#we might still get slip. we might still have everyone alive. we might not come out of it happy but we will come out of it together

[ceaseless-watchers-special-girl]

Juno Steel and the Terrible Waste.

'kay, let's be reasonable about this. Past Junoverse episodes have mostly just given a vague understanding about what will happen in the episode. Murderous Mask tells you basically nothing about the plot, only about the most important object. Prince of Mars? You learn who that is in the first five minutes. Midnight Fox? Only really relevant for the last few seconds.

Junoverse titles are not the biggest indicator of how an episode will go. There are some incredible titles, like Monster's Reflection, but even that is somewhat misleading — Juno spends those episodes learning that neither he nor Sarah are monsters.

so basically what i'm saying is the episode could still be happy letmedreammmmmmmm

[softtdaisy]

when hearts find their way / Aaron Hotchner

summary. if Hotch decided to break up with you to protect you, he regrets it anytime he looks at you. And he looks at you a lot.

words count. 2,443

a/n. just a short story, she said, just to start writing again. And here comes my first Hotch fic with more than 2k words. It's a first, I hope you'll like and well...I'll write something happier another day (it has a good ending I promise)

Hotch wished he could stop looking at you.

It wasn’t like he needed to focus on you right now. Not outside the office. Not at Rossi’s party to celebrate another year as a completely alive team. Not when you’re clearly out of danger.

Well, except if he counted Emily’s and JJ’s drinking with you more than usual. 

But that wasn’t a real danger. Especially when there were plenty of people not drinking tonight to make sure everyone will go back home safe. Including Reid. Including himself.

However, Hotch was incapable of putting his eyes away from you.

Too scared there might be an unknown treat around here. Too scared you might disappear if he dared look away. Too scared you might find somebody else to end the night.

That was the scariest thought above all. 

He clinched on his drink harder, blaming himself for being so stupidly attached to someone he shouldn’t. Someone he already told no before. 

“And I thought we locked up Hotch in the office to get Aaron tonight,” Rossi said, standing next to him. Hotch let out a small and single amused sigh. He took the risk of closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, you were still there. Thankfully.

“I’m fully here, David.” he answered, turning to his friend who looked more than amused by the situation. There was one problem with being close with your coworker: when their work is to analyze people, you can be sure they will do it with you too. “Having fun?”

“More than you I guess.” Hotch opened his mouth to respond to it but didn’t get the time before Rossi put his hand up. “Or your level of fun is watching over her?” 

Was he that obvious? Technically, he had been standing alone in the corner of the room for a few minutes now. “I’m not watching over her.” Of course, it didn’t convince Rossi. Worse, it made him laugh. 

“Oh you clearly are, Aaron. I know you’re not a man of many words but you should consider that speaking is better than stalking.” 

He sighed, taking another slip of his drink. “Would you stop, please?” 

But Hotch had to be honest. Because he did take profit of the silence and the small break Rossi was giving him to take another look. He saw you dancing with Morgan. The first thing that came to his mind was that he was safe.

Safe from what, you idiot? It’s not like he had any right to be jealous or possessive. Or even protective. You weren’t his. And it was his fault. 

Hotch could never forget how your expression went from desire, the need to kiss every single piece of face, to the sadness and the anger of being rejected. “We shouldn't do that.” He heard himself say. Four stupid words. Four stabs right into your heart. 

“I’ll give you some advice.” Rossi said to interrupt his thoughts. And Hotch gave up, fully concentrating on whatever he had to say to prevent himself from reliving the night that ruined everything. 

“Either you talk to her and make a move. Or you leave her alone. But stop playing with that girl's heart and mind.”

“You say that like she cares.” He knew that by saying that, he was admitting there was more than a professional conflict between you. Not that anyone in this house was even believing that it was only professional. You don’t look at a member of your team like they were the loss of your life. Not the biggest, but close.

“Oh she does.” Rossi said, looking at you. So did Hotch. And for the first time tonight, he caught your eyes on him. Just for a second before you noticed and went back to your discussion with Emily. But it was enough for him.

__

Later that night, Hotch learnt that Rossi wasn’t the only one aware that something was going between you two.

He was one of the first to sit at the table, in front of JJ. They talked for a few minutes and more members of the team started to join. Until JJ got up suddenly and called your name. “Please, take my seat.”

“What? Why?” you replied, confused at the offer when there were still some places available at the end of the table. You didn’t take the time to look at JJ’s seat, next to who she was. It was like she gave you the time too anyway.

As soon as you approached, she put both hands on your shoulder to make you sit. “It will be easier to check on Henry if at the head of the table.” she replied, putting a kiss on your hair before leaving you still very confused. For a few seconds.

Until you looked up and met those brown eyes that you started to know by heart until they became a mystery again. 

“Very subtle, Jennifer.” you sighed. But you weren’t mad. Not at her for reading you and trying to help you. And neither at Hotch. You could tell from the little frowning, because everything was always little when it comes to expressing himself -but thankfully not little on other things-, that he was as confused as you are.

You saw him lean closer to you, his hands on the table to stay stable. And you did the same to hear him. “I didn’t…it’s not…”

You could restrain the smile on your face. You could blame it on the alcohol to not accept it. But it was a genuine reaction to him, opening himself to you. A little. “I know.” you replied, naturally putting your hand on top of his. 

When Hotch freezed at your contact, you assumed you went too far. Again. And immediately take your hand off, lean back on your chair and start a new conversation with Reid to avoid your boss.

When Hotch freezed at your contact, he actually was just thrown back to weeks earlier when you couldn’t stop touching him. And for a brief second, he remembered how good it felt to be appreciated. 

Sadly, it didn’t last long. Because he was incapable of keeping people he loved in his life.

Most of the dinner was bittersweet for Hotch.

The team was loud and most of you laughed so hard you had a stomach ache. And the food was so nice that Emily asked multiple times if Rossi was sure he couldn’t adopt her. The answer sadly stayed no.

And Hotch would lie saying he didn’t have a good time. 

But he would also lie if he said your lack of interaction didn’t hurt him.

He noticed how you always make sure to not meet his eyes when he couldn’t stop looking at you. With the way the candle’s light was dancing on your face, he felt like discovering your traits again. 

Or how you only responded when he talked to you directly. Which he stopped after a few tries.

Hotch wasn’t the only one noticing that. None of the team felt like stepping in a story they didn’t know. Even if they heart felt for their boss who felt disarmed for the first time -at least, for them. And for you, because you had your reasons to act like that.

But in the end, they did step in. Without meaning to.

When the party came to an end, they all started to organize the ride back home. JJ jumped into Reid’s car while Morgan brought Emily back to her place. Everybody left slowly. 

Until there was you.

And Hotch.

“Of course.” you mumbled when you saw him and Rossi talking in the hallway. They didn’t notice you yet and you took the opportunity to watch the man that broke your heart. Because you had to be honest, Aaron still held a special place in your heart. He looked so good tonight and especially right now, with his shirt more unbuttoned than before and his jacket laying on his arm. You loved his hair a little less styled after many hours or how his eyes looked more glassy from the wine and the fatigue. 

You loved many things about that man. Which made the heartbreak even more difficult to accept. 

“Oh, you’re here.” Rossi noticed you and opened his arm to add you in the conversation. “Hope you enjoyed the evening.”

“It was perfect David, thank you.” you replied with a genuine smile that created the exact same one on Hotch. When you turned to him, he was surprised that your smile didn’t drop. “Can we go?” you asked and he simply nodded.

“I’m sorry.” Hotch said once you were both sitting in the car. “I didn’t plan this.” 

If you had any doubt that it wasn’t his fault, you were now sure that he wasn’t the thinker of this situation. From the way he couldn’t look at you or how his hands were shaking before he put them on the wheel. “I know.” 

Without a surprise, the ride was calm. Hotch was a silent driver, focusing on the road and the music coming from the radio for a low volume. And you appreciated that. You did back then when you saw each other because it was peaceful. You still did. How ironic that the ride to your place felt more like home than the idea of going to your own apartment.

It was a memory of a better time. Of coming home from cases with Aaron, going to your place because it was more serene to him than his silent home. The only thing missing was his hand grabbing yours now and then during the drive. Multiple times, Hotch actually started to move his hand before remembering he couldn’t do that no more. 

When he finally parked, you turned to him to thank him. Even, maybe, probably, apologizing for your attitude tonight. But he spoke before you.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

You frowned. “Driving me home? I mean, Rossi could have given a room for the night but I really appreciate you dri…”

“Breaking up with you.”

The silence came back. Because you didn’t know what to answer. Sure, he shouldn't have done that.

Aaron shouldn’t have looked at you after spending another night with you. Not after sharing a hotel room with you in San Francisco during all the cases. Not after making love every single night that week there to forget about the atrocity of the world outside. To feel loved. To give love. 

Not after making you believe that this could become a routine. Something normal. Something real. Something that he thought could become real too.

No, he shouldn’t have looked at you from where you were laying: on your bed, still naked under the sheet. While he was putting on his shirt from yesterday. And said “We shouldn’t do that.” Four words. Not more. Not an explanation because of course Aaron Hotchner didn’t have to explain himself. He was the boss, after all. 

And you were so mad that morning, knowing that this could come but believing it wouldn’t, that you didn’t ask for more. You only gave him an emotionless “ok”.

“After San Francisco,” Aaron started, “I got scared. Because I’m your boss. Because this felt natural. I really wanted this to continue, but at what cost? Too many scenarios came to me during the flight back. What if something happened to you during a case. What if we break up and we can’t work together properly. What if someone finds out. Who should leave, you or me? And you knew I was being selfish because if that happened, I know people above would make sure I wasn’t the one fired.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was your heart, but when he looked at you after opening his heart to you like that, more than ever before, you felt the tears coming. Because for the first time since the break up, you were able to stop this idea of an arrogant Hotch that took what he could and threw the rest away. You saw again the Aaron that you fell in love with: the broken man that was trying his best to breathe and find happiness again. 

“In any scenario, I lose you. I stupidly believe that having control over that loss would be easier. But it’s even harder to know I broke your heart and mine at the same time and couldn't do anything to fix them.” 

“But why…” you said softly, moving a little closer to him. “Why imagine and accept the worst when everything was great?”

“Because life has always been difficult and I stopped believing good things could happen to a man like me.” he let out a sad laugh. “I lost my wife, I didn’t know how to be a good dad to my son, I sometimes feel overwhelmed and incapable of doing my job right. Why would things be great with you?” 

It was a genuine question. Aaron felt like happiness was an unknown concept in his life. Anytime something good happened, something bad came right after. He couldn’t even appreciate the soft hand you put on his cheek now.

“Because you deserve to be happy, Aaron.” you whispered. He let you put your forehead against his. You remembered how it appeased him back then. “Please, stop rejecting the ones that want to love you. We are here for you.”

“We?”

“There still can be a us if you want to.” 

Aaron closed his eyes. He needed to think about that. He wanted you. He wanted to give himself to you. But it meant fighting against his fears. Can he be strong enough for you? Like you could read his mind, you added “We can fight together.” 

Slowly, he brought a hand to your neck to have you even closer and to kiss you. A soft, sweet and small kiss on your lips. A promise that he couldn’t say outloud but he wanted you to understand. Sure, Aaron needed love. But he needed someone willing to fight against the world with him and for him. 

“You know, things could have been a little easier if you told me that instead of breaking up with me when I was naked.” you said against his lips which made him laugh. 

“Would you accept compensation for that moment?”

“I have all night, all day and all my life for you.”

Holding hands, you brought Aaron back to the place he felt the more at peace these past years. But in all honesty, he started to think that maybe any place with you would be a peaceful one. 

[huntfeld]

Amidst The Ruins

Pairing: Caitlyn Kiramman x Reader

Summary: After a brutal battle, the Reader and Caitlyn find strength in each other as they navigate the wreckage of Piltover.

———

The night was heavy with the scent of smoke and blood, a lingering reminder of the chaos that had engulfed Piltover. The battle against Ambessa had raged for hours, leaving the city in ruins and its defenders scattered. The destruction carved through the heart of Piltover, with once-proud structures reduced to rubble and streets littered with remnants of the clash. The air was thick with the echoes of cries and the hum of fading Hextech energy. The rubble-strewn streets were eerily quiet, the clamor of battle replaced by an oppressive silence. You navigated through the devastation, heart pounding as you searched for her.

You and Caitlyn had been partners for years—partners in duty and in life. She was your anchor in the chaos, and you were hers. Your relationship had always been a delicate dance between the lines of professionalism and love, a bond forged in shared battles and quiet moments stolen in the midst of conflict. Tonight, you were more than a lover; you were her lifeline.

The sound of a faint groan stopped you in your tracks. There, slumped against a shattered pillar, was Caitlyn Kiramman. Her usually pristine uniform was shredded at the sleeves and hem, with large tears exposing her bruised skin. The fabric was soaked in sweat, smeared with ash, and streaked with both dried and fresh blood, each stain a testament to the ferocity of the battle. But it was her face that caught your breath—her left eye was hidden beneath a hastily tied bandage, its edges dark with blood. Her right eye flickered open as you approached, filled with pain and relief.

“You came,” she murmured, her voice a whisper.

Dropping to your knees beside her, you gently cupped her uninjured cheek, your fingers trembling slightly. A swell of relief and fear tightened your chest—relief that she was alive, fear at the fragility of her condition. For a moment, the devastation around you faded, leaving only the weight of her pain and your desperate need to shield her from more. “Of course I came. Caitlyn, what happened?”

She winced as she tried to shift. “Ambessa… she was stronger than I anticipated. I…” Her words faltered, a rare crack in her usual composure. “I couldn’t protect everyone.”

“You don’t have to carry this alone,” you said firmly, your hands already moving to check her wounds. The bandage over her eye was soaked through, and you grimaced at the sight. “This needs to be cleaned.”

Caitlyn’s hand caught yours, her grip weak but insistent. “There’s no time. Vi… the others…”

“Are counting on us,” you finished for her. “And they’ll need you alive and well. Let me help you.”

She hesitated, then nodded, the fight draining from her. You worked quickly, retrieving a flask of water and clean cloth from your pack. As you tended to her wound, she watched you with her uninjured eye, her gaze softening.

“You’re good at this,” she said, a ghost of a smile touching her lips.

“Comes with the territory,” you replied, keeping your tone light despite the knot of worry in your chest. “Now hold still. This might sting.”

She hissed as the water touched the raw wound but didn’t pull away. Her resilience was both admirable and heartbreaking, much like the time she had stood unyielding during the chaos in Zaun, rallying those around her despite overwhelming odds. Even now, that same spirit flickered through the pain. Once the bandage was replaced, you took her hand, squeezing it gently.

“We need to get you somewhere safe,” you said. “Can you stand?”

Caitlyn nodded, though the effort it took was evident. You slipped an arm around her waist, supporting her as she rose unsteadily to her feet. She leaned against you heavily, her usual grace replaced by a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

As you guided her through the ruins, the destruction around you seemed to echo with the whispers of what had been lost. The fractured skyline was silhouetted against a smoldering horizon, and the scent of charred stone and metallic Hextech energy lingered in the air. Caitlyn broke the silence. “I thought I… I might not see you again.”

The admission was quiet, but it hit you like a thunderclap. “You’ll always see me,” you said, your voice steady despite the emotion threatening to spill over. “I’ll always come for you, Caitlyn.”

She didn’t reply, but her fingers tightened around yours. In that moment, amidst the ruins of Piltover, you made a silent vow. No matter what battles lay ahead, you would face them together.

Caitlyn stumbled slightly, and you pulled her closer, wrapping your arm tighter around her waist. The warmth of her body against yours grounded you amidst the chaos. You couldn't help but smile, a small attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere. "You know," you said, your tone teasing, "you’ve got this whole mysterious, one-eyed look going for you now. I think you’re starting to pull it off."

She blinked, clearly surprised by your words, but then let out a soft laugh—a rare, light sound amidst the wreckage. "Mysterious, huh?" she mused, a wisp of her usual humor returning. "Well, I suppose I always did have a bit of a flair for the dramatic."

You smiled, but the moment of humor quickly gave way to something more serious. You took a deep breath, turning to face her fully. "But seriously, Caitlyn..." you said, your voice steady and sincere, "Even like this, with one eye and all the scars... you’re still more beautiful than I could ever describe."

She stopped for a moment, looking at you with a quiet intensity. Her breath caught as she studied your face. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

"More than anything," you replied, your voice full of emotion. "You're perfect just the way you are."

For a heartbeat, there was only the two of you—the world around you dimmed as Caitlyn's face softened into a faint, vulnerable smile. The weight of the war, the battle, and the broken city seemed to fall away in that quiet moment.

And then, just as softly, she whispered, "I love you."

The words felt like they belonged to a world far more peaceful than the one you were standing in, but you heard them, and they wrapped around your heart like a lifeline. You leaned in, pressing your lips against her hair, the scent of ash and sweat mixed with a trace of lavender. "I love you too," you replied, your voice firm and sure.

As you continued through the wreckage, you held her close, guiding her step by step toward safety. Together, you would face whatever came next. Together, you would rebuild, one piece at a time.

———

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1. - Chapter 2. - Chapter 3

Chapter 4. - Chapter 5. - Chapter 6

Chapter 7. - Chapter 8. - Chapter 9

Chapter 10. - Chapter 11. - Chapter 12

Word Count: 1684

Chapter 12:

The slide was muddy, the water helping you all go down and eventually you found yourself laying on your back; almost forming a pile with the rest of the coven.

On the positive note, you were back to your normal clothes, but now they were wet; wet enough to cause you feel a chill going down your spine.

You pushed some wet strands off your face and groaned faintly at the rough stopping while your body was slowly coming down from the adrenaline rush you had.

"Ugh," you exclaimed and brought your torso to a standing position before working to loosen your black tie; feeling as if you did not get enough oxygen with all the stress from the trial.

As you did, you took notice of Agatha standing up and trying to walk away; purposely pushing and kicking the others out of her way.

You could only shake your head, and with a sigh, you managed to stand on shaky legs. Careful not to slip on the wet ground, you realised you were back in the forest; though you were unsure if you were at the same point on the road or further down ahead.

Of course, Jen and Agatha had to start bickering again.

"We're alive. We made it through the first test. Everyone is safe." Agatha argued, one hand on her waist.

You were about to agree with her, when Teen pointed out something that no one else had done so far.

"Not everyone." He argued, drawing everyone's attention. "Sharon's dead."

It was then you took notice of the laying body of the human woman, spread like a starfish. Her skin was a ghostly white and her eyes had remained open, forever frozen to whatever image she saw last before death claimed her.

"Oh, no," you exclaimed, not believing you lost someone so early; let alone the poor woman.

A part of you, the more realistic part, expected Sharon would not survive till the end but it still came as a surprise. At least you knew, she was in a better place; or at least you hoped so.

"Who's Sharon?" You heard Agatha exclaimed and as you stared at her, you could not really tell if she was joking or she was literally that clueless.

You took a threatening step forward. "The human you took with you on this road," you explained, your voice coming colder than she expected, while one hand faintly motioned for the corpse next to your feet. "The human that had no place here, Agatha"

You had remained quiet when you first saw Sharon being dragged by Agatha and even after she came with you through the door. However, you drew a line to innocent lives getting lost.

Agatha had this hatred about humans, this feeling of superiority, and it was one of the few things you often argued.

Ironically, it was where your nickname came from. For your respect and kind nature to humans, it was always seen as something too sweet in her eyes, and eventually, she found that fitting nickname.

Sure, humans did prosecute and burnt your kind, but not all of them were like that. Some were scared, others followed the crowd, and you would be lying if you said there were no witches out there who acted similar; toying and harming humans for sadistic purposes.

Agatha looked at you in surprise by your tone, evident by how her lips had parted at your words. She almost felt offended but then scoffed, hiding any sense of vulnerability she might have shown for that one second.

She should not be surprised, you always had a soft spot for humans; when the moon was full and you were in a good mood.

Yet she still did not expect such a reaction from you, especially for a woman you knew for a few hours at most.

She commented nothing, realizing you were not going to listen to her excuses. She knew when the waves were little too harsh to navigate, even for her, and she had learnt the hard way to not mingle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the end, you all agreed to bury her; offering some sort of closure to her spirit.

Alice and Teen dug the grave, and you offered a silent prayer once the body was covered, the rest of the witches joining you; except for Agatha.

Now with that out of the way, one thing did remain.

You need a green Witch.

But before this could be discussed, another argument had to take place because what kind of testing would you all face if the coven bonds were not tested to the maximum.

"It's like the Ballad says... burn and brew, with coven two, and glory shall be thine" Agatha pointed out as if it wasn't obvious enough.

Apparently, it was not for Jen. "The Ballad clearly says... With coven true, glory shall be thine"

Agatha laughed. "Does it? It's Coven two"

"That doesn't make any sense"

You knew why Agatha was so persuaded it said Coven Two. It was because the last time on the road, a full Coven entered, and yet only two witches made it to the end; you and her.

So her argument was valid, for easily words had been misheard over the centuries; especially one as ancient as the Ballad.

However, something was telling you Jen was right in this case.

You chose not to argue, though, or enter this discussion. Instead you stood a little to the side with Lilia, who seemed to share your thoughts and maybe your migraine from all that arguing.

Jen stared Agatha right in the face. "How many witches left The Road with you last time?"

Agatha lifted a single digit but to the surprise of many, she added a second one; indicating the number two. Then with her thumb, she first pointed at herself and then at you; earning surprised reactions from the other witches.

Except for Teen. He already knew that little information.

"You were on the road with her?" Lilia asked, staring at you.

You nodded faintly but did not say anything or at least you didn't manage to because Agatha popped in.

"Yes, she did," she moved to stand by your side, one hand around your shoulders and pulling you closer in an awkward side hug, or at least it was meant to be a side hug. "See, coven of two," Agatha continued, trying to win thus pointless argument.

Jen looked between the two of you, trying to understand what kind of relationship you seemed to have.

The nickname was not that much of a help, at first, because Agatha had a knack for not calling people with their names. Now, it seemed you had a deeper connection with the former evil witch, but it was unclear what.

Plus, if you had survived the road once... why come a second time?

Now Jen was curious but chose to try and find an answer to that later.

For now, you needed to find a green witch though she was insure if it was possible. You were in the middle of the freaking Road; sort of locked in a very magical box that no one could enter or leave; let alone alive.

"We can summon one," you suddenly said, stopping the argument from continuing any further.

"We can?" Teen asked hopefully.

"Don't be silly," Agatha dismissed. "We can't. We are on the Road"

This time, you stood your ground. "We can. I know of a ritual that will open a door and summon us a green witch"

Agatha looked at you slightly betrayed, but as your gazes remained locked, you started to suspect her denial to the ritual was something more personal.

There was something Agatha was afraid or feared would come if you tried the ritual, and you doubted it was the Salem Seven.

No... this was far bigger.

"Let's do the ritual then," Teen said, earning nods from the others and leaving Agatha to huff silently; having lost the vote to the majority.

Had she mentioned she hated democracy and voted of the crowd?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It did not take long to prepare for the ritual, getting a few things from around like an obsidian stone, some herbs, and so on.

Then, you all stood in a line close to the grave; in front of you, the summoning symbol drawn amongst pushed away leaves and mud.

Well it was less of a symbol and more like the figurine of a person, made by pulled up mud and framed by the yellow and leaves all around it.

