#you will never EVER catch me with a diagnosis

[littleclosetofbyler]

this is a meta byler commentary.

I am a controversial person, wherever I go. Am I proud of it? No. Do I do anything to change this? Nope.

The thing is, when you are controversial you get used to be messy and making a mess whenever you go, so everytime i open tumblr and i see I have more than 1 notification I ask myself "What the hell did I do now??" The thing is, lately is not much of a problem, most of the time is just reblogs or answers or comments or something like that and I ENJOY this.

So, thank you for accepting someone who is absolutely out of the traditional cj of what someone here is supposed to be.

Also, no, I am not a native english speaker, I am a native spanish speaker who lives in China because I found my weird peace in here, but people usually assume I am from anywhere else but my home country.

Also, Byler endgame.

[queersolarfandompage]

Hilson Masterlist:

A bunch of fics I’ve read in the last month, month and a half. All works are completed and over 9,000 words per fic.

My Love’s an Arbutus - Rated G

House gets a soulmate, WIlson gets Hanahaki. It ends suprisingly well for both of them.

Handle with Care - Rated G

This is the story of how James Wilson ended up on his best friends doorstep with a baby in a carseat he’d stolen from the maternity ward, and the chaos that followed.

A Thousand Teeth (And Yours Amoung Them) - Rated T

Sometimes, when House gets too overwhelmed by his emotions, he gets a little bitey. This is five times House bites Wilson, and one time Wilson finally bites him back.

Systemic - Rated T

Ever since Wilson moved in, House has presented with some inexplicable symptoms. Fortunately, he has a team of talented doctors to aid him with his diagnosis.

Touch Therapy - Rated T

It’s not that House needs the human contact. It’s just that when you’re sharing an apartment, these things happen sometimes.

I Never Sleep With Married Men - Rated T

House and Wilson are married. It’s not what you think.

Double or Nothing - Rated T

House kisses Wilson’s cheek as part of an ‘act’, it feels too natural to him, so, of course, he has to turn it all into a game, Wilson catches up pretty quickly. The duckings try to not get scarred for life.

The Line of Thought - Rated T

Cameron, Foreman, and Chase keep on trying to get into the little details of House’s love life. House doesn’t like that one bit.

In the Eye of the Storm - Rated T

House does not want Wilson to invite his subordinates over for dinner, and he definitely doesn’t want them to be stuck there due to an unexpected snowstorm. But could the two of them find what they need?

Drew Stars Around my Scars - Rated T

James Wilson loves Gregory House in secret, but perhaps he is closer to knowing than he realizes.

Oreos, a Cane, and a Hell of a Lot of Diapers - Rated T

Hilson AU in which House and Wilson are waiting for the birth of their two babies. Watch them survive their first few weeks of parenthood along with the struggles it takes to be a parent.

Impossible - Rated T

“Wilson, hey-“

“…This is James Wilson. I can’t get to the phone right now, but if you leave a message, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

Oh.

There was a long, sustained tone, and House cleared his throat.

“Wilson. I’m sorry for what I said to you in January. It was over the line, and I shouldn’t have gone there in the first place. I know you don’t want to talk to me, and… I’ll respect that. I just wanted you to know that I’m…”

He looked down at the flowers.

“I’m sorry.”

House and Wilson both have Hanahaki Disease, and would rather die than give up their feelings.

No Need to Worry (Making Up Your Mind) - Rated T

House makes the mistake of telling his mother he can’t join her for Christmas because of his new boyfriend. Somehow, this becomes Wilson’s problem.

Something to Prove Series - Rated T

Something to Prove

When House suddenly want to initiate a relationship with Wilson, Wilson is overjoyed. The feelings he’d held for years are finally mutual. Or are they?

Marathons

House and Wilson decide to let the other people in their lives in on the fact that they’re dating. But no, they can’t just sit them down and tell them. Of course not. That would be too boring.

After School - Rated T

Gregory House is incredibly bored with his life when James Wilson is hired to teach Anatomy & Physiology alongside him at Princeton Plainsboro High School. Though he wants to maintain that same monotony he’s grown comfortable with, House quickly finds out that one school year can change a lot.

Life’s Harsh and Sweet Lessons - Rated T

House and Wilson find out that a simple act of kindness can turn into something so much more for all involved. (I love this fic so much. They’re just gay dog dads.)

Losing Balance - Rated T

There’s a new case for House, in which Wilson gets stuck by chance. The relationship between the patiend and his best friend brings up new issues House and Wilson have to deal with. While the first simply chooses to ignore them, the second is forced to face the changes in their friendship and the influence that the people around them have on it.

Gaseous Nebula - Rated T

After a hard day at work, House and Wilson intend to spend their evening watching the Princeton Philharmonic Orchestra. Instead, the building collapses, leaving on of them trapped in peril and the other desperate for answeres. The chaos drives them to revelations about themselves and each other, but it may be too late.

Ship of Fools - Rated M

The Captain’s a tyrant and possibly a madman, but when the crew rebels it’s Wilson who gets caught in the crossfire.

Bait and Switch - Rated M

Wilson tricks House into participating in a bachelor auction to benefit the hospital.

Fool’s Gold - Rated M

Don’t threaten what isn’t yours. (Dragon AU)

Old Machines - Rated M

Wilson said, “So we’re just two friends who want to have sex with each other, who aren’t going to do anything about it.”

Spoken with the increduility of a beautiful person with low impulse control. House shrugged.

“We’ve been that for years. Why mess with success?”

Wilson was looking at his mouth. He sounded strained. “I don’t think what we’re doing qualifies as success.”

Not as Easy as it Looks on TV - Rated M

House and Wilson share an intimate moment. the likes of which Wilson had never seen before in their three year relationship. It drives Wilson to realize he wants to marry House, but of course it’s never that easy, is it?

That’s How Strong My Love Is - Rated M

For once, Wilson doesn’t fall into a relationship, much to House’s irritataion.

Fresh Feeling - Rated M

House is tricked into going on a team-building trip with his colleagues. He does far more bonding with Wilson than anyone else.

Love Is The Drug - Rated M

What happens when two best friends love each other to the point of hating each other? They try to date and sulk about it.

The More It Took Away - Rated E

House has been hiding this little secret of his for years. Too bad it’s coming back to bite him on the ass.

The Escalated Butt Dial - Rated E

He thinks it must be an accident. Because all he hears is shuffling and soft… clapping? He’s about to hang up and laugh because House butt-dialed him while drunk when he hears it.

A very, very obviously sexual grunt. A moan, if more specific. Whatever. Not whatever. He can’t really breath right now, or think; call back laterr.

He wants to hang up. This is an invasion of privacy. This isn’t okay. House butt-dialed him while masurbating, for fuck’s sake. And it’s not like he wants to listen. Right? So. Just hang up.

The One-Eyed King Takes All - Rated E

The classic crew plays strip poker.

You’re the Only One That Never Gets Old Series - Rated E

You’re the Only One That Never Gets Old

An accidental kiss… and a few taht are not so accidental.

Let’s Take A Breath (Before We Go, Go, Go)

House kisses Wilson to piss off an homophobic patient. It might ahve been his best idea yet.

Keep Me Where the Light Is - Rated E

House has his Earth shattering, (good) knee weakening, life changing revelation about Wilson at such an inopporune time, that he’s tempted to laugh. He would have, if he hadn’t been hands deep in his patient’s organs.

Absinthe - Rated E

Wilson wants a new apartment, House is up to no good, and strange metaphors abound.

Experimental Procedures - Rated E

An offhand comment leads Wilson to test out some unusual methods of pain relief for House. (They’re extremely effective.)

Familiarity (Breeds Contempt) - Rated E

House and Wilson stumble into a relationship, but they run into problems before long.

Around We Go Once More - Rated E

Stuck in a small university town out of the country with Wilson, House is up to day 104, of a ‘grounghog day’ style constatly recurring day scenario. Seeing as the day will repeat, he figures it would be safe to try and seduce Wilson; the one he’s always been attracted to, but never acted on it, for fear it would ‘ruin the friendship.’ This is not as easy as he planned, particularly as Wilson refuses to take him seriously.

Stay With Me - Rated E

House has always depended on Wilson’s friendship, but now he finds himself depending on him for his very life - and Wilson realizes that both mean more to him than he ever realized.

I’ll See You In Court - Rated E

Every year, the council chooses ten alphas to participate in the breeding run — this year Wilson has been chosen. He’ll be forced to bond with whichever omega he knocks up whilst he’s in heat. When House hears, he’s forced to take action. There’s only one way to get pulled from the yearly run, and taht’s to file an intent to bond. And in order to file an intent to bond, you need an omega willing to go through with it.

There’s only a week until Wilson’s heat, but luckily, House knows just the omega for the job.

Things That Go Bump - Rated E

Wilson has nightmares. House gets a headache. Everyone tries to diagnose just what’s going on between them.

If He Spends That Dough (Imma Throw Him a Bone) - Rated E

James Wilson loves to feel needed, so who is hOuse to refuse him?

Money, sex, and love is all you need. In that order.

Howler Tone - Rated E

The calls always happen late at night, and they’re extremely sporadic, with weeks, sometimes months bridging between them. They talk on the phone otherwise, of course; about patients, or dinner plans, or carpooling. Typical stuff. But the calls that always end a certain way always start a certain way.

House develops a new vice. Wilson, as always, enables him.

He Won’t Tell You That He Loves You - Rated E

In which Nolan pulls at the Wilson thread, and House can’t stop it all from unraveling. Repression is a hell of a drug.

A Valuable Friend - Rated E

Wilson has been recieving mysterious late night phone calls. He’s rather House kept his nose out of it - but we all know how well that goes.

Baby Mikey - Rated E

House gets a visitor that will change his life, while Wilson struggles to figure out exactly who he is and where he fits into House’s new life.

Buy Some Time, It’s On My Dime - Rated E

The one where House is a phone sex operator.

You’re So Fuckin’ Special (Run) - Rated E

It was full of pictures.

And all of them are of Wilson.

In Every Lie, In Every Truth That You’d Deny - Rated E

Wilson just needs someone to take care of while he recovers from yet another divorce. That’s all this is.

Ath least, that’s what House thinks.

A Patient’s Guide to Living with ICS - Rated E

House and Wilson share a hotel room at a medical conference.

Hooked (On Feeling Low) - Rated E

There are things even House cannot control.

Can Wilson continue picking up the pieces?

A Modest Proposal - Rated E

Tritter’s case agianst House still depends on subpoenaeded testimony from Wilson. To save House from losing everything, the doctors of PPTH decide on an unusal solution, which in turn leads to unexpected consequences. This is a story about the sacrifices we make that turn out not to be such great sacrifices after all.

Silk, Lace, and Satin Bows - Rated E

“What’re those,” House lilted, taking a firmer hold on the blanket and tugging, even as Wilson cluched the blanket to his chest, his eyse impossibly wide as he shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” Wilson gritted out, cheeks flushing hotly. “I just… I borrowed some underwear from Sam. It’s nothing. Just get out, House,” the younger man hissed, clutching the blanket more firmly to his chest.

The Marrying Kind - Rated E

The one where House is a wedding planner and Wilson keeps on getting married.

TGIF - Rated E

House is stuck living the same Friday over and over and over and over again. A Groundhog Day AU with a medical mystery, the pursuit of true love, and egregious references to Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell.

Correlation Does Not Equal Causation - Rated E

“This… this hasn’t happened before.”

“Most people say that in the opposite situation.”

Alternatively titled: Wilson Doesn’t Actually Have Whiskey Dick

Don’t mind me just adding another fic here.

Grin and Bear It - Rated E

In a world where soulmates can feel each other’s pain, Wilson had always grown up wondering if he really had a soulmate. Sure, he could feel the occasional twinge like that of a bruise or cut without actually seeing one, but he had always chalked those up to random aches and pains that everybody got.

Wilson would keep this mindset until both he and House begin feeling agonizing leg pain, and a realization dawning from it causes Wilson’s entire life and well-being to change forever.

I’m always looking for new Fics so if there’s a fic you think is missing from this list, let me know and I’ll check it out!

[formulaforza]

—everywhere, everything

keep my hand in yours ('til our fingers decompose) pairing: daniel ricciardo x female reader warnings: parent death, angst, language, driving under the influence, underage smoking/drinking love, mackie... 6.6k. part two of this guy (but I think can be read stand-alone). I hope I make u all sad enough that you never ask me for a part two ever again <3

I hear you’re snooping around the old stomping grounds. I’d love to be there when you do it. Bring your dad if he’s free. It’ll be a good night, lots of strawberry wine—the real shit this time. All love, (always your) Danny.

— —

Danny is notably absent from your mom’s funeral. Granted, he is in Budapest at the time, and he had two races this weekend. You know this because you still keep tabs on him, even if he’s not yours to keep tabs on anymore, even if there’s nobody to blame for that but yourself. 

If you didn’t know better, hadn’t spotted Grace, Joe and Michelle a dozen or so people back in line to greet you and your dad, you would have been able to convince yourself Danny didn’t have a clue your mom was even sick. She went quick, less than eight months from her death sentence to… well. From death sentence to death. 

Two hundred and thirty-one days since her diagnosis means two-hundred and twenty-eight days since you broke things off with Danny. So even if he was in town, you probably wouldn’t have seen him. You wish you would have though, that he would have appeared in the plethora of grieving faces. Not for you, but for her. She always loved him, even before you did. 

Grace’s arms feel like the light at the end of a dark tunnel when she finally gets to the front of the line. She squeezes you tight, the only way a mother knows how to, and you cry in her arms. Grace doesn’t tell you how sorry she is, or that your mom loved you so much, or that she’s in a better place now. She just hugs you and wipes away your tears. 

“Danny wishes he could be here,” she tells you, but you don’t want to think about him and you don’t want to believe her. 

“Tell him I said ‘thank you?’” you say, a forced smile on your face. It’s got to be the hundredth of the afternoon. If there’s one thing your mom is—was. If there’s one thing she was, it’s loved. Tell him I hate him, is what you wish you could say to Grace. Or maybe tell him I love him. 

A million and two hugs later and you find yourself missing his arms more than you should. He was always a good hugger, and you could use a good hug right now. 

— —

You showed up at the property fifteen minutes after the event started. You’d hoped to slip in and out, to at least be able to say you went, that you tried. You had no intention of trying to find Daniel, and you figured it would be easy to avoid him, especially if you showed up after everyone else did—it’s his show, he’s the man of the hour, everyone will be fighting for his attention. 

