal. Just... trees and stuff."

Bill flipped up his eye patch, staring in the direction Ford had disappeared. Dipper could see the white of his eye turning red.

"Hey!" Dipper got in front of Bill, trying to block the view of the forest. "It's nothing important. You—you wouldn't even be interested. Really."

Bill just stared straight through Dipper. And then, before Dipper could react, Bill was on his feet and bolting past him. By the time Dipper turned around Bill was already across the creek, following the path Ford had taken.

"No no no, come back!" Dipper jumped the creek and sprinted after Bill, shouting, "Don't go that way, you can't go that way, Bill—"

There was a dark, quiet knot of overgrown plant life deep in the forest, as if no animals had dared visit the area for nearly a year, leaving it to choke itself on its own greenery. Bill was headed straight for the heart of it. He moved through the trees like a swimmer through underwater ruins, kicking off trunks to propel himself forward, grabbing branches to help twist his body around and between them without slowing down—more flying than running, gravity hardly seeming to touch him at all.

He barreled past Ford and his scanner without even acknowledging him. Ford gasped, "Wait—" He turned the direction Bill had come from.

Dipper was squeezing between two trees and tripped over a hidden root. "Grunkle Ford—!"

"Dipper! You still have the bracelet!" Ford pointed, "Run the other direction!"

"Right!" He turned around and squeezed back between the dense trees.

And Ford took off after Bill.

Wild brambles tore at Bill's skin and ripped at his hoodie; he ignored the pain, letting the prickles bite into him as he forced his way through the shrubs—

And then he stood in the clearing, gasping in unsteady breaths, his wide unblinking eyes staring.

In front of him, wide unblinking eye staring vacantly into the trees, was his corpse.

"Bill!" Ford fought against the brambles, trying to figure out how Bill had gotten through. "Don't touch it! We don't know what could happen—"

Bill lunged for the statue.

The bracelet snapped tight around his wrist. Bill's fingers were inches away from his corpse's outstretched hand.

Thirty feet away, Dipper's bracelet went tight while he was trying to scramble over an ancient log. He awkwardly tried to keep his balance on the log; rather than risk toppling back in Bill's direction, he flung his weight the other way, keeping the invisible thread between them taut by leaning so far over that if it weren't for the bracelet holding him up he'd fall to the forest floor.

Bill fell to his knees, clawing at the dirt and grass with his free hand and feet, desperate to drag himself closer in spite of the completely immovable bracelet.

It seemed impossible to Ford that the thin invisible thread wrenching Bill's arm back would hold him for long; Bill would sooner dislocate his own shoulder to gain those last few inches. Ford fell out of the brambles and seized one of Bill's legs. "Bill—"

Bill tried to kick Ford in the face. "You KNEW!" he shrieked. "You knew I was here this WHOLE TIME and you NEVER TOLD ME, you ANIMALS! I could have had my body back! I COULD BE HOME!"

That was exactly what Ford was afraid of. Gritting his teeth, Ford wrapped an arm around Bill's torso and the other around his neck, struggling to get enough purchase on the torn-up ground to move Bill.

Wheezing for breath, Bill tried to kick out one of Ford's knees. Ford took advantage of the split second one of Bill's feet wasn't dug in to drag him back; he only managed to move him a few inches.

But a few inches of slack on the invisible thread was enough to throw off Dipper's balance. He instinctively tried to flail back upright, overcorrected, and tumbled off the log the wrong way. "No—!"

Bill lunged out of Ford's hold, scrabbled across the last few inches to his corpse, and planted his hand on his stone face.

He froze.

Ford froze.

Nothing happened.

"N..." Bill grabbed his arm, grabbed his hand, as though trying to shake on a deal with his own body; nothing. "No." He sounded more confused than anything. "No, no, nonono..."

He hung off the statue by his grip, pressed his forehead against their joined hands. And then he let go and slowly put his trembling hand on the dead face. And then he sat there, breathing shakily, every few seconds sucking in a hitching gasp that made his shoulders jerk.

Ford gingerly got to his feet, brushed his clothes off, and looked at Bill. He didn't move for a moment; then reached for Bill's shoulder; then stopped, curled his hand into a ball, clasped it behind his back, and turned away. "Dipper," he called. "You can come back. It's..." He cast one last glance at Bill, then forced himself to look away. "It's safe."

By the time Dipper caught up, Ford had made his way back into the overgrowth, leaving Bill alone in the clearing. Dipper started, "What...?" but fell silent when he saw Ford's face. He looked past him at Bill and winced.

Ford shoved his hands in his pockets and mumbled, "We should give him..." Dipper nodded.