You had also managed to light three red candles that Teen for some unknown reason had on him, an extra to the ritual.

Standing in the middle of the group, you clasped your hands in front of you and started to chant in Latin; your voice coming heavy and powerful, echoing across the quiet clearing.

It surprised your coven, not having the quiet and simple you chant with some power, but now they knew better; especially if casting spells was the same way for you.

Once you finished chanting, you looked at Lilia at the very end of the formed line and motioned for her to lay the first object and acknowledge her intentions.

"May she be strong and wise, and the best at her craft." The old witch said.

Agatha followed next. "May she be smart and not annoying... and also, not super political."

You followed next, having chosen to place a Crysanthemum flower you had plucked from near by; ironically close to where Mrs. Davis was buried.

"May she be an ally, not an enemy," you manifested, earning a few head nods from the others.

Jen was next. "May she be pleasant looking."

Alice went last. "Can she bring some Advil?" She asked, earning a scoff from Lilia.

Once it was all done, you waited as in the next second, a strong ominous wind picked up and extinguished the candle flames.

Before any of you could question if it had worked, a hand shot out from the freshly dug grave close to you.

Chapter 13

[wtaacde]

As a bilingual person who's been reading way too many fanfics with bilingual characters I reeeaaallly need to make a statement on how our minds work most of the time so people stop getting it wrong!

It's making me cringe so much 🥲

So I'm making a list of what I think is important to know when it comes to writing bilingual characters.

I've seen some simmilar posts on this topic, so some things might be repetitive but others are not, so stick with me. I'll be adding some personal examples to make it easier and more comprehensible.

So let's get started!

Master list to writing bilingual characters!

With no especific order os hierarchy.

1- This is the biggest mistake I see people making when writting bilingual character, so let's make this crystal clear: Bilingual people rarely mix their languages by accident!!!!

Especially if they've been living in a place where no one speaks their mother tongue and have little to no contact with their original culture.

Now, for the moments we do make those mix ups, it'll usually be with expressions we use all the time on our day to day lifes.

Let's work with examples!

I'm fluent in English, but my original language is Portuguese. In Portuguese, whenever someone is in a conversation we make this "éééééé" sound while we're thinking or unsure of what to say. It would be similar to the "uuuuhhh" people use in English.

I find myself and a lot of other Brasilian people saying "éééé" all the time even when speaking English, because that comes more naturally to us. It's an instict reaction that doesn't pass through the language shift that happens in our brain.

This also happens with more especific expresions. I don't talk to any foreign people, but when texting I catch myself trying to call people "amiga", which translates to "friend" and is normally used as an endearing term to call your friends or even strangers in a way to show friendliness. Now, not everyone in Brasil refers to their friends as "amiga", but I do, and I use it so much it slips in my vocabulary in English.

So, to summarize, there are expressions or words from our mother languages that come out almost as an instinct, but there usually aren't many of them and the frequency in which it happens is proportional to how much contact we have with speaking our native language.

2- Next up (and this is a funny one to me): it's easier to make math in our first language. If we were schooled in our first language, obviously. This could happen conciously or not.

So if you want your characters to have a funny moment, just have them do some math in their original language. This happens because we learned math and nurmbers in our mother language, and math is the same everywhere, so when we're learning another language we don't go through the same process with learning to use numbers practically like we do with words. So despite knowing what the numbers are called, it's still easier doing math in our language because our thought process is a lot faster and smoother in it.

3- We will revert completely to our mother language if we're emotional.

This could range from seeing a cute puppy and having a cuteness overload and instantly calling them cute pet names in our language to getting so mad that the only acceptable way to express our anger is to curse in our own tongue.

This sudden change happens naturally but they are intentional. We could totally curse and fawn in a different language but we choose not to because of the next point on this list.

4- Words are more meaningful in our own language.

I'll go straight to examples, because I know fic and romance writers are gonna have a field day with this.

When my dog was alive, I always talked to her in both English and Portuguese. But whenever I complimented her or told her I loved her in English, it felt fake. So I always repeated what I said in Portuguese and then I felt like I properly expressed my feelings.

So if i said something like "You're the cutest little baby in the world! I love you so much!" I always had to follow it up with. "Quem é a coisinha mais fofinha desse mundo todo? É o amor da minha vida? É, você é o amor da minha vida! Eu te amo mais que tudo nesse mundo!"

Only then did I consider she understood the depths of my love for her.

This also works in more angsty ways:

My parents were always very distant, so during one especific Father's day, when I was a kid, my school, as usual, had us making DIY presents for our fathers. We were supposed to write messages on the gifts and all my classmates were writing "eu te amo" on theirs. I couldn't write it, but it still felt like I had to or it would be weird. So I wrote "I love you" instead, because it felt less like a lie. Now, let's focus on the fact that I was a child. I had barely started learning English. I was nowhere near fluent. But it still felt easier to write "I love you" than "eu te amo". I never said "eu te amor" to my parents again.

Now, we had some fluff and some angst. Now let's get to humor!

Swearing always feels better in your own language. Do with that what you will.

5- On the subject of swearing, we will talk shit about anyone right in front of their face in a language they don't know and use different languages to mess with people.

This doesn't even need to be done with our first language (although it would feel more satisfying). Any language would do as long as the other person doesn't understand it. Bonus points if we get to do that with a friend/group of friends.

When I was a teenager I had just one friend that was also fluent in English. We used to talk to each other mostly in English for three reasons: the first one was obviously to practice, the second was to gossip with each other without people understanding and the third was so we could pretend we were foreigners and see people's reactions. We were two little shits that talked about the craziest stuff and no one bat an eye.

6- Now, let's finally look in the correct and conscious ways in which we change languages in the middle of a conversation.

First one and the one that happens the most is when we forget a word in one language.

I do this all the time and it sucks! I constantly forget how to say "concealer" in Portuguese and go around asking my family what's the translation even though no one speaks English in my house. I can't even remember the translation right now! A few days ago I couldn't remember how to say "pulseira" in English. It means "bracelet". It's an easy word. I still forgot it. Although I would recognize it if I saw it somewhere or if someone told me, my brain wasn't willing to do that work on its own.

So when this happens in real life, we'll always ask the people around us for the translation, even if they don't know the other language we speak, just in the hopes that they will understand the ✨ vibe ✨.

It's also really funny when this happens and the other person does speak both languages and also can't remember the translation. And sometimes we forget the word in both languages and have to resort to describing "the thing", which usually leads to a lot of misunderstandings.

Another way in which we change languages is when we want to use a very especific expression or memes in another language.

I'm gonna use Brazilian expressions for this because they're pure gold!

One that I find really funny (and somewhat family friendly for this post) is "o que o cú tem a ver com as calças?" which literally translates to "what does the asshole have to do with the pants?". If you think a little bit, you can still understand the meaning, but not all expressions work like that. If anyone's confused, the expression means that the other person is trying to talk about two different subjects that aren't at all correlated. You're basically asking "what does one thing have to do with the other?" with more crude language.

When we do this we can either just throw the expression in a different language and not elaborate on it, or try and explain it to the people around. It can vary.

7- If you have friends or family that also speak the same languages as you, you'll be shifting languages all the time without any warning.

I have a friend that most of our hangouts consist of watching K-dramas together. We live in Brasil, so we speak Portuguese, but we watch the k-drama in Korean and the subtitles are in English. During out binging marathon, we will speak all three languages with each other, even if none of us speak Korean. Sometimes we mix the words in all the languages, sometimes we have a full conversation in one language then switch to another on another point in time. Forgeting words in one language doesn't mean a thing in situtations like this. We'll just say the word in the language we remember and move on with the conversation.

This is everything I can remember for now. If anyone remembers other quirks of bilingual people, feel free to add on. If I remember more I'll keep adding to this post.

If you read all the way to the end, thank you and congratulations!

[repulsiveliquidation]

“I don’t need you.”

“You don’t, but we do.”

Leah Williamson x Georgia Stanway x Reader

2.8k, I went overboard lol but this was fun to write. Enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of blood and knives. Euros 2022 Final where you’re hurt and the two of them struggle to keep you alive. It gets dark so read at your own risk!

Lionesses v. Germany, Euro 2022 Final. The changing room is tense, all the girls quiet and getting into game mode. You’re in your cubby, listening to a playlist Georgia insisted would get you into the right headspace before a game. Leah sits across from you, leg bouncing and face in a deep frown. Georgia is messing about with Alessia, giggling about some video they saw on Instagram. Everyone has their own way of getting into their headspaces and you find yourself making eye contact with the best captain in the world. Your headphones come off and you walk up to her, eyes softening when you see the fear in her eyes that she so desperately tries to get rid of.

“Come with me for a minute.” You tell her, reaching for her arm.

“I can’t, the game starts in 20 minutes!” Leah loudly whispers but follows you, being dragged into the showers for a little chat.

Georgia had been watching this interaction, excusing herself and following behind Leah quietly. She knew that Leah would be stressed and knew that only you could calm her. She was met with a Leah that was almost in tears and you cradling her head against your chest in the furthest shower stall there was. She sighed softly, heart breaking for Leah. She quietly came towards you, hands wrapping around you both with kisses to both of your foreheads.

“How we doing, Lee?” Georgia asks quietly, hand slowly moving lower to rub her back as you kissed Leah softly and pushed her baby hairs out of her face.

“I feel like my hearts gonna give out. Fuck I can’t catch my breath. What if we lose? What if we just fucking throw this game away and fuck up and it’s all my fault? I really don’t know what Sarina was thinking, picking me as captain. Someone else deserves this arm band, I might just-“

She was cut off by half the team in the showers looking at her and hearing her ramble. She was so in her head that she didn’t notice that Georgia had taken your spot and you went and called the rest of the girls still in the changing rooms into the shower to comfort their captain. Tears stained her cheeks and Georgia did her best to wipe them away. You were beside her again, holding her hand and rubbing her forearm.

“No one would have been able to bring us this far, Lee. Everyone on this team knows you’re the only one who deserves to wear that arm band.” Lucy spoke up, all the girls nodding in agreement.

“You’re the best part of all of us, Leah. Come on, we’ve got a trophy to win alright? Save some of those tears for after will ya? Don’t waste them!” Ella yelled, all the girls cheering their captain on as she finally had a smile on her face. It was the most beautiful smile both you and Georgia had ever seen and you wanted to keep it on her face for as long as possible.

Kick-off

The game was going alright. Germany had maintained good defense over the first half, nearly scoring but Mary Earps was a force to be reckoned with. The second half saw Tooney thrust the Lionesses into the lead with a beautiful chip over the keeper. Germany doubled down and equalized ten minutes after, the wear and tear of the tournament finally showing as the Lionesses let that one slip. Of course, it had to be Chloe Kelly who sent in the winning goal, doing a well-earned shirtless celebration as the final whistle was blown two minutes later. You all piled on top of her, celebrations rampant as the Wembley stadium erupted with the same shouts of celebrations.

You didn’t see him coming. You didn’t see the glint of a 4-inch blade drawn from his back pocket. Security too busy holding out other fans from spilling onto the pitch. He made a beeline for you, eyes dark and angry. He grabbed you by the shoulder and before you knew it, the knife stabbed into the right side of your abdomen. The sheer shock of it all sent you to the ground hunched over, hand pressed to your side as he pulled the knife out and disappeared into the crowd.

Leah notices first. Her eyes looked all over for you till she heard yells from the crowd of your name. A little puddle of red alarmed her as she suddenly saw you laying on the grass in a pool of your own blood.

“Y/N!” she yelled. Crouching down beside you, holding your wound. “FUCKING CALL THE MEDICS!” was what registered next. Georgia suddenly appeared beside you; hand pressed over Leah’s as they both tried to stop the bleeding. The crowd was so silent you could hear a straw drop.

“You’re going to be okay, darling. I need you to stay awake for me, sweet. Keep looking at me baby, shh shh it’s okay. We’re getting you help.”  Georgia spoke but she sounded so far away. Your eyes closed for a second before Leah slapped your face gently and your eyes opened again. She was crying, Georgia was too. “Stay with me, love. I love you so much,” was the last thing you heard before you couldn’t fight the urge to sleep any longer.  

That beeping noise was immensely irritating. Beep, beep, beep. Why were there so many tubes and shit tangled around me? It’s a little chilly in here, would it kill you to turn the heat on? I mean seriously, these tubes are a nightmare. Your thoughts are interrupted by a pair of blue eyes that would make anyone look twice. Leah’s eyes. You could pick them out in a crowd. So blue and so full of emotion you could read her like an open book. What was she doing here?

“Y/N/N, welcome back my darling.” Leah says, her voice still distant but clear.

“She’s awake? Don’t lie to me Leah, it’s not funny.” A second voice enters the room. It’s familiar too, accent thick with worry. Georgia’s dark brown eyes show themselves as they both hover over you. It’s nice, they’re doing you a favor by blocking out those pesky bright lights.

There are suddenly more people in the room than you’d like, poking and prodding at you. Hands that you do not want touching you thankfully do their work fast and efficiently. They switch out your oxygen mask for tubes and give you another pillow and your sad hospital lunch. They’ve left the room in 20 minutes, the two girls whom you want near you finally able to settle on either side of your bed away from prying eyes.

“You scared us half to death, Y/N.” Leah says with a sad voice you never want her to use again. Tears well up in Georgia’s eyes and they both hold your hand that is resting on your stomach.

“What happened? I-I can’t remember it that well, it’s all so hazy.” You say with a sore throat. Georgia is quick to give you some water, holding the straw for you to sip. You drink for a while, thankful for the cold liquid soothing your parched throat.

Leah’s eyes are uncertain, doubtful if she wants to make you relive yesterday morning. The stabbing had sent you into a deep sleep, thankfully only for a day. The ambulance that brought you here was at the pitch within two minutes of the call to 999. The two girls never left your side, Georgia following you into the ambulance as Leah was driven right behind the ambulance by Alessia and the rest of the girls. The win was forgotten, every single one of them only had you on their minds. Leah was a mess in the car, shaking like a leaf as Alessia sped after the ambulance. Tooney and Lucy held her, keeping her calm and reassuring her that you’d be alright. She believed them, telling herself over and over on the quick ride to the hospital that you’d be okay.

Georgia kept it together in the ambulance, one of the loves of her life holding on as much as she could. It was so hard to look at you in the stretcher, beautiful face pale and sickly. Her hands and shirt were covered in your blood, the paramedics managing to stuff your wound with gauze and the bleeding was controlled. She knew you’d be okay, her heart hoping Leah knew that too. She held onto your hand tightly, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you fell in and out of consciousness. She recognized the white Mercedes weaving through traffic, hazards on and following the speeding ambulance. She told you that the girls were right behind us and that Leah was right there with them. She told you to hold on, she told you they didn’t know if they’d be able to live without you. You heard her, wanting so much to hold her and tell her that you loved her and that you would be okay but, everything hurt and you were too numb to move.

The doctors worked swiftly on your wounds, the knife barely missing your diaphragm and nicking your large intestine. You had lost too much blood and flatlined once, the doctors quick to pounce on your chest and resuscitate you. You were fighting, you knew people relied on you too much for you to give in. The five-hour surgery was a success and soon you were being wheeled into a private room as the doctors told the entire team occupying the waiting room the relieving news. There wasn’t a dry face anywhere, tears of joys pouring out at the news of you making it through the hardest part of this long journey. Leah and Georgia rushed to the room they now knew you were in, the rest of the girls hanging back knowing you only needed them.

The sight of all those annoying tubes broke their hearts. You looked so tired and used, fresh tears falling down their faces. Both girls silently moved to one side each, hands reaching for your cold ones as you slept peacefully. Soon the repetitive beeps of the machines lulled them to sleep, thankful that you were alive and here with them.

Lucy walked in with Alessia and Kiera. They smiled softly at the sight of the three of you sleeping. They gently woke Leah and Georgia, having brought food and a change of clothes for them. The doctors updated them on your condition, Kiera shooting a quick text to the group chat to ease their worries. Leah shot up, eyes red with fatigue and a stiff neck. She reached for Kiera, hugging her tight and thanking her for the food and clothes. Alessia gently helped Georgia wake up, guiding both of them to the table in your room to have some food. They found it hard to swallow anything but tried, knowing they needed to. Alessia and Lucy watched over you as they ate, Less softly brushing your hair out of your face as Lucy rubbed your forearm softly.

Kiera had to force the pair out of the room to change, dragging them away to the showers to force them to take one, their hands still slightly caked with your blood. They showered together, helping one another to clean up which made them feel better to have familiar hands do the work. They couldn’t do it for themselves but they’d be damned if they didn’t take care of the other before themselves. Leah held Georgia’s face in her hands and Georgia stared at her as her hands held her wrists, gaze holding the same tear-filled eyes she had despite standing under the rain shower. They kissed hard, kisses full of too many emotions for them to express any other way. “She’ll be okay, Gee. She’s a fighter, she is.” Leah said softly, willing her heart to believe her own words. Georgia could only nod, muttering a soft “I know,” before leaning in to kiss Leah again. They held each other under the warm water, Kiera having left to give them both a minute.

They walk back into your room looking fresher than before. Hair both damp and wearing clean clothes. They both needed that shower and intimate time with each other, it soothed worries that they did not know how to voice; so glad that their relationship was strong and deep enough that they did not need to use words to express their feelings. “Any changes?” Georgia asks, moving to the couch to snuggle with Alessia as Leah returned to your side. “No Gee, she’s still asleep.” Lucy told her, hand lacing into Leah’s as they both sat with you. Kiera walked in 10 minutes later with steaming cups of coffee and a few more Lionesses. They all hung around, speaking to each other and taking turns watching you. You made noises a few times, shifting in your deep drug-induced sleep which made Leah and Georgia’s hearts leap out of their chests as you merely went back under.

“I’m sorry I scared you girls.” You say after listening to Leah and Georgia fill you in. “I’m okay now, you two look exhausted.”

“Don’t be sorry darling, nothing compared to the day you’ve had, love. They say you can go home tomorrow now that you’re awake, hm?” Leah tells you, eyes happier than you’ve seen in the past two days. Georgia begins to open up your lunch, gently pushing the table over to you to eat. “The girls went over to the house and set up the guest room for us. That way you don’t need to worry about the stairs. Lotte’s got Marlo too so he isn’t a bother for a bit. I think Less and Tooney drove my car over too so we can go home tomorrow, how’s that sound?” Georgia tells you, grimacing at the sickly-looking hospital food.

“Better than that looks, that’s for sure.” You quip, a look of disgust on your face.

This makes Leah laugh, leaning forward and kissing your forehead then whispering “There’s my girl.”

//

The first week back home was unlike anything you have experienced before. The pain was unbearable and the nightmares were something you didn’t wish on your worst enemy. You couldn’t remember your attackers face, but the news refreshed your memory when he was caught just four days after the attack. Cameras from the stadium managed to pick him up leaving the stadium after and they found his car abandoned before he was arrested and convicted. The three of you felt relief wash over you, knowing he was gone from your lives for a long time. You naively thought the nightmares would stop since you were really just worrying about him finding you but they somehow got worse. Leah and Georgia could barely keep you asleep for an hour before you had another one, shaking and sweating with shouts of their names. It frustrated you and broke their hearts into a billion pieces each. Both of them wanted to take your pain away and it physically hurt them to see you suffering.

One night you had another nightmare but somehow didn’t stir the two girls sleeping on either side of you. You carefully crawled out of bed, grabbing a fluffy blanket around your shoulders and walking out to the living room. You sat on the couch, mind racing faster than you liked. You began to rock back and forth, knees pulled to your chest. You couldn’t catch your breath, head spinning as the memories flash before your eyes.

Strong arms suddenly wrap around you, another pair grabbing your crying face. “Y/N, look at me!” Leah said loudly. A wave of anger came over you, pushing both of them away and standing; hot, frustrated tears flowing down your cheeks. “Leave me alone! Why the fuck are you always meddling? I don’t need you to coddle me! I am capable of taking care of myself! I’m not fucking helpless like you think! Just because you don’t have pain or just because you can fucking sleep doesn’t mean you need to pretend to want to help me! I DON’T NEED YOU!” you yell, voice hoarse by the fourth statement you make. You’ve fallen to your knees, Georgia catching you just in time before you crumple to the ground. They both hold you, your frustration let out in huge waves. You cried for half an hour, hearing both of them repeating the same thought you had in the operating room that kept you fighting “You may think you don’t need us baby but we do. We were both a mess when you got hurt, I don’t think either of us would have survived if it wasn’t for you. You hold us together baby, we love you to bits for it, you’re our special girl.”

It made you cry more, their words sinking into your head. You were wrong, you did need them. You needed them more than ever and they weren’t going anywhere.

[icallhimjoey]

Reinvent Love

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, fluff, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: uh-oh here we GO! the girls voted and the girls won, so here we are! the no-longer-flatmates-flatmate fic - you don’t need to have read define close or explain us, but it’ll obviously give you backstory, which might help!

Wordcount: 3.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five There was something living inside Joe’s chest.

It was only small, but definitely there. Ugly. Green. Growing. With potential to do real harm. It crawled around and scoped him out, exploring his heart from all different angles, carefully tasting it.

It hadn’t bitten him yet, but Joe knew if he lost sight of it – if he stopped trying to control it – that eventually, it would. And it would hurt. It didn’t exactly feel great now, but once it’d sink its teeth in, Joe knew he’d be done for.

He remembered when it still good. Still nice. Warm. And soft. And joyous, all full of love.

It used to be kind and sweet and would make him smile until his cheeks were quite literally cramping.

But it’d changed. It’d turned bad.

He wished he could’ve seen it coming.

It was a good thing that he found he was able to easily control it with rational thought. Problem was that rational thought had the habit of abandoning him once it got dark outside and he was alone in his flat.

His new flat.

Where everything was his.

Where everything got put in places that he chose. All his things were where he wanted them, all catering towards his routine. Which was why a basket of underwear made it into a bathroom cupboard, and why a shelf got put up near the balcony door, so he had a place to keep his cigarettes and a lighter. Gone were the days of rummaging through coat pockets ‘til he found what he was looking for.

It was sort of great, Joe wasn’t going to lie, living on his own.

It didn’t look quite as nice, not quite as homey, but Joe was sure he’d soon learn what the place was missing. He didn’t worry about it. There were more important things to worry about. Like, how quick dust built up into bunnies underneath the sofa and how every time he’d open his front door, it’d waft out from underneath, only to settle in the middle of the room for everyone to see. Or how somehow he panicked so much about keeping his plants alive that he was systematically overwatering all of them.

Idiot.

It was fine.

Rational thinking.

It was all fine.

Things were different now.

Good different.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” Joe joked as he let you in, pointing out the large bouquet of flowers in your hands.

His place already smellt amazing. Joe made a good roast, and had one going now, things in the oven, bubbling and simmering away.

“If I never did things I shouldn’t do, life would be very boring,” you said, laying the colourful bunch down on his island.

“Did... wait, did you actually get those for me?”

“Have you got a vase?” you were already opening cabinet doors. “You don’t, do you?”

When you didn’t get a reply, you turned to see Joe stare at the flowers. He looked a little dumbfounded.

“Joe?”

“Hmm?” he looked up at you and blinked a few times. “Oh, um...” he squeezed his eyes shut a second, trying to gather his thoughts.

Took too long, you thought.

“A vase?” you repeated, trying very hard to keep a straight face, to not let the smallest inkling of a smile slip through.