You don’t even know why you came, really. Maybe it’s to figure out how the hell Daniel even got your address to send the invite in the first place. You’d moved half a dozen times since he last knew you. Or maybe it’s that you don’t believe, even after seeing it with your own eyes, that somebody actually had success with growing berries in the heat. It could be that you just… It could be simple, that you miss your Mom, and that everything about that place reminds you of her. 

Whatever the reason, you put on a long, flowing sundress, tied your hair back, and slipped on a pair of comfortable sneakers and a denim jacket. You didn’t even bother to tell your Dad—knew he’d want to catch up with Daniel, or maybe want to strangle Daniel. You didn’t want to give him the chance to do either. You park on the dirt road that leads to the vineyard, because the parking lot is overflowing, a pattern you’re beginning to notice since he’d taken over. 

The place looks the same as it did last time you were here. DR3 Wines still adorn the fleet of ATVs out front, and the wooden letters on the perfectly red barn are still perfectly white. You give your name to the woman working the door, regret it as soon as you catch her announcing your presence over the radio-headset she wears. 

Momentarily, you consider turning around and walking right back to your car. But, you aren’t one to waste a good outfit, not if you’d gotten all dolled up like this, so you walk into the Barn with your head down. 

It smells the same inside; wood, lavender, citronella and alcohol. There’s candles burning to make it feel cozy, but they do a poor job at changing the aroma in the air. The walls are still hung with photos, and the counter is still that slab of wood. It’s exactly the same as it was a few months ago, and manages to remind you of the place you grew up without wearing your childhood memories like a costume. 

Daniel has always been easy to find in a room. He’s loud, his voice and his laugh vibrate off the walls of whatever room he’s in. He’s loud and he’s confident and sometimes it feels like he’s the only person in a room that’s really alive. That’s how it felt then, at least. 

It’s been thirteen years since you last shared a space with him, but the fact you can hear his laugh on the other side of the crowded room assures you that while everything has changed, some things have stayed exactly the same. 

You can’t see him, but man can you hear him. 

You sign the guest book—proof, in case anybody asks. Proof that you did show up. It’s the top of a wine barrel, DR3 2023 branded into the oak—two tops, because so many people are here. It’s covered in signatures and messages from people he loves. You feel guilty even signing it, but you do. 

Congrats Dan—your marker pauses. You scoff at yourself. Congrats Daniel. Time flies, 13 years! The place looks beautiful. Wishing you continued success, you write, finishing it off with your signature. 

He still wears the same cologne, you realize, when you look up and he’s leaning against the table watching you write. He wears the same cologne, and the same smile, even if less crooked. Everything else about him is different. His hair is shorter, eyes older. His arms are covered in art, face is all together thinner, and his five o’clock shadow is less of a pipe dream and more of a full-fledged beard. He’s taller, maybe. Or you’re shorter. It doesn’t really matter, you suppose. 

You purse your lips into a curt smile. He matches—you didn’t even know he could smile like that. “Hi, honey,” he says, leaning over to read your message. 

“Hi.” “Who’s Daniel?” He teases, the smile on his face growing into one you’re much more familiar with. You look back at your writing, but you don’t laugh. If anything, you’re sure you look a little scared. “I’m teasing.”

“I know,” you nod.

“Okay,” he nods right back, slow, apprehensive over your apprehension. 

“Sorry,” you force out a chuckle. “I’m being so weird,” and you adjust the strap on your dress. He shoves his hands in his pocket, rocks back and forth on the sole of his shoes. Do you know how weird it is to be face to face with someone you were head over feet in love with? It’s really fucking weird. You put your best smile on your face, “Hi, sorry,” you continue, opening your arms for what you think might be the most awkward hug you’ve ever given. 

He’s quick to pull his hands back out of his pocket, like he’s worried if he doesn’t act fast enough you’re going to rescind the offer. 

His touch is uncanny; familiar and comforting and unsettling. It melts the years away and you feel just like you did some twelve years ago when you wished so desperately for one of his hugs. You’re nineteen again, and he’s twenty, and everything feels like it’s going to be okay. 

“How are you,” he asks quietly, his arms tight around you. “You look great.”

“I’m okay,” you say over his shoulder, and then again, as if you’re trying to convince yourself: “I’m okay. How are you?”

“Oh, y’know,” he shrugs, pulling away from the hug, gesturing your question away. “Same old, same old.”

“Yeah,” you nod, even though you don’t know. Even though it’s been eleven years since you forced yourself to ignore his existence, since you last kept any sort of tab on him. You can’t get over how different he looks. How you’d still recognize him without a second glance. “You look different.”

He laughs, looks down at himself. At his arms, his hands. He can’t look at his face, but it’s different, too. “Yeah, I guess so, huh?” He keeps looking back at you every time he laughs. He makes sure you’re laughing, or smiling at least, before he lets his slip. “Is your Dad here?”

“No. He uh, he wasn’t feeling well.”

Once upon a time, Daniel could spot your lies from the other side of the vineyard. You get stiff and stuttery, he told you, it’s easy when you know what you’re looking for. That was once upon a time, though, and this is now. Now, you don’t know if Daniel remembers any of those little things about you.��

His eyes go momentarily soft, worried, almost. “Just a cold, yeah?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, can I get you a drink? Give you a tour?”

You look around the place—not much to tour. Not when it used to be yours, not when one of his teenaged employees gave you a tour a few months back. He seems so excited about the idea, though, so you go along with it. “Sure. Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“Nice, awesome,” he says, looking around the place like he forgot where everything is. He claps his hands together, pulls them apart into a snap, and points at you with both hands. “Stay here? I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” you chuckle, and it’s genuine. “Staying here.”

“I know you, Bee,” he says, walking backwards away from you. B. He totally knows you’re full of shit about your Dad having a cold. “Don’t try to sneak out while I’m gone.”

“I won’t.”

“You promise?”

You nod. “I promise.”

— —

You, Daniel, and your Mom worked the closing shift that night. When he was around, that’s almost always how it went, because the two of you were the only ones who’d worked there long enough to know how to properly close up without a babysitter. 

Your Mom worked tediously in the office counting all the money—she was the slower counter of your parents, but it wasn’t like anyone was ever sitting around waiting on her. There was always something to be done, and Daniel was always good at making sure those closing tasks took up more than a chunk of the evening. 

You’d cleaned inside, swept the floors and vacuumed the rugs and cleaned the tables and the counters. You washed glasses behind the bar and restocked displays. The landline on the counter rang while you were writing up the day’s inventory, and you almost didn’t answer it, but your parents had told you to improve on your customer-service skills, even when you or the customer weren’t on site. 

To your surprise, the voice on the other end was Daniel’s. He was calling from the cellar, is too lazy to come over there to get shot down. “Is your Mom finished counting?” He asked, and you pulled the phone away from your ear to try and listen past the office door. 

“I think so,” you say, bringing the phone back to your ear. “We should be heading out soon.”

Sometimes you feel like you can hear Danny’s smile. “You wanna do the lock check with me?”

You slot the phone between your shoulder and your ear, returning your hands to the task of finishing up your paperwork for the night. You needed to be done when he got here, or there was no chance your Mom let you go with him. “How do you know I’m done with my shit?”

You can hear the lull of the old beat up golf-cart engine in the background, can almost feel the vibrations, can see clear as day Danny sitting there, lounging on the leather seat—tanned skin, unruly hair, toothy grin. “You always finish fast so you can daydream about your boyfriend,” he says, turning the last word into his own little sing-songy ballad. 

Your pen pauses on the paper, and you roll your eyes. “Jake isn’t my boyfriend.”

Danny laughs, and you roll your eyes again, pretend like you aren’t smiling. “Oh? But you knew who I was talking about!”

“Because you never shut up about him being into me.”

“Because he is!”

You set the pen down for good, now, grab the phone again because you want to make sure your next words come across loud and clear, even if it is the millionth time you’ve told him. “He’s my friend, Danny!”

“Oh, come on!” His laugh intensifies. “I don’t think a guy has ever been just friends with you.”

“You’re my friend, aren’t you?”

His laughter quells, and you’re sure he’s picking on the plastic of the steering wheel. There are so many scrapes on it from the same thing. He’s always picking at it, ever since you told him to give his poor nails a rest. He has to destroy something, you suppose—teenage boy and all—but you prefer a destroyed golf cart steering wheel to a destroyed Danny, so you let it slide. He sighs, and then he clears his throat, and the memory of your question dies in the silence. “Are you coming with me or not?”

“Are you coming to get me?”

— —

The air is chilly—nippy almost, especially with the sun dipping below the horizon like it is. You’re walking stride for stride with Daniel over the gravel path to the cellar, glass of sweet pink wine in your hand. He’s taking you to the strawberry field, per your request, because even after tasting it, even after telling you which field it’s in, you still don’t believe him.

“So,” he asks, one hand deep in his pocket, the other hanging in the space between your bodies. He’s very hesitant with you today, you’ve noticed. It’s nothing like the brash boy you called your first love. He’s gentle, softer, like he’s scared of his next words. “Who finally put that ring on your finger?” The threat of a smile is weak, but the idea of it alone is charming. 

You look at your free hand, carefully decorated with several different rings. “Which one?”

He drops his head to his shoulder, gives you a pathetic smile and a matching chuckle. “The only one an ex-boyfriend would ask you about, Bee.”

The sunlight—the little bit that’s left of it—catches the diamond on your ring finger. “Oh,” you shrug, dropping it back to your side. “It’s Mom’s.”

“I know,” he nods solemnly, and your head shoots over to look at him. You don’t know why he would remember that. “Who put it there, though?”

A smile pulls on your lips, and you bury it in the lip of your wine glass. “I’m not engaged, if that’s what you’re asking,” you laugh. “I just wear it… I don’t know, it makes me feel close to her.”

Sunsets at the property have always been gorgeous. When you were younger, you thought that maybe it was the most beautiful place in the entire world. The blues and the pinks and the yellows all mix together into some grand watercolor and tonight is no exception. 

The silence that lingers in the air should be awkward, but it’s not. It should be harder to be here, to watch the sunset, to walk the paths you have memorized, to stand next to Daniel after all these years. It’s not hard, though. It’s comfortable, like it was when you were sixteen and seventeen and eighteen and barely nineteen. Like it was all the time you knew him, even before you loved him. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally speaks. “She was really cool.”

You chuckle softly. It’s a familiar routine, consoling those attempting to console you about her death. “That’s what everyone says,” you say, even though Daniel might be the first person to posthumously describe your mom as cool. Lovely, you’d gotten more times than you could count. Beautiful and kind and oh honey, she loved you so much, you knew already. She was really cool, that’s a Danny-original if you’ve ever heard one. 

“I should have been at the funeral.”

“It’s okay,” you nod, because his presence wouldn’t have changed that your Mom was lovely and beautiful and kind and that she wasn’t around to be any of those things anymore. There wasn’t anything Daniel could have done to remedy that reality. “You were busy. We weren’t together,” and before he can come back with something, insists that it’s a bigger deal some decade later than it was, you change the subject. “What about you, though? Putting rings on anyone’s fingers these days?”

He laughs. A person can only get poetic about Daniel’s laugh so many times before it’s easier to just leave it at that. He laughs, everyone around him lights up, and he laughs some more. “Believe it or not, my work-life balance isn’t super great at fostering long-term relationships.”

You don’t exactly know what Daniel’s work-life balance looks like. The last time you paid any attention, he was racing with Toro Rosso. Every update you’d heard since had been one you weren’t looking for—commercials and posters and billboards and word-of-mouth; more than a couple ex-boyfriends and a few stray friends. 

You never cared much about racing. It was Daniel you cared about. 

There aren't a lot of specifics you remember about Daniel’s schedule, but you remember that he was almost always coming or going. There wasn’t much staying, and that was before he’d even made it to the big show. “You mean, women like it when their partners are around for most of the year?”

“They do, yeah,” he nods, dimples digging into his cheeks. “Crazy, right?”

“Crazy.”

— — 

Danny didn’t go down without a fight. He caught what had to have been the first flight home—home, you’re not sure that he can call Perth home now that he doesn’t live here. He caught the first flight to you, threw wood chips at your window at three-in-the morning. He didn’t need to wake you up, it’s been two weeks since you had any kind of meaningful sleep. You spend the majority of your time in bed looking at the ceiling fan spin or staining the sheets with your tears. 

You let him throw mulch for twenty minutes though, hoping that maybe he’ll give up and leave so you don’t have to face him. 

You’d done the breaking up over the phone for a reason. It wasn’t that you couldn’t wait until whenever he was home next. You could. It was that you couldn’t break up with him while looking him in the eyes, and you knew it. 

Eventually, though, you pull your pajama-clad frame out from under the warm covers, drag your feet the entire way to the window, pulling the curtains open just enough to confirm what you already knew—that it was him in the driveway. His entire face relaxes when he sees you there, forcing the window open. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What the fuck am I doing?” He scoffs. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You cross your arms over your chest. The night air is cold and your pajamas are scarce. “I’m trying to sleep.”

He rolls his eyes, always dramatic, always over-the-top. “Come down here, honey.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

You stand there in silence, shivering in your bedroom window. He stands there in silence, thick jacket on and a handful of wood chips from the garden in your driveway. It’s a stalemate, and you don’t know which of you is more exhausted. Appearance points to him, but you dread that fact that you’re standing, that you’re tired enough to give up the fight this quick. 

“Fine,” you relent, and it’s less than two minutes before you’re running into him on the back porch, slowly closing the sliding patio door behind you so as to not alert anyone else in the house of his presence. “What do you want?”

“Where are your clothes?” He asks, and is already taking his coat off to wrap around your frame. You huff and puff the entire time he’s doing it, because your lack of clothing was a choice—you were hopeful that he wouldn’t keep you long if you were shivering. 

“What do you want, D?”

“I want you to talk to me,” he says. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”

Your lip trembles, and you bite down on it to try and stop it, chew on the skin until you taste copper and then it still trembles. You don’t look at him, you can’t. “You can’t fix it.”

“No, no,” he argues, grabbing your elbow in a plea, stepping closer to you, speaking hardly above a whisper. “Just tell me, baby.”

You yank your arm away, tone a direct contrast to his when you insist: “You can’t fix it this time, okay!? Nobody can fix it.” You point an accusatory finger, like there’s actually something he’s done to deserve this. There isn’t, there never will be. “You can’t fucking fix everything just because you want to.”