Bill remained kneeling for less than a minute. Then he leaned forward, used his sleeve to wipe some of the moss off of his dead eye and the bird crap off his hat and hand, and unsteadily heaved himself back to his feet. He moved like he was very, very old. He glanced over his shoulder at Ford and Dipper. "What're you two staring at." His voice sounded like somebody was attempting to strangle him and his smile looked like a zombie had pulled its skin back on wrong. "You should've said you were waiting on me. I was just..." His eyes briefly unfocused. He shook his head. "Just taking a break." His cheeks were dry. He hadn't even cried.

They stepped back as Bill wove around the brambles. Dipper swallowed hard and asked, "Are you alr—"

"Of course I am." Bill plodded mechanically toward the path out of the dense dark woods. 

Ford asked, "Do you want t—"

"What I want is to get wherever we're pitching our tents before nightfall." Bill pulled his eyepatch back in place. "You're making us camp, right?"

They had no choice. If they wanted to get to the top of Trembley Falls, reach Gravity Peak, and get back down the same day, they had to be ready to ascend in the morning. They couldn't afford to go back to the shack tonight. "Are you s—"

"What were the readings like," Bill asked.

Ford hadn't even gotten as far as taking readings around the statue; he'd still been checking the perimeter of the overgrown zone when Bill ran past. He looked for where he'd dropped his scanner, picked it up, and checked. "215 micro-rips detected. Higher than baseline levels, but—not even as high as readings around the portal."

Voice thick with venom, Bill said, "What a surprise."

When the forest had brightened again and the creek was visible, Bill turned to travel upstream alongside it. Dipper pointed across the creek at Bill's backpack. "You forgot your..."

"Right," Bill said tiredly. He hopped across the creek. 

And gasped in shock when, instead of floating across as before, he landed heavily in the middle of the creek. He squeezed his eye shut, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a long, silent inhale; and then he climbed out and grabbed his backpack. This time, he put enough force behind his jump to make it back across the creek. 

Dipper and Ford exchanged a look. Ford said, "Do you need a minute to dry—?"

"No."

"You could catch a cold in those damp—"

"I knew how germ theory works on your planet when your gill-breathing ancestors were still swimming around in their own feces," Bill snapped. "When I say 'no,' it's not because I don't understand, it's because I don't care. Don't treat me like I'm ignorant and don't act like you care."

Ford's jaw tightened. No, he didn't care. Bill accepted basic human decency as easily as he offered it. "Fine. Catch pneumonia."

"Fine!"

Ford pushed past Bill to lead the way to the lake. He tried not to notice how Bill was trembling.

####

Maybe ten minutes passed in silence before Ford worked up the nerve to say, "You—know why we didn't tell you." It was the closest he'd get to an apology.

Bill was silent for a long moment. "Of course I do." It was the closest he'd get to accepting it. "When I get my power back, I'm going to invent a very clumsy, easily startled species of bird whose feathers are scalpel blades. And then I'm unleashing a million in the shack, barricading the doors, and blowing an air horn."

Dipper grimaced. Ford muttered, "Thanks for reminding us not to feel too bad for you."

Bill let out a raw, broken laugh.

It was a very quiet hike to the edge of the lake. 

####

After spending the first half of the expedition trying to hurry Ford and Dipper up, now Bill was the anchor slowing them down. He trudged so slowly that Dipper kept having to stop to give his bracelet a little slack; but Bill kept moving, and Ford and Dipper agreed without speaking not to say anything about it.

By the time they reached the lake, the sun was just touching the rim of the mountain curling west around Gravity Falls. The water had risen so far, it flooded the roots of the trees nearest the shore. Far down the shore, distant dark dots, locals were doing cannonballs off the submerged pier, reveling in how high they could jump, how slowly they fell, and how their splashes hung suspended in the air.

Under the unusual conditions and with night coming on, Ford decided that it wasn't safe to try to set out for the cave under the falls. They'd camp on shore and start in the morning.

This, unsurprisingly, started another fight with Bill. "If we were falling behind, you should have said so, I'd have picked it up—!"

"I'm so sorry, I didn't want to imply you were too ignorant to tell the time—"

"The time isn't the issue, I just didn't think you'd give up for the night before it's even civil twilight—!"

Dipper just found a low hill to pitch his tent on.

When Bill noticed, he broke off the argument, flung his hands in the air in defeat, and crouched by the lake to sulk and study the water. He reflexively scratched his arm, pushed up his sleeve with a frown, and read the soothsquitos' message. "'Deeth in the mourning,'" he muttered. "What's deeth? That's not a word."

Maybe they'd been trying to spell teeth, Ford thought. Why would they warn Bill about teeth?

Ford pitched his tent, he and Dipper made a fire, and they attempted to reconstitute some of Ford's dehydrated astronaut food to mixed success. Bill stayed by the lake and tried to eat the cereal he'd brought, but gagged on the second handful and decided dinner wasn't worth the effort.