“Sorry, I don’t... I don’t think I’ve got a vase.”

Why the fuck would he own a vase, Joe thought.

“I’ll get you one as a housewarming gift,” you found a pitcher. “This’ll do for now.”

There was evidence on the counter of what Joe had been in the middle of, cutting veggies, preparing the gravy. But as you filled the pitcher with water, Joe still kind of hovered in the same spot in silence. Looked at the flowers that you’d brought in and felt silly for how those made him feel.

When you placed the pitcher in the middle of the island and reached for the bouquet, you broke his trance, and Joe softly laughed at himself.

“This is... my God, this is so sweet? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten flowers before.”

“Well,” you smiled back, about to throw stones into your own windows. “I didn’t get them for you.”

“Oh?” Joe immediately felt embarrassed. Mortified. Felt the skin of his neck flush with heat.

“I got them for your flat.”

Got him.

Joe let out the breath he was holding in defeat, dropping his head and smiling. Scoffed softly at himself because you were joking, and he was an idiot.

“You know, give it some colour. Give me something nice to look at when I’m here.” you plopped the flowers into the pitcher and didn’t get the chance to make it look nice, to arrange it a little, because before you could, you got picked up by the waist and shaken about. You shriek-laughed a loud, “No!”

“Something nice to look at?” Joe pressed his face into your cheek as you squealed through your giggles.

“Am I not nice to look at, huh?” Joe squeezed extra tight before he put you down, turning you in his arms and keeping you real close.

“You’re nice to look at,” you said sweetly, still grinning widely, nose nudging up at his. “If I could put you in a vase and arrange you all nice, I would.”

Joe snorted, and you felt it on your face.

“Hmm. You’re funny.”

You got kissed by soft lips that almost felt shy to kiss you.

“Don’t get me a vase.”

And then you got kissed a little harder. Bit more firm.

“I’ll get my own.”

“No,” you objected, speaking right into his mouth. “You’ll get a stupid one with like, frosted writing on, or something. Live, love, laugh.”

You felt Joe’s smile as he kissed you harder, both arms squeezing as they wrapped around your waist tighter. You sighed into Joe’s affection and took great comfort in the fact that you were alone. You were outside of your flat, which was still wild in your opinion, but at least you were alone.

Alone was good.

Joe’d gotten into the habit of showing affection when you were around others, around strangers, and you didn’t think you were ever going to get used to it.

The first time Joe reached to hold your hand, you’d nearly had a panic attack.

It wasn’t very cold, but the wind was cutting. Hurt your forehead as you walked and made you hunch as you pulled up your shoulders to shield yourself as best you could. Joe’s hand finding yours was a welcome warmth for your cold fingers, but it still made you fall silent as you tensed up.

Joe just held on for a few steps, and looked at you. You could see him stare from your peripheral, could feel the burn of it high up in your cheeks, and tried your best to ignore it.

“You can relax.” Joe humorously said, speaking softly and leaning in a little to make sure you could hear him.

“I am relaxed.” You immediately argued, because holding hands with Joe shouldn’t be weird. It should actually be normal. You tangled up with your full bodies more days than you didn’t when you shared a flat. If anything, Joe’s touches were exactly what turned you lax, all floppy and boneless.

“S’just cold.”

“Hmm,” Joe sounded unsure, very obviously not believing you, and squeezed your fingers a couple of times. When you didn’t smile, Joe let his own drop too, and asked if you were okay.

“Fine.” You reassured, growing a little defensive. If Joe could just stop talking about it, that’d be great.

“Should I– do you want me to let go?”

“No, it’s okay.” You said, sounding a little squeaky, but you doubled down with a squeeze of your own.

Joe took it, accepted it, albeit a little unsure if maybe he’d made the wrong move here. But you’d walked along, and you held hands, and when you fell into random conversation again, holding your hand became something Joe stopped thinking about. He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb along yours, and at one point used his grasp to pull you in front of him when you had to share a narrow bit of pavement with oncomers.

You weren’t like Joe.

Not for a single second had you been able to be as casual about it as Joe had been.

You focussed on your hand the whole while you walked, and couldn’t help but check to see if others were looking at it. If strangers that passed you looked down at your hands. To check if they could see. If they somehow knew that you’d never done this before.

You had.

But not like this. Not outside. Not in public.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to hold Joe’s hand, but there was something about this new phase you were in, where Joe walked over to yours to pick you up to go out for dinner together. Where he had to ring the doorbell and ask if he could quickly come up to use the toilet before you left. Where he pretended he didn’t know where the bathroom was and made you show him the way. Where he faked being anxious when you left your flat, saying that he hoped you liked the restaurant he booked a table at. Where he nervously asked if you liked Italian food, as if you hadn’t shared a million pizzas together.

Things were different now, and although you were close, would often do everything you could to dissolve into his skin, walking hand in hand through the streets of London felt insane. Like you were moving too fast, even though you understood how silly that sounded.

You’d spent that entire walk thinking of a natural reason to let go of his hand, and Joe had felt your fingers twitch. Felt how you seemed to change you mind about it every three seconds. But, you’d said he could hold onto you, so, he simply did.

It wasn’t until you reached the restaurant and used the heavy door as an excuse to wiggle your fingers from Joe’s hand, using both of yours to pull it open.

Baby steps, Joe thought as he smirked to himself, astonished that he’d gotten to hold your hand out in public for over ten minutes.

He was sure you’d slap him away the second he even attempted to intertwine your fingers together.

Which, coincidentally, was exactly what you did the first time Joe tried to lean in for a quick peck on the lips as you said goodbye to each other outside of his flat.

You’d been out, and were both in a bit of a rush to get home. You thought that the way you’d hugged his arm for a second was plenty goodbye. You’d pressed the side of your face to his bicep and said you’d see him later.

You’d reached the point where you wanted to go cross the street as Joe would walk the other way to get to his front door, and when you tried to step away, he yanked you right back by the elbow.

The way you recoiled away from him was so extreme, it startled Joe. You almost made it look like he was about to hit you.

“Jesus,” he mumbled under his breath, and you immediately apologised. You stepped back closer to him, were about to accept a quick kiss as an apology, but let your eyes nervously dart around to see if there were other people. If there were witnesses.

Joe just looked at you, blinked a few times and then, instead of leaning in for a quick kiss, squeezed you in your side.

“Calm down. Call me when you get home.”

And you’d blushed at how Joe’d smiled at you before he turned to head inside. Your face had remained hot until you got home where you then had to take a moment to shake all the nervous jitters from your body.

It was such a weird spot to be in, Joe thought.

How he couldn’t get too close if there was the slightest chance of someone seeing, but to have you literally whine at him inbetween his sheets if he didn’t touch you in the right spot with the right pressure at the right speed.

But steps were being made in the right direction.

You each had you own place now, and Joe made a point to sometimes not see you for a few days. He kind of enjoyed getting to miss you. He liked how his stomach did flips when you’d ring his doorbell after not having been over for a few days. He liked how absence made his heart grow fonder, and how that felt healthy.

Joe assumed you felt the same way; maybe you didn’t like it as much as he did, but surely you also understood how this was at least more normal.

He never thought that what the two of you were before was toxic.

It was just... weird.

Good weird.

But this was better.

Still a little weird, he wasn’t going to lie. But better.

He got to tell you to call him when you got home now. He got to invite you over to his flat for Sunday roast now. And you would then come and bring him flowers now.

Joe had never received flowers before. Well, maybe he had. But not like this. Not from a girl who brought them just for him. Just because. He kind of loved it. Kind of loved you.

“God, you were right.” Joe said, eyes unblinking, comfortably staring.

Both satisfied and full after an early dinner, the two of you laid out on Joe’s sofa - the one that took six weeks and then two more to arrive - and both looked at the bouquet up on the kitchen island. You were tucked into his side, with one of his arms slung around your frame. You held one of his hands with both of yours and absentmindedly played with his fingers.

 “I don’t know how this works but they kind of make the whole room look better.”

“They do.” You agreed, smiling, because you did that. You turned your head, tilting up to look at Joe’s face. “Please let me pick out a vase for you, though.”

Joe’s grin slowly grew as he said, “Absolutely not. Might just keep the pitcher for flowers only, I kind of like it.”

“Ugh,” you grimaced. “This is such a boy’s flat.”

“Well,” Joe started, raising his eyebrows, finally breaking eye-contact with the fresh bloom, tucking in his chin to look down at you. “I am a boy, so, that checks out.”

For a moment you just looked at each other, smiling, cuddled up into the corner like you always were cuddled up into the corner together. When you saw Joe flick his eyes down to your lips, you pulled the hand you were still holding closer to bite right into the skin between his index finger and thumb.

Joe pretended to flinch, but you were barely leaving marks as you smiled through the bite, big eyes looking up at him. Joe took a moment to just take you in. The way you looked at him had him biting his own lip before he tried to grab hold of one of your hands to pull into his mouth.

You were already scream-laughing and trying your best to pull your hand away before he even got close. It left you in a wrestling pile of limbs, Joe with his mouth open, growling and ready to bite at whatever got close enough. He ended up getting at bit of your sleeve in between his teeth, pinning you down into the soft seat-cushions and he felt drunk with joy.

He was so fucking happy.

Pretty girl in his flat, giggling away on his sofa, and she’d brought him flowers. It was kind of disgusting how he’d turned to goop on the inside.

Joe didn’t wait for your giggles to die out to get his lips on yours and kiss you silly.

There was something living inside Joe’s chest.

It was sticky and sugary sweet and Joe loved the taste it.

Loved how it bubbled over and leaked into his stomach.

Loved how it swirled into his limbs and made him reach for your hand to hold when you were walking outside.

Loved how it made him put his arm around your shoulders to pull you tightly into his side as you waited to get your coffees whilst the barista prepared them.

Loved how it grew as he took the lead on this new way of being together the way you had done before when you still lived together.

It made Joe want to introduce you to someone as his girlfriend, knowing full well that you hadn’t had that conversation yet, and that you’d likely have a melt down, but God.

It was just what he wanted to do, he couldn’t help it.

He wouldn’t.

There was a high probability that you’d actually murder him if he pulled a stunt like that.

The fact that you were kissing like this outside of your flat right now was already sort of stretching it, Joe knew.

You let Joe kiss you on his sofa for a minute. Let him slide his nose around yours with an open mouth that hovered over yours inbetween kisses. He made you work for it, having to lift up your head for more when he teased you for too long.

When you felt how Joe started readjusting his position on top of you, you knew you had to break it off.

“Hmm– Joe, no, I gotta–”

“Hm?”

“I gotta go, there’s– stop, there’s a potential flatmate coming over in a bit, I gotta– Joe!”

Joe finally broke away with an annoyed grumble leaving his throat as he did.

“Fine.”

“I can... I could always come back after?”

Joe shifted enough to let you escape the sofa.

“Hmm, you could, but I do have an early morning, so it’s probably not worth the trouble.” Joe sighed, lying back with an arm curled behind his head, watching you twist your clothes so it all sat right again.

“No?”

“I’ll probably be asleep by the time you make it back here.”

“Well,” you started, slinging your arms into your coat. “All depends on how long this is going to take. If it’s another 19-year-old trying to negotiate for a 30-70 rent split first thing, I’ll only be a second.”

“God, for your sake, I hope it’s not another student. But for my sake...” Joe made big eyes, giving you a suggestive look that broke into a smile when you laughed.

You gave Joe a last quick kiss as you bent over the sofa and told him you’d see him later, all casual.

Joe’s smile lingered as he watched you walk out.

“Call me when you get home!”

Yea... there was something living inside Joe’s chest.

And it was cuddly and fuzzy and comfortable and good...

For now.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @bylermaxmayfield, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[sewinrat]

If you are/replace Sebastian includes;

*Reader is female mentioned but I could care less, you just have to be human. Have I done something like this before can't remember...

Oh you poor soul. You don't even know how you got in this mess. You were one day suddenly locked up in a plastic cage and this strange man bought you for an even stranger boy. Now you're stuck with them forever.

The closest you act to in terms of 'first meet' is close to Pomni. And yes you have went into the UNKNOWN and Luther had to pull you back but in this case, the unknown is much more dangerous.

And now you're trying your best to hide and run away from all of them in their weird crazy house of nonsense. Unfortunately you can't even hide well because Randal's dolls will always find you. Luther is another thing. You can't act out in front of around him or else you'll be a 'bad pet' and "that's not how girls supposed to act." His words not mine. Even if you've been put in the ridiculous jester outfit. You'd prefer if they put you in those discipline outfit forever if it means to leave you alone. It doesn't matter if you lose your body.

You got a high chance into being part of the family because Luther might want a little sister but let's not go there. This time.

The other two 'people' in the house, Nyen and Nyon, you thought you could trust but apparently not. You try to avoid them both, mostly Nyen because of the times he threatened you. Although Nyon doesn't do much, it's best to not engage in any way. Why am I describing things like this is your diary?

Actually you might have a diary. But hide them well or else everyone and I mean EVERYONE will read it if you misplaced it anywhere. Randal loves to snoop especially around you. Luther says it's to get to know you better but like a parent, he's a liar because if he reads anything he doesn't like, he'll punish you accordingly. Nyen can use it to manipulate you and make fun of you but Nyon reads it... And that's it. He doesn't do much about it but he's bold so he will gave it back to you even if it's open and in the middle of reading it.

After maybe weeks or even months if time manages to slip later because if you cannot make sense of time, how can you even know the time - you're getting use to it. Not comfortable of course but it's to the point where you aren't actively scared to even look behind you.

You know what, you should be just a little bit grateful that you are Randal's 'friend' while also being under him by being a pet because if you remember in Lucid 14, it shows that Randal likes to keep parts of his 'friends' as the bible recruiter dudes were leaving(But it could also imply that it's his first time doing it while alive or smth). So yeah that's one way to lose skin.

Ranfren Characters thoughts on You(ooc);

Randal: "Oh you met my friend?? Did she escaped again if you knew em... Eh impossible but since you know her, I KNOW YOU~!! A friend to my pet is a friend to mee now come here and let's have some funn." How did you get in touch with her- actually doesn't matter to Randal, more friends the merrier.

Luther: "Hm. Troublesome at first but oh well she's just getting use to her new home that's all so I won't blame them for that. Getting docile but still needs precautions." Somehow he treats you more of an experiment than a pet. Maybe you're those last options regularly people would consider to.

Nyen: He exited the interview because a reaction of the 'new' pet of the house from him is a waste of time to him. You're not worth his trouble. But he did said something about how fun watching you struggle when him and or his master catch you escaping.

Nyon: We couldn't find him to get an interview so we came to the conclusion that he has nothing to say about you. Maybe a little pity. That's all.

Bonus? Tsukada Satoru: "Ah she's quite cute but should keep a certain distance away from Randal. Hm? Jealous? In what way or to who exactly? Randal? Oh I could never. Randal is my best friend, I'm just protecting him away from her." Maybe if you play his heart well, he'll take more of a fancy to you.

[cutecurly-hair]

Hearts Unleashed (Part 5)

Pairing: Nick Nelson x Black!fem!reader

Warning: Fluff, Smut, Body Shaming

Words: 5,738

The weekend flew by, and before I knew it, Monday had arrived with its usual speed. I found myself back in the same classroom, at the same place and time, but something felt a little different. Nick and I had been texting non-stop over the weekend. It was just casual conversation, nothing special, but for some reason, it made me inexplicably happy.

I noticed a bunch of curly black hair in front of me. Charlie and I hadn't talked since that day. I sent him a bunch of texts, but he didn't reply. I checked with Ellie and Tao, and they hadn't heard from him either. It wasn't just me he was avoiding; it seemed like he was avoiding everyone.

Interrupting my thoughts, Nick said, "This is Nellie," showing me a picture of his dog, and she was the cutest thing in the world.

"Oh, my god, she's so cute! I've always wanted to have a pet, but ever since our cat died when I was little, we just never got a new one," I said, a tinge of sadness in my voice.

Nick's brows furrowed in concern, a cute little habit that I couldn't help but notice when he was puzzled or concerned about something. "You know, maybe you should come round to my house and meet her. Plus, my mom has been bugging me to invite you over" he suggested. I couldn't contain the smile that spread across my face, I don't know if it was because of Nick's mom has been asking about me or Nick inviting me to his house.

"Are you free on Saturday?" he asked hopefully, his brown eyes searching mine.

"Yeah, I think so," I replied, feeling a flutter in my stomach.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ +

"Charlie! Charlie! Wait up!" I yelled across the bustling school hallway, dodging through students those rugby drills are finally proving some use.

Finally catching up to him, I took a moment to catch my breath. "What happened with you? I've been calling and texting you. I was even this close to coming to your house to make sure you were alive," I said, demonstrating the minuscule gap between my thumb and forefinger to prove my point.

Charlie turned to me, his face a mix of surprise and sheepishness. "Sorry, I've been dealing with some stuff, and I needed a bit of space. Didn't mean to worry you."

I crossed my arms, trying to hide my concern behind a facade of annoyance. "A simple 'I need space' text would have sufficed, you know."

He scratched his head, a nervous grin appearing on his face. "Yeah, I know. I'll keep you in the loop next time. Promise."

As we walked, the tension melted away, and our usual banter resumed. Charlie might not be telling me everything, but our friendship stayed solid, thankfully.

"Ugh, I've got a ton to catch you up on," I exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug. His laughter filled the air. "Do I detect some juicy gossip?" he teased, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. Even though I haven't talked with him for a couple of days, I still couldn't help but miss him. I had every right to be mad, but I knew deep down Charlie was keeping something from me, but it was within his right to tell me when he is ready.

"Oh, you have no idea," I replied, joining in the laughter.

"You look fine, sweetheart," my mother remarked as she emerged from the archway. She must have noticed my tenth attempt at fixing my hair and the frustrated sigh that accompanied it. Admittedly, I may or may not have put on a little makeup. Sensing my mom's curious gaze, I decided to address it before she could.

"I'm going to a friend's house. I'll be back around 5," I informed her, trying to keep it casual.

"Are you heading over to Charlie's?"

I hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Um, no, his name is Nick," hoping my response would slip past without her catching the name. My mother, sensing something, walked over to me and handed me my coat and gloves, well aware of my tendency to get cold easily. I was honestly not made for cold weather.

"Is this a boy from school? You know how I feel about you going to somebody's house," she probed, hinting at her concerns. I knew I had to choose my words carefully to navigate this conversation if I wanted to be allowed to leave the house.

"He's my classmate in English. I want him to look over my paper that's due next week," I lied, maintaining a calm tone and hoping she wouldn't see through the deception.

"You've never needed help with your papers before. You're really good at writing," she remarked, clearly skeptical of my story.

"This paper is 50% of my grade. I have to do well on it," I asserted, emphasizing the importance of the assignment and knowing that grades were a language my mother understood well. Having dealt with her expectations back home, I knew I had to convince her to let me go.

She looked pleasantly surprised. "Yes, you're right. Grades are important. I'm surprised I didn't have to remind you," she smiled, genuinely pleased to see me showing concern for my academic performance. Seizing the moment, I quickly put on my coat and gloves, ready to head out the door.

"Come back in time for dinner!" she yelled as I walked away. I gave a quick nod to show I heard and hurried off before she could ask more questions.

My hands were practically freezing, despite the gloves doing a lousy job of keeping the cold out. I stubbornly kept them on, pulled my coat tighter, and power-walked down the street. The bone-chilling London winter seemed to pierce right through me, making me pick up the pace even more.

I stood there for a moment, torn between knocking and ringing the doorbell. My indecisiveness was playing its usual tricks on me. But before I could finally decide, the door swung open. There was Nick, giving me a gentle smile.

"Hey," he greeted. It was kinda unexpected to see him so chill and casual, a side of him I hadn't really seen beyond the school environment.

"Hey," I smiled back, deciding to ditch my gloves that weren't doing much to fight off the cold anyway.

Nick made a gesture towards a delightful chocolate and white mix Border Collie. "Uh... this is Nellie."

"Hey, Nellie. You're so adorable," Reaching down to pet the dog behind its ears. The warmth of Nellie's fur against my hand brought an unexpected comfort, making the chilly weather outside seem momentarily forgotten.

"Did you do something with your hair?" he asked, his eyes locked onto my puff ponytail that had consumed a good chunk of my morning. Lately, I'd been experimenting with new hairstyles, breaking away from my usual braids.

I immediately reached up to touch my hair, a hint of worry crossing my face. "Wait, is it bad?"

He shook his head without hesitation, offering a reassuring grin. "No, you look… it looks great." His compliment made me feel like the effort I put into styling my hair that morning was totally worth it.

"Okay, you better come in before Nellie thinks we're going for a walk," he said, his eyes lingering on mine for a moment longer than necessary.

"Okay"

Walking into his house, I couldn't help but notice how incredibly homey it was. The place just radiated coziness, making it clear that it wasn't just a house; it was a warm and welcoming home. Definitely nothing compared to mine, my house was just cold and empty still filled with boxes. I noticed a few portraits on the wall, nowhere really of his dad. Which I have nothing to brag since my parents have been divorce.

He led me upstairs to his bedroom, which I couldn't help but feel uneasy, like it was way to personal...like I shouldn't be here. But as soon as I saw his room it was very clean...? Definitely not what I was expecting.

Nick saw the look on my face "What? What's wrong?" he asked looking around confused. I couldn't help but chuckle, breaking a smile "It's so clean in here...it's weird," But overall, it suits him with the rugby poster littered all over the walls with a cute little light hanging over his bed. There it was again, that small hint of vanilla, smoke and a mix of musk but the musk was a lot stronger.

Dramatically, he placed his hand over his chest, gasping, "Are you seriously thinking that I am weird because I know how to clean,"

"I just never expected something like this," I said, gesturing to the room. Walking around, I noticed a few books on the shelf. "Especially for a rugby player. I mean, aren't you guys supposed to be dirty, by default?" I picked a book off the shelf, the title reading "Le Petit Prince (French Edition)."

A French Novel?

Sensing my curiosity, Nick blushed, swiftly taking the book from my hand and putting it back on the shelf. "My dad gifted it to me, but I barely read it," he admitted, a touch of embarrassment in his expression.

Sensenig that his dad was a sour subject I decided to drop it. Still observing his room, noticing the little trinkets of action figure and posters, until my eyes landing on the little snacks on the TV stand plus Mario Kart next to the Nintendo, excitement bubbled up within me as I took in the familiar sight.

"You have Mario Kart!" I exclaimed, my eyes lighting up at the sight of the game. Memories of playing it flooded back.

Nick's eyes beamed. "You like Mario Kart? Do you know how to play?" he asked, a playful smile on his face.

I nodded. "Me and my Dad used to play all the time when I was little. I still do, just never really picked it back up," I said, shrugging.

"Do you want to play?" he asked, holding the Nintendo playfully.

I smiled. "You don't even have to ask."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ +

"Come on, Come on I'm in the lead! Can you just let me win" Nick yelled, he was particularly begging at the point.

"It doesn't matter cause you're not going to win," I smirked. He's literally the King of Rugby and practically wins at everything. This is one thing I'm really good at, so I am definitely not going to let him win.

"Can you let me win one time? You've won five or six games."

"I am literary going easy one you,"

"No!" he groaned at the screen when he saw my Princess Peach cross the finish line. I couldn't help but laugh at his reaction.