He matches, points his finger at you, presses it into the middle of your chest. Your heart races. “You can’t just fucking break up with me because you want to.”

You swat his hand away, offended by the accusation that you wanted this, that any part of you is enjoying this, finding relief in this. You hate this. Fucking loathe it, but it doesn’t change any of the facts. “I don’t want to,” your lips downturn into a frown, all pathetic and trembled, and your voice cracks and shakes half as much as your lips. The tears that burn in your eyes are reflected back in his, tired and bloodshot and wet. 

“Then don’t do it,” he pleads. 

You gulp around the lump in your throat, voice leaving your body meekly through tears. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t,” he assures you quickly, his hands slotting on either side of your face, the pads of his thumbs wiping your tears, his fingers locking into the hair at the nape of your neck. He shakes his head before he speaks, brown eyes searching yours, begging you to change your mind. “You don’t.”

His hands on your face are what push you over the edge, turn you from poised and sniffly to half-wrecked—choking on sobs and swallowing snot. It all hits you at once, all the weeks of testing, the days of trying to come to terms with a diagnosis, the hours spent grappling with the fact that nothing will ever be the same about you. You’re changed, now, and you’re only going to continue to change. It’s not Daniel’s responsibility to see you through any of this fucking shit.  “I do, I do,” you sob. “I have to, I’m so sorry, I have to.”

He presses his forehead against yours, your tears mixing with his every time your noses bump. It calms you, if only slightly, and your eyes close, mind focused on remembering this, on remembering what it feels like to have his skin on yours, to feel his voice in your bones, to breathe in the same air, the same space, the same atoms. 

Your breath is shaky, but the pattern is steady. In, out. In, out. Your nose is so stuffed you can’t breathe through it. Your lips are all but touching his, a stray tremble holding the power to force them together. You don’t know if you want to kiss him or not, if it would make things better or so much worse. 

He swallows hard, pulling your faces apart. “I love you,” he mutters softly, like a wounded animal, and then he presses a long, hard kiss into your forehead. 

You sniffle, your hands holding onto his wrists. “I’m sorry.”

He nods, drops his arms, your hands falling into his. “Yeah.”

He lets your hands go, lets you go. You feel like you might be sick watching him walk down the steps of the patio, along the path of pavers to the gate. A shiver runs up your spine, and you pull his jacket closed over your chest. His jacket. 

You wipe a new set of tears from your cheek with the back of your hand. “Your jacket,” you sniffle, “hold on.”

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even turn back to face you. “Keep it,” he says, unlatching the gate and slipping through to the other side. You sigh, and then you cough, and then you cry some more before finally finding the ability to move again, to go back inside and up to your bedroom, and that was that. That was the last time you saw Danny. The last moment that he was yours. 

— —

You’re walking back from the unbelievable strawberry field, quickly approaching the still lively barn, people and smiles and conversations pouring out into the adjacent spaces. Someone appears in front of you with a camera, with two cameras—one professional, and one a cheap polaroid. Smile, they said, and you laughed, your cheeks burning red. 

Daniel slinks his arm over your shoulder, and you step closer to his side. He flashes a toothy grin and a shaka sign to the camera. You hear the shutter of the camera take a dozen photos, and then the photographer holds up the polaroid—one for the road, she says, and Daniel pulls you that little bit closer, you blush that little bit harder. 

There’s a flash, and then you both relax, the photo printing out of the bottom of the camera. She holds it out Daniel, but he nudges you with his elbow to take it. You do, even though you aren’t sure you want it. 

You shake the polaroid while the two of you make your way into the barn. “What do I do with this?” You ask, looking carefully at the developed print. 

Daniel shrugs, leaning over. You flip the photo in his direction so he doesn’t have to lean as far, but he still does. “It’s cute,” he says. “You don’t want it?”

“I mean, I’ll take it, but…” But. But I’m going to throw it away when I get home. But it only reminds me of you. But it only represents what won’t be. 

He looks to the wall of photos behind the counter, eyeing the display carefully. You follow his sight line, your eyes going to the exact place you remember the photos of you being. You don’t know why you’re surprised that they’re still there, like you knowing they exist means they’d vanish. “Hang it up,” he says. 

You laugh. “Where?”

Daniel shrugs. “Anywhere you want.”

— —

The best part about only being able to afford cheap workers, was that you spent every day at the property with a new teenager looking to have just as much fun as you were. Between that, and the plethora of college kids that were constantly leaving to go back to school, to get a grown-up job, to get any job that paid more than your family could offer—there was always an opportunity for going away parties. And party, you did. 

You and your coworkers turned friends had slept down by the river more summer nights than you could count, hiding six-packs in the staff locker-room and hiding ziploc bags of joints behind the six-packs. 

Tonight, the going-away party is to honor someone whose face you won’t remember in a year, much less thirteen. He’d worked there for the holidays and not much more, and there wasn’t much memorable about him. 

The bonfire on the back of the property snaps and crackles, sparking off into the night and lights everyone in flickers of orange and yellow. The breeze has picked up after dark, and the tank-top and shorts you’d donned earlier in the day aren’t appropriate any more, one of Danny’s hoodies—a purple one that sits in his locker just for you to steal and smells like weed and wood from all the past nights just like this one—takes the chill out of the night and keeps the goosebumps off your exposed legs. 

The sky is clear and cloudless, a big moon staring back at you and a million shining stars fill the night sky. It’s times like these you think there’s no prettier place on Earth, nights like these where you feel completely rich. 

Two joints are being passed around the circle lazily, laughter and conversation filling the air. The first one comes your way from the left, from Daniel. He takes a long hit, the embers at the end of the paper burning orange with his inhale. He holds it in, nodding his way through someone else’s joke, and exhaling into a laugh. 

He looks at you, hesitates to hand it over. “I really don’t want a lecture from your parents tomorrow morning,” he teases, playful smile pulling on his lips, mischievous glint in his eye. 

You roll your eyes. “They won’t know,” you insist, to no avail. Daniel chuckles, but holds his resolve and passes the joint around you to the next person. 

Undeterred, you keep your eyes on the joint that moves clockwise, that comes to you from the other direction, a path with no Danny-sized roadblock. With practiced ease, you take a hit, exhaling slowly, savoring the warmth in your chest. You meet Danny’s eyes on exhale, find them half-amused and half-concerned, brows raised and smile drawn. 

“Whatcha got there?” He laughs, gently taking the joint from her. “I told you not to,” he continues, taking a hit himself before passing it along again. You grin, a wave of giddiness washing over you. It always goes like that when he laughs—makes you all warm and fuzzy and silly. 

“It’ll be okay, Danny-boy,” you laugh, leaning against him. Lazily, without hesitation, he tosses his arm over your shoulder and pulls you that much closer. You like being closer, can feel his laugh instead of just hearing it. You like the way his arm rests on your shoulder, the way his fingers trace patterns over the fabric of his sweatshirt, every touch echoing on your skin for minutes. You like being close, even if it makes your palms a little sweatier and your heartbeat a little faster. You could get used to being closer, you think. 

The fire is starting to die out now, and the air gets colder. You wonder how long your parents waited up for you to get home. The original excuse was that Daniel had forgotten the lock-check, that you wanted to come along and really, it’s no problem to drive her home. After about fifteen minutes, you’d snuck away from the newly-built fire to make a phone call, to let them know you were grabbing food on the way home and don’t wait up for me. You’re sure they did, though, even if only for a while longer. 

Anyway, the air is colder and the joints have been smoked through and the beers have been drunk—not by you, you’re too messy when you’re crossed. And not by Daniel, either, who refuses to drive drunk but insists on driving high. 

You yawn under Daniel’s arm, find a way to somehow lean in closer. “Sleepy?” he asks, and you nod. Carefully, like he’s done it a million times before, he presses a kiss into the crown of your head. It’s not the millionth time, it’s not even the second time he’s kissed any part of you. It’s the first time you've felt the press of his lips and you think that you’ll feel it there forever. “You wanna go?”

“No,” you say. “I’ll stay, make sure the fire gets out and everything.”

It’s not much longer, anyway, until the fire is being doused with water bottles and beer and everyone is taking turns spraying the same perfumes and colognes over their clothes in a poor attempt to mask the smell of smoke and weed. 

Daniel drives you home. It’s not the first time you’ve been the passenger in his old Ford Bronco. It’s not even the first time you’ve been in the truck while he was high. Usually, car rides with Danny consist of cranked down windows and loud music, of louder conversations and excessive laughter. This drive is quiet, though. 

His hands are steady on the wheel, eyes focused on the road ahead. There’s no music, the windows are up, and he doesn’t talk. You watch him carefully from the passenger seat, study him in your paranoia. You haven’t done anything, you don’t think. There’s no reason for him to be mad at you. Unless there is. 

“Did you have a good time?” You ask. Danny nods. “That’s good.”

He turns to face you at a stop sign. “Sorry,” he laughs. “I’m trying to focus.”

“It’s okay,” you nod. 

“It’s harder,” he explains. “It’s hard with you here.”

— — 

The evening you’d anticipated is far from the evening that unfolds. Fifteen minutes, maximum, in and out. That was the plan. But then Daniel—Daniel, and all the far-fetched dreams of him making himself at home in your life, all the passing thoughts you’d had over the years about the what-ifs; the grocery bills and the taxes and the white wine and the rusty barn doors. He glues you to his side for hours that feel like minutes. 

The event is winding down, people keep coming up to him, firm pats on the back and handshakes and hugs goodbye. They tell him how great the place is, how great the wine is, how great he is, and you move around like his shadow, smiling awkwardly whenever someone catches your eye and waiting for the next joke Daniel has to crack quietly, just to you.

You stand at a high-table next to him, elbows on the tabletop, shoulders bumping everytime one of you moves. There were people around the table, a reason—an excuse—for the proximity, but they’re long gone now.  “You know,” Daniel says quietly, dropping his head against his hands, speaking to nobody in the room but you. “I’ve missed you a lot.”

“Yeah,” you nod, speak just as softly. “Me too.”

He takes a long drink from the wine glass in front of him. Liquid courage, you know now, for what he was going to do next. The glass returns to the tablecloth with a soft pat, and he lets out a heavy exhale. “I heard there’s a new coffee place opening in Northbridge?” He asks, and you assume it’s because he knows your neighborhood, wants to know more about it. The wine has made you naive, or maybe you’d just pushed the reality of his implication so far from your mind that it’s an impossible thought. 

“Yeah,” you nod. The new coffee shop in Northbridge is a seven minute walk from your apartment, and is on your way to work. You’ve been eyeing the place since the empty building went up for lease. “It’s got this super cute bakery right next door,” you add. “I think they opened last week.”

Daniel nods. “I’d love to try it out.”

“Yeah,” you continue, still genuine and naive and oh-so silly. “You should. I’ve heard good things.”

He laughs, then. Laughs this specific kind of Daniel laugh that you used to get so excited to hear. It meant he was going to do something for—or to—you. He’d laughed like that before he kissed you for the first time, and he’d laughed like that while orange juice ran down his arm and he asked you out for the hundredth time. He’d laughed like that on every anniversary, every birthday, every holiday. It’s Danny’s you laugh. “I’d need someone to go with, though,” he says. And the laugh and the words and the whole thing clicks. Daniel is trying to ask you out. “I don’t really know my way around Northbridge.”

A lie, objectively. One that confirms the assumption you’d just jumped to. Daniel’s first apartment was in Northbridge. He lived eleven minutes from where you live now. He knows the place like the back of his own hand, knows the streets like he used to know you. 

You nod into the bottom of your wine glass, watching the liquid spin around the clear glass. “You don’t?”

He purses his lips, looks all deep in thought. “No,” he shakes his head. “No, I don’t think I do.”

“Oh,” you frown, your eyes meeting his. It’s really hard to mess with him when he looks at you like that. Hard, but not impossible. “My dad’s usually around.”

He chuckles. “Your dad, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod, a smile pulling impossibly hard on your lips. “Retirement and all, you know.”

“Oh, sure.”

“I guess…” you shrug, stop spinning your glass and set it down altogether. You push it slowly across the tablecloth towards the center. “I could always show you around, too.”

He leans back, stands up straight and scratches his beard, makes a piss-poor attempt at wiping the dimpled smile off his face when he cocks his head to the side and says, “As much as I like your dad…”

“As much as you like my dad.”

And, because Daniel was never really Daniel, because he’s always going to be your Danny, no matter the time or the distance or anything else that should get in the way, he says: “You’ve always been my honeybee.”

— —

“Don’t call me that, Mom,” you shouted from the office, gathering your morning gear. You were working tours with Danny, today, and the two of you had spent all morning bickering over who gets to be lead and who has to be secondary guide. While you shoved the batteries into the walkie-talkies, you could overhear Danny successfully pleading with your Mom. Honeybee, she’d called out to you. Let Danny take Lead today, won’t you? 

She laughs. You roll your eyes, slipping behind the counter where she leans, where Danny lounges on a stool. You toss Danny’s walkie at his chest, and he catches it before it hits him. She raises her brows pointedly, meets Danny’s eyes in some shared language, a shared silent remark about you. “Why not?”

“Because. It sounds like something Grandma would say.”

Your mom smiles, twirls the end of your ponytail around her finger. “But you’re so sweet”

Danny chokes on his laugh, shooting up straight in his seat to clear his throat, to cough into his elbow. “She is NOT sweet.”

You scowl, shove his shoulder gently. It only makes him, and your mom, laugh harder. “Hey!”

“You make my life sweet, baby girl,” she hums. 

Danny nods, falling back into his comfortable spot, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re kinda like a bee,” he says, leaning back even further. Your entire day would be made by him losing his balance and falling flat on his ass. “You make her life sweet but for me…” he pauses. “You’re just this annoying little buzzing I can’t shoo away.”

Silently, you hold up both middle fingers to him, walking backwards out from behind the counter, towards the back door. Your mom only laughs at you, always laughs at you and Danny. “Love you, Bee,” she calls to you, and winks at Danny. 

“Yeah,” he calls, the stool creaking underneath him as he properly stands up. “Love ya, Bee!”