As Ford cleaned up after dinner, Dipper rummaged through his backpack. "Hey, Grunkle Ford. So..." He pulled out a portable chess kit. "I brought this to Gravity Falls back when I thought this would be a normal summer and I thought we might go camping? And, well, here we are, and I guess things are kiiinda weird, but, I mean... might as well...?"

Fiord smiled wanly. "I think that's just what we need to unwind."

They unrolled Dipper's canvas chess board and took several tries to set up the pieces on the uneven surface. Ford let Dipper take white; he figured the younger and less experienced player could use the advantage of going first.

Bill wandered over with a can of cider early in the match and crouched at the edge of the firelight to watch. He had rolled his sleeves back down, tied his bow tie, and flipped up his hood, and in the dimming flickering light he looked disconcertingly like his real self. He hadn't bothered to stuff his hair into his hood, and it gave the impression that some strange golden internal organs were spilling out of a gash beneath Bill's eye.

After watching for several minutes, Bill said, "Dibs on playing the winner."

Ford and Dipper said, "No."

"Why not!"

"Because we don't like you," Dipper said.

"Oh, come on." Bill ignored Dipper, turning toward Ford. "Remember how much fun we used to have?"

"I remember that you're an incorrigible cheat and made every game miserable," Ford said.

Bill reeled back. His face was hidden under the shadow of his hood, yet somehow the shadow gave off the impression of fury. He chugged half his cider, unslung his backpack, and dug around inside it. "Who wants to play against humans anyway." He unscrewed a bottle of cold medicine, topped off his cider, and poured the concoction down his throat. "Ugh. You're not even any good. Black's got mate in three and I bet neither of you can see it."

Ford and Dipper stared at the board, trying to find the looming checkmate.

Bill stood. "I'm gonna go hallucinate, pass out, and hallucinate some more. More fun than hanging out with a couple of nerdy losers playing a stupid game of..." He trudged off toward his tent, muttering to himself.

Ford concluded that Bill was probably making up the mate in three—although not confidently—and returned to the game with a sigh. "It will be nice to drop him back in the shack," he muttered.

Dipper nodded. "Yeah."

Ford won—not in three moves—and they started a new game. Several minutes in, Dipper asked hesitantly, "Grunkle Ford? Do you really think the micro-rip theory...?"

Ford pursed his lips, but admitted, "Out of all the locations of concern, you could argue that the spot in the sky where the rift spent a week floating has the highest probability of sustaining lasting damage, so we still need to check. But..." He shook his head. "Based on the empirical evidence—I'm beginning to have my doubts."

Dipper's shoulders relaxed; part of him had worried questioning the Acceptable Theory would be taken as disloyalty. "Then, what do you think about Bill's...?"

Ford snorted. "'Gravitational eclipse' explanation?" He propped his chin in his hand, thinking. "I'm only certain of two things: Bill knows exactly what's going on; and he's hiding something he doesn't want us to know. Everything he's told us so far is what he wants us to think is the truth, and because of that, any of it could be lies. He hasn't given us anything we can independently verify in any way—just vague claims he expects us to take his word for and refuses to elaborate on. Even if he is telling the truth, it doesn't matter. We have to act like... not like he's lying, per se; but like what he says has no correlation with whether it's true."

And thus had been the case with everything Bill had said and done since his capture. Every power he claimed he still had, and every power he acted like he'd lost. Every bit of magical, historical, or interdimensional trivia he spouted off to make himself sound smarter. Every sweet thing he'd said to Mabel, every favor he'd offered Stan—and every time he'd told Ford he wanted to be "friends."

Dipper nodded. "Mabel says that's just how Bill talks. He doesn't care about whether what he's saying is true, he just tells you what he thinks should be true."

Ford would have to keep that in mind when talking to Bill in the future. "That girl's a wizard with Bill. Maybe she's right." Still—he had a hard time believing that figuring out what Bill was really saying had actually been that simple all along. (Maybe he just didn't want it to be that simple, after all the time he'd wasted.)

Ford glanced down at the ring the Hand Witch had gifted him. The first time she'd given it to him in the eighties, she'd told him that if the ring ever turned black, he'd chosen the wrong friends and doomed himself. He couldn't tell if it was just the firelight, but as he looked in the deep blue cabochon now, he swore he saw a swirl of black spiraling beneath the surface. He wished he knew what that meant—was he supposed to trust Bill more, or had he already absentmindedly taken something Bill had said on faith that he shouldn't have? Had that swirl first appeared only now during the eclipse, or when Ford had started studying the miniature grimoire Bill had gifted him? Was it even due to Bill? Ford hadn't studied mood-ring-o-mancy.

Dipper snuck a rook onto Ford's back row. "Checkmate."

Ford huffed. "Well done." He'd been so distracted, he hadn't even noticed Dipper lining his rook up.

Dipper pushed Ford's king over. It dramatically fell in slow motion.