"You need more practice, Nick. Maybe I can give you some tips," I teased, reveling in the playful banter. It was one area where I knew I could outshine the rugby star.

He pouted, "I don't need tips. I just need a fair chance." The adorable pout he sported was enough to make anyone's heart melt.

"I think this is just Karma kicking you in the ass; you can't be good at everything," I said sarcastically, while grabbing a little popcorn.

He nodded in agreement, "No, you're exactly right. You're just good at everything," he admitted.

"No, I'm not," I chuckled. But there was something in the way he looked at me, and it's been happening a lot lately. I can't quite figure out why he has this knack for making me feel this way. It's as if a single glance from him is all it takes to turn me into a bundle of nerves.

"You are. You're a proper little nerd. And you don't even know it."

"I am not!" I protested, playfully nudging him.

"Let's see. You're good at video games. Literally all school subjects, but especially math's. Amazing at photography. Befriending dogs, and you are good a sports manager. Like I have never seen our gear so clean before-"

"Shut up!" I interrupted in a playful groan, feeling warm flush spread across my cheeks. Covering his mouth, while pushing him onto the bed. It seems this was the only way of shutting him up.

"You know it's true," he mumbled from beneath my hand, a blush coloring his cheeks. "Get off me. Seriously, get off," he added with a laugh, the room filled with our shared laughter.

The laughter quickly faded, leaving a lingering warmth between us. I don’t understand this feeling, I have never felt this way before. Our eyes were saying one thing, but our bodies were saying another. In that stillness, I became aware of the soft sound of snow falling outside.

"Oh, my god" I was star-stuck looking out the window.

His eyes followed mine, and as he turned to the window, a quiet gasp escaped his lips.

"It's snowing."

We just look at each other we didn't have to say anything, we jumped up from the bed, rushing down the stairs putting our coats on. The air was charged with anticipation, I was on the brink of witnessing snow for the very first time in my fifteen years. Nick handing me a hoodie in the process.

I shook my head refusing the offer, but he only shoved it back in my face,

"You were freezing when I first saw you this morning," he chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. But he wasn't taking no for an answer.

I couldn't help but laugh, realizing he had a point. Gratefully accepting the hoodie, I slipped it on, feeling the warmth envelop me trying to ignore his overwhelming scent.

"It's a bit big," you said, glancing at the blue fabric draping down to my knees.

"It looks good on you," he said breathlessly, he was looking directly at me. Two compliments in one day, that was definitely something.

It was absolutely beautiful outside, the cold didn't bother me as much as before, it may or may not have something to do with the hoodie I was wearing.

Nick wasted no time sticking his tongue out to catch the tiny snowflakes. His cheeks had a rosy flush, and there was something about the way the light hit his hair, making it look a bit browner. He looked marvelous.

Caught staring, I locked eyes with him, and there was a fleeting smile on his face. Before I could fully process it, he playfully threw a whole snowball at me, leaving me in disbelief. I hurriedly made a makeshift snowball. It instantly became a snowball fight.

For a moment, just a moment everything seemed perfect, the way he laughed when Nellie was eating the snow. To when he brushed the snow off my hair. The way he took pictures of me when I made snow angles. When he laid beside me all I did was listen to him talk any and everything.

It was just perfect.

I couldn't shake the knot in my stomach, and suddenly, those stolen glances and shared moments held a new weight. When he looks at me, it's like he's seeing something beyond the surface. There's this intensity in his gaze, and I can't help but admire the way he looks at me. The way his eyes light up when he smiles, the little expressions that make him uniquely him. The realization hit me -

I have a crush on Nick Nelson

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ +

"Are you even listening to what I'm saying?" Ellie snapped her fingers in front of my face, trying to grab my attention. My eyes, however, were glued to the three little bubbles dancing across my screen, eagerly awaiting Nick's response.

Ellie couldn't resist taking a peek at my screen, and a knowing smirk crept onto her face as she shook her head. "Oh, I see what's got you all distracted now."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening," I mumbled, tearing my eyes away from the screen to meet Ellie's amused gaze.

She chuckled, leaning back in her chair. "Nick, huh? The mystery guy who's got you glued to your phone?"

Blushing, I tried to downplay it. "We're just chatting, you know, about random stuff."

"Random stuff, right," Ellie teased, wiggling her eyebrows. "I've seen that look before. You've got the 'crush glow' all over your face."

Rolling my eyes, I shrugged. "Oh, come on. It's not like that. We're just friends."

Eyebrow raised; Ellie smirked. "Friends who text 24/7, interesting definition of friendship."

I sighed, realizing she saw through my attempt at nonchalance. "Okay, fine. Maybe there's a tiny crush. But seriously, don't make it a big deal."

Glancing out the window, I spotted Nick chatting with a pretty girl that I always seen around school. They were standing so close, and her laughter reached my ears even through the closed window. My heart sank as I watched them share a moment. She was effortlessly charming and ever so pretty, and the way Nick's eyes lit up in response made my stomach churn. It felt like they were in their own bubble, leaving me on the outside looking in.

Ellie looked at me and she frowned and nudged me gently. "Y/N, what's going on? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

I forced a weak smile, attempting to mask the turmoil inside. "Oh, nothing. Just caught up in my thoughts, you know?"

But Ellie wasn't buying it. She followed my gaze, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene outside. "Oh...that's Imogen. That's one of Nick's close friends,"

"Oh, really?" I tried to sound casual, but I could feel a knot forming in my stomach. "Just a friend, huh?"

Ellie shot me a knowing look, her eyebrows raised. "Y/N, are you getting jealous?"

"What? No!" I protested a bit too quickly, my cheeks heating up. "I mean, why would I be jealous? We're just friends, like I said."

Ellie chuckled, clearly amused by my reaction. "Sure, just friends. a friend who you have a crush on."

I rolled my eyes, attempting to change the subject. "Let's focus on something else. What were you saying before about our plans for the weekend?"

Ellie raised an eyebrow, clearly not letting me off the hook that easily. "Smooth transition, but we'll get back to this later. Anyway, I was thinking we could do a little movie night at Tao's. We can bring some snacks, binge-watch our favorite films, and just unwind."

"Yeah, that sounds great," I replied, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling. "Movies and snacks sound like the perfect distraction."

As we continued discussing our weekend plans, my mind kept drifting back to Nick and Imogen. I couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between them. Were they just friends, or was there a deeper connection? The uncertainty gnawed at me, and I found myself absentmindedly scrolling through our previous texts.

The guys were practicing for an upcoming match, and I was just here cleaning the Rugby they have already gotten so dirty after a couple of throws. Occasionally, Nick would glance over in my direction, offering a reassuring smile or a quick wave.

"I can't believe they have cleaning rugby balls. Doing the dirty work while we get all the glory?" Charlie teased, nudging me with his elbow.

I chuckled, playfully swatting at him. "Someone's got to keep these in top-notch condition. Can't have you all playing with muddy balls, can we?"

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of action, I noticed I haven't been seeing you lately. Any particular reason?"

I hesitated for a moment, debating how much to reveal. Finally, I decided to open up to Charlie, knowing he'd always knows what to do. "Well, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. You know, get some 'guy advice.'"

"I think I am the worse person to give 'guy advice'. especially now" Charlie looked down the ground.

Noticing the sadness in his eyes, I joked around with him "Oh come on, Charlie, don't be so hard on yourself. You're my go-to guy for advice, whether you like it or not."

He managed a small grin, "Alright, shoot. What do you need from my services this time?"

I sighed, glancing back at Nick on the field, his focused demeanor contrasting with the playful banter of the other players. "It's just... things have been different lately. We've been hanging out more, texting, you know, normal friend stuff. But I can't help but feel there's something more."

Charlie looked worried as soon as I brought up Nick's name, "Of course this is about Nick Nelson,"

I nodded, "Yeah, it is. I mean, we're friends, but there are these moments, these looks, and it makes me wonder if there's something more. And then today- I don't know... it just hit me differently."

Charlie glanced around to ensure no one was eavesdropping before he spoke. "Look, I don't want to be the bearer of bad news, but there's something I think you should know."

My heart sank a little, and I furrowed my brows in concern. "What is it, Charlie? You're making me nervous."

He took a deep breath before continuing "Okay so Tao told me to tell you that-

"Wait why couldn't Tao just tell me himself?"

Charlie looked a little uneasy "Because Tao is Tao"

Great he still doesn't like me.

I shook my head, urging Charlie to continue. "Tell me what Tao said."

He took a deep breath before continuing, "Tao found out from a friend who is also friends with Nick, and he said that Nick is single. But he is super interested in this girl that was originally from the all-girls school."

I swallowed the lead in my throat "What girl,"

Charlie sighed looking out onto the field "Her name's Tara Jones,"

My heart sank as Charlie dropped the bomb about Nick's interest in Tara Jones. Her name replayed in my mind like an annoying song on repeat. I couldn't shake off the blame creeping in why did I let myself get attached? Was I just too naive, thinking there could be more between us?

Nick's wave from the field added salt to the wound. I managed a feeble smile and a wave back, but inside, it felt like a whirlwind of emotions. Watching him, I questioned every shared laugh and conversation we had. Were they all just leading up to this moment where he'd be drawn to someone else?

The game raged on in the background, but my world stood still in that painful moment of realization. The cheers from the crowd turned into distant echoes, drowned out by the pounding of my heart, echoing the rhythm of disappointment.

How can I be so stupid.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ +

She was so beautiful, and I could see why Nick might be into her. Browsing through her social media, her confidence and elegance just stood out. It's something I feel like I lack. Her dark skin had this warm, rich tone that glowed in every photo. The more I looked, the more I found myself comparing. It made me question if I could ever match up to someone like her in Nick's eyes. The more I scrolled, the more I felt like an outsider peeking into a world that seemed so different from mine.

"See, I told you," Tao said, peering over my shoulder. Charlie shot him an annoyed look.

"Tao, come on, give it a rest. This doesn't necessarily mean anything," Charlie snapped.

"Like hell it doesn't," Tao retorted. I deeply sighed; their bickering wasn't making the situation any better. Isaac looked at me with a hint of concern.

"We don't even know if she actually likes Nick back," Isaac chimed in, attempting to offer some comfort.

Charlie scoffed, "I'm the one stuck seeing them in class every day, and trust me, it's nauseating. Believe me, he's into you," he added, shooting me a look.

Tao, fixing his gaze on Isaac, cautioned, "I've warned you about fueling romantic fantasies that just won't happen. Life isn't a romance novel, you know." ignoring Charlie reassurance.

"But I want to believe in romance." Isaac wined still looking hopeful. Our heads turned to the door when Ellie came in, Isaac immediately jumped at the chance "Ellie! So, there's this girl at school who Nick's got a crush on?"

"We've heard from multiple sources" Tao cut in, but Isaac completed ignored him "We don't know if they're a thing. Can you talk to her? Since she is in your year"

Isaac's hopeful gaze shifted to Ellie, who raised an eyebrow at his enthusiasm. "Whoa, slow down. First, spill the tea. Who's this mystery girl Nick's into?" Ellie said, playing dumb while glancing at me to check if it was Imogen we were talking about. I just quietly shook my head no

Tao chimed in, "Her name's Tara Jones. She was originally from the all-girls school."

Ellie crossed her arms, processing the information definitely wasn't expecting that. "Tara Jones? She's a sweetheart, I don't know Tara that well. I can just go up to her and ask who she fancies. And I'm, too busy being the cool, mysterious new girl, who everyone wants to hang out with."

Isaac quickly jumped back into the conversation, seizing the opportunity. "We just want to know if there's something going on between her and Nick. You know, for Y/N's peace of mind."

"I'm fine. It's honestly fine. I'm just being an idiot and overthinking things," This whole thing has been stressing me out, more than I realize. It's probably best if I cut my losses now before I get more attached.

Ellie gave me a sympathetic glance rolling her eyes while she sighed "Well, I can try to find out, but no promises, only if I get a chance I'll ask her,"

I flashed her a thankful smile, and Isaac promptly leaped into Ellie's arms. Sometimes, I forget how much of a hopeless romantic he is. Charlie joined in, gesturing for me to join them. Gratefully, I embraced the warmth of the hug. I realized I wouldn't know where I'd be without them.

Tao sat there, glaring, watching the scene.

The next school day rolled around, and I made a quick stop at the boys' locker room to check on inventory, making sure to steer clear of any awkward encounters, especially with Nick Nelson. Luckily, I managed to avoid any unexpected run-ins. However, as I strolled to my next class, it hit me that I'd be sharing a class with him soon. The knot in my stomach tightened, and a sense of unease settled in, a reminder of the events from the day before.

Waving at Charlie as I eased into my seat, a jumble of nerves hit me hard. Concentrating seemed like an impossible task, with my thoughts entirely hijacked by the looming encounter with Nick. What in the world was I even going to say to him, if I mustered the courage to say anything at all? The classroom blurred as my mind grappled with racing thoughts.

"Y/N?" he said, staring right at me with worried eyes.

Finally returning back to earth, I mumbled, "What?"

"You just spaced out," he observed.

Not knowing what to say, I managed a simple "Oh," fiddling with my blue pen, which oddly seemed to help with my nerves. Nick, sensing the habit, scooted closer to me. I swear I could feel his body warmth.

"What's up?" he said, looking directly at me. "I can tell when something's on your mind," he added in a hush, leaning even more closely.

Gosh, I hate the way he makes me feel. The way I act around him is ridiculous. I hate that every time he gets close, my heart races, every touch, every feeling. I hate all of it!

Why does he make me feel this way?

"Do you...Do you want to come to my house later?" I blurted out, causing for Charlie to peek over at me with panic eyes screaming What the hell are you doing!

He looked surprised, but all he can do is smile.

Mom is not going to be here until super late, so I can have the house all to myself. I cleaned from top to bottom of house, throwing all the boxes away and tightening up everything was squared away.

Hearing a knock at the door, it was him standing at my door smiling from ear to ear.

"Hey"

Opening the door for him, "Hey,"

"So, how does this work?" he asked hesitantly, glancing around the room as if unsure of what to capture with my old Canon. The way he held the camera was so awkward, it brought a smile to my face.

Figuring it was a fair trade after all the rugby lessons, I decided to teach Nick a thing or two about photography.

"You can take a picture of anything you like, really. It could be something beautiful, something that grabs your attention, or simply anything that intrigues you," I explained, observing him furrow his brows while peering through the viewfinder.

"Anything?" he asked, seeking confirmation.

I nodded, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up my eyes. "Exactly! That's the beauty of it. Photography allows you to freeze a moment in time, to capture something you love, like, or find amusing. It's incredible how a single image can encapsulate so much emotion, tell a story, or even memories."

Nick listened attentively, his curiosity evident. I continued, "You see, every photo has a story behind it. It's a way of preserving feelings, experiences, and moments that might otherwise fade away. You get to share your perspective with others through the lens, allowing them to see the world through your eyes."

As I spoke, I could see Nick growing more intrigued, absorbing the idea of photography beyond just pressing a button. "Give it a try," I encouraged, "Capture something that stands out to you, something you'd want to remember."

Right as I looked back at Nick, I noticed that fuck, he was looking directly at me. His eyes looked into mine and there it was again, that knot in my stomach. I didn't know what to do, I had completely froze. His eyes seemed different though-

Feeling a buzz in my pocket, I checked my phone. It was a message from my mom, letting me know she wouldn't be home until midnight and that there was lasagna in the fridge. A sigh of relief escaped my lips, knowing I wouldn't have to explain having a boy in my room when she returned.

Hearing a click, I turned to Nick, curious about what had caught his attention through the lens of my camera. "What did you take a picture of?" I asked.

"Just something that I thought was beautiful," Nick replied with a soft smile, his eyes lingering on mine. Raising my eyebrows confused but also curious. He didn't say anything at all, other than putting the camera down.

"Want to watch a movie?" he suggested,

"Already one step ahead of you," I grinned, pulling out one of my favorite Marvel movies.

We settled into the living room couch, time passes by, and my eyelids begin to grow heavy. Waking up to see the credits rolling I quickly sat up. I completely sleep through the whole entire movie.

Looking out the window, it was dark outside, looking at Nick he seemed to be tensed.

"I feel asleep, didn't I?" I chuckled.

Nick's lips curved into a gentle smile, "Yeah, you did. Must have been a comfortable couch."

I stretched my arms, attempting to shake off the drowsiness. "Sorry about that. I guess I needed the nap."

Nick shrugged, "No problem. You looked peaceful."

We sat quietly, the feel of the movie night still in the air. Even with the unexpected nap, the evening felt calm.

"I should probably head home," Nick said, glancing at the time. "It's getting late."

As he stood up, I walked him to the door. Opening it without caring about the cold air seeping in, the night possessed a certain calmness, and the air held a subtle tension, like the moment before something shifts.

"Thanks for inviting me over," Nick said, and for a moment, our eyes met in a way that spoke volumes, yet said nothing at all.

"I wish that you didn't have to go," I admitted, feeling the weight of the night settling in.

"I wish I didn't either," Nick confessed, a hint of reluctance in his voice.

"You look so cuddly like that," he added, his gaze lingering on my knitted sweater.

My eyes softened, and a playful grin tugged at the corners of my lips. "You think so?"

He nodded, smiling back at me. "Yeah, like a giant teddy bear."

I chuckled, feeling a warmth spreading through me that had nothing to do with the sweater. "Well, I guess I'll take that as a compliment."

Nick's cheeks turned a shade of pink, and he scratched the back of his head, a sheepish grin on his face "It's meant to be one," he replied, and we stood there for a moment, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, if I didn't have early morning practice, I might consider staying longer."

I felt a subtle warmth spreading through me. The casual banter, the shared laughter it all felt so easy and right. Yet, there was an unspoken tension, a magnetic pull that lingered between us.

"I guess I'll see you around," Nick said, but he didn't make a move to the open door; it looked like he wanted to say something else he just couldn't find the words.

As he stepped closer, the air between us seemed to shift, and before I knew it, he pulled me into a gentle hug.

Vanilla. Smoke. and Musk

I slowly wrapped my arms around, wanting to not let go, but he quickly pulled away, backing towards the door.

"Um… catch you on Monday," he mumbled, clearing his throat, his gaze fixed anywhere but on me. He melted into the night, leaving me standing there, gaping at the door, with a whirlwind of thoughts spinning through my mind.

Charlie casually peeked around the side of the door, and from the look on his face, it was clear he caught the whole thing.

"Still questioning if he's into you?" Charlie asked, shooting me a knowing look.

Part 6 Link Here: https://www.tumblr.com/cutecurly-hair/759302465187414016/hearts-unleashed-part-6

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Astronaut AU - Part 17

Masterpost Read on AO3

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

Author's Note: Thank you so so so much to everyone who has been so understanding of me needing to take some extra time with this now! I love you all. I originally was going to end this chapter very differently but had to split it because I wanted to focus more on certain things, so you'll be getting yet another extra chapter than planned.

---

Somewhere between November 27 and November 28 Houston, TX

Alive. 

Alive. 

Alive. 

The late November stars in the darkness over Houston shine bright – at least, those bright enough to shine through the night lights of a city. If one could see them up close, they’d be fiery reds and blues and yellows. But way up there in the geocentric sky, they’re mostly just white. Explosive, burning masses of hydrogen and helium dozens to hundreds to thousands of lightyears away. 

They don’t sleep, and neither does Gale. 

It might seem funny that he’s wide awake. For days, he could hardly sleep because his husband wasn’t at his side, because he was worried sick he may never sleep beside John again. Now Bucky is here, and Gale still can’t bring himself to sleep. All he can do is sit on the uncomfortable couch beside the hospital bed and stare at the still form of his husband, broken and bruised but still breathing. He listens to the beeping of his heart monitor, and every beat seems to echo the words Gale is trying to drill into his head. 

Alive. 

Alive. 

Alive. 

After so many days spent preparing for the worst – grieving a loss he was sure would come but couldn’t bear to believe – Gale barely dares to look away. He’s worried that if he does, John will somehow slip from his grasp once again, pull away from this world even after everything it took to bring him back to it. What if he looks away, and in the absence of his gaze, Bucky drifts into the open void of the unknowable?

To the stars from which we came, the stars to which we return. Bucky Egan, at the very least, wouldn’t mind having died out there, pushing the boundaries of human exploration, ever the wanderlust-fueled explorer. But here? In a hospital?

Stop it, Gale. 

John is here, bound by gravity once again where Gale can touch him and talk to him and see his smile. He’s fine. He’s recovering. The worst is over.

But still, Gale watches. No matter how many times his tired eyes threaten to close, how shallowly his own heart beats, how fuzzy his head feels. He reminds himself to keep breathing, and he counts Bucky’s breaths, too. Bucky’s lungs fill with Oxygen, and they fill Gale’s with hope. 

Sometime too early in the morning, just hours after he finally laid eyes on his husband for the first time in weeks, Gale feels himself drifting. The TV in the corner of the room is playing on mute, some 80s rom-com that he always confuses with some other 80s rom-com. If John were awake and coherent, he’d insist on coming up with his own dialogue and plot-lines for whatever is silently happening on screen. Absurd stories that would never be aired on television but always, inevitably, make Gale laugh. 

Bucky’s knocked out, though, and it becomes harder and harder for Gale to keep his eyes open. He rests his chin in his hand and looks out the window, at the high-rise view of the lit up, lonely Houston street. Streetlights below, stars above, a black cloudless sky and a glowing quarter moon. That nowhere and everywhere that they’ve both chased for their entire lives. It’s not meant for humans to claim, and Gale grips his hair in his fingers, stares at Earth’s only natural satellite, and thanks it for not claiming his husband. He hears the rhythm of Bucky’s heartbeat, and it beats in time with the pulse of the universe that gave him this life to run with. 

Gale imagines being up there, chasing that infinity again. What does it say about him, that even after all this, he’s itching to get on that rocket, walk on the lunar surface, see the Earthrise from 240,000 miles away? He longs for it almost as much as he longs to hold John in his arms. It’s what both of them were meant to do. 

Their relationship has always been that way: fully dedicated to one another, but just as dedicated to their careers. Split three ways. Buck, Bucky, and boundless flight. 

He imagines looking down on their perfectly imperfect planet through Orion’s window, or Gateway’s or Starship’s – the view that he’s dreamed of, worked for, his entire life. He imagines hurtling through that wide open cosmos towards the moon and beyond, little beacon stars lighting his way to the next frontier, the next dream. He imagines setting foot on that fine lunar soil, craters rising up on all sides, his footsteps imprinted on the surface for years to come.

Or, more simply, he imagines flying a plane through the night sky, the dark Gulf beneath him, the coastline, an invisible map that he knows like the back of his hand. This world that he loves in this universe that he loves, and he’s soaring high above it all in a plane that is his purest home. Free and fearless and full of life. The only place he’s ever felt like he truly, unequivocally, knows who he is and where he’s meant to be. It could be an Air Force jet, a bomber, a NASA trainer. Or it could be his own little prop plane. 

He can feel the familiar controls in his hand, energy thrumming through the aircraft and straight into him. He can hear it so clearly, as if he’s taking off from the runway at this very moment. He inhales with the sense of peace that washes over him, the simultaneous rush of adrenaline that it brings him. He imagines the way he can bank and roll and spin through the sky, completely in control and yet untethered from the rest of reality. Lost in the clouds. Maybe it’s just him, or maybe Bucky’s at his side, stars in his eyes and a grin on his face as they soar higher and higher. Maybe his hand finds Gale’s. They look each other in the eye, and Gale feels all the wrongs of this life wash away.