[un-love]

— afternoon | kmg

mingyu x f!reader

a/n: i wrote this last august and forgot about it. self indulgent asf bc my period is a horror story 💢

“good game, guys. i’m gonna log out now.” putting his headphones aside, mingyu was greeted by complete silence in the house. it had been an hour since he left the bedroom to let you sleep in peace. the week of your period was always a hard time for you. hard is an understatement, really. he couldn't physically understand how you felt but the first time he saw you cry out in pain and struggle to walk yourself to the kitchen, he had decided to be there for you without you ever having to ask for his help; that’s the least he could do after all. the little widgets on his phone notify him of the approaching doom every month without fail, and one might even say he’s as prepared as you now (maybe more).

as he approaches the living room, his ears perk up. he opens the door carefully, and catches you wincing as you try to sit up. you look even worse than how he left you, somehow. sunken eyes and disheveled hair, there really wasn’t any way to romanticize this pain. “why didn’t you call me?”, he whispers and immediately springs into the practiced routine he’s got down. you're too far gone to protest as he props up your pillows, gets you a reheated hot water bottle and orders you to open your mouth as he makes you take your prescribed pain meds. regaining some consciousness after feeling the burn of the hot bag on your skin, you can’t help but smile at the concerned expression on his face as he assesses you. the way his brows furrow and a little pout appears on his soft lips soothes some of the ache in your body.

“what are you smiling at?”, he asks. “you’re just so cute like this. worrying about me and all.” the look he gives you is one of fondness. it’s somewhat relieving for your boyfriend to see you talk like this, despite the state you’re in. he could tell how disoriented you were by the way you hadn’t met his eyes the whole day. “who said i’m worried?”, he says cheekily, before disappearing into the kitchen again.

“i don’t feel good; i think i’m going to throw up”, you call out from your new resting place on the couch, chewing on scraps from the kitchen for lunch. mingyu had asked you to move to the couch (read: carried you) so he could change the sheets and clean up the room a little. it still felt embarrassing to have him take care of you like this, but his kind eyes and kinder hands made you go along with whatever he said.

thinking back, you had tried to avoid seeing him the first few months after you started dating, for this very reason. he knew you were having a hard time with your diagnosis, so he never wanted to push you too much; until the day you had woken up in a pool of blood with him next to you on your bed. you had sobbed endlessly (from frustration, pain, embarrassment) before threatening to poke his eye out with a butter knife if he ever made fun of you for this. this was all very bizarre to your new boyfriend, who grew progressively more concerned for you after that. had someone made you feel bad for something like this before?

a head pokes around the door with a determined expression you could read extremely well. another wave of nausea rocked over your body. “don’t come close to me, kim mingyu. i haven’t showered since yesterday. i stink.” “but you don't know what i’m going to s—” he tries to go on but you cut him off. “the sound of the air conditioner is making my skin crawl.” “but-” “the fabric of my tshirt is touching my skin in the worst ways and the birds won’t stop fucking chirping outside the window and you- you’re here seeing me like this. i want to dig a life sized hole and bury myself in it right now. just go away, please.”

he’s careful when he comes closer to you and stops right before sitting on the couch. “baby, i promise you, nothing about you can disgust me. unless you do something unforgivable like putting milk first in my cereal bowl”, he says, and you finally look at him. success. “and i’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want. but can i get you something else for the pain or a hot drink first?”

how could you say no to him when he looked at you like that? with those big brown eyes, trying his best to read your face. freshly washed bangs falling into his eyes, and his pretty hand outstretched towards you. your eyes get distracted by his tongue coming out to wet his bottom lip, a nervous habit of his you found adorable. in the split second between his question and your response, you imagined pulling him by the shirt and kissing him breathless. swatting away the (welcome) visual in your head, you let yourself fall against the soft cushions, the fight leaving your body. it's time you let somebody love you.

fin.

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Three: Return of the Kink

Day 16: Hysteria (Medical Kink)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Medic x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Medic decide to enjoy a little role play scenario.

Tags: Medical role play, toys, fingering, begging, overstimulation, biting, aftercare

Word Count: 3.2k

The Masterlist

Medic paced in front of you, boots clicking against the tile floor of the infirmary. He tapped his pen against a clipboard, brows pinched in concern. You watched him from your seat upon the examination table, kicking your legs lazily and waiting for him to speak.

“I see,” he muttered. “Stress, anxiety, inability to concentrate- these are the symptoms you listed, ja?”

“That’s right.” You nodded, even though Medic never looked up from his clipboard. He mused over his notes for a while- which you found funny, given that you hadn’t seen him take a single note since the two of you had started this little roleplay. In fact, you were pretty sure the pen he was holding was out of ink.

The infirmary doors were locked for the night, and the exam table you sat on came with soft pillows that were far more luxurious than any doctor's office would deem necessary. You tapped your fingers on the edge of the table, a look of mock concern on your face as you waited for your beloved doctor to deliver a diagnosis.

Said beloved doctor however proved to be quite the actor, dedicated to the character enough to stare at what could very well be a blank sheet of notebook paper while making inquisitive noises for a good ten seconds. You cleared your throat, which finally prompted him to speak.

“I see… there’s only one thing it could be,” he said, placing the clipboard aside. You glanced at it and saw that, yes, there was indeed a blank sheet of paper pinned to it. It took every bit of your will to stay in character and not start laughing.

“What’s the diagnosis?” you asked, eyes wide. You even let your voice shake a bit for effect.

“I’m afraid it’s hysteria, my dear.”

That was it. You cracked, a harsh cackle escaping you before you could even process what he had said. “Hysteria?” you gasped between fits of laughter. “Seriously?”

Medic was holding back his own laughter, with far more success than you, although a soft chuckle or two could still be heard. “Come now, I thought we were staying in character?” he playfully scolded you.

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry,” you said, finally catching your breath. This was fine, you could work with this. You could work with hysteria. The very thought almost brought you to tears once again but you managed to contain yourself, falling back into your role with a dramatic gasp. “Oh doctor! How long do I have?”

That little outburst actually did manage to make Medic laugh, but he regained his composure quickly. “Oh, don’t worry about that, dear. The treatment is very simple. However I must warn you, it’s a bit hands on.” His tone was suggestive, however Medic continued to smile brightly at you as if nothing was wrong. “Just relax while I retrieve my tools!” he said, cheery as ever.

Tools? Knowing Medic, said tools could be anything, and that set your nerves on edge. Should you have mentioned that lobotomies were a hard limit for you beforehand? Oh well, that’s what safe words were for.

Medic returned with a small box made of dark wood, so dark it almost looked like obsidian at a glance. He opened it facing away from you, blocking your view and building up your anticipation moment by moment. You tried to crane your neck to peak inside, and while the view wasn’t great, you could at least tell that there weren’t any shiny, sharp, brain poking tools to worry about.

“Now, I just need you to undress and lay back on the table for me,” Medic said. He watched you like a hawk as you stripped away your clothing, article by article. You were so obedient, only showing a hint of hesitation. It was all part of the game of course, you were playing your role- a shy patient with complete trust in her doctor. Honestly, it was an adorable look for you.

Once you were completely unclothed, Medic pulled his first tool from the box- a small rabbit vibrator. It was a solid, polished black, almost matching the box that contained it, with a delicious curve to hit all the right spots. “You know what this is, don’t you?” he asked, holding the device delicately in one gloved hand.

“Um- well…” you stammered, genuinely considering whether you should continue playing the part of a stereotypical hysterical woman and say no. Or maybe you were putting a bit too much thought into an act that was ultimately meant to get you laid. This was sex, not high class theater. Thankfully, Medic continued before you could consider it for too long.

“It’s something that will help rid you of those pesky anxieties of yours.” He set the vibrator aside. “Of course, we will have to prepare you first.”

He retrieved something else from the case, which you quickly recognized as a bottle of lube. You spread your legs while he squeezed the contents of the bottle onto his fingers. You saw his eyes dart towards you, a smirk spreading over his face.

“You’re already in the correct position for me. Good girl.” He set the bottle down. “Now, this may be a bit cold.”

You winced. ‘A bit cold’ was an understatement. Medic hadn’t bothered to warm it at all. Perhaps that was just another part of the roleplay, keeping everything clinical and professional up until the last moment. But honestly, how professional could you be when he was beginning to circle your clit with those slick fingers. You sighed and bit your lip when he ventured lower, spreading you with two fingers before plunging one into you with one quick, easy motion.

“How does that feel?” he asked, sounding far too casual for being knuckle deep inside of you.

You sighed, feeling him curl his finger within you gently, trying to coax a moan from you that you barely managed to suppress. “It feels nice,” you answered after a few steadying breaths.

“Perfekt. The comfort of my patients is my top priority.” He slide a second finger in as he spoke, pulsing them gently against that sensitive spot inside you. You shuddered, biting your lip to keep quiet. You didn't want to come undone so easily from just two fingers. “Don't be shy, fraulein,” Medic said, as if he had read your thoughts. “You’re far from the first to become a bit vocal during treatments such as this.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you whined, covering your face with your hands. Your cheeks were already burning, and your ‘treatment’ had barely begun.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed in front of your doctor, dear,” Medic said, keeping up his facade of professionalism even though deep down he wanted to tell you how adorable you were when you were flustered like this. You opened your mouth to respond and he chose that moment to press hard against your g-spot, turning any words you may have spoken into a wanton moan. “See? It’s easier to not hold back. No one will hear you but me.”

He couldn’t hide the slightly possessive tone his voice took on, clearly relishing the fact that your moans were for him and him alone. Medic’s free hand rested on your chest, feeling your pulse quicken beneath his palm. His other hand continued its shallow pumping, feeling you clench around his fingers. It seemed you were ready for the next step of your treatment.

He retrieved the vibrator, turning it on its lowest setting for now. You were so preoccupied with your own pleasure that you barely noticed the soft hum of the toy until it was pressed against your clit. You gasped, arching back, bucking against it before you even registered what was happening.

“Relax, liebchen. There’s no need to rush. We have all night.” Medic moved the toy in slow, gentle circles over your clit, watching you squirm beneath his expert ministrations. It was times like this when his knowledge of anatomy truly proved useful. With his free hand, he traced his fingers along your body, lingering on erogenous zones and areas that he knew were sensitive to you in particular.

Medic drank in every little reaction he drew from you- the quiver of your thighs, the way your hips twitched, your whole body shuddering as you got ever closer to tipping over that edge. How nice it would be to keep you like this forever, a writhing mess, pleading for release. That scenario would be stored away in the back of Medic’s mind for a later date. Today, he simply had to treat his patient.

“Now, I want you to let go for me, liebling. Let the pleasure take you.”

“Already?” you asked.

“Ja, come for your doctor,” his words were a clear order and he pressed the vibrator firmly against you, all of which made it quite easy for you to obey his command. You arched against the exam table with a cry. You thought you could hear Medic whispering praises to you, but with the blood rushing in your ears you couldn’t be certain.

You weren’t sure when Medic turned the vibrator off. Apparently he didn’t want to overstimulate you yet, carefully removing the toy and setting it aside in a sterile metal tray that was meant for surgical tools, and was most certainly not meant for sex toys. Then again, this was Medic’s infirmary, so he could use his equipment for whatever he damn well pleased. After all, medical exam tables probably weren’t meant as a place for you to languish post-orgasm bliss, yet here you were.

“You have done wonderfully, my dear.” His voice was fuzzy. You weren’t sure if it was because he was whispering or if you were struggling to hear him through the heavy afterglow that had settled over you. His hand was still on your chest. In fact it had never left, still feeling your heartbeat, now beginning to slow alongside the now gentle rise and fall of your chest. Slowly, he moved to caress one of your breasts, making your breath hitch. “However, just to be safe, perhaps we should administer a second dose?”

You chuckled. “You’re the doctor, sir. What do you think?”

Medic set the vibrator aside before leaning down to kiss you suddenly. His answer couldn’t be more clear. When you parted he was breathless, and a glance downward proved that he had definitely been holding his own desire back for quite some time. You palmed the hardness straining against his pants, and he gave a sharp inhale, barely holding back a moan.

“This isn’t very professional, is it, doctor?” you asked.

“Nonsense, liebchen. This is common procedure,” he said, ever committed to the bit, even as he undid his belt. Once his pants were off he didn’t bother with his coat or vest, climbing atop the table with a speed that betrayed his impatience to get to the main event. The examination table creaked softly with the added weight, but held fast.

Medic situated himself between your legs and you shuddered, feeling his cock pressed against your thigh. “Please,” you whispered, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Please, doctor.”

“Oh, you poor thing. You really did need this, didn’t you?” He pressed his cock against your entrance, pausing for an agonizing few seconds just to hear you whine. “Well, let’s not delay any longer then.”

You moaned, but Medic’s own sounds nearly drowned you out as he buried himself within you, pulling out almost completely, and then bottoming out again. His pace was slow, and he made a point to revel in every second, his eyes fluttering closed with each languid thrust, a look of torturous bliss crossing his features. He may have needed this even more than you did.

Wrapping your arms over his shoulders, you pulled him down into another kiss. He moaned against your mouth and you drank in his sounds, swallowing them like medicine. You wanted more, biting his lip and savoring the gasp it drew from him, running your hands up his arms and feeling the muscles shudder as if your very touch made him weak.

Medic pulled away from your mouth suddenly, panting, apparently realizing that he did in fact still need to breathe. “Liebe, I think you’re forgetting that this treatment is for you,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice not going unnoticed..

“I like to touch you,” you said, reaching up to caress his cheek, feeling the subtle prick of stubble. He leaned into your touch instinctively, although he continued to playfully scold you.

“Well, like you said, it’s not very professional, but I’ll allow it.” He was so easy to read when he was worked up like this. You could tell Medic was thrilled at the thought of you touching, stroking, and caressing him as he fucked you senseless, the wandering of your hands becoming less coordinated the closer you got to orgasm.

You clutched onto Medic’s coat, pulling at the fabric until he was unable to stand the extra layers and shucked it off, leaving it to fall to the floor. You alternated between digging your nails into his back and running your fingers through his hair, disheveling the normally well groomed locks. All the while Medic maintained a steady, albeit far too slow pace. You wanted more, letting your need be vocalized with a desperate mantra of “harder, harder, harder!”

“Beg for it.” Medic’s voice was low and lust ridden as he spoke between suckling kisses to your neck, leaving plenty of marks in his wake. His breath tickled your neck and sent shivers up and down your spine.

“Is it a common procedure for a patient to beg for their treatment, doctor?”

Medic groaned, although it sounded more akin to a low growl. “Are you questioning my medical expertise, liebe?” His teeth grazed your neck.

“Well, you did lose your license…” A firm bite against your collar made you gasp and you fixed your attitude quickly. “I mean, of course not sir! Please! Please fuck me harder, I need it!”