They packed up the chess board, put out the campfire, and slept uneasily.

####

In spite of the sedative cold medicine, Bill couldn't get any decent sleep. It wasn't even a good trip. Every time he shut his eyes for a few minutes, he hallucinated/dreamed that he was locked back in the shack staring at the high attic ceiling, or staring silently at Soos's bedroom—or watching over the town graveyard from high above; or locked like a hunting trophy in a glass display case in some local hick's darkened den; kidnapped and tied up beneath Gideon's bed; closed in a dark airless leather box; preserved like an ancient relic in the museum; hovering above Gravity Falls' valley and trees in the still night sky —

—or petrified in the middle of a quiet knot of overgrown plant life deep in the forest. 

Or still in the tent but with his head wrenched around wrong, unable to move or feel his limbs, staring out at an angle that should have been impossible—until he awoke with lungs heaving to find his body was right and he wasn't dead; only for the humanity of his shape to reassert itself and he envied the stone corpse.

He crawled out of his tent, threw up his ill-advised concoction of cider and cold medicine, and collapsed, slipping in and out of a delirious doze until morning.

####

(I have been so looking forward to inflicting this chapter on y'all. Hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you think, and if you thought that was bad then stay tuned for things getting even worse for Bill!! 🎉)

[reverieblondie]

now all ive got in my head is fever pushed confessions. like either zev or rolan taking care of tav and tav is just honest saying whatever pops in their head . its mostly nonsense but out of the blue its just this shameless love confession, is decorated with every reason why they adore rolan/zev and a glassy eyed stare

oh, I have thoughts!

So lets start with Rolan, You are just giggling and letting the fever fully take you over as Rolan is trying his best to get your body temperature down. I imagine that Rolan is really good at dealing with sick people because as an older brother when his mom was at work and cal or lia were sick he was the one feeding them soup and giving medicine. He keeps trying to put the rag on you are your just asking him everything you can think of.

"Rolan, what's your favorite color?" "Uh...don't have one? Blue maybe?"

"Rolan, why do you wear your hair like that?" "Well, helps keep the hair out of my eyes." cut to you pulling out the tie and he just sighs and laughs as as your burying your hands in his soft hair.

"You have pretty hair..." "Thank you" "And a pretty face..." Rolan looks at you with a smirk, yeah your fever is bad, "Thank you. Let me get you so medicine."

As Rolan gets up that's when you reach out and grab his robe forcing him to turn back, "What? need something else?" You look at him with all sincerity, "You know I love you right?" Rolans first instinct is to chuckle it off but...your serious... "I- Tav..."

"And its not just because your pretty either... your hard working and kind and you do your best to take care of the people you care about... I even love when your being cocky and suave, then shy and nerdy...I just love every bit of you..." Rolan sits down and carefully cups your cheek, "When your fever breaks, tell all this to me again so I can tell you how much I love you, even when your pestering and playing hero, or even when your acting silly from a fever, I love every part of you. Deal?"

You eagerly nod and Rolan then goes to get your medicine. but as soon as he slips from the room he is leaning against the wall holding his chest, Y-You love him...and your going to confess again... he needs to heal you faster!

Okay now for Zevlor,

Zevlor is not so used to helping sick people but he's not completely lost either. Zevlor has given fed you, wrapped you in blankets and has given you medicine that should sooth your fever and let you rest. Its while he is rising from his chair next to your bed that your meek voice is calling for him, he is immediately at you side ready to run anywhere to get you anything you need.

"Zevlor...I am still so cold..." Zevlor frowns as he presses his hand to your head, "I know Tav I am sorry...but I am out of blankets I could find do you ha-"

"Will you lay with me...please?" Zevlor is frozen...he knows he shouldn't and he's trying to think of an accuse why he shouldn't but he just can't think of one...so he agrees and sides in. Your quick to wrap yourself around his warm body your shivering getting less as he holds you back, albeit timidly.

"Your..so warm.." You say into his chest, Zevlor is trying to to explode, it's not that he hasn't been in a persons bed...but this is you...and its been such a long time, he doesn't want to read into anything... "ha, yeah infernal blood makes me warmer than most, its terrible in the summer months."

This gets a chuckle as you hold him tighter, "I wouldn't mind cuddling you in the summer...I would want to be wrapped in your arms anytime you would let me..." Zevlor is praying you can't hear his racing heart, "I'm sure you would grow tired of something like that."

you laugh, "Why would I get tired being held by the man I love? I love you so much that no matter what i would always want to be in your arms..."

Zevlor holds you tighter, "Y-you love me?"

"Very much..."

Zevlor swallows the lump in his throat before he finds that old confidence he had in his younger years, "Tav, I love you." but all he hears in response is a soft snoring...

he chuckles and places a kiss to your head, vowing to himself to confess to you again when he finally asks you on a date...

Those are my thoughts!