Two pilots. Two astronauts. Two Buckies. The way the world is meant to be.

“Gale?”

John’s voice cuts through the thick, quiet, TV-lit dimness of this wonderland of the sick and broken, dragging Gale back down to Earth. The sound is so small that Gale almost wonders if he really heard it, or if it was simply an echo of his drifting not-quite-day-dream. But his ears are tuned to the sound of John’s voice, and no matter how soft, it hits him like a wall of stone. Weak and nervous, the same as it was on Starship and Orion. Like a child waking alone in the darkness with no one to hold onto.

Gale, not for the first time, wonders why, in a place of fear and vulnerability, Bucky has turned to calling him by his real name. Gale not Buck. 

He gets to his feet, feels the room tilt around his own fatigue and undoubted dehydration. “I’m here darlin’,” he manages to say. 

In the LED light of the television, he sees Bucky’s eyes, open and unfocused. They seem to find Gale, though, latching onto him like he’s a flame in the dark. Bucky doesn’t smile, but a certain tension leaves the worried set of his features as he follows Gale’s every move.

At the side of the bed, Gale gently grasps Bucky’s clammy hand in his, mindlessly rubs his thumb along the silver band on his ring finger. Mine. My heart. My soul. My love. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky stares at him, eyes wide, as if he can’t believe Gale is there. “‘S’not Orion.”

Gale shakes his head, biting at his lower lip as his heart looks for its own steady beat. “No,” he agrees. “You’re home. You’re in the hospital.”

“Oh.” That’s it. Just oh. Like it makes sense but also makes no sense at all, and Gale doesn’t know which it is or if it’s somehow both. Maybe he could’ve told Bucky he was anywhere and he would’ve believed it. As he’s trying to sort through what comes next – trying to figure out if Bucky remembers anything or if he understands where he is and why – Bucky says something else. “You’re here.” Again, like he can’t believe it.

Gale squeezes his hand gently, holds back a choked breath when Bucky squeezes back. He uses his other hand to stroke Bucky’s cheek, feeling the warmth there, the softness of his skin, solid and whole. “I’m right here,” he whispers, because his own voice isn’t strong enough to say it any louder. 

The next word to come out of Bucky’s mouth is the last for the night, but it carves something sad and grateful and all-over undefinable deep into Gale’s chest. He looks into Gale’s eyes and his lips part and it comes out in a rush of breath that is so simple but ties this fractured reality together again. 

“Stay?”

So he stays. 

Two people, especially two grown men, really, really do not fit in a hospital bed. But Buck and Bucky tend to find ways to bend the laws of physical space to their will, to accommodate the whole that they collectively constitute. Gale helps Bucky scoot over, ever careful of his casted leg, and he eases himself into the bed, wraps himself around his husband like he alone can hold the pieces of him together. The warmth of Bucky’s body pressed against him settles something in Gale’s soul, and his heart swells at the familiarity of having this man in his arms – something he went too long without and nearly lost all together. Bucky is fast asleep the moment he nuzzles into Gale’s chest, and try as he might to stay awake with this ridiculous notion that he needs to watch over Bucky, Gale drifts off without fear clutching at his throat for the first time in weeks. 

They only get a few hours of quiet, nightmare-free sleep before the morning nurse walks in and finds two world-renowned astronauts tucked against each other between the cramped bed rails. Her patient is sound asleep, his face finally relaxed instead of pained. Gale’s face is tucked into the crook of Bucky’s neck, his hand on Bucky’s chest. She can do nothing but smile, shake her head, and do her best not to wake them.

Gale’s eyes groggily open to the rising light of a cloudy dawn and the sound of the nurse adjusting Bucky’s IV. But she just pats him on the leg and tells him to go back to sleep. She was briefed by her superiors and by NASA itself. She knows what kind of Hell they’ve both been dragged through. If John Egan and Gale Cleven want to share a bed for a few hours, they can damn well share a bed.

—

That first morning that Bucky wakes up in the hospital, he’s convinced he’s on Orion. Faintly, he hears rustling around him, feels someone prodding at his IV, his leg, his head. Without even opening his eyes, he winces at the pain. His head feels like it’s splitting in half. He tries weakly to push away the hands holding him in place, hears someone shushing him like a spooked animal, tries to push them away, too. And then all of it is gone.

Some time later – it could be an eternity for all he cares, but Gale tells him it was only about an hour – the sound of quiet music brings him back to the surface. The wake-up alarm, for sure. He tries to blink his eyes open, but his eyelids feel heavy and sticky and don’t want to cooperate. He sees glimpses of bright light, grays and whites above him. Orion’s interior. Someone is beside him; he can feel them. Rosie, probably.

“I’ll be home for Christmas, you can count on me…”

Bucky wonders who on Earth – or not on Earth – chose a Christmas song as their morning alarm.

But then a gentle hand is wiping sweat off his forehead, trailing down his cheek like it just doesn’t want to pull away quite yet. Someone isn’t just beside him, but he can feel them pressed up against him, all along his side, warm and comforting. A soft weight is pressed over his chest – someone’s arm, not holding him down, but simply holding him. Slowly, the music becomes clearer, and he realizes that it isn’t a song playing over Orion’s speakers. Instead, the someone beside him is singing quietly, a deep, smooth voice that brings Bucky to pieces every time he hears it.

Why is Buck on Orion?

“Christmas Eve’ll find me, where the love light gleams…”

Bucky fights to open his eyes all the way, tilting his head towards the warmth at his side, the voice in his ear. But Gale’s voice trails off when he notices Bucky stirring. Bucky whines in protest, and Gale picks back up, finishes the last few lines of the song.

Finally, Bucky’s vision comes into focus, and he sees a tall white ceiling above him, monitors on either side of the bed he’s laying on. His leg is held together by a stiff, scratchy cast, elevated at the end of the mattress. The walls are white and empty. Square.

Not Orion. Too big. 

Bucky’s heart rate jumps, and he hears a beeping noise reflect that for everyone around to hear.

“Hey, it’s alright.” Gale’s hand gently cups the side of Bucky’s face again, his thumb rubbing gently over his brow, then his cheek.

Bucky opens his mouth to say something, to ask what’s going on because his brain is only putting together bits and pieces that he can’t fully wrap his head around. He feels like, somewhere, he remembers things that happened, but he doesn’t remember what they were. He doesn’t remember the when or the how. He was on the moon. And then he was in pain. And a lot is missing but somehow he was on Orion again, and all he can remember is blurry moments, pain and fear and sickness. Somewhere, he knows where he is and how he got here, like it’s right on the tip of his tongue, but his brain can’t find the correct puzzle pieces to fill in the gap. They’re there, but they’re not where they need to be. And now he finds that his throat hurts and his head hurts and his lips are dry and sticky and-

“Here,” Gale says. He turns away to pick up a cup of water, and he guides a straw to Bucky’s mouth. “Water. It’ll help.”

Water. Bucky can do water. He clasps the straw between his lips and sucks on it gratefully. It tastes different than what they had up there.

When Gale pulls the cup away and sets it on the little table beside the hospital bed, Bucky finally comprehends that Gale is laying on the bed beside him, squished in between the bars. They’re in a hospital room. He remembers Gale being here when it was dark, kneeling on the floor, crying against Bucky’s hand. His husband looks wrecked, exhausted, worn out. 

Because of Bucky.

And yet he turns back over, propping himself up on his side with one elbow, and there’s a small, hopeful smile on his face.

Because of Bucky.

Two things can be true. 

“Christmas songs?” Those are Bucky’s first words of the morning, scraping out of a scratchy throat but strong and intentional nonetheless. “How long was I out?”

Gale’s thumb strokes lazy patterns over Bucky’s chest, covered by a thin hospital gown. “It’s November 28th. You splashed down on the 26th and arrived stateside yesterday.”

A little laugh pops up out of Bucky’s sore chest. Everything is sore, and the laugh makes the pounding in his head intensify. But it’s worth it to see the way Gale’s tired eyes get a little brighter. Usually, Bucky is the one trying to celebrate Christmas as early as possible, even before Thanksgiving comes around. The moment Halloween is over, Bucky moves right on to holiday cheer. Buck is always the one futilely begging him to wait until December. Yet here he is, singing Bucky a Christmas song.

“You like them,” Gale mutters quietly, reading Bucky’s mind. And Bucky gets totally lost in the way Gale’s eyes shyly flutter downward as he looks away, biting gently at his lower lip. Bucky lifts his hand, which feels as heavy as lead, and rests it over top of Gale’s. The touch sends a bolt of electricity through him, like they’re just awkward teenagers again, holding hands for the first time, and it grounds Bucky back to this planet.

Gale reaches forward suddenly to grab something before it falls to the floor. A little stuffed bear in a NASA shirt. Delicately, he presses Beary Egan back against Bucky’s side, secure between his chest and bicep. Bucky looks down at the little guy. “I remember you,” he mumbles fondly.

His brain feels fuzzy, and he wishes his head would stop pounding so bad. He looks at Gale, wants to say something, the words on the tip of his tongue. But he can’t hold onto them, like trying to catch a bug in a net, and he forces his eyes to focus on his husband’s face. Soft and familiar and the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

I love you, he wants to say. His lips move, but the sound doesn’t quite make it out. Gale kisses the top of his head and pulls him close, so Bucky is resting against his chest. He starts singing White Christmas, low and sweet, his lips brushing against the hair still exposed at the top of Bucky’s head above the bandage. Bucky smiles, and as he fiddles mindlessly with his husband’s fingers, he can feel Gale smiling, too. 

—

Those first 24 hours are the most promising. Bucky rapidly regains strength under the hospital’s care. He wakes several times throughout the day, seeming alert and aware. He complains about the scratchy hospital gown, and he goes so far as to mention things he remembers about the mission. “Didn’t get the plants,” he’ll say. Or “‘S’quiet on the moon” or “felt sick a lot.” Sometimes he doesn’t have the words for what he wants to say, even if Gale asks him about something specific. He might smile or frown or shrug, part his lips to answer but stop short of spitting out the sounds. He looks out the window, watches whatever’s on TV, holds Gale’s hand. His fine motor control remains shaky, and Gale finds himself having to help him eat sometimes – more soup for now – especially later in the day when Bucky gets more fatigued. The doctor assures Gale that regaining full motor control may take time, but is likely at the rate Bucky is progressing.

Bucky asks about Pepper at some point. Gale doesn’t have the heart to tell him that she’s been grieving his absence. He tells him that’s she’s staying with Benny right now, that she misses him. 

Gale slips out for a few hours in the middle of the afternoon to head to JSC, where he debriefs with Mission Control, Harding, and the rest of the crew. It’s the first of several meetings of the sort, where they’ll discuss everything from spacecraft performance to experiment results to crew health. For now, they tiptoe around the elephant in the room – what went wrong with that rover. Bucky’s accident and everything that followed will constitute its own debrief, or possibly more than one.

Before heading off with Marge to prep for a post-flight press conference, the three present crew members ask about Bucky, and Gale assures them that he’s doing okay.

The man in question is asleep when Gale returns in a fresh change of clothes. He’s carrying two duffel bags – one full of clothes and supplies for himself, and one full of clothes for Bucky so he doesn’t have to wear that awful gown. He drops the bags in the corner of the room and takes the opportunity to turn the TV back on, volume low. He flips to the press conference. Harding and Marge are both present to moderate, and Curt, Rosie, and Alex, dressed in flight suits, sit together at a long table emblazoned with a NASA Artemis banner. Gale listens as they answer questions about the mission, but he finds he can’t focus for shit.

The press room is packed full of people, buzzing with a need-to-know energy. Of course, the first reporters to shoot their hands into the air ask about Bucky’s condition, to which Rosie responds that the commander is “recovering well.” The next is about the injuries he sustained, and then there’s one about if he’s expected to make a full recovery. “We’re optimistic,” Rosie says – code for, we hope so, but we don’t know. 

Gale knows that, as the questions pour in about what happened and how it happened and what it means for NASA, Marge and Harding will begin to shift the conference away from John’s accident entirely. A single “how can NASA justify such a dangerous program” will be professionally answered, and then any further questions regarding the incident will be pushed aside for now. But Gale doesn’t make it that far anyway. 

When someone asks for an account of what went wrong that day on the moon, Curt, as the only other person present, is forced to explain what happened at Shackleton Crater. He makes every effort to speak professionally, but everyone watching can plainly see that it’s an uncomfortable conversation to have. Gale can’t stand to listen for even another second.

He’ll be forced to relive what happened over and over for months, maybe years to come. He’ll hear it in debriefings and on the news. He’ll discuss it in interviews and press conferences. It’ll loom over him as he prepares for his own mission. It’ll haunt his dreams, even when Bucky is home safe, healthy and happy and raring for another go. It won’t leave him. Ever.

So for now, he turns off the TV. He sits quietly. He listens to the beeping heart monitor. And he tries not to forget that his husband is alive beside him.

—

The nurses allow a handful of visitors over the weekend. Bucky experiences intense periods of discomfort and confusion overnight, but once again seems lucid in the morning. Whatever they put in the IV is starting to dull the fever and helps with the pain, but only so much can be done when the pain is nearly unbearable. It also has the side effect of making Bucky feel nauseous throughout the day. Despite all of that, he’s in good spirits, making small talk with the nurse as she takes his vitals or kissing the back of Gale’s hand whenever he has the chance. So, late on Saturday morning, Gale leaves for another debriefing at JSC, and he returns in the afternoon with Benny and Marge trailing after him.

One of the nurses lets Gale know that Bucky woke again about an hour ago, cooperated well for all of his hygiene tasks, and ate some yogurt. He seems lucid now, but had an initial moment of anxiety when he realized Gale was gone. The head of the bed is raised, so he’s in an upright sitting position, now dressed in an old Air Force t-shirt and gray shorts. A fresh bandage is wrapped around his head.

“You look like shit,” Benny tells him as he stops at the end of the bed, arms crossed. He grins at Bucky, who raises a hand and just about manages to flip him off.

Marge goes straight to the bedside, leaning in to wrap Bucky in a tight hug. He raises both arms to hug her back with a force that surprises both of them. On Earth and in proper healthcare, he’s finally regaining the strength for things like that, even if his hands don’t always work right. 

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Marge whispers.

“Kinda miss the moon,” Bucky whispers back. Gale, who stands on the other side of Bucky’s bed, smacks him gently on the shoulder, making Bucky smile. “I missed ya, Marge,” he says sincerely as she lets go.

“Didn’t miss me?” Benny asks.

Bucky playfully glares at him. “Heard enough of your voice for a lifetime.” 

Benny rolls his eyes, but he switches places with Marge to give Bucky a hug. “I’m glad you didn’t die.” He pulls away and motions to Gale. “Your husband would’ve been a nightmare to deal with.”

Gale scowls and raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Bucky reaches for his hand, kisses his knuckles. And none of them say a word about the fact that Gale was nearly inconsolable as it was.

Bucky looks at Marge. “Saw the guys on the, um… the…” He points vaguely to the TV and closes his eyes in frustration. 

“The news,” Gale supplies, and Bucky nods. “I didn’t know you were awake for that.”

Bucky shrugs. “I never really know when I’m awake.” This makes Benny snort, because it sounds like such a John thing to say, and yet right now it’s actually true. 

Marge sits at the end of Bucky’s bed. “Hope it’s alright they did the post-flight press conference without their commander.”

“Doesn’t seem right, huh?” Bucky points out. He smiles though, so Marge knows he doesn’t mean it. He knows there wasn’t much choice. “World’s gonna think I’m dyin’.”

“Well,” Benny starts to say, but Gale hits him with a nasty glare that shuts him up. 

Marge rolls her eyes. “What? Do you want me to post a picture of you or something? Prove you’re alive?” She’s joking, but Bucky isn’t. 

So the Artemis PAO posts two photographs on NASA’s various relevant social media accounts: one of Bucky sitting up in the hospital bed, head wrapped, leg in a cast, face pale, but smiling brightly with two thumbs up; and one candid of him and Gale, looking at each other with all the love in the world, their hands clasped together on top of the shitty hospital mattress. 

She drafts a brief statement to go with them, starting with the words: “Artemis 3 commander, Major John Egan, is recovering well after his incident at the lunar South Pole.” She also includes, at his insistence, the sentiment that he’d go back, it was the mission of a lifetime, and he’s grateful to have had such an amazing crew up there with him. 

She does not include his message of “fuck you” to everyone who thought he deserved it.  

—

When Harding comes by in the afternoon, he first pulls Gale into a tight hug. No words pass between them, but the look Chick gives him says everything that needs to be said. I’m proud of you, I’m here for you, everything will be okay. 

Both of them are caught in a nervous sense of relief and tentative hope. They both thought they might lose John. One of Harding’s boys. Gale’s entire world. They both felt, in their own ways, the world crash around them. No one saw the director of the spaceflight program break every wine glass in his kitchen cabinet by chucking them at the wall. No one saw the way he paced in the darkness and screamed at the moon and interrogated every man and woman who had a hand in building that damn rover. 

All they saw was a hardened, fearless man, hell bent on bringing his astronauts home. He spoke to the press every day, fielded every absurd question they had. He directed the flight controllers and oversaw the task forces and pushed them all to do better, work harder, find more solutions. He watched Gale fall apart. He prepared for John’s death, had to have Marge draft a damn statement about it – something she never told Gale. He had to stand in his office and practice giving it, stone-faced, in the event he had to give it on live television.

Today we lost an American hero… He gave his life doing what he loved… 

John Egan, a good pilot, a good astronaut, a good husband…

This is a devastating loss for the NASA community and for America…

We commit his soul to the stars, and we hope he will fly among them with the same fire in his heart…

“Hey Chick.” 

Chick takes a long moment to stare at Bucky, upright in the hospital bed. He looks sick, but he doesn’t look small. He doesn’t look weak.  

We commit his soul to the stars…

The words ring in Chick’s head, and just a few days after Thanksgiving, he can’t thank this world enough for not forcing him to say them on a live broadcast. Miraculously, John’s wild, unruly soul still has a home on this Earth, reflected in his grin, in the way his curls stick up in all different directions from beneath the bandage around his head, the glint in his eyes, still glassy from fever but wide open and watching. 

“Well if it isn’t the man of the hour,” Harding says, pushing aside the emotion he feels. He shoves his hands into his pockets, then pulls them back out, adjusts the collar of his shirt, looks at Bucky’s cast, his IV, his fever-reddened cheeks. Listens to the heart monitor playing its steady song.

Bucky reaches an arm up, inviting Chick in for a hug that both of them desperately need. Chick will swear he didn’t cry, but it was damn close.

Bucky smirks at him when he stands upright again. “I think I deserve man of the year.”

—

When the rest of the crew comes to visit on Sunday, finally released from NASA’s laundry list of initial debriefings and medical checks, the first thing that happens is they come marching into the room single file, singing “We’re glad you’re not dead” to the tune of Happy Birthday. Gale doesn’t know if he should laugh or hide his face in second hand embarrassment. Bucky waves his hand in the air like a conductor as they gather around his bed, Curt on his right, Rosie seated at the foot of the bed, Alex standing at the end. Gale sits on the couch, present but allowing the four crewmates some space.

The second thing that happens is all four astronauts stick their tongues out at each other. Gale raises his eyebrow, but not a single one explains. 

The third thing that happens is Curt hands over a sealed silver packet, much like the ones they had on the spacecraft. Exactly like the ones they had on the spacecraft.

“The fuck?” Bucky scoffs, even as he grabs the packet. “Hospital food’s bad. Space food ain’t much better.”

“Orange juice,” Curt says. He’s pleased when Bucky’s eyes widen a little bit, skepticism replaced with gratitude. “Buck mentioned the juice here kinda sucked. Nicked it from the space center this morning.”

Curt and Rosie both have half a mind to open the pouch for Bucky, hold it up for him to sip from. But Bucky pops the top off all on his own and presses the straw between his lips. He nods in approval after taking a sip. “Thank you, orange juice, for keeping me alive.”

Curt holds a hand over his heart, using the other to motion to himself and Rosie. “I think the orange juice had a little help.”

Bucky waves a hand to brush them off with a roll of his eyes, but then he grins at them. “I wouldn’t, uh…” He tilts his head, squinting as he seems to lose the words he wanted to say, and the grin falls away. After a long few seconds, he looks at them again, a more tempered smile returning to his face. “Wouldn’t be here if… if it weren’t for you two.” 

Even if the words would stop fading from his brain, there aren’t any words that can appropriately encapsulate what Bucky needs to say. How do you thank someone for saving your life in a situation that is quite literally beyond the human limits of survival? How do you thank them for looking after you, day and night, doing whatever needed to be done just to make sure you kept breathing? How do you express regret for having upended the once in a lifetime mission that they’d spent years preparing for? Sadness for what was sacrificed? Gratitude for making that sacrifice anyway?

Curt shakes his head and rests a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Couldn’t stand the idea of flyin’ home with your dead body in a space suit. Keepin’ ya alive was the best way to avoid it.”

Bucky looks up at him. “Sorry you didn’t get to…” He sighs and shakes his head.

“The plants,” Gale calls out.

Bucky nods. “The plants.”

He doesn’t remember much of anything from those touch and go days on Starship. But in every memory he does have of it, Curt is right there with him. Curt, standing over him with worry all over his face. Curt, speaking to Houston. Curt, staring out the window at the little greenhouse he’d never see again. Curt, cleaning up Bucky’s messes and struggling to get him into the OCS suit. Curt, reaching out to him, telling him he was gonna be alright.

Little snapshots of a blurry, industrial world. Whites and grays and pain and fear. And in the middle of it all, Curt.

The Artemis pilot shrugs and grips Bucky’s shoulder a little harder. “You’re worth more to me.” It’s the single most genuine thing Curt has ever said to him. He smiles self-deprecatingly and says “Alright, quit goin’ all sappy on me. I saved your ass. What else is new?”

Bucky laughs and shakes off Curt’s hand. Then he looks at Rosie. “You… are a steely-eyed missile man.” Of all the words to be able to remember, of course, for a space-obsessed boy-turned-pilot-turned-astronaut, that term sticks out loud and clear.

“I think that title is reserved for the engineers,” Rosie chuckles. It’s a name that first popped up in Mission Control during the Apollo days – originating with John Aaron – for an astronaut or engineer who proved resourceful and quick-thinking in a crisis, devising a solution to a life- or mission-threatening problem. “All I did was keep you from finding new ways to fuckin’ off yourself.”

Bucky remembers more of his time on Orion, though not all of it. Mostly he remembers the pain and the nausea, the feeling of his body floating in pieces, no longer a whole. He remembers the stars and the Earth out the window. Beary Egan in his hands. He remembers Rosie trying to get him to eat. Rosie, at his side day and night. Rosie, brushing back his sweaty hair and hugging him when he couldn’t stop shaking. Rosie, trying to convince him to keep fighting just a little longer.

Rosie worked through every single problem. He guided Curt through how to care for Bucky, how to stabilize his leg, hold him down through a seizure, keep him stable. Then on Orion, he hardly slept, watching over Bucky at all times. He prevented Bucky from re-injuring himself, from tearing out his IV. He worked out how to keep Bucky going on rationed IV fluid and the little food he could stomach. Sure, Houston was there to help. But Dr. Rosenthal is the one that actively figured out how to keep Bucky alive at every point of their journey back to Earth. He foresaw and solved the problems. He brought Bucky home.