A chuckle was your only warning before Medic braced himself against the edges of the exam table. As if a switch had been flipped, he began thrusting into you hard and fast. The shift was sudden and intense. It was almost enough to give you whiplash.

“Gott, maybe I really did need this,” Medic groaned, mostly to himself. You had heard him loud and clear though, and it led you to wonder if this was now some kind of mutual medical procedure.

You didn’t get the chance to ponder that for long before Medic was on your lips once again, kissing you hard, any semblance of professionalism officially slipping away. Your breath hitched and the few words you could manage to get out were soft and quivering, cut off by moans. For the most part you were unintelligible, but Medic recognized the signs well enough.

“You’re already close, aren’t you?” He asked. He received no discernible response, not that he expected to. “You don’t have to answer, liebchen, I know I’m right. Your doctor knows your body better than anyone. Bitte, wrap your legs around me.”

You were more than happy to do just that. You dug your nails into his shoulders as he thrust into you, your legs wrapped tightly around those strong hips. Your lower body was elevated just enough for Medic to hit that sweet spot dead on. It was what finally pushed you over the edge.

“Look at me,” Medic said. “I want to see you come on my cock. I have to make sure your treatment is carried out in full.”

One of his hands gripped your hair in a tight fist, making sure you couldn’t turn your face away. Your muscles spasmed and you cried out as you came, bucking uselessly against him, trying to prolong this feeling. You wanted it all, as much as he could give to you. Medic fucked you through your orgasm, and beyond. Even as your high began to ebb his pace didn't falter.

He let go of your hair, letting your had fall to the side. Your cries had diminished to soft whines and whimpers as he overstimulated you, chasing his own release. In fact your sounds only seemed to spur him on faster and faster until he doubled over with a low moan. He thrust into you unevenly a few more times before going still, the sound of heavy, gasping breaths being the only noise that remained.

Medic’s grip on the table remained firm. He was using the last of his strength to keep from collapsing on top of you. Getting up wasn’t an option just yet either, as you didn’t seem too keen to let him go.

“Stay,” you whimpered, legs still wrapped tight around his waist, keeping him buried within you. “Please.”

“This isn’t the most comfortable place, meine liebe. Wouldn’t you rather come to bed?”

You groaned, not wanting to admit that he was right. You would much rather enjoy the afterglow in a nice, soft bed. Reluctantly, you let him go, ignoring the ache in your legs as you untangled them from around his hips. .

“Let me clean you up first,” Medic said, leaving you to lay on the exam table, spent and now woefully empty until he returned with a moist cloth. He wiped the sweat from your brow, traveling further down your body down to the most delicate parts. He was gentle and diligent, making sure to be especially cautious around areas that made you wince, still sore from your previous activities.

When he was finished he tossed the cloth aside before lifting you into his arms. He wouldn’t dream of making his beloved patient walk after such a strenuous treatment, after all. You were so tired, heavy and limp in his arms. The plush sheets you were laid upon were a welcome change from the firm exam table.

“That was fun,” you yawned, curling up next to Medic when he joined you on the bed.

“You played your role quite well, liebchen.”

“You just fucked my brains out, you don’t have to flatter me too,” you said. “I know my acting leaves a lot to be desired.”

“I personally enjoyed your portrayal of a naive 19th century maiden.”

You scoffed. “That wasn’t even what I was going for, at least not until you diagnosed me with hysteria.” You were still endlessly amused by that particular aspect of the role play. “I can’t believe you did that. I thought you were going to go with, I don’t know, generalized stress or something.”

“It fit the situation. Vibrators were invented to treat hysteria, after all,” he said.

“So were lobotomies, probably.” You yawned, not really caring what vibrators or lobotomies were meant for at this point. Exhaustion was beginning to replace the afterglow with every passing second.

“You’re getting tired, aren’t you?” Medic brushed a strand of hair out of your face, watching your eyes begin to drift shut. “Rest here. I still need to clean up the examination table.”

“It’s okay if I spend the night in your room, right?” you asked, even though you knew the answer would be yes.

“Of course, meine liebe.” he chuckled, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of your palm. “I think overnight observation would be wise after such rigorous treatment.”

[tongue-like-a-razor]

My doctor just told me that I need to read more flashback scenes of baby bradshaw and bbf Jake or I’ll die. Normally I’d get a second opinion but I think he’s right.

Hahaha that's a very grim diagnosis. Good thing I've got just the cure!

Here's a prom flashback for ya!

5k Weekend Bash Drabbles

Brother's Best Friend - Prom

Jake Seresin x Reader

“You’re going,” Jake says firmly, placing his hands on his hips because he means business. He's standing in the doorway to your bedroom.

“I’m not going,” you respond stubbornly, turning away from him. Your boyfriend dumped you two days before prom night and there is no way you’re going to attend now.

“Don’t give him the satisfaction of thinking he broke you,” Jake continues in the exact same, resolute tone.

“He did break me.” You sigh with a sniffle and swivel back in your desk chair to face Jake.

Jake looks at you with a small grin. “No way,” he says. “You’re unbreakable.”

You snort, wiping your eyes. “Stop,” you demand, even though he has made you smile.

“You already have a dress,” Jake persists, strolling into your bedroom and pulling your beautiful gown out of the closet.

“I don’t have a date,” you grumble.

“So?”

“So, it’s embarrassing! Sean’s already got a new girlfriend!”

Jake cringes. “Sean’s a loser.”

“I’m a loser!”

Jake sighs, setting your dress down onto the bed, and walks over to where you’re sitting. He crouches down before you, placing his hands on the arms of your chair, and looks up, trying to catch your gaze. “There is no way in hell you actually believe that,” he says.

You glance down at him, your heart racing because Jake Seresin has never ever been this close to you before. You’d almost forgotten how much you used to crush on him back in the day and, now that you’re staring unblinkingly into his eyes, you’re right back to being the silly little sister who’s infatuated with her brother’s best friend.

“You are by far the coolest person I know,” Jake continues. “And that includes your brother, by the way.”

You chuckle self-consciously and lower your gaze. “Too bad Sean doesn’t think so.”

“Sean is an idiot,” Jake retorts.

You smile. “A loser and an idiot,” you say. “Didn’t realize you thought so highly of him.”

Jake gives you a wry look. “He’s lucky I don’t kick his ass.”

You roll your eyes and laugh. “Jake, I don’t want to go, truly. I’m not sad about it.”

“You will be. Someday.”

You let out a frustrated sigh. “My friends aren’t going.”

“So?”

“So, the only reason I agreed to go was because Sean wanted to. I don’t want to go alone.” You cringe just thinking about it.

Jake purses his lips, gazing into your eyes. “I’ll go with you,” he says decisively.

5k Celly

[graveyardlifeguard]

Survivors Part 3

Summary: Occurs during the events of Season 4x13 and Season 4x14 of 9-1-1.

*This is my first attempt at writing after many, many years so please go easy on me*

Warnings: Shooting, Injury, Blood

Notes: A little short but I needed to put all of this in one because the next part is uhhh.. the big one.

Strictly Angst with a teeny tiny bit of Fluff

Eddie Diaz x Paramedic! Reader

After showing Eddie the countless Fund Me pages I’ve unfortunately found, we decided to loop Carla in on the situation at hand.

“That’s a lot of Fund Me pages.” Carla states, agreeing with me.

I had shown Eddie all of the pages I had found, five to be exact, of which Carla was able to find three more. This had gone past just lying to us, this had turned into Sheila, if that was her real name, lying to thousands of people and scamming them out of money. I couldn’t imagine how someone would be capable of doing that but here we are.

“There’s Sheila and Charlie Burns of El Paso. Sheila and Charlie Young of Phoenix. Sheila and Charlie Watts of Santa Fe. It’s him, the same kid, every time. Just different last names in different states.” I trail off.

I just couldn’t wrap my head around this. How could someone just use their sick child as a cash grab to get out of working. Unless he wasn’t actually sick. I try once again to shake the thought out of my head but that last time I did that, it seems that I was correct in my thinking. Before I can voice my opinion on that idea, Eddie speaks up.

“Charlie did say they moved around a lot. That would explain the different accounts and different cities, but not the different names.”

Eddie has his arms crossed over his chest and I can just feel the irritation and disappointment rolling off of him in waves. He was a single parent with a sick child. Never once would he have EVER thought about throwing Christopher all over the internet to try and garner money. He had put in the work and the overtime himself to make sure that Chris was taken care of.

Carla chimes back in, still looking over one of the pages still pulled up on the laptop, “What did his mom say his illness was?”

I let out a dry, humorless laugh before replying, “She didn’t. Not really. Just said that it was an Auto-immune disorder.”

I can tell that Carla is becoming frustrated as well, she had taken care of Christopher for a while, so she knew the lifestyle that came with having a sick child. She had been to countless appointments with Eddie and Christopher. Whether it was a regular checkup, blood work or physical therapy, Carla had been there and seen the struggle that Chris had to go through sometimes.

“She did say that Charlie had to go to a lot of different doctors. Could be doctor shopping. Which if what you do when you’re really not sick, you’re just looking for a doctor to say that you are.”

It wouldn’t be the first time that this has ever been heard of unfortunately. There was a whole medical diagnosis for this exact thing, Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. Having someone, typically a parent, fake an illness or disorder on their child to gain sympathy or money from people wasn’t unheard of, but it was extremely rare. I had never seen it before, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t exist. Case and point, Sheila Leute. From beside me, I can see Eddie rubbing his hand over his face. Subconsciously, my left hand catches his and I begin rubbing the veins on top of his hand. Something he normally jokingly scolds me for, but in the moment, he seeks comfort in. We were feeding off of each other at this point. The frustration and sadness were palpable among the three of us.

“Well, we couldn’t be the only ones. Most of the Fund Me pages were shut down, but the comments are still up.” I turn the laptop towards Eddie so he can see what I am.

He reads a couple of comments out loud. He stops quickly with an “Oh God” escaping under his breath that doesn’t go unnoticed by Carla and I. Carla beats me to the punch by asking what he read.

He lets out a frustrated sigh before reading, “I think she’s making her kid sick.”

Although I knew the possibility was there and was already a thought in my mind, it was an odd feeling to see that someone else had the same thought that I do. It was a reassuring in a sad way. Eddie shuts the laptop quickly after reading it. I can tell that the frustration had finally built up to his breaking point on the topic. Carla looks absolutely appalled as my head falls back onto Eddie’s arm. Carla leaves shortly after with Eddie and I moving towards the bedroom.

————

Once in the bedroom, we both begin our nighttime routines in silence. It’s not like were avoiding each other, it felt as though we were both trying to process all of the information we had just discovered. Getting into bed, Eddie pulls me tight into his chest, almost like I would disappear if he let go. Nothing is said for a moment before he finally breaks the silence.

“I love you.” Is all he says for the moment. He continues shortly after, now moving to where he can see my face.

“How can she do that to her own son? How can you take something so special as having a child and just use them as a prop to gain money from?”

The sadness in his voice is something I haven’t heard in a while. It’s something that I had not missed. Not in the slightest. Eddie had spent years by himself with Christopher. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the thoughts that he was having. Not about this.

“Eddie. There is no way for us to know why she would do something like this. As much as we would love to know, I don’t think this is something that we will ever get answers to. I know what you went through with Christopher. The sacrifices you had to make and still have to make occasionally. I can’t even begin to imagine the level of pain this brings you. All we can do now, with this knowledge, is doing something about it. We can help this little boy. We can work now to get him away from her. I’m going to call CPS in the morning and do a Wellness check on him. We’re going to save him Eddie, I promise you.”

Eddie stares at me for a moment. Not moving and not saying anything before he leans in and gives me a long kiss. It takes me by surprise for a second before I relax into the kiss. His hands are cupping my face with mine around his side. After a few minutes, he pulls away, breathless and kisses me on the forehead. He sits like that, lips stuck to my forehead before fully moving his head back. In his eyes, I see nothing but admiration. He looks at me as if I put the moon in the sky. I know that the look is reciprocated in my own eyes. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, and I know that this is where I am supposed to be. Here, with Eddie.

“I love you,” he repeats “I love you more than you will ever know. Thank you for constantly being a positive, reassuring light in my life.”

I smile up at him before giving him a soft kiss on the lips, my left hand cupping his cheek. “I love you Eddie Diaz, so much I think I might die.

He laughs before releasing me to roll over to turn off his table lamp. We hadn’t noticed but it was already midnight, and unfortunately, we both had to be at work in seven hours.

“Don’t do that. If you were to die, I’d have to find someone else who puts up with me as much as you do, and we both know the only person who would be able to do that is Buck.”

I laugh as we lower ourselves into the bed, not even realizing how tired we both are until our heads hit the pillows and were fast asleep.

[numberonecolinbridgertonlover]

What the Bridgerton character you relate to the most says about you (based on the show and my opinion) *mostly unserious edition*

Anthony - older sibling part one. That or you are the certified glue that holds your entire family together. Also, fake arse cynic, I know you want to be loved and cherished you’re just scared it will never last or no one will ever see you that way. Control freak but I get it.

Benedict - You are the personification of the quote about grief. (In case you don’t know which one I’m talking about: "How do you process grief? By running from it until it finds me in the middle of a sunny street on a beautiful day?") You have been running away from something your entire life, whether that be yourself or a feeling. Newsflash it’s gonna catch you one day. That said, you’re probably also lgbtq and camp.

Colin - gurrllll… read Benedict’s first and then come back here, you also need to hear that. You are a quote on quote pathological people pleaser. SAVIOUR COMPLEX. Girl, they’re not gonna love you even if you can bend the laws of nature for them. You’re naive, sensitive and desperate for someone, literally anyone to understand and care for you. Also, babes… you’re not unworthy of love, you just have imposters syndrome.

Daphne - I bet you loved watching Zoella in her prime. I also feel like you’re the sort of person that is constantly expecting/hoping to bump into the love of your life whenever you’re in public. You’re a hopeless romantic but I get it.

Eloise - You’re probably LGBTQ. You might have started out a feminist with the girl power quotes but have since delved deeper and have since been more radicalised. You probably struggle to connect with overt "femininity" for numerous reasons including the patriarchy and the media’s portrayal of women but you support all women regardless. Your fashion sense consists of baggy tops, jeans and jorts (RIP Eloise, you would’ve loved baggy clothes 😔) Do you own a carabiner? You’ve probably had a fuck arse bob era at some point in your life.

Francesca - girl I get it, I really do. I hate human civilisation as well. It’s loud, it’s overwhelming, it’s scary. You’ve felt like the odd one out everywhere you go and people always seem to pick up that despite how hard you try to hide it . You just want to live in peace, maybe with someone who understands you. That said, how’s that autism diagnosis coming along-

Gregory - You are the personification of that vine where the kid has a knife. ("What have you got there? A KNIFE. no-)

Hyacinth - I just know you’re funny asf. Haters hate to see you coming because they know you’re about to gag tf out of them.

Kate - older sibling part two, probably older sister. If not, just like with Anthony, the glue the holds the family together. You can stand up to haters but you can’t say no to your friends when you want to. Sometimes you’ve just got to bite the bullet and prioritise your own happiness girl.

Penelope - …where do I even begin? You were probably the person that everyone just unanimously decided they thought was weird or unapproachable and it has messed you up indefinitely. (That’s on them though girl, there is nothing wrong with you I promise 💋) Family issues. You have imagined getting revenge on everyone who has ever wronged you. Body issues (girl, you’re beautiful don’t let anyone tell you otherwise) Short.

Simon - Daddy issues daddy issues. Emotionally constipated. You can’t believe meaningless sex and substance abuse didn’t cure you.

Philip - You have anxiety.

John: Introvert™️ honestly just read Francesca’s you’re both in the same boat. You are not afraid to dip once the social battery has ran out and I respect that. You know how to set up boundaries. Though, I think you wonder sometimes if you have protected your peace a bit too much because your only friend is your pet or your mum let’s be honest—

Michaela: LGBTQ. And you’re right because she is beautiful- I bet you love the film Bottoms. Favourite artists include Chappell Roan, Renee Rapp. You like Bridgerton in a gay way (the women)

Violet: You’ve never quite gotten over that one relationship have you… you would love the song loml by Taylor Swift 😔✊.

Portia: I feel like you have been told one thing you’re entire life and you’ve kind of based your entire personality upon that only to realise when you have grown up and met new people that it’s all worthless and the very foundations of who you are are crumbling as we speak. But you look slay while it happens.

Lady Danbury: I bet you’re expecting me to tell you how much of a baddie you are… which you are but don’t pretend you’re not wearing a facade to ensure you never get hurt by anyone ever again.

Queen Charlotte: Alexa play right where you left me by Taylor Swift.

Brimsely: your gay situationship has messed you up.

[dutchdread]

“She is is envious of the bond Cloud has with Tifa”

Genuine question here because I see a lot of CloTi discourse talk about how Aerith is envious of Cloud and Tifa’s bond, but is this ever mentioned officially or explained? I can’t find one single inference or implication that she is, only that one could argue via subjective interpretation that she maybe wants to try to learn Cloud for who he is and not who he reminds her of.

Arguably, one could say that this interpretation is inherently describing an envy, but I’m looking at it from the perspective of Aerith wanting to learn who Cloud is in an effort to like him for him and not Zack.

(Full disclosure: I’m actually a huge CloTi, but I’ve been out of the fandom for a decade+, and I’ve been reading a lot of discussions on the LTD, and while my personal opinion is that CloTi is more or less canonical at this point, the nuance that they’ve developed with Aerith that just wasn’t there in OG is interesting/perplexing to me because I don’t have a full scope of info. And I like it when things are proven by the devs. It’s possible that there’s information I’m missing or have missed, but otherwise what I have consumed doesn’t seem to indicate she’s envious of Cloud/Tifa’s relationship specifically.)

The idea that Aerith is envious of Cloud and Tifas bond became a thing mostly after Rebirth. Before that it was also put forth at times when someone did a character study of Aerith and the evidence back then was mostly just that it fit and made sense. In essence it was an amateur diagnosis. We saw in Remake that Aerith had unresolved issues concerning her childhood during the Eligor scene, that combined with what we learned about her childhood in TotP made it so that a lot of her outgoing "life affirming" behavior made a lot of sense if she was, in essence, trying to catch up for lost time. She's enthusiastically, perhaps even desperately, trying to have the same experiences everyone else has, to have a normal life. This is also congruent with other parts of the story, like her seeing Zack in Cloud. If Cloud reminds her of Zack, and she had a bond with Zack, then watching Cloud and Tifa express that same young love that she once felt would naturally lead to her wishing she had that. After all, we've known for a long time that Aerith still isn't over Zack, so her being slightly envious of that is natural. And that doesn't have to be a bad thing. You can be happy someone has something and because of that have a positive longing to experience something similar. But where this was really made explicit is in Rebirth, where there are multiple scenes that hint or outright state that Aerith wishes she had something like what Cloud and Tifa have. The main two being the Kalm "date" and the watertower discussion. In Kalm Aerith takes Cloud on a date as a pretense to talk about the prior night, and almost the first thing she does is mention Cloud and Tifas friendship and mention that she'd have given anything to have a friend when she was growing up. As soon as she thinks of their bond her first thought is to link it to her own desires.

She continues by saying to not take Tifa for granted. Since this is something Aerith lacked she thinks it's important, and the idea of it being sullied or undermined instinctively bothers her. She wants them to value it as much as she would value such a thing. This is not her living vicariously through Cloud and Tifa or anything, but just a small nuance that paints the picture of a girl who yearns for these bonds herself enough that she is hyper aware of them with other people. All this is then stated explicitly on the water tower, where Aerith states: "Must be nice..."

She generally willfully daydreams about how nice Nibelheim is. It all paints the same picture, a girl without a childhood who never got to experience the things that Cloud and Tifa had and lost, but wishes that she did. This is a huge part of her character and establishes the background needed to understand stuff like "no promises to keep". Some people are upset that NPTK is not a love song from Aerith to Cloud, but a deeper look into Aerith shows why it would be weird for it to be one. Because Aeriths journey isn't about romance, it isn't even just about Cloud. It's about her experiencing and developing the bonds that she felt she was denied for so long. The song is "even about Tifa and Barret" because it's about all the precious bonds she made on her journey. It's one of the things that makes Clotis version of Aerith superior to the Clerith version, because we give her so many more layers.

[megalony]

Babysitting Duties

This is a James Wilson (House MD) imagine based on a request by a lovely anon. I hope you like it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

Masterlist

Summary: So that James and (Y/n) can go out on a date, House offers to babysit their daughter. As always, things don't go exactly to plan.

Enjoy.

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

"You needed a consult?" James glanced between House and the patient before he gingerly walked inside and closed the door behind him.

When his pager went off and the very brief message from House said he wanted a consult in the clinic, alarm bells started to ring. James knew the only reason House would send for him like this was because he was either bored or wanted to chat about something, he would never actually want to confer about a patient. Not unless he suspected cancer was a cause or the team were stumped with a diagnosis, and that didn't happen in the clinic.

"Are you free tonight?"

"I'm gonna say no, why?" His tone was skeptical and his eyes kept flitting across to the patient sitting on the bed in the middle of the compact room. James didn't know where this conversation was going and he didn't want to have it in front of a stranger, patient or not.

"Fancy seeing a play?" Without turning his head, House produced two tickets from his pocket and handed them over before he scribbled down on his prescription pad and waved it in front of the patient. "Go take this to the chemist for your 'friend' and the problems will go away. Leave." As cynical as ever, he motioned for the man to get down and he skimped off with a sympathetic look from James on his way out.

"You want to see a stage play?"

Confusion set in James's face and he glanced back down at the two tickets he was now holding before looking over at House again. He knew House's tastes, he liked melodramas on tv and monster truck rallies and car races. Going to the theatre wasn't something House particularly enjoyed, he was knowledgeable about plays but he didn't like them.

"Me, God no. I said do you want to see a play."

"You're just giving me free tickets, why?" There had to be some kind of catch. He knew House long enough to know this wasn't some kind of friendly gesture, there had to be a reasoning behind it.

"I saved a patient's life and he gave me two tickets to a sappy play. I don't wanna go, you like that sort of thing so you take them."

House didn't treat patients on the basis that he would get rewards, favours or treats afterwards. This was his job, it wasn't something he did in his spare time for rewards, but the patient had been so grateful he thought it was normal to go out and buy tickets for House to see a play. If it had been tickets for monster trucks, things would be entirely different. House would be excited, pumped up and he would drag James along with him without asking, he would be telling him they were going out.

But it was a waste of money and perfectly good tickets if House didn't give them away and didn't go. He may as well let his friend enjoy a night out, they were free tickets too.

"Oh," There wasn't exactly a catch, House didn't want anything in return, but this wasn't him just being polite. He was being reasonable, there was a difference. "Well, thanks, but I can't."

"Why not?"

"The tickets are for tonight and I can't get a babysitter at short notice like this. Sorry."

With a shrug, James held the tickets back out towards House who had a deep frown setting into his brow and a stern look forming on his lips.

If he had a days notice or more, then it wouldn't be a problem and he would gratefully take the tickets. He and (Y/n) hadn't had a night out alone together in ages and they both enjoyed the theatre. But James knew there was no way he could find anyone to look after Josie this soon with little notice. His daughter wasn't a menace or a trouble maker, by all means Josie was a delight to look after, but she was nervous.

They tended to have family members babysit and look after her or her daycare when James and (Y/n) were both at work. She couldn't have anybody new looking after her, Josie had to get used to them or she would panic and cry and scream until either parent came and took her back home. And James knew neither his nor (Y/n)'s family could have her at short notice.

"I'll do you a trade. Take the tickets and I'll take Josie."

"You'll watch her?" Something akin to a smile formed on Wilson's lips but there was apprehension behind his eyes.

He had never left Josie under House's watch before, not since she was born and even then that hadn't been for very long. But it wasn't an awful idea, Josie loved House, she saw him often enough and she thought his antics were funny. She would be perfectly fine being left with House and as brilliant as he was, a small part of him was mentally her age. It might just work.

"Why not? She's not in nappies anymore and you can feed her, it'll be easy." House had watched over her when she was a baby and he wasn't a fan of changing her or the constant bottle feeds she needed. Now she was four, almost five, it would be a lot easier to babysit her. He wouldn't need the stress of changing her nappies or getting her bathed and ready for bed, he would leave that for James and (Y/n) to do. And they could feed her before she left so all he had to do was sit with her and stay entertained until she fell asleep.

"Okay, thanks." James pocketed the tickets before he turned towards the door, he had a patient to see to. "I'm not paying you though."

"What? Hey now if I'm-"

"Be at mine no later than six." A smirk pulled at James's lips as he exited the room and left House mulling over what he had let himself in for.

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

"Are we sure about this?"

"It's too late to back out now, besides it's second row tickets." Leaning forward, (Y/n) looped her arms around James's neck and pressed her chest up against his back. She had to lean up on her tiptoes to tuck her face into his neck and press a butterfly kiss to his jaw that caused him to shiver against her.

They couldn't very well say no now, not when House would be here at any moment and Josie was already settled and awaiting him to come and spend the evening with her. Not to mention that they were already dressed and prepared to finally have an evening to themselves.

"Hm, I suppose so." James brought his hands up to hold (Y/n)'s arms and tilted his head so he could kiss her cheek.

(Y/n) grinned when he turned around in her arms and bound his arms tightly around her waist, keeping her flush against his chest and he almost lifted her up off her feet when he reeled her closer. Her arms stayed looped around his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair when he tilted his head down to kiss her.

As if on cue, the simultaneous doorbell and the sound of House's cane rapping on the door flooded the air. James groaned against her lips and his fingers dug into her hips for a second or two before he slowly reeled back.

"Best not keep him waiting," (Y/n) mumbled against his lips, kissing him again quickly before she backed up and headed over to the door. "Perfect timing, as always Greg." (Y/n) rolled her lips together but something sparkled in her eyes when she watched him rake his eyes up and down her dress before he whistled.

It wasn't anything too fancy, just a black knee-length dress than fanned out around her thighs and had spaghetti straps on her shoulders. But (Y/n) knew it was the low V-shape that framed her chest which got House's attention and caused his wide smirk in her direction as he walked in.

"I think I should be the one to take you out tonight, you'd look better on my arm… or in my bed-"

"House! Don't hit on my wife." James rose a brow before he shrugged on his jacket while House rolled his eyes and headed into the living room.

"Fine, I suppose you can take her."

(Y/n) gave him a sideways glance and half a smile before she walked round him and bent down in front of the sofa where Josie was waiting patiently. She had her hair neatly done into two plats after her bath, she was wearing her new pumpkin pyjamas and on the coffee table was an array of games she had gotten ready so House could choose what they could do. The four year old was more than excited to spend the evening with him.

"Alright baby, we won't be home late. Be good for uncle House, okay?"

"I will." She scuttled forward into her mother's arms, pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek and a tight hug around her neck before (Y/n) stood up, kissing her temple as she moved.

"She's had tea, if she wants to stay up with you that's fine. Oh, and please don't give her milk, she's allergic. I think that's everything."

"See you soon, sweetheart." James leaned over the back of the sofa and rested his hand on her cheek when she tilted her head back to look up at him. He kissed her temple, smiling against her skin when she patted his hand and he leaned back upright and turned to House. "Ring me if you have any problems-"

"We won't."

"Alright, just… be careful, please?" James ran his fingers through his hair, tousling the strands a little until (Y/n) reached out to hold his arm.

He loved House, he was like family to them, but James knew how Josie could be and he knew how House was when he interacted with people, even if he was a little softer with kids. James couldn't help but worry, they didn't often leave Josie other than for work and they had no idea what kind of antics House was going to get up to tonight.

"We'll be fine, no shoo." House waved his cane towards them before he shrugged off his back pack and flopped down onto the sofa next to Josie who giggled.

A soft look passed over House's face when she scuttled over and perched herself on his good leg, knowing not to sit on his lap like she did with her dad because it would hurt him. Her hands patted his chest excitedly before she leaned over and leaned her chin up on his chest.

"Uncle House, I have games we can play."

Brilliant, I love winning."

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

"Uncle House, isn't that one mine?" Josie's innocent eyes stared up at House from where she was sitting on the floor on the opposite side of the coffee table to him. She smiled sweetly like she was hussling him and pointed to the place on the Monopoly board where he had just landed, praying she wasn't paying as much attention to the game as he was.

It wasn't the version of Monopoly House liked to play, this was the junior version for little kids and it was still a bit too old for Josie to be playing, but she was trying her best.

"Yes," He responded with a roll of his eyes but he supressed a smirk when she held her small palm out across the table.