So Bucky shakes his head when Rosie tries to be modest. He looks at Gale. “Buck, tell Marge to write up somethin’ ‘bout Rosie. Steely-eyed missile man.”

“I don’t tell Marge what to do,” Gale says flatly.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Ask her.” He catches Gale’s eye and points at Rosie again. It takes him another moment to get the words right, and they fumble through his lips, but they make it through. “This man d-deserves it more ‘n anyone.”

Articles about Dr. Robert ‘Rosie’ Rosenthal, the “steely-eyed missile man” who got Major Egan home, will be circulating within 48 hours. 

Finally, Bucky looks at Alex. “And you… thanks for lookin’ after her.” He means the capsule, of course. Alex stepped in when Bucky couldn’t, made sure Orion kept functioning and got them all home in one piece. “G-Got her home at least as good as I could’ve.” 

Alex rolls his eyes, but the engineer smiles and sets a hand on Bucky’s leg. “I wish you didn’t almost clock out on us, but it was a hell of a ride.”

Gale watches the four of them laugh and joke and give each other shit. Even as Bucky starts to lose energy, Gale sees the way he smiles at his crew, sticks his tongue out when Curt says something rude. The way he tries to stay present even when the words seem to leave him. The way he leans into Rosie when the physician gives him a tight side hug. The way he willingly hands Beary Egan off to Alex to inspect before protectively taking the plushie back again. 

This right here is their family. They’d each do just about anything for one another – not even the sky's the limit. And yet Gale feels like he’s indebted to them for life, because against all odds, they brought his husband home to him.

—

Somewhere in the liminal space between Sunday and Monday, Gale has to wake Bucky – twitching, near-crying, and scratching at his IV – from a nightmare. Bucky won’t speak, won’t tell Gale what the nightmare was about. He holds onto Gale’s hand and won’t let go until Gale finally climbs into the bed beside him, holding him tight. Beary Egan remains clutched to his chest.

Monday morning finds him in another state of confusion, more or less mute with an elevated heart rate signifying his distress. He keeps trying to get at the cast on his leg or pull off the bandage on his head. He scrabbles weakly at the IV and tries to lash out when the nurse attempts to restrain his hands for his own safety. Gale has to clamp both of Bucky’s hands tightly in his own as he tries to ask him to calm down and assures him he’s alright. He quietly sings Blue Skies, looks into wild blue eyes. He squeezes Bucky’s hands, and slowly Bucky’s heart rate drops; the tension leaves his body.

The nurse ups his morphine, and he’s out again.

The next time he wakes, early Monday afternoon, Bucky is of clearer mind. Gale, who left for a few hours to stop by JSC, returns to the hospital to find him flirting with the nurse taking his vitals. He’s eating scrambled eggs, his hand trembling the littlest bit as he lifts his fork to his mouth, but he’s smiling at the nurse. She blushes at something he says, and Gale knocks on the open door.

Bucky’s eyes are clear and focused as they immediately shift to Gale, who is dressed in black jeans, a gray long-sleeve, and a NASA flight jacket with his hair gelled back. 

“There’s my lovely wife!” The smile on Bucky’s face widens, and a glob of scrambled eggs tumbles off his fork and onto the plate. He glares at it and lowers the fork back to the plate as well. 

The corner of Gale’s mouth curves up as he leans against the door frame. “Losin’ interest in me already?” 

“You’ve had me wrapped around your finger since we met, doll.” Bucky reaches a hand out, causing the IV to tug at the skin – red and irritated from his attempts to remove it this morning. Gale fully enters the room to take Bucky’s hand. Then Bucky motions to the nurse. “Doesn’t mean I can’t tell Clara she looks beautiful today.”

The nurse – Clara – smiles shyly as she jots down information on Bucky’s chart. “And you certainly keep us on our toes Major Egan.”

“What he does best,” Gale agrees. He looks down as Bucky slides his hand away once again, looking intently at his plate. 

“His temperature is going down,” Clara tells Gale by way of update. “Only 99.2, so the propranolol seems to be helping. We’re very pleased.” 

“Damn eggs,” Bucky mutters. He picks up the fork again and scoops up some of the offending eggs. His hand shakes as he lifts the fork to his mouth and barely manages to get his lips around it. No matter how many times he’s told it’ll take some good occupational therapy to regain fine motor control, he’s pissed about it. 

Clara sets the clipboard with John’s chart down on the mattress. “Shall we take a look at that scalp infection? If it’s healing nicely, we can keep the bandage off.”

Bucky nods, and Clara unwinds the gauze from around his head. The healing gash is a lot less angry than it was before, and she deems it improved enough to keep the wrap off for now. Bucky raises a tentative hand to the back of his head, feeling the patch of stubbly hair where they had to shave it once again upon his arrival. Gale gently smacks his hand. “That’s what got you in trouble in the first place.”

Bucky scowls but lets his hand be guided away from his head. “Think it was the rover that got me in trouble.”

Gale can’t really argue with that, and he tries to push past the unsettled feeling the statement leaves him with. Sensing the sudden tension, Clara pats Bucky on the shoulder, tells him to try to finish his eggs, and leaves the couple be.

Over the next 24 hours, Bucky manages to not only finish his scrambled eggs but also eat jell-o, a late dinner of chicken and rice, and half a pancake for breakfast that he savors the taste of but nearly throws back up – too rich too fast. Sometimes he needs Gale’s help holding the utensils, and sometimes he doesn’t. They go on a couple of walks around the hospital ward, Gale pushing Bucky in a wheelchair. 

They talk until Bucky’s brain refuses to talk anymore. Then they stay in peaceful silence, or Gale fills the gaps with stories, well-wishes from friends, or, most often by Bucky’s request, more singing. Bucky drifts in and out of consciousness with a far better sense of place and time than when he was on Orion, but his baseline anxiety levels are elevated. Overnight, they deal with more nightmares, more heart rate and blood pressure spikes, more lapses in memory and awareness. 

Turns out Gale isn’t the only one with a newfound unease in the night.

In the daylight, Bucky’s cognitive capabilities are far more reliable, and he seems nearly normal. Cocky, charismatic Major Bucky Egan with the winning smile, flirting with Gale and every nurse – young or old, male or female – who attends to him. 

On Tuesday, Bucky’s fever is gone. The headwrap stays off. Rosie comes by early that afternoon to visit and consult with the doctor, who lets Gale know that Bucky will likely be able to go home the next day. Rosie helps Gale make a list of things he’ll need to do to help Bucky at home, and he assures Gale he’ll help out, too.

It feels like they’ve climbed a damn mountain, and they’re so close to the summit. It’s the bottom of the ninth, as Bucky would say. He’s running for home.

—

The first time Gale hears Bucky cough is early on Tuesday evening. He hardly even glances up from his laptop. Just a quick look to make sure John is alright and then, seeing his husband peacefully asleep, he goes back to reviewing Orion flight data sent over from JSC, noting down how Artemis 3 findings may impact Artemis 4 protocols. A couple hours later, when he hears it again, it’s louder, wetter, and Gale frowns. But still, Bucky remains asleep, his brow just the slightest bit scrunched. Gale watches him for a minute before returning to his work, running a hand through his hair as he stifles a yawn. He takes a sip of shitty hospital coffee, tries to blink the tiredness out of his eyes, and wraps his fists in the soft sleeves of the Yankees sweatshirt that he’s wearing once again.

By about 8pm, he’s struggling to focus on the data swimming across his too-bright laptop screen, fending off a headache of his own. He’s debating whether or not he can stomach food from the hospital cafeteria, or if he’s better off going in search of something else nearby. Hunger is, for better or worse, something he’s started actually feeling again since Bucky has been progressing under the hospital’s care. 

He’s thinking about calling Benny or Marge to see if they want to meet at the Hundred Proof when the coughing starts up again. And this time, it doesn’t stop. Instead, when Gale looks up from his laptop, Bucky’s eyes are wide open, and he’s coughing so hard his face is turning red. He winces at the pain that the violent motion causes to his head and body. Gale sets his laptop aside and steps over to the bed, helps Bucky to sit up, rubs a hand up and down his back and presses the other to his chest. 

“Gale?” Bucky whispers. His face looks panicked, scared. And it pulls at Gale’s heart as he wonders if this is what Bucky looked like on Orion, every time he reached out into the void, hoping for Gale to be there. He takes Bucky’s hand in his and squeezes, a silent I’m here. A secret, I’m sorry I wasn’t before.

When the coughing subsides and Bucky manages to catch his breath, he makes a disgusted face and gags a little bit. Gale grabs a napkin from the tray at Bucky’s bedside, holds it out for Bucky to spit into, which he does. “You alright?”

Bucky squints and shakes his head, lifting a hand to rub at his eyes. He sniffs, and Gale notices for the first time that Bucky’s all stuffed up again, breathing mostly through his mouth. His eyes are a little red and watery, lips chapped, cheeks pink. The dark curls over his forehead are damp with sweat.

Gale presses his wrist to Bucky’s forehead, and he sighs. “You’re warm.”

Bucky looks up at him. The fever he’d been fighting since his return trip had finally gone down, and yet here he is all hot and stuffy again. When Bucky talks, his voice is thick with congestion and tired with the difficulty of drawing air into his lungs. “Shit.”

Gale goes to alert one of the nurses, who promptly follows him back to the room to take Bucky’s temperature. Sure enough, it’s back up to 101.

Gale settles for hospital food. He convinces Bucky to drink juice and swallow a few bites of soup, but he refuses anything else. Any progress he made in eating more solid food over the last day is fundamentally lost. Now, he shakes his head and tells Gale that the soup makes him feel sick. 

—

By the middle of the night, Bucky can’t breathe too well anymore. Unregulated gasps give way to pained wheezing as his lungs refuse to draw in the right amount of oxygen. His head is spinning, and he doesn’t know where he is. “Rosie?” he weakly calls out. It’s too dark, he can’t see the other astronauts across from him. He can’t feel Curt’s presence at his side.

He blinks in confusion when someone kneels down beside him, because that isn’t how people move in space. A strong, slender hand grabs onto his. “Look at me, darlin’.”

Bucky blinks slowly, tries to understand why that voice is here. With him. He reaches a hand up to his own ear in search of a com cap that isn’t there. “Buck.” A cough wracks his chest, and he feels any breath he’d managed to draw being choked from his aching lungs.

“I’m gonna get the nurse,” Gale says calmly. 

“No,” Bucky mutters. His hand searches for the side of Gale’s head, wanting to touch, feel, reassure himself that his husband is here. He feels the gravity pull at his limbs, the IV tug at his skin, the pulse pounding through his leg and his chest and his head. “W-Where am I?” 

In the darkness, he sees the way Gale frowns, and then tries to smile again, and then drops any expression entirely. Gale grips his hand harder, uses his other to brush the sweaty hair back from Bucky’s forehead. Bucky’s heart lurches at the familiar feeling, recalling vague memories of others doing that for him on Orion. His eyes feel wet.

Gale doesn’t break eye contact even as the question tears him apart. “You’re in the hospital, sweetheart. In Texas. You came home five days ago.”

Bucky stares at him, trying to compute something that just won’t quite come together. He remembers being here. He doesn’t remember how he got here. He remembers the pain of being on Orion, and yet part of him is angry that he’s back on this Earth. He doesn’t understand how Gale is here, but he wants to hold on and never, ever let go. He still feels dizzy and he can’t stand the sound of his own breathing, strained and inept. His chest hurts.

“I’m gonna get-”

“Don’t go,” Bucky pleads.

Gale looks pained, but he nods. Carefully, not letting go of Bucky’s hand, he reaches over to press the nurse call button beside the bed. He doesn’t leave Bucky’s side until a nurse comes in to see what the problem is. 

The nurse checks his vitals. “You’re gonna be alright,” she says in a calm, southern drawl. She moves about with such certainty, and Gale tracks her every move even as Bucky can’t, his head hurting too much as he focuses on not suffocating. And then the nurse is fitting a nasal cannula under his nose and around his ears, brushing back his hair in the same comforting way that Gale and Curt and Rosie did. 

“We’re gonna get you some extra oxygen here,” the nurse explains. “Just hold your husband’s hand and try to breathe easy, honey.”

—

In the morning, they take Bucky for imaging, and Gale’s fears prove true: everything about Bucky was weak by the time he made it to the hospital, including his immune system. After being isolated from everyone but a select few for weeks on end and receiving little sufficient nutrients for so long, he contracted a cold and some form of pneumonia during his hospital stay. 

They adjust his IV antibiotics, convince him to drink some water, but can’t get him to eat. The doctor pulls Gale into the hall, and she tells him that they want to keep Bucky for a bit longer to make sure they have a good handle on the infection in his lungs. Gale finds himself flexing the hand he’d punched the mirror with – weeks ago, now – looking for something to ground him. But the skin is healed over, painless. He wishes he could punch something else. Wishes he could have a drink. Hates himself for it. 

Instead, he finds himself dropping, numb, to the chair conveniently beside him. He briefly wonders if doctors do that on purpose, give people bad news where there’s an easy place to sit down. 

It’s not like it’s the worst thing she could’ve told him. It’s not like it’s even unexpected. Out of everything that has gone wrong, could have gone wrong, it could be worse. 

But they were so fucking close. 

Gale nods to himself and runs a hand through his hair, blows a heavy breath through his lips. 

“He’ll be just fine, Major Cleven,” the doctor tells him. “He might be weakened. But he’s not weak.” 

Gale nods again. Nothing about John Egan is weak. Never has been. But Gale also isn’t naive. 

The doctor puts a hand on his shoulder and assures him that John will get better soon. And then she leaves him be. 

He texts Rosie an update. Sits quietly for a while, surrounded by white halls, white floors, the scent of disinfectant. He finds it ironic that the hospital that is supposed to help Bucky heal also brought him new sickness. 

“They’ll get him taken care of,” Rosie’s text comes back. “He’ll be home in no time. Let me know if you have any questions or want to talk.”

Gale pockets his phone and gets to his feet. He holds his breath, counts the seconds. One. Two. Three. Four.

When he hits ten, he exhales and walks back to Bucky’s room. Over the last few days, they’ve accumulated get-well cards and a few flower arrangements, a stuffed Husky from Benny. There’s a brand new drawing from Maggie, one of the little girl and Bucky together on the moon. In the corner, a few balloons from the crew – one meant to look like Mars, one like the moon, and one a star. The gifts are scattered around, brightening a sterile room, and Bucky sits in the middle of it, propped up in bed with his casted leg propped on a pillow, Beary Egan resting beside him. His cast has been signed in colorful marker by his crew mates (at Curt’s insistence), a few of the nurses, and by Gale (at Bucky’s insistence). Gale even drew a little paw print for Pepper. 

Gale pauses in the doorway, taking in every detail. He’s struck by the thought that this is a view he’ll remember for the rest of his life: his husband in a hospital bed, hooked up to oxygen, an IV, a heart monitor; his unkempt hair, growing long from too many weeks of not cutting it, curls draped over his ears and his forehead; his face flushed with a fever that won’t go away; the sound of him choking back coughs and the sterile scent of the room. Every good and bad little nuance of this situation collides in an earthquake that leaves Gale a little dazed. It’s all nearly too much, broken puzzle pieces that are too big for the space they try to occupy. The grief he’s been through, a tragedy narrowly avoided, the gratitude he feels, the relief, the despondency that came with the doctor’s news. All wrapped up in a pure and painful, unequivocal love for the man in front of him. They’re emotions that Gale doesn’t have words for, can’t even begin to sort through, but they all rise up in his chest unbidden. 

He leans against the door frame and watches Bucky, who is looking out the window at the late morning light, the trees and the birds. Gale wonders what he’s thinking about. He runs his thumb along his wedding ring, and he notices that Bucky is doing the same. 

It’s at that moment that Bucky turns to look at him. For the first time, Gale thinks he looks small in that bed, face pale, eyes glassy once again. But he smiles at Gale like none of it matters, like they’re on a beach on the Gulf, drenched in sun, instead of stewing here. Gale forces his mouth into a crooked little half-upturned thing to keep the emotion from showing on his face, keep his features steady. His throat feels tight, his own eyes burning. But he blinks away the tears that threaten to well up, and he takes a breath.

“Hey there,” he says.

Bucky lifts his hand, holding it out. Gale steps into the room to take it, and Bucky presses his lips to Gale’s knuckles. “Hi.”

“Doc says you have to stay here a bit longer.”

“I know.”

Gale bites his lip and nods, looking down at their joined hands.

“Hey,” Bucky whispers, prodding Gale to look at him again. “I’ll be alright.”

A fleeting, sad little smile crosses over Gale’s lips, blink and you’ll miss it. “I know.” He squeezes Bucky’s hand, and he decides right then and there that he believes it. Bucky will get better. He has to.

—

It’s not easy. Bucky gets worse before he gets better.

Gale feels like he’s stuck in a weird time loop, where every night and every early morning feels frighteningly similar. Bucky has nightmares or wakes in the dark, in pain and crying out. He panics when he can’t seem to get enough air into his lungs, and the doctors consider intubating him one night, but manage to get his oxygen levels under control before it comes to that. Often, Bucky’s brain plays tricks on him, convinces him he’s on the moon or on Orion. The darkness and the brain fog leave him disoriented and anxious, not comprehending where he is, until a nurse helps Gale calm him down, gives him more sedative. Gale holds his hand or lays beside him, strokes his sweaty hair, presses his lips to the side of his head. He sings quietly or tells mundane stories until Bucky falls asleep again.

The days are better. With the sun streaming through the window in pastel rays that light up the room, Bucky is tired and lethargic, but coherent. He sleeps a lot, as much if not more than he did on Orion. When he’s awake, he talks as much as he can manage, but often loses his train of thought and seems to drift away. If he manages a conversation, the coughing often brings his contribution to an end, leaving his head pounding and his ribs protesting. Gale worries he’ll break one of those, too, if the cough doesn’t leave him alone.

“Quit lookin’ at me like that,” Bucky will say, when he catches Gale watching him with uncertainty all over his face. “I’m not dyin’.” But then he’ll be consumed by coughs, choking on his own breath.

He isn’t allowed visitors anymore due to the risk of exposing him to other germs, but when Gale isn’t around – or even sometimes when he is, just to give him a chance to get some air or some food – the nurses take to spending their breaks with Bucky. Most often, they take him on walks around the ward, pushing his wheelchair easily through the halls. They tell him about their day, and sometimes if he’s up to it, he tells them abridged stories about the moon or flying jets. One day Gale returns from JSC to find Bucky sitting in a wheelchair, one of the little rolling standing desks that doctors use lowered to his height. Nurse Clara sits in a rolling chair on the other side, and they both have a selection of playing cards in their hand.

“What’s this?” Gale asks as he removes his flight jacket, clutching it in one hand. He peeks at Bucky’s cards.

“Go fish,” Bucky replies, glancing up at him, and Gale notices that his eyes are clearer than they were in the morning. Bucky frowns as he slowly, laboriously convinces his fingers to grab onto the corner of a card, shakily laying it on the table.

Gale raises an eyebrow, and Clara smiles at him. “Just a little something to work on his fine motor control and keep his brain engaged.”

“I’m winning,” Bucky states proudly, and Gale kisses him on the head before going to sit on the couch, leaving them to it.

He never thought a game of Go Fish would make him want to cry.

During the worst moments, Bucky can become just as agitated as he was on Orion. He asks for Curt or Rosie or Beary Egan. He scrabbles at his IV, tries to pull it off, nearly succeeds once before Gale takes notice and makes him stop. He complains about his leg or the nausea or the pain in his head, and Gale can do nothing but be there, hold on tight, try to help him calm down. It’s those panicked moments in the middle of the night that leave Gale feeling bereft and alone, like he’s fighting single-handedly for Bucky’s survival. And even then he knows, it’s not even comparable to what Curt and Rosie went through, way out there on their own. 

Gale was there – even if only in voice – every step of the way on Bucky’s journey home, but he is now made aware, in startling clarity, that he wasn’t there. No matter what information he got through the coms, none of it could really pull into focus the reality of working Bucky through this all day and night in real time. He may have been here, a voice in Bucky’s ear, doing his best from thousands of miles away. He may have been here, feeling alone on this blue planet as he grieved the potential loss of the man he loves. He may have been here, living the nightmare in his own way. But he wasn’t really there for the play by play. He didn’t see the extent of Bucky’s pain and disorientation. He didn’t wrangle him into a spacesuit or clean up his vomit or rush to keep him stable when he tore out his IV. He wasn’t there for the nightmares or the bouts of confusion or the refusals to eat or drink or generally cooperate. He wasn’t there.

But now he is. He’s getting a taste of all of it, trying to keep his husband from crumbling away.

Rosie drags him to the Hundred Proof one night for some quality time with friends, even though Gale protests the whole way and keeps insisting he needs to get back to Bucky. “You need to breathe, Buck,” Rosie tells him. 

“He’ll be alright,” Curt adds. Just like everyone keeps telling him. “You need a break.”

Marge hugs him tight and gets him a glass of soda. Gale watches Rosie and Alex play a round of pool. He talks to Curt about anything that pointedly isn’t Artemis, but they inevitably fall into conversation about it anyway. Even so, Gale’s mind barely leaves the hospital the entire time he’s at the bar. Benny smacks him on the back at one point and tells him to get out of his own head.

When he gets back to the hospital that night, Gale is so exhausted that he feels dead on his feet. But he sits on the edge of Bucky’s bed, and he rests the back of his hand against Bucky’s forehead. Too warm still. The fever is going down, but hasn’t disappeared. He listens to Bucky’s strained breathing, marginally improved, and to the machine-echoed beep of his heart rate. Bucky has a new IV, held in place with even more tape than before to prevent him from pulling at it, and Beary Egan is cradled in the same arm.

Bucky scrunches his nose when Gale pulls gently at a soft curl over his forehead, and his eyes flutter open. His lips part to say something, but no words make it out of his sore throat.

Gale kicks off his shoes and slips into the bed, not even bothering to change out of the jeans and sweater he wore to the bar. Bucky’s fingers fumble at the button to raise the head of the bed, but he can’t quite manage in his groggy, half-asleep state, and Gale reaches over to help. The bed raises until they’re both more or less upright, Gale half curled around Bucky in the cramped space. 

Gale’s phone buzzes with a text message from Curt – tell the idiot to get better soon – and he glances down at it. Bucky looks over at the lit up lock screen, and a hoarse noise comes from his throat that makes Gale look over. Bucky blinks and points to the phone. The screen. The photo on the screen.

“Our wedding,” he finally manages to shove out.

It’s the photo from their first look, with Bucky staring at Gale with such adoration it might consume him from the inside out

Gale never managed to get through the whole album, but he saved this one particular photograph as his phone background, because he couldn’t take his eyes off it any better than Bucky could take his eyes off Gale that day in October.

“Mmm.” Gale tilts the phone to better show Bucky. “This one’s my favorite so far. I haven’t looked at the whole album. Couldn’t without you.”

Bucky stares at the photograph, and a sweet little smile lights up his face, even in his exhaustion. “My beautiful bride.”

Gale is about to ask if he wants to look at a few more, but before he can, Bucky chokes on a breath and coughs violently, leaning forward, away from Gale. Gale puts the phone away and rests a hand on Bucky’s back, but the coughing fit only gets worse, until Bucky can hardly breathe at all. He wheezes between wet, desperate coughs, pressing his arm over his abdomen as the force threatens to crack a rib like Gale is so afraid it will.