"Money please,"

With a sigh and a shake of his head, House handed over a few paper notes that Josie quickly added to her large pile. He was glad she was too young to be able to count properly or read the numbers on the notes. Since they were colour coordinated, House had told her the white ones were the biggest amounts of money so she thought she had lots when really she had a big pile of ones.

"You're just like your mother." He muttered to himself before handing her the dice.

He watched her move her colourful piece around the board until he tapped on the right space where she needed to stop. At this point he was winning both by intelligence and a little cheating and as fun as it was to win, he liked more intelligent opponents.

"What?" He mumbled with a shake of his head when she stared up at him with those big eyes that were full of uncertainty and questions.

"Why do you have all the houses?"

"Because I'm in charge. Come on, let's watch tv." House messily shoved all the pieces and cards back into the box and folded the board up to put it away. He knew she was starting to get tired now and he was bored of playing, they had gone through four games and stopped hallway through when both of them got bored and their attention spans ran out.

For a second or two, House froze when Josie climbed up onto the sofa and easily scuttled under his arm. She tucked her knees up to her stomach and leaned into House's chest, grinning when he slowly draped his arm over her side.

He grabbed the tv remote and started flicking through the channels, something told him Josie wouldn't care what he put on, she seemed like she would go with anything and he liked that. He didn't want to sit watching kiddy cartoons or listening to childish songs that he despised but for some reason got stuck in his head anyway.

"What's this, who watches this?" House scanned through the shows and movies that had recently been recorded but paused over one that was clearly a Spanish tv show on series record.

"Oh, that's daddy's show. He's learning Spanish," Josie shimmied more into House's side causing him to pause for a moment and glance down at her.

"Not anymore,"

He waited until she was comfy next to him before he pressed delete.

"Pet Cemetery, classic. What's the password?" House tried to play the movie on record but Josie only giggled into his side and shook her head.

"Daddy said you can't have password," This afternoon before they left, James had told her that uncle House would mostly likely try and watch some weird or scary stuff and if he tried she should tell him off because he would listen to her. He also told her not to show House where the tv password was written down in the drawer beneath the tv so he couldn't watch anything other than PG rated movies or shows.

James wasn't going to leave House in charge and let him give Josie nightmares, whether he meant to or realised it or not.

"Your daddy's silly." House settled on Ghostbusters, it was something he could easily sit through and something Josie would probably find funny rather than scary.

Leaning down, House rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a bottle of Pepsi and a plastic bag full of a variety of sweets. He needed to keep himself entertained somehow and he was feeling peckish. but one thing he was sure of was that he was glad he had gone through with this and come round to look after Josie. He liked spending time with his Goddaughter, she was a welcomed break from the idiots that surrounded him in the hospital and the team he worked with.

"Can I have a sweetie, please?" Despite how tired she was starting to feel, Josie peeked over at the bag on House's other side. She was always partial to a sweet, just like her mum.

"Go on." He moved the bag so it was between their knees so they could each take some. House was starting to see that he was becoming like Wilson, a push over when it came to the four year old. She could wrap both of them around her finger without even trying. House never shared his food, sweets or alcohol, even Wilson had to try hard to get some.

A comfortable silence enveloped them as they munched away on the random sweets House had brought along. And every now and then he felt Josie jump against his side or giggle to herself, he could tell she hadn't seen this movie before. And he could also tell that she was slowly starting to fall asleep.

He wasn't going to bother with her bedtime routine because frankly, he couldn't be bothered to get her through that and into bed and deal with her waking up. House knew what she was like, she would only keep waking up asking if her parents were back yet or when they would be home.

She was a nervous kid and she would feel better staying up with House until her parents came home so they could tuck her into bed.

House was drifting off into his own world until Josie jolted him back to reality.

The little girl jumped forward until her head was almost on her knees but it was the way she was trembling and waving her hands that told him something was wrong.

"What, what's up?"

Reaching out, House held her by her sides and turned her round so she was facing him. He paled when he saw the fright in her eyes and when she waved her hands near her throat and no screams, gasps or noises left her throat, he realised she was choking on a sweet.

"Stay still girlie, you're fine." An unusual tenderness flooded through House's voice when he firmly cupped her face in his hands and tilted her head up. He tapped a finger against her lips so she would open her mouth wider and he could assess whether he could see the sweet or not.

Josie snapped her eyes closed that were already starting to water and she went floppy letting House yet again move her around. His hands held her sides and he sat her down on his lap facing away from him, ignoring the burning it caused in his thigh.

"Lean forward," House tilted her forward and lined the base of his palm up between her shoulder blades before he sent three sharp smacks to her back to try and jolt the sweet free. He could feel the way she shook against him and he quickly moved his left arm round her side and planted his palm against her chest to keep her steady so she didn't topple to the floor.

Josie's hands continued to wave at her sides and scratch at her throat out of panic and when House leaned round to look at her, he noticed her lips had started to pale from lack of oxygen.

"Alright, let's try another round."

House hated to do the hymnic on children, he had to be much more careful than when doing this on an adult and this was Josie. This was his little Goddaughter, he didn't want to hurt her even if it was to save her.

With his hand curled into a fist and the knuckle of his thumb sticking out, he jabbed his fist into her lower sternum just above her small bellybutton. After three goes, he groaned and his lips pressed tighter together while his brows furrowed in anger and concentration. This was the first time he had looked after her in a long while, he couldn't be taking her to A&E from choking on a sweet on his watch. He couldn't be explaining this to James and (Y/n), they would never let him babysit again and despite what he tried to tell everyone, he actually enjoyed being with her.

"Come on!"

Another two rough smacks between her shoulder blades sent a lemon sherbet flying past her pale lips and they both watched it rattle across the coffee table and stick to one of the magazines.

A sigh of utter relief left House's lips and he threw his head back when Josie started to cry. It was like music to his ears after having her choke, crying meant she was conscious, had no blockage in her throat and was relatively alright. No lack of oxygen to her brain, she hadn't choked long enough for that to happen and he had helped her swiftly.

"U-uncle House…" Josie wailed quietly, sniffling and bubbling saliva between her lips. She couldn't see anymore due to the tremendous amount of tears flooding her face.

He gently turned her around to face him, a lot less tension in his arms and more care in his touch now.

In an instant, Josie's arms wrapped around his neck and she let her front fall onto his chest and her knees caved and bent into his stomach but he stiffled the groan of pain it caused. He let her snot and whimper into his neck while he rubbed his hand up and down her back, unknowingly humming a tune in her ear to calm her down.

"I got you, girlie, shh. No more sweets though."

A few coughs left her lips and vibrated into House's neck but he could feel her slowly starting to calm down against him and he rocked her in his arms. She was tired now, exhausted and shocked, he knew she was going to fall asleep soon and the sooner the better as it would help her feel better.

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

"That's sweet," (Y/n) kept one arm looped around James's arm while she fumbled for her phone and quickly took a picture of the scene in front of them.

House was stretched out on the sofa, head back on a cushion and mouth open with quiet snores leaving his lips every now and then. He had his bad leg hanging off the side of the sofa, but laid out on his chest was Josie. Her head was tucked under his chin, her arms were hooked around his neck and she was dribbling onto his shirt. They had a blanket draped across them and the end of Ghostbusters was playing on the tv.

"Sweetheart, we're home." James whispered quietly while he bent down beside the sofa.

Once Josie's eyes started to flutter, James leaned across and carefully eased her off of House's chest and took her into his arms. She needed to go to bed, it was late and she was going to make House wake up with aches and pains if she continued to lay on him and crush his chest. And House was asleep which was a good thing, he could crash on the sofa for the night and stay for breakfast in the morning.

Josie curled up into James's arms, burying her face into his neck and smiling when she felt him kissing her head repeatedly while he walked towards the kitchen and (Y/n) busied herself trying to make House more comfortable. His hand rubbed up and down her back and he smiled into her hair until she murmured something and wriggled against him.

"My back hurts," She whispered quietly causing James to frown. When he got to the kitchen, he leaned back against the counter, briefly grabbing her a cup of juice before he brushed his cheek against hers so he could look down at her back.

Slowly, he hooked his finger under the hem of her shirt and pulled it up but he took a sharp breath when he saw the beginnings of light bruising between her shoulders.

What had she done while they were out?

"Oh, baby what happened?"

He could feel her nuzzling her cheek against his and she brought her closed fist up to rub her button nose as she tried to look at him but she was too tired to keep her eyes open.

"Uncle House saved me,"

"Oh yeah, what did he save you from baby?" Amusement and worry both flashed in his eyes as he waited impatiently for her answer.

Had she been running around while House wasn't watching and had a fall? Did she try to play hide and seek or play a game and it went wrong and House had to patch her up? Josie herself didn't seem to upset or worried which calmed Wilson down. She seemed like she had had a good night, there were sweet wrappers across the floor, board games out on the table and a movie on tv so House had kept her entertained.

"A sweetie got stuck," Tilting her head back on his shoulder, Josie tiredly pointed to her throat, "He got it out."

Something rattled down Wilson's spine and his arms tightened around his daughter when he looked back over at her back before he growled. She had choked on a sweet. House had given her the hymnic manoeuvre to stop her from choking. He knew she was four, he knew hard boiled sweets, gobstoppers and overall touch candies that House himself loved, would be too much for Josie but he had let her have them and she had choked.

"House!"

[untilnextchapter]

Masterlist : Marvel

Marvel Cinematic Universe

* = Smut (Minors DNI) || 🦋 = Series || Beware of the TW please

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Do you love Bucky series? @justkending is the writer for you! Here are some of my favourites:

Finding Memories 🦋 (Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader, Waking up with little to no memory of her past, and being saved by a group of individuals who call themselves heroes, sends a long time captive for a whirlwind trying to find some form of grounding in this world she quickly learns runs on chaos. But she’s not the only one trying to figure out her forgotten backstory. Bucky Barnes, along with the other Avengers, can’t help but sense that there is a lot more to the whole situation than a diagnosis of amnesia. Her background slowly starts to come forward in pieces of her past and hidden information discovered. Who is she? And why was she in the room they were meant to destroy?)

The Number One Rule 🦋 (Bucky Barnes x Rogers!Reader, Y/N has always been seen as “Steve’s rambunctious sister.” However, she grew up, graduated, and moved to London to study abroad for 4 years and get her bachelor’s degree. The girl that returns looks nothing like the teenager that left. But don’t worry, the attitude is still there and stronger than ever. What’s to come of the two grown adults that used to push each other’s buttons, but now have a lot more in common than they’ve ever realized?)

The Slip Up 🦋 (Bucky Barnes x Single mom!Reader, After a last hurrah to graduating college with a future to be a family practitioner, a little slip up happens… Seven years down the road, just when things just now seem to be going smoothly, Y/N approaches that slip up from all those years ago. She’s not looking for anything right now. She is just where she wants to be in life. It seems the universe has a different idea though. One called James Barnes.)

So, my number one for smutty Bucky is the wonderful @sinner-as-saint. Here are a few of my favourites:

Capital Letters * 🦋 (Bucky AU x Fem!Reader, You were fortunate enough to work for who was considered to be one of the best, most admired and affluent authors of your time; Mr. James Buchanan Barnes. And soon, things weren’t so professional between you and the man…)

His Obsession * (Mob!Seb x Housekeeper!Reader, You work for the notorious mob boss. You’re at his house regularly; tidying up and cleaning and surprisingly you’re not scared of him like the rest of his staff are. Sure he is authoritative, and mean but he’s never disrespectful or inappropriate, nor does he bark orders at you like he does with the guys. And you were almost certain that he barely pays attention to you. Until one evening he confronts you about something. And what starts out heated, ends in a night neither of you will ever forget…)

Miscellaneous Authors:

Diner Girl || @ofstarsandvibranium (Fem!Reader, After coming across a small diner, he becomes enamoured with you, a waitress)

Set me free || @intrepidacious (Bucky x Nymph!Reader, Once upon a time, a soldier fell from a train. Thankfully, this time, he is found by gentle hands, and a beautiful voice keeps him safe from the cold)

Heal me, baby || @/intrepidacious (Bucky x Nurse!Reader, Your friendship starts with you cleaning up his wounds and Bucky paying to get the blood stains out of your couch. Something else starts, too)

Nightingale’s Song 🦋 || @thatfanficstuff (Barnes x OC, James Buchanan Barnes. Captain America’s best friend. Hydra’s secret weapon. A man lost in time who can’t remember his own name let alone those he held most dear. Florence Anna Charles. A nurse on the front in World War II. A mutant in a time they weren’t known. A woman who can heal with a touch that catches the attention of Hydra)

Lessons in Love || @violentdelightsandviolentends (Bucky x Fem!Reader, Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.)

[Not Named] || @terry-perry (Dad!Buck x Fem!Reader, Can I request of Jack is clinging on Y/n like koala. Like when Bucky try to pry him off of her but he said “No! I’m staying with mommy and protect her!”)

Mood lighting || @frankieetaylorr (1930s!Bucky x Fem!wheelchair-user!Reader, You never understood why he always came to the dances your resident home threw but you were always so glad when he did)

TW: brief mention of abandonment

Secret Book Club || @starks-hero (40’s!Bucky x Reader, Bucky’s got a new book and he just can’t seem to put it down)

Instinct || @dilemmaontwolegs (FATWS!Bucky x Blind!Fem!Reader, After trying to stop a mugging before Bucky intervenes as reward is offered and so he tracks you down)

Fall into Winter * 🦋 [Ao3] || Miajah (Bucky x Reader, Mae was just doing her civic duty when she saved Iron Man, now she can't seem to get rid of him. Then there was the Winter Soldier and of course Captain America himself. A girl can't catch a break)

Running From the Past * 🦋 [Ao3] || @green-eyeddragonfanfiction (Buck x Mutant!Reader, Reader is a mutant who was experimented on by HYDRA. Due to her unique powers, she escapes without being seen when the Avengers attack the Hydra compound she’s been kept in for the last 5 years of her life. Her mutations and Hydra experiments allow her to blend in with her surroundings (like a chameleon/cuttlefish/octopus) and change her appearance in minor ways (such as hair, skin, and eye color), though the changes are only temporary. She’s now on the run, avoiding both Hydra and SHIELD)

Steve Rogers x Reader

You and Me Together 🦋 || @/ofstarsandvibranium (Single Parent Steve x Fem!Reader, After the death of his wife, Sharon, Steve Rogers is now the single parent of their daughter, Grace. Three years after his wife’s death, his friends convince him to go back into the dating game)

Not a Perfect Princess || @shmaptainwrites || (Steve x Princess!Reader, Reader meets one of the heros who saved her country and realizes around him she doesn’t have to be a perfect princess)

Making the Team || @heliads (Dad!Steve x Daughter!Reader, The reader is the daughter of natasha and steve, and she is nervous about for her first mission. Her mom and dad tell her that everything is gonna be great, and the mission is complete, but the reader is badly injured and her parents and Bruce takes care of her)

10 Years Time 🦋 || @/justkending (Steve x Stark!Daughter!Reader, As princess of Alberia, it is your duty to grow into a rightful young lady if you plan on ruling your family’s country. Of course, the only way your father can see this happening is sending you off to a boarding camp at the age of 14 for 10 years to learn what it means to grow into a Queen.That means leaving all your friends and family behind. One specific person, your best friend, you never want to say goodbye to. But 10 years later, you come back grown into a young lady, and find your best friend has grown into a knightly young man. How will you two adjust after 10 years apart? Will things be the same, or will all that’s happened in that span of time affect your relationship?)