When it finally subsides, Bucky is left curled over on himself, one hand wrapped over his stomach and the other clutching weakly at Gale’s hand. He’s drenched in sweat, every part of him ranging from sore to extreme pain, and there’s blood on his hand that he coughed up from his lungs. Gale grabs a napkin from the stand by the bed to wipe it off, and he wipes some sweat from Bucky’s forehead.

“Don’t feel good,” Bucky mutters.

Throwing the napkin to the side, Gale grabs the cup of water and offers it to Bucky, guiding the straw to his lips. “Try to drink,” he instructs. Bucky does as he’s told, but pulls away after a couple of sips, and Gale returns the water to the table.

“Come here,” he says. Gently, he eases Bucky back until he’s laying with his head on Gale’s chest. Gale holds tight to Bucky’s hand, and he strokes his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “You’re alright, darlin’. Just rest, okay? You’re gonna be alright.”

Bucky doesn’t protest, just grips Gale’s hand right back as he shakily tries to keep his breathing under control, wills the coughing to leave him alone for a little while. Eventually, Gale feels Bucky’s hand loosen its grip on his, falling lax as he drifts off to sleep once again. 

It’s a long time before Gale allows himself to do the same. He can see the moon through the window, lighting up the night sky, and he has no idea what time it is, but it doesn’t matter. He once again doesn’t want to take his eyes off his husband even for a moment, like his continued existence is contingent on being in Gale’s line of sight. Or maybe it’s just that Gale spent so long unable to set eyes on Bucky, unsure if he ever would again, and now he can’t get enough. Making up for lost time and time he almost lost.

His fingers remain curled over Bucky’s, their hand’s resting on Bucky’s chest, and he feels the gentle, if shaky, rise and fall. He takes a deep breath of his own, as if it can somehow make up for the inadequacy of Bucky’s lungs, give strength to his body.

A song from Curt’s playlist comes to mind, and Gale finds himself singing it softly in the darkness as he holds his husband’s sweaty hand, willing the fever to break, the pain to go away. He wonders, if he stands guard in the night, will the nightmares leave Bucky in peace until morning comes?

“Ooh-ah, Soon you’ll get better,” Gale croons. He’ll stay up all night if he has to, if that’s what it takes for Bucky to rest easy.

“Ooh-ah, soon you’ll get better.”

He willed the universe to bring his husband home to him, and now he wonders if he’s being greedy, asking for more. But all he wants is Bucky to be safe and healthy again, free of pain, free of fear. He meant it when he said he’d love John Egan in any way, in any form, no matter what. But they’re so damn close.

Please. Just let him heal now. Let him rest. Let him come home. Give him this life as he wants to live it.

Please.

“You’ll get better soon.

‘Cause you have to.”

…

…

Everyone thank my beta reader (I don’t deserve them)

Part 18

[fanfictionalhooligan]

Oneshot: Dying in Husband!Haganezuka's arms〚WARNING: Severe angst and dark themes〛

This came from the following anonymous heacanon request:

"How would Hotaru react if his wife died in his arms? Or died in general? I love angst I devour angst."

For the art response, I will be repurposing drawings that ironically work well for this scenario under the right circumstances:

❖ - ❖ - Oneshot: Dying in Haganezuka's Arms - ❖ - ❖

“Out of my way –“

“Haganezuka-san, she’s in critical condition –“

“GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY! I’ll kill you!”

His voice was shrill and transforming into something unnatural at the words ‘critical condition’ and his eyes were wide with horror.

“Please, Haganezuka-san, it might be best for you not to be here right –“

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU – get out, NOW!”   

The Kakushi trying to block him from entering the room suddenly cried out in pain and recoiled, then stared down at the deep slash in his own arm in horrified disbelief. Haganezuka had struck a blow with his knife this time. No one had seen him actually do it before, despite so many instances of chasing Demon Slayers.  

The blade was dripping with blood as Haganezuka clenched the handle and marched forward; fear gripped the Kakushis around him like ice and they scurried away from him.

There she was.

His love. His Spring. The blossom that had emerged beneath the snow after a long, lonely winter. There she was - his wife, covered almost head to toe in blood-soaked bandages and IV lines hanging off of her like chains, laying silently and limply upon a cold hospital bed. Her gaze was dull and unfocused and anyone could tell that she was slipping away.

Haganezuka’s blood froze as he paced towards her, as if time had slowed for him to live every agonizing second of this hell. His arms dangled limply at his sides; the knife clattered against the floor, splattering the blood from the Kakushi’s arm as well.

The sound stirred her awake as if she could recognize it in her sleep. She must have known that her husband was nearby if there were knives around. Her eyes opened, focusing just enough to take in the familiar sight of his face. She smiled softly. “Hotaru…”

Her voice was hardly audible, so small and feeble. Haganezuka desperately rushed forward and threw his arms around her, lifting her entire upper body from the bed. “Y-you’re alive…” he whispered, unable to accept that it could change any moment. “The battle’s over. The demons are gone. We can finally live in happiness – hey, are you listening?” His voice shook as her eyes fluttered shut for a moment. His gaze travelled down to her abdomen and the pool of blood that had soaked through it.

There was a stained, crimson-red pole in the corner of the room that had been removed; his face grew pale when it registered that she’d been impaled with it. A pole – a fucking stop sign pole. Of all the things –

“Hotaru,” she murmured, as if sensing that he was about to murder everyone in the room for letting this happen. “It was Muzan. He was…” her voice was faint and almost didn’t finish the sentence. “He…tried to run…we stopped him…buildings and streets were destroyed…”

Haganezuka’s entire body was trembling uncontrollably. She was far too calm. “I – I get it,” he replied. “You don’t have to explain…just…”

She gazed softly at him with a smile. There was something about that tender, glistening gaze that welled up his eyes with tears, and they began streaming down his face and dripping down quietly into her hair. “H-hey…” he began. “Don’t go. Don’t go, you hear me?”

His throat grew tight when she simply kept smiling at him.

“Come on – don’t go, my love. Please,” he begged her. “The battle’s over! The worst is over –“

“Hotaru…” she whispered, making him go completely still as he held her in his arms. “I…I was waiting for you. I wanted to see your face…”

One last time. That was what she meant.

She’d only been holding on long enough to be able to see his face for one last time.   

“I’m here,” he whispered feebly, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m here and I’ll stay by your side, okay? J-just stay with me, too, okay? Please!”

The Kakushis behind him somberly bowed their heads and quietly left the room.

Her eyes were glistening with tears, too. “Hotaru…I love you. I always will. Whether in this lifetime or the next. The sun will rise for us…”

The seconds were slipping away. “But you’re my sun, don’t you know that? If you d-don’t rise again, I can’t…”  Haganezuka’s voice finally broke into a sob when she closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, so content to be in his arms with that beautiful, oh, so beautiful, fading smile of hers.

“I love you,” he whispered, holding her tight and his sobs making it almost impossible to speak. “Can you hear me, my love? I love you so much, and I wanted to show you that every day for the rest of our lives. I am the happiest man in the world when you’re there with me, and just… please…please stay.” He wanted her to hear every word, to keep listening, anything at all for just another moment with her.

Her eyes fluttered open just a crack, just barely enough for him to see the green of Spring before it faded back into the winter snow. “Hotaru…the rest of my life has already been the happiest because of you.” Haganezuka’s lower lip trembled as her voice grew quieter and quieter. “You’re here now…and I’m happy.” A single tear slipped out of her eye before it shut for the last time. “I only wish I had more time with you…and…”

She never finished the sentence.

Haganezuka went completely, utterly still. “Misaki?”

Silence. Only silence.

Dark, cold, hollow silence.

Her head rested limply against his chest. While her own had stopped rising and falling.

Haganezuka’s eyes widened and time froze, and the world around them felt like thousands of kilometers away. He slowly looked down and saw that the smile had never left her face – just because she was in his arms for her final sleep. It was at that moment, right then and there, that Haganezuka cried out and wrapped his arms tightly around her, burying his face into her hair, gripping her so tightly that the IV poles fell over as the lines were yanked.  The sobs wrenched through his body, choking uncontrollably and whispering her name now and then even though the sound of it from his own voice only made the tears multiply. Her body was shaking along with his as he cried.

She was gone.

And, after that, swords would be gone.

There were no demons left and they would likely be discarded like useless artifacts of the past.

Those two things, his beloved Spring blossom and his swords - all that had ever made any sense in his life - were taken from him. Just like that.

Haganezuka rested his chin against the top of her head, cradling her and rocking slowly back and forth as if she were simply sleeping and must not be disturbed. Somewhere inbetween his sobs, the glimmer of the knife on the ground next to him caught his eye. He grew still in the cold silence, his gaze suddenly fixated on the bloodstained blade and unable to look away.

Maybe…maybe she wasn’t that far away.

He slowly became possessed by the silence as he simply continued to sit there for hours, cradling his wife’s delicate body in his arms to make sure she could continue to sleep peacefully where she’d been happiest. He was allowed to mourn alone and undisturbed. No one noticed how far down the pit of silence that his demented eyes were staring.

Haganezuka reached towards the knife.

- End

❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖

Are you okay? Because:

THIS IS NOT CANON EVEN FOR AN AU. NOPE. NOPE NOPE, NOT IN THIS HOOLIGAN’S WORLD. This is a “what if”and I cannot with this ending ever make it official. Consider it an AU of an AU for masochistic angst lovers xD

***To address the suicide implication: I was conflicted on whether it’s OOC for Haganezuka, with Demon Slayer being a lot about moving forward even when you lose everything. So in this case, I wanted to portray it more like he was at his darkest lowest point and having a moment of madness that someone else would need to pull him out of if they’re in time. It would be possible for the ending to be a “HEY STOP WHAT ARE YOU DOING” from Kanamori who storms into the room, knowing how impulsive Hotaru is and just having found out that his wife had died.

On another note, I had never intended to do another fic for Demon Slayer, but somehow nostalgia just took over me because I was actually well-known for writing horrific death scenes over at Fandom back in the day xD But damn this was painful.   

Anyway, if your heart is rekt, go read the true happy ending of this story here, come now. Don't worry, it's real.

I hope I did your headcanon justice, anon!

[murasaki-cha]

So I read Serena.... wow. I'm gonna make a long post expressing my opinions because THERE ARE A LOT!! (there's pictures too!)

These are going to be just my thoughts and how I understood the story + characters so if anyone disagrees, sorry but our vibes don't match, please don't come at me.

Now first of all can they adopt me??

Ok going to be serious here (not for long) this manhwa is so good!! I have read another manhwa of Ina-nim, the author/artist, called "Black Winter" (it's amazing go check it out) so I knew this was going to have layers upon layers as a story. AND IT DID!!

The story is so complex, everyone is scheming something, no one says the full truth and you never know when you might get stabbed in the back.

I'm going to be honest, I've known about Serena since it came out and I didn't want to read it. Not because I thought the story was bad or anything, since I knew how great this author is already thanks to their previous story, but because I knew it was going to be messy. Super messy. And it is, it is a hot dumpster fire mess. And I didn't really want to deal with it since it would have been exhausting and I would have dropped it or put it on hold. But by now (chapter 72 as of the latest update) I think that it has become more "stable" to say and I found it easier to enjoy the story since I read it in one go.

I particularly loved that none of the characters were good. No one. But no one is exactly bad either. Everyone here is just gray, they're flawed, they do bad stuff, they hurt each other. No one is right or wrong. We see things form their perspective and we see their reasoning but whether we sympathise with them is up to us because, let's be real, even their thought process can be fucked up at times.

Besides Victor. Victor is pure evil. If we throw holy water at Victor he will start melting. Victor should be burned.

Now moving along let's talk about the main characters.

Starting with Serena. First of all MOTHER!!🛐-

Now Serena is the type of fl I expected to get lots of hate(and she did). She had a lover while she was married, she was way too stubborn, she thinks she's better than everyone, etc. And yeah she did all those things. She's also a very traumatised little girl who had her entire world shattered at the age of 17, had to marry a stranger and feel her worth slip through her fingers. Serena is constantly paranoid due to her past experiences and the way she's been treated. She's desperately grasping for whatever little power she can have in the begining.

Now that is not to say she's never done anything wrong. Her using Fredrick as merely a way to destress and a shield, her prejudice against Eiser simply because of his family, her thinking she deserves to be in charge even if she is unexperienced simply because she is a Serenity, her refusing to see anything from anyone's perspective but hers. She's too prideful, too stubborn, too guarded.

But she's a great businesswoman, she takes her tasks seriously and she's super intelligent. The moment she started working on the hotel she changed because she was finally in her element. That spoiled, angry Serena in the beginning was simply what the isolation had done to her, the way it had fundamentally changed her. She started seeing everything in a new light when she started learning how to manage the hotel and being more open minded while still being guarded. Serena is a perfect morally gray main character, she's flawed, she's human.

Next we have Eiser. DADDY-

I swear I'm not being biased when I say I loved Eiser SO MUCH! First things first, he is an asshole. Not gonna sugar coat it. In fact that is the sugar coating. He is quite possibly the most secretive man alive, we know exactly 3 things about his past in the last 72 chapters and I'm not even being sarcastic, that's the total amount. And that is probably what makes him so interesting as a character to me at least.

One of my favorite things about Eiser was that he didn't have any feelings about Serena in the beginning. Yeah he mostly saw her as a means to an end and felt a smidge of responsibility because of her brother, but that was it. He honestly did not care about what Serena did or thought. Eiser's only objective is to save Serenity hotel, probably fuck up his family along the way because screw them and the rest is an enigma. He doesn't do feelings, not anymore at least.

We learn from the beginning that he's not a "good guy", he's not Male Lead™ that's mean to fl to protect her or to not get close to her and his whole world revolves around her etc. He's not just this guy meant to be a love interest, he's a whole other well constructed character. He has his own goals (which we never know what they are because his thought's are more secretive and guarded than the Vatican Apostolic Archives), he follows the most efficient way to achieve those goals and that's all that matters to him. He recognized Serena's skills all along yet still thought of her as a spoiled little princess because he didn't care about knowing her, didn't need to, that wasn't going to help him.

There really isn't much development about Eiser aside his relationship with Serena (but that's a talk about further below), but that's kind of on point for him. Unlike Serena, Eiser has been doing business for years now, he knows how to run things, he knows how to work with people, he has experience and skill and friends (surprisingly). Eiser's role is more of a mentor for Serena than as someone who also needs to learn.

And last Frederick (gonna hide behind a chair real quick)

Don't come at me for this but to be 100% honest, Frederick was as interesting to me as a white sheet of paper. Most of the time he was just there. That's it. Look the man is mysterious I agree and his character would have been so so interesting but he literally gave me nothing. I swear I'm being unbiased, even if Eiser didn't exist this man would have done nothing to impact me as a reader. But I think that shows how important or how much impact he made to Serena's story.

Frederick is interesting in the fact that we don't know his role in the story. He says he's doing everything to help Serena yet will that make him an antagonist or not is yet to be revealed. Also Frederick isn't even his name??? so there's that. Unlike the first two, he appears too few times and we don't really know what's up with him. So far he has made it his main objective and like basically his personality to protect Serena from his employers.

I liked that it showed he came here with impure intentions and his own goals but ultimately he just made his entire world revolve around keeping Serena safe and that kind of bumped me. The most interesting thing about him so far right now is the mystery of his past (who he killed, what's his true identity) and whether he'll be an antagonist by the end or not.

And now we move to the most dreaded thing. The romance.

I'm gonna say it straight up, Serena x Eiser for the win. Enemies to lovers has gone and done it again and by god did I EAT IT UP!! They were mother and father fr!!

Now let me express my opinions on both couples here with actual words.

First I want to talk about Serena and Frederick. From the beginning this story did not have a love triangle, at least for me. Serena and Frederick always looked like a relationship born out of necessity (which Serena later on confirms that that's what it might have been all along). Serena craved for whatever warmth and protection she could get and Frederick became kind of a safe place for her. She essentially used Frederick as a distraction, a means of relaxation and someone to just vent. She never properly saw him as his own person or equal but as a means of escape from her struggles.

Meanwhile Frederick himself didn't exactly love Serena in a pure way. He loves her yes, but he's also obsessed with her. He feels the need to make her need him so he can stay by her side. He wants to be the only one seeing her weak and vulnerable, caging her and himself in this relationship. And the only way he knows she will be by his side is if she uses him. And the more Serena takes charge of things as head of Serenity and builds herself up, the more Frederick notices that she's slipping away from him so he desperately clings to the mission of protecting her from his employer. He even admits these himself:

Perhaps they did have something beautiful in the beginning but it slowly developed into a relationship that caged them both.

Now sit down because I'm gonna be talking about mommy and daddy (I unironcally call them that no I'm not joking) and this talk is going to be a loooong one *cracks knuckles*

Serena and Eiser were never the picture perfect couple, furthest thing from it and they were not planning on trying to change that anytime soon. They were toxic, they hurt each other and they didn't care about each other. To Eiser, Serena was just the girl he was supposed to marry to save Serenity and to Serena, Eiser was the man that took Serenity and might kill her in the future. None of them saw each other in a good light and none of them bothered to understand the other. Eiser was completely indifferent towards Serena and Serena just wanted to hurt him. Off to a great start because they were already at rock bottom so the only way to go is up!

The way their relationship developed was really natural and well paced. Everyone knows that the beauty of a good enemies to lover is the slowburn AND THE SLOWBURN WAS SLOWBURNING HERE LEMME TELL YOU! They first needed to see each other in a new lighting as equal business partners to go any further into their relationship or start trusting each other. They're both very calculative people and Eiser did see that, has always seen that, so he resulted to manipulating Serena into "competing" with him to give her the chance to properly work in the hotel. And Serena took the bait but never played right into the palm of his hand and always took charge of things her own way.

It was important for them to recognize each other's full capabilities, not just with the veil of "Grayan" or "Spoiled little princess". Most importantly it was essential for Serena to see that Eiser is in fact truly helping her family without any ulterior motives (that are harmful to her family at least) and never had any plans of taking over and eliminating her. And while Eiser was always aware of Serena's abilities and respected her as an individual, he always too disinterested in her to see how fully capable she is. One of the funniest things in my opinion was how Eiser was showering Serena with praises in his head 24/7 yet verbally he would break out in hives before complimenting her. (Istg the communication in this household died back in that carriage with Serena's family)

And that was the biggest wall that blocked them from going further with their relationship, so as soon as that was gone, well would you look at that, they can actually get along just fine and decently! And the romance just came along to them naturally.

Eiser was always drawn to Serena since he first saw her, he was always intrigued by her actions even if that left him puzzled. He always read people for his benefit, but Serena simply caught his eye every time by pure curiosity. He enjoys seeing her expressions and reactions and her journey to rising to her rightful place. Plus, Eiser always felt a kind of kinship with Serena. He saw the loss, betrayal and devastation in her and recognized it as the same as his own. The fight Serena put all these years to try and keep her place and protect what's hers is what he wished he had done all those years back and what someone had done for him when he was at his lowest. It was only after he truly got to know Serena that all these feelings started to subconsciously transform into something else, something even he isn't truly aware of.

Serena surprised me by being the first one to recognize(?), in a way, she had fallen but I'm not complaining, it was beautiful. Serena's main problem with Eiser was that she couldn't trust him, for very obvious reasons, that mans true thoughts are locked in a safe inside a safe inside another safe that happens to be inside a warehouse in Antarctica. I think the most important thing for Serena was to get to realize that Eiser was trying to truly help her family and the hotel. To me there were 3 major moments where Serena's feelings for Eiser changed: When they went to visit President Harol's mansion and he took the peaches and also defended her, when he said he'll build another hotel by the seaside during their date and when he told her he didn't hate her. All these moment helped Serena see that she had made a wrong assumption about Eiser and even though that wasn't enough to dispel all her suspicions towards him, rightfully so because Serena isn't an idiot, it made her trust him a bit more and be more comfortable around him.

Also their backstory, with Eiser being Serena's "prince" was so freaking cute. And the way she always looked for him when she went to those masquerade parties as a way of comfort, sobbing on the floor. If you go back and reread, you'll see that Serena has always been conscious of Eiser from the very start, albeit subconsciously. She always described him touching her like "The spot where he touched burned even after he had let go", or how she was conscious of being dressed "thinly" in front of Eiser but never in front of anyone else, not even Frederick. In my opinion, she had recognised Eiser as the masked prince at the time or knew subconsciously, but because of the animosity between him and her prejudice against him because he was a Grayan, she didn't want to admit it because that would admit that Eiser was anything but a simple marriage and business partner to her.

And now with the release of chapter 72, I am dreading the road in which their relationship is heading and how far back it may devolve. Like I don't blame Eiser because 1) he doesn't know about Serena's trauma 2) he saw red after seeing the way that man was hurting his wife I support the Grayan in him taking over at that moment. But unfortunately for Serena he just proved her greatest fear when it came to him, that he's still very much a Grayan no matter how much he despises them. Her reliving her childhood trauma and seeing Victor in Eiser could revert her to earlier Serena where she was always paranoid and scared of Eiser, but now with proof that he is in fact just as dangerous as she thought him to be. Worse thing is, she can't even go to Fredrick for comfort because she's suspicious of him too so she's truly alone (she has Sui but Sui was there before too and we saw the state in which Serena was in back than). This is a very complicated and simply put shit situation for them, it could possibly be one of their roughest patches in their entire relationship and it's going to take understanding from both Eiser and Serena to get over it and possibly, hopefully, truly trust each other after this. Please Ina-nim please I'm putting my trust in you!! (Ina-nim played us all like a cheep kazoo with chapter 72 like I could not have been more wrong and thank fuck for that! Never have I been so happy to be so incredibly wrong about something! War is over people cheered everyone cried tears of joy!!)

And lastly, thank you for coming to my ted talk, this entire post was just a way for me to vent all the thoughts this webtoon gave me and If you read it, good for you, I love you. As a reward have this collage of chibi mommy and daddy being silly goofy because my chosen career path requires me to have adobe illustrator and I never use it responsibly

[rose-vybe]

SUNSET

Hello everyone! Here's another shortfic based on a Tumblr prompt from @starsmadeinheaven . My muse likes these short things as of late and even though I've made a series on AO3, it seems they're kinda too short so I'll be posting here mainly.

“I wonder, am I truly safe here?” Carriedo asked with a casual tilt of head.

He was standing by the large stone window, seemingly contemplating the bustling crowd in the street below. There was sun in his hair, tinting his dark curls and glowing onto his tanned skin. Dressed like a mere merchant save for the crimson ribbon holding his locks into a long, loose ponytail, he looked clean, and proper and honest – everything he was not.

Lovino crossed his arms, only half-facing him, his back turned at the lively view. “It is a public library,” he said flatly.

If anything, he was good at being stern, and looking the part too. He may not have had quite his father and his brother’s head for business, but he certainly had the stomach and the steely resolve to deal with what they would not. So here he was, straight-backed, all black velvet with no adornments save for an austere silver cross around his neck.

“I don’t know if I should trust that you won’t pull out a dagger and gut me, even in front of all these honest men,” the Spaniard shrugged. “In all my life I’ve met many dangerous fellows, and I daresay dealt with them. You, signor Vargas, must be one of the worst. You know, I saw you in church the other day, with your family. You… appeared like a very pious, innocent young man, but I have seen that you are a fiend.”

Was this godawful pirate trying to aggravate him? Lovino could guess what the man was saying - that he was in truth nothing like his family. Not kind, not cheerful, not a patron of arts, not inclined to beauty and good spirit. Only, he knew that to face the world one needed not cheer and birdsong, but grit and a touch of ruthlessness.

“Your servants are still alive.”

Carriedo laughed, and he was much too beautiful when he did, his smile too bright, his eyes too gemlike in the dwindling rays. Lovino inhaled sharply, making an effort to hold his gaze and not to visibly swallow the knot in his throat.

“Your quarrel wasn’t with them, after all. You knew they were only there to test your skill. Anyway… what are you really going to do about it?” he asked, motioning towards the ledgers open onto the nearby table. “Your family tried to cheat me out of a lot of money, how do you plan to sort it out? My merchandise-”

“But it wasn’t your merchandise, was it?” Lovino hissed, leaning forward. With the corner of his eye, he spied some curious glances coming their way and did his best to keep his composure and his voice in check.

“But I got my hands on it,” the pirate pointed, keeping his voice low in turn. “And once I get my hands on something, it’s mine.”

Lovino did not want to think of that. Or of the man’s hands.

He turned around at last and glanced in the distance, over the low rooftops, to where the water was visible in the distance. It was interesting, how the sky became suddenly green and the sea a weird shade of pink, glinting faintly under the setting sun.

“Mr. Carriedo, as fearsome as you might be out there, amidst the high seas, in this city you don’t have much leverage and you know it. My father is not considering paying the full price, absolutely not. But we could facilitate an expansion of your distribution channel. Maybe. But if you insist on a compensation-”

“You will compensate me.”

Lovino blinked, opening his mouth to state the contrary, but his wrist was captured without warning and he was pulled towards the other. His reflexes kicked in, all his muscles suddenly taut at the danger, and the hidden blade slipped from his sleeve and into his grasp, being pointed at Carriedo’s throat in the blink of an eye.

“Dios mio, qualquier hombre perdia su cabesa por ti…” the Spaniard murmured, his green eyes shining with mirth.

The bastard!

“You don’t seem that scared though,” Lovino observed dryly, tilting the blade a little closer.

Carriedo continued to hold the wrist of his free hand, doing nothing to avert the dagger nearly touching his collar. The grip of his fingers was light, almost gentle, even as he pressed his thumb into the younger’s pulse point.

“Surely not as scared as you are. You asked me here, where you thought you’d be safe with so much people around, and you still came armed to the teeth. You have more of these, don’t you? And yet, no matter how much steel, it’s not enough.”

Damn him! His words poured, like honeyed wine, drowning Lovino in his own vulnerability. Much too soft, much too sweet.

“Of what?! Of you, signor Carriedo?” he almost spat through gritted teeth, lifting his chin.

The Spaniard’s smile only softened further. “Of yourself. Of who you really might be beyond all this darkness – a man who wants to live, to take even one free breath, not a mad hellhound to be unleashed upon the enemy at his master’s convenience, distained and getting but meagre scraps off the table.”

Lovino blinked, his mouth impossibly dry, his lips pressed much too tightly, barely drawing enough air. His hand only fisted around the handle of the dagger, struggling to keep it steady in the onslaught of pure anger. Only, he was something else entirely beyond the darkness, and wondered with fright whether this wretched man could glimpse it too, and bring about his absolute ruin.

“You don’t know anything-”

“What do I not know? Your father could have sent one of those ordinary assassins for this job, since he has no real desire to negotiate. I have killed many men, I have plunged my blade into their flesh with no qualms whatsoever, he knows it too well and he still sent you.”

Lovino forced a deep breath and the corners of his mouth into a grin. “If you harm me here, all the compensation you can expect will be a noose around your neck. And if you know me so well, then you can imagine that a mad hellhound like me has no taste for crafty words!”

With that, he lowered the dagger and yanked himself free from the pirate’s grasp. He became aware that some of the people around had been staring at them rather pointedly and he sighed, annoyed.

Carriedo pulled back in turn, crossing his arms and bowing his head. “Lovino, of course I will not harm you here. But your father is a thief, so he will either pay me or he’d better hire an entire army, lest I harm him and his whole family, elsewhere.” When he looked up, his eyes were suddenly sharp and predatory. “Two million.”

“That is four times what we-…!”

Lovino looked away, out the window, at the darkening horizon. Clouds gathering, tinged purple. Foolishly, he wasn’t afraid anymore. Not of a fight, whatever the outcome.

“We are gentlemen, after all. If you still have a grievance, despite what we offered, the two of us could duel.”

He knew it wasn’t much of an offer but his father was stubborn, and much too bold for his own good. ‘I am not a gentleman, and I will kill you’ he expected the other to say, but Carriedo just picked up his ledgers and collected them to his chest calmly, entirely unhurried.

“Tell your father to pay me the two million, signor Vargas,” he said serenely. “And quickly, before they become four. Oh, and-…” he stopped in front of Lovino and leaned in, his nose nearly brushing the younger’s ear. “It would have been only one if you hadn’t drawn the knife on me, querido.”

[starry-pierrot]

Sleeping Critters

So I'm not the biggest fan of Poppy...at least until CH3 had come out. Don't get me wrong I still dislike the creators and I'll never pay for the game but the smiling critters and Dogday got me. So have this super indulgent fic! Also this is canon divergent so not 100% accurate to the lore!

Warnings: Mention of cannibalism, death. Kissy Missy is dead (Hoping she's alive in CH4)

Characters: Dogday, Reader, Poppy, Smiling Critters

After defeating the prototype you, Dogday and Poppy try to rebuild what you can of PlaytimeCo to offer whoever is left a safer home.

===================

You were tired. 

Very tired. 

About a month ago you had finally defeated the prototype, freeing whatever toys that were left in PlaytimeCo from its claws. But that also left you with a lot more work to do. You could have just left it all behind and maybe taken Poppy and Dogday with you but that wouldn’t be fair to the rest of them. 

Not to mention you did not have the space to house a partially giant dog. 

And he had wanted to stay to watch over the rest of the smiling critters…wherever they are.. Now that Catnap was out of the way they might see some reason. Which is why you were so tired. After everything had been dealt with you agreed to help Poppy and Dogday find the others, to build a new home in PlayTime Co, even if it was temporary. 

Who knew when whoever owned the damn buildings would come and legally claim them someday. Sure it’s already been years but you wouldn’t be surprised if the titles were transferred to someone else after so long. But until then rebuilding would at least make everyone more comfortable. 

The problem was that…you three had hardly found anyone just yet. Poppy knew there probably wasn’t much of the toys left but still she encouraged you to check every nook and cranny you could. So far you’ve only found a few Mini Huggy’s, a Cat-bee and a Candy cat. It’s not much but it's cute to see them all snuggled on some of the beds in the orphanage. 

 “Angel, are you sure? I can go by myself.” Dogday asked as he looked at you, the two of you were standing at the entrance to Playhouse. “You haven’t been sleeping much lately.” 

“No, I can do it. Besides I’d rather not leave you to potentially cannibalistic little fur balls if I can help it.” You manage to hold back a yawn before reaching for the door. “I’ve handled them before, I got the flares.” 

Meanwhile Dogday only had his hands and a pipe you had torn off from the wall when it was loose, you’d be more worried if you hadn’t closed his lower half with a sewing kit. And now he seems to get around alright on that little bright yellow gym scooter. But still you worry he might get overwhelmed. 

“If you say so. Just please don’t go too far from me.” Dogday urges as you open the door and slip inside. Much like the last time you visited the place was a mess, meaning those wheels on Dogday’s scooter aren’t going to be much help. 

“Seems the dog is gonna have to do a trick to get around.” You tease as you step over some toys that were left on the ground.” 

“Har har, Angel.” There was no malice in the fake laugh, planting his hands on the ground he hauled himself up into a handstand he began to follow behind you as you searched. If it was one thing that was annoying it was all the crawling you had to do, your knees weren't meant for all this crawling!

“Hey Little critters! We have food back in the orphanaaaggee!” You try to draw them out but so far the two of you haven’t seen any of them. You don’t remember seeing many on the prototype, it couldn’t have killed all of them could it? No, there were far too many. 

“Catnap is gone, you don’t have to listen to him anymore!” Dogday called out as he crawled around on his belly, “Come on you little fellas!” 

Where the heck could they be hiding? This play house wasn’t that big! Maybe if-

CRACK!

“ANGEL!” 

Suddenly the floor snapped under you, you would think you would have remembered to check that considering what happened the last time. But suddenly you were tumbling down and down..and down-what did you find a secret deep tunnel or something?!

“Ooof!” Hitting the ground hard you could help but gasp as the wind was knocked out of you, your already tired body screaming in pain from the impact. 

“Angel!?” You could barely hear him calling from the top of the hole, “ Angel are you okay?? Say something!” 

It took you a moment but eventually you turned over, “Yeah…y-yeah I’m alive.” With a groan you sat up noticing that you seem to have fallen into a hidey hole. It looked like it had been dug out, there was another hole further up but there was no way you could reach it. 

“Stay there I’ll…I’ll come find you!” Dogday said, “That or I’ll find some rope.” 

“Nowhere I can go!” You call up and after a few more moments of talking Dogday was off to find something to pull you up with. Which just left you here…alone…in a dark and quiet spot. Oh this was going to be terrible. You didn’t even have your phone or heck even a book on you. 

Sure you were fine when you were moving around but now that you had to sit here and wait in an admittedly comfortable little spot…your eyes were drooping after the first ten minutes. You knew you should have listened to Poppy when she told you to get more rest. Jerking your head up you shook yourself trying to wake yourself up a little more. But that didn’t seem like it was working much. 

“Dogday?” you tried calling up hoping that he was still nearby but with no response you had no choice but to sit and stay. “Well shit..” Your eyes grew heavier and soon against your will your eyes closed as your head dipped into the crook of your shoulder. 

Only for you to jerk awake once more which quickly turned into a little spat with your body as you tried to stay awake. Too bad your body had won out eventually. 

You had fallen asleep.  --

“Angel!” 

“Angel!!” 

You cracked your eyes open to the darkness, feeling awfully comfortable in the little hole you had fallen in. Was it always this warm down here? 

“Angel!” Dogday yelled whispered at you, frantically trying to get your attention. Looking up you could see him erratically moving a hand only to stop once he’s realized you were awake. “Oh thank god! Don’t move! I’ll l-lower the rope down!” 

He must've found some rope. Good thing because your legs were starting to cramp from the curled position you were in, “How long was-” 

“SHHHH!” He quickly hushed you. “I said don’t move! Be quiet!” 

What? “Wh-why?” 

“Sh! Sh! Just-quiet! And..don’t look down.”

 Well now you had to look down. And when you did you had to force every bit of nerve in your body to stay still, a squeak just barely escaping your lips. Even stuck in the dark you could make out a Catnap Smiling Critter sitting right on your chest, sleeping. Little growling snores filled the space and when you looked around you could see at least one of every single smiling critter either sleeping next to you or outright on top of you. 

Something touched your head and looking up revealed the rope Dogday had lowered down to you. Craftycorn had taken your right arm hostage but luckily the left one was free. 

“Just hang on…gonna t-tug you up alright?” It wasn’t much of a game plan but the idea of being tugged out only to have to run was better than staying down here in a potential feeding hole. Lifting your free arm up you almost grip the rope when you feel movement. 

Looking back down your eyes stare into the little Catnap’s eyes alight with their white pupils. The two of you stared at one another for a moment. It wasn’t attacking. But if you broke the spell that seemingly had overtaken the two of you…would it? You did come here after all to try and get them to go back with you, to save them. 

Best case scenario Dogday pops your shoulder out of your socket while pulling you up to get you away from the man eating plushies so the both of you can run. 

Worst case you become a meal. 

Taking a breath you lick your dry lips “T-the prototype is dead....we can feed you. At the orphanage.” You whispered, “I can fix you up.”  You knew the Critters were experiments made from children but did they even know that anymore? Dogday had made it sound like they still could understand what was going on like most normal children but would the years of being down here change their view point to follow the strongest out of the pack? 

Still the little creature stared at you for a long while before it bumped its head against your cheek making a little sound. 

You felt your heart beat hard in your chest as you stayed still, soon it became apparent that the little critter wasn’t going to hurt you. Lowering your arm down you carefully petted between it's ears, “Um…ya know what just let them nap for a moment.” You say while looking up at a panicked and still nervous Dogday.  --

It took almost an hour before the other Smiling critters in the hole woke up and much like the Catnap one they all just stared at you. It was a little unnerving in the dark but once Dogday pulled you up and the little critters climbed up behind you, you couldn’t help but coo a little bit at them surrounding your feet. 

“Ohh who’s an adorable little monster?” You smile as you pick up a Hoppy Hopscotch and scratch right under it's chin. Catnap had climbed up onto your shoulder and a Dogday one had been attached at your ankle. 

“Angel…please don’t tease them like that.” Dogday’s voice was flat, clearly unamused at you acting like they were adorable little creatures and not the monstrous flesh eating plushies they were. 

“But look at them!” Holding out Hoppy you pouted at the dog, “They’re harmless!...at least now they’re harmless!” 

Dogday’s eye twitched at that, “I question how much self preservation you have. Lets just get them back to the orphanage. I’m sure Poppy will be happy we found more toys.” Seems the dog still had some nerves about the critters, but it was only right considering what had happened down here.

"Okay okay, I'm coming!" Pulling Hoppy back you began walking behind the dog and the smiling critters followed closely behind. 

“I’m cooking all of you some beef.” 

--- Please like and reblog if you like!

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

“Hope You’ll Make It Through This Alive”

Hange Zoë x FEM! Reader

(Warning: Takes place on that ship in season 4 pt 2, tiny bit of spoilers for season 4 pt 3, swearing, smut, public sex, fingering)

Scenario- You and Hange are stressed about all the things that are going to happen, so you two decided to do something to relieve the stress but better be quiet or else someone might hear you two

You silently stand next to Hange as they just told Annie that we can’t make it to her hometown in time to save her father. You feel bad for the young blonde woman as she dropped down to the floor, losing all will to fight.

You desperately needed a break from all this stress and feelings of hopelessness, so you walked out the door and went to the edge of the ship where no one was at, leaning on the railing, looking at the sea as the wind softly blew through your hair.

After a few long minutes you hear soft footsteps coming your way. You didn’t think much of it until you felt two familiar hands on your shoulders.

“You’re stressed, aren’t you?” Your partner spoke as they massaged the tension out of your shoulders.

“You know, I remember the first day I met you..we instantly connected with each other. You would be talking my ear off about all the things you did that day and would tell me about all your experiments. The light in your eyes was so bright that it was almost blinding.. but now over the years I saw that same light die out slowly.” You say as memories flood your brain.

Hange doesn’t say anything and is unsure on what to say, they unknowingly stop moving their hands.

“Dammit I’m sorry, I must’ve made you feel bad. Don’t you worry, I still love you very deeply I can assure you that hasn’t changed one bit” You turn around to face Hange, wrapping your arms around their waist and pecking their lips.

“What I’m saying is that it hurts me that you went through so much pain, and you don’t even deserve any bit of it.” You say as tears start to form in your eyes.

Hange pulls you into a tight hug, “It’s okay darling, I’ll be alright. You don’t need to cry anymore, wanna know why? It’s because both of us are gonna make it out alive, no matter what happens.” They say even though they’re uncertain about the outcome of the battle that’s about to come.

Why does Hange always do this? They always act like they’re okay when you know damn well they aren’t. You want to take all the stress away from them, even if it’s only temporarily.

You pull away from the warm hug to look at them. “Hange, if you allow me, let me make you feel better. I know it won’t relieve the stress permanently but at least you’ll be relax temporarily.”

“I know what you’re getting at and I appreciate the offer but I think you’re the one that needs it right now.” They say with a wide smirk on their face as they saw your eyes avoid their own.

Before you could even answer they turned you around and bent you over the railing. Leaning forward on your back and place soft kisses on your neck.

“H-hange what if someone catches us, everyone is already close by.”

“It’s fine darling, just be extra quiet to ensure that nobody hears your sweet voice except for me.” Hange whispered in your ear, sending shivers through your body.

Their right hand slowly moved down your body and into your pants, two fingers teasing your sensitive clit, making soft and quiet moans slip from your mouth. The noises soon became muffled as Hange covered your mouth with their left hand.

“What did I just say my dear?” Hange says as they shove their middle and ring fingers inside you.

They move their face to kiss your shoulders and back. Fingers curling inside of you, as they still have their hand over your mouth firmly but making sure that they don’t hurt you.

Hange was always good at this, they were always good at pleasuring you no matter what the situation you were in.

Hange thrusted their fingers in and out in a speed that can rival anyone, making it hard to keep your voice down thank god for the hand over your mouth. You are starting to think that they get turned on by the idea of someone catching you two.

At the pace they were thrusting, you quickly came all over their fingers. Hange waited a moment so that you could calm down from your high and they removed their hand from your mouth. They pulled their fingers out and tasted you.

You were hunched over the railing with dazed eyes as Hange wrapped one arm around your waist and the other on your chest to bring you up a bit so you won’t fall and they leaned forward to rest their chin on your shoulder.

“I hope you’ll make it through this alive, even if I’m not there by your side anymore.” Hange thinks to themselves as they turned their face to kiss your cheek.

If only you knew that was going to be the last time you and Hange ever got intimate..

Masterlist

[pinkiemachine]

What is your version of Zod like? Is he similar to Transformers Prime's Megatron and DCEU Zod?

So my version of Zod is more like “The Mad King.” Ever since Jor-El slipped through his fingers/ever since the last days of Krypton, he’s been going around in his massive flagship scooping up every single Kryptonian he can find and placing them into cryosleep. (Whether they want to come with him or not.) Now that he knows there’s a hidden colony, he wants only to find Jor-El, find the colony, and reinstate himself as king.

So, a couple years go by, Clark is all grown up now and in the premiere of Season 2 of Dawn of Superman (that’s what I’m calling my show) Zod shows up on Earth in his ship. (A probe found Clark on Earth in Season 1) So now he’s showing up and telling Clark everything he ever wanted to know—that he’s a Kryptonian, actually, and there was a global catastrophe, Clark’s real name, etc etc, but he also tells Clark that he is the king of Krypton, and kinda tries to manipulate him a bit. Finally, he shows Clark the cryo chamber. This room is massive. There’s hundreds of thousands of Kryptonians slumbering in cryosleep here, all awaiting their new home…. But they can’t find it until they find the “dangerous criminal” Jor-El. Superman wants to help them, but he has no idea where his father is, and then when Zod gets real pushy about Clark coming with them into space and never coming back, that’s when Zod’s true colours start to show. He tries to capture Clark and force him to go with them, revealing just how long he’s been floating around in space, just slowly going insane as he seethes in his spite and anger and will for control, and Clark comes to realisation that if this dude is the king, he’s not so sure that he wants to be one of his subjects.

Anyway, Superman manages to stop Zod from firing the ship’s canons at Earth, there’s a big battle, it’s really cool, and then Zod leaves in a huff and goes to find Jor-El. Superman, meanwhile, feels awful. His first contact with his people and it goes like that? He’s practically branded himself a criminal and banished himself. But… there’s one thing still nagging at him. It’s what Zod told him about his father. He just can’t wrap his head around the idea of him being a criminal. Besides, if that crazy king was supposed to be the “good guy” then maybe things aren’t what they seem. He needs to go out and look for him. As luck would have it, the US Government has finished reverse engineering their own spaceship from the pod that Clark landed in over twenty years ago. Clark convinces the government to let him use it (they can bring some other astronauts along to do the planned research and stuff) so everybody wins. Lois says she’s coming too. She’s not about to let Clark go alone, and plus, this is the story of a lifetime (yes, she knows his identity at this point). And Jimmy gets dragged along for the ride. Not everyone is thrilled about this, though. One of the military men who was present when Zod attacked, a general, is totally against these Kryptonians now. They attacked Earth, they have super weapons—they ARE super weapons! A giant gun that walks! He doesn’t want them to ever come back to Earth, and he doesn’t want his daughter Lois hanging around with one (Superman). Dun dun dun. But the dude is outvoted and Lois goes anyway.

So into space they go! The season is mostly episodic, exploring the galaxy, learning about Krypton from other planets, bumping to Kryptonite, learning what the Interplanetary Coalition is, (AND we just might bump into Green Lantern) but the most important thing we learn out here… is that Kara is alive. Yes! Clark manages to find his cousin Kara and her dog Krypto! She’s been having to survive on her own this whole time, but what’s more surprising than that is the fact that she’s twelve. Only two or so years older than she was in the holo-photo. Kara explains that—with a little help from some friends she met along the way—she’s been flying through space in her rinky-dink tiny ship trying to get to the colony site. Now, you see, any time you travel in hyperspace, it takes days at the very least, so to circumnavigate that, people just go into cryo. The bigger/better your ship, the faster the hyperspace jump. Kara’s ship is… well, not great, so it’s been slow going trying to fly across half the galaxy. Which means she’s been putting herself into cryosleep A LOT, which slows down the ageing process. Most of her time in space has been in cryo. But she can’t just keep going like that forever. There are dangers involved with staying in cryo too long. The recommended span of time is roughly six Earth months. Otherwise, your body starts to slowly break down, starting with your muscles. This gets Clark thinking about all those people Zod had in cryo…

Anyway, Clark is overjoyed to meet Kara, and with their new ship, they’re able to get to the colony site much faster. And here is one of the main twists of my story: Clark actually meets his father. After narrowly escaping Zod a second time, he finds his father, they go to the colony site, and Clark could not be happier. This is the greatest moment in his life! He actually did it! The dream he had dreamed his whole life finally came true! And then…

Well, first of all, Zod showed up, because of course he managed to track them, and the final battle takes place. And it’s an awesome space battle. 10/10. And it’s here that we realise what Zod’s really been doing to all those people in cryosleep. In all his insane wisdom, (and control freak tendencies) he refused to let those people out of cryo to heal and exercise and recoup over the last TWENTY YEARS. So, uh… yeah, all those people… the people he tried to save… the people who were meant for the new world… are all kinda dead… barely having their brains kept alive by the life support systems and nothing else. All the more reason to stop him.

Zod almost gets what he wants, but in the end, the heroes prevail. Zod gets banished to the Phantom Zone, his ship gets destroyed in a kamikaze attempt to take every down with him, the colony is saved, and everyone’s happy!

But the story’s not over. There’s still a few minutes left on the runtime. ??? Well, you see, one of the astronauts on Superman’s team… has secret orders from The General. Once he finds the colony, he’s meant to destroy it by whatever means necessary. And along the way, remember what substance they bumped into? Kryptonite. Dude jerry-rigs a Kryptonite bomb and uses it to blow the colony to kingdom come. Jor-El rushes in to try to help, ordering his son and niece to stay back, but he and all the others who get closely exposed to the substance die slow, painful deaths. All those last survivors of Krypton… gone. Clark tries to heal his father, but… he’s gone too. Now Clark, Kara, and Krypto are the last Kryptonians. They take Jor-El’s ship back to Earth and (after dropping off some of the crew) Clark parks the ship far up in the North Pole where no one can try to get their grubby hands on it. It’s been a hard few days.