Tony Stark x Reader

Dum-E || @mostly-marvel-musings (Tony x Fem!Reader, DUM-E has probably tried petting Tony's hair with his grabby claw when Tony falls asleep in the lab because he's seen you do it and noticed that Tony likes it)

Hot Chocolate and Hoodies || @deadlymistletoe (Tony x Fem!Reader, A dare involving a hoodie eventually leads to hidden feelings being revealed)

Maybe to annoy you || @specialagentlokitty (Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader, Tony's daughter and she has a crush on Steve, like everytime she sees him she blushes and Tony is a little annoyed)

Two Wicks, One Flame * 🦋 [Ao3] || AmberSnapeBlack (Tony x Soulmate!OC, Emma has had it rough her whole life. Her experiences have shaped her into who she is today, a twenty three year old bus girl with no self esteem or backbone. She hates the lime light...well she hates socializing at all. She has never paid her soul mark any mind. Most days, she forgets it even exists. That will change for her in a way she never anticipated. What comes with bearing the soul mark of the man who is the forefront of the Avengers? Who is almost always in lime light? Who is possibly, already taken? Does she want to know?)

Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Little Love || @/ofstarsandvibranium (Loki x Short!Reader, where the reader is super short)

Shatter This Glass And Set Me Free * 🦋 [Ao3] || @shiningloki || (Loki x OC, Loki hasn't seen the light of day in years. He has been locked away in Stark Tower, waiting for Odin to free him of his punishment after his attack on New York. He's angry, he's spiteful, but most of all, he's lonely. It is not until one day when a new face comes along Stark Tower that everything begins to change. She's different from the rest. She's trusting, she's curious, and she's willing to give Loki a chance at companionship that no one has ever offered him)

The Eyes of the Beholder 🦋 || @/starks-hero (Gorgon!Loki x Blind!Reader, Loki has spent years in solitude, hidden away in the mountains south of Athens. Having been cursed by the gods for his trickery, anyone that sets eyes on him shall turn to stone. But what happens when an unfortunate mortal wanders into his domain?)

TW: Descriptions of blood, violence and injury, angst

Dances and Daggers 🦋 [Ao3] || Cozy_The_Overlord (Loki x OC, The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor's betrothed, Teki's only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn't find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn't the only prince in Asgard…)

Avengers x Reader

Not a burden || @/specialagentlokitty (Autistic!Child!Reader, Would you be comfortable writing something where Bucky and Steve (or maybe the whole Avengers team if you like that better) adopt the autistic reader after finding out her mother emotionally abused her?)

Some Things Never Sleep 🦋 [FF.Net] || MotomamiBizcochito (Avengers x OC, Emma Rogers, AKA The Viper Assassin, has been under Hydra's thumb for nine long years until the Avengers rescue her from a Hydra base after receiving anonymous intel from the Winter Soldier. She's thrown into a world of freedom which she's never known but with the help of her grandfather, Captain America, she slowly becomes accustomed to her new life until Tony Stark brings up the Sokovia Accords. Emma is caught in the middle of a war as she becomes intent on protecting the man she calls her father and siding with her grandfather. Not to mention she crosses paths with a certain webslinging nuisance that knows just how to push her buttons like no other...what Emma would give for the days she spent knife fighting with her father in Siberia)

I know it's a Spiderman x OC but it's because of this story I discovered MCU and Emma has a lot of relations with Avengers. A LOT of TW, check them all please

[drdemonprince]

hey, i have a question: do you have advice on how to manage autistic burnout when you’re in a situation where you can’t stop what you’re doing? i’m in a mental health residential right now, and i think i’ve been experiencing burnout that’s been building over time. the thing is, every day, we have 8 hours of group therapy, a mental health/AA/NA meeting to attend once we get home, chores, and a house meeting at the end of the evening.

so i feel like i’m constantly going and going, even though i feel extremely burnt out. i’ve been getting really drained, overstimulated way easier and quicker, getting headaches, not really being able to talk as much nearing the end of the day for group therapy, all that stuff.

i want to be able to take care of myself, but i can barely catch a break. i can’t ask to not go to group therapy, they won’t really let me not attend, so i can’t sit out. and i don’t have an official autism diagnosis either.

do you have any advice?

It is impossible to prevent or recover from burnout without reducing demand load and resting, often for an extensive period of time. Sometimes burnout recovery never happens at all. When we get burned out, our capacity to function is diminished, and there is no guarantee of it ever coming back.

It sounds like you're in a really overstimulating environment that is constantly busy and that you have very little control over your time and privacy, and that's causing you a lot of stress. I would speak to your care team about this to see if you can get some expectations waived. Burnout will almost certainly negatively impact your recovery progress so I hope they take this seriously. Unfortunately I put no trust in such institutions.

[formosusiniquis]

this doesn't have a title cause it's late and I have work in the morning. this is a surprise gift for @cauldronoflove cause her fic last week and the whatever is going on with this show did something to my brain (positive) wc: 860 | T | pre-Max/Avery/Tristan (odt3?)

“Welcome to Eyes Wide Shut week, doctor.” Tristan's smile pulls up higher on the right side, Max’s side, as he wiggles his fingers in a wave at a woman boarding. Her dress is tight as her hold on her husband's arm. She's older than him, easily old enough to be Tristan’s mother.

“Don't call it that,” Avery chides, still it's hard not to miss the amusement that sparkles in her eyes.

“That's the Tom Cruise movie?” He finds himself asking. He hadn't read the briefing, he never reads the briefing, far preferring this rundown where his experienced team tells him what he actually needs to know.

“So he knows the finer details of the Barbie Dreamhouse but not one of the best Cruise films to date?” Tristan muses.

That earns an actual reaction from Avery. Max can feel the smile playing on his own lips as her eyes widen and she leans enough to see around him to stare at Tristan, mouth dropped open just a breath in her disbelief. “Not Interview with the Vampire?”

“I did say ‘one of.’ I can like more than one thing.”

“Oh yes, I forgot you hit two of the B's for your little poker game.”

The quip is right there for the taking and something about the two of them has made it harder and harder for Max to resist taking. “Our Tristan is pretty butch, isn’t he?”

Pleasure ripples across Tristan’s face instinctually accepting the compliment implied with the claim before the next wave crashes over top of it, him catching the tease.

“Funny.” There’s a charm to his scowl. If Tristan weren’t so handsome when he was mad, he wouldn’t be so fun to rile up. As it stands, there’s a light in his eyes as he plans his next comeback, and the tight draw of his brow somehow compliments the line of his jaw. “Maybe you'll find someone who appreciates your wit during this year’s swingers week.”

“That’s what this week is?” He can feel his smile in his cheeks and his eyebrows arching up his hairline. In the milieu beneath their feet he watches with fresh eyes the way the boarding couples greet one another. The way greetings linger, hands on elbows and kisses pressed to cheeks.

“Officially,” Avery says, a warning note in her voice that the fondness on her face betrays, “we are hosting high ranking guests from several fraternal orders.”

“And unofficially?”

“Priapism is the diagnosis of the week.”

A grin that's all boarding school charm melts across Tristan's face. “Good thing for your steady hands, Doctor Odyssey.”

His own smile turns small, his face feels warm as he takes his eyes off his crew and looks back down at the boarding passengers. Faces with the bland similarity that he associates with wealth and power. A former Midwestern Senator moving around the floor holds his focus but not his attention.

That is devoted to the memory of Avery, laid out on his table. His fingers alongside Tristan’s inside her, her life in their hands.

“I thought swingers were couples.”

“Yes, that’s the point.” Avery says.

“No, I just mean that couple was just making eyes at Tristan.”

“Some are just looking for a third,” he says, lips twisting into something coy. “Have you ever known me to deny a damsel in distress?”

The former Senator has found the woman that smiled up at them in the mezzanine. A scowl has found Max’s face and his hand has found Avery’s. Their knuckles graze against one another, seeking comfort in a way that’s becoming increasingly common. He thinks he could pick their hands, strong and sure, out of a line up. 

He understands more than ever the bright flashes of green eye irritation every time he and Avery emerged from a room with a locked door. Tristan laid out against white sheets with… He doesn’t even want to finish the thought.

“Don’t tell me you’re a prude, doctor.” A coy smile grows wider, teasing. Mirth and something Max has come to recognize as curiosity dance across his face, in the lines beside his eyes. 

Tristan keeps his attention on Max, but with every brush of hand against hand he knows his answer will be for both himself and Avery.

“Personally, I think the only couple I’ll worry about pleasing this week are my nurses.”

It’s not been long, but they react the way he would have predicted. Avery scoffs, smacks the back of his hand with hers before crossing her arms across her chest, playing at annoyance and disapproval. Tristan, who’s need for approval and fickle attachment Max understands much better after meeting his mother, gapes any witty retort he might have managed stolen by the blatant way the thing they have been dancing around has now been laid out like a patient on the operating table.

“Now, is there anything other than fine gauge needles we should be preparing? Antibiotics? Some compresses? Condoms?”

As he wanders toward the elevator his team follows. The previous topic not forgotten but transmuted, changed in his favor like the tide beneath him. It’s something he thinks he could get used to.

[ereardon]

Bob Floyd masterlist

*All of my fics are 18+. Please do not repost my work without consent or steal my work. Reblogs and comments give me life so please do interact if you'd like!

✤: Fluff

❂: Angst

❀: Smut

Series

❀❂✤ Friends Don't — Bob x OC [Reid Coleman] – Complete

Bob has been your best friend for almost a decade, ever since he quietly volunteered to tutor you in college. The two of you have spent years chasing each other around the globe – Bob as a WSO, you as a travel blogger. You’ve always been the anywhere-but-here girl, and he’s been your rock. But when a surprise diagnosis threatens to crumble your picture-perfect life, you’re on the first flight back to San Diego, desperate to put down roots for the first time. Will Bob finally have it in him to admit that you could be the love of his life? What will he say when he finds out the secret you’ve been skillfully hiding from him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t find out until it’s too late?

❀❂✤ Golden Hour — Bob x Bradley x OC [Dr. Olive James]

Willow, Georgia. Barely even a town, just a speck on a map that you tried to wipe off, mistaking it for a crumb. You’re the outsider: a fancy New York doctor, fresh out of a failed engagement, with zero primary care experience. You’re also the new town doctor, taking over for a recent retiree who was beloved. His son, Bob Floyd, is the other physician at the practice, and takes an immediate dislike to you. But you were looking for a fresh start, and Willow doesn’t seem all that bad if you can get past the fact that there's only one restaurant in town. It helps that you've caught the eye of Bradley Bradshaw, the town attorney, despite the fact that you vowed to take a break from dating. How long until you start to make friends in a town where social circles have been set in stone since elementary school? And what will it take to make Bob Floyd see you’re not as bad as he wants to believe you are?

❀❂✤ The Back Seater and the Baker — Bob x OC [Haley Nichols]

Bob hasn't seen Haley Nichols since he was fifteen. But when Haley shows up out of the blue with one sentence that throws Bob for a loop – "I'm turning thirty in two weeks, are we still on?" – all of the feelings from their childhood return. Bob never thought that Haley would remember the marriage pact the two made when they were just kids, even if he never forgot. So what happens when Bob falls all over again for his childhood crush? And what will Bob do when he discovers the real reason she came back to capitalize on the pact is to secure her inheritance and save her bakery from bankruptcy? Will he believe Haley when she confesses that she loves him, too?

❀❂✤ At Sea — Bob x Reader

I’ll be home in five weeks. That’s what naval aviator Y/N told her fiance before leaving for deployment in the Atlantic. But time ceased to stop when she met Bob Floyd, the ship surgeon. Shy and honest, Bob quietly slipped into Y/N’s life, creating a complicated dynamic on an already intense mission. Falling for Bob was not in Y/N’s plan, and as she continues to weave a web of lies, she must make a choice: return to the life she left on land, or forge ahead into the unknown with Bob. But before Y/N can decide, disaster strikes, leaving Bob to make the decision that will alter their lives forever. 

One shots

✤ One Night — Bob x Reader – Complete

You have your eyes on Bob at the Hard Deck, but have to shoot down Jake Seresin first.

✤ Gas Station Tears — Bob x Reader – Complete

After your boyfriend dumps you, your car stalls out in a gas station parking lot. Luckily, Bob Floyd happens to be there to fix your car. Can he fix your heart, too?

❂✤ It Was Never Him — Bob x Reader – Complete

You catch your boyfriend Rooster making out with a girl at the Hard Deck and only one person can comfort you in the aftermath: Bob Floyd. 

❂ What Are You Thinking? — Bob x Reader – Complete

Bob Floyd is a quiet man. Sometimes you have to ask him what he’s thinking just to know what wheels are turning inside of his head. He always gives you a response, until one day, years into your marriage, he turns the question on you. 

❀ When I'm Done With You — Bob x Reader – Complete

At a fraternity mixer, you lose your (admittedly shitty) boyfriend in the crowd. That’s when Bob Floyd, president of Alpha Tau and your boyfriend’s personal nemesis, finds you and decides to make you his. 

❀ She Calls Him Daddy – Bob x Reader – Complete

Coming home from college for winter break, the last thing you expected was to run into your best friend’s father while out shopping for new lingerie to surprise your fuck buddy with. You had always tried to hide your attraction for Mr. Floyd because he was Anna’s father. But all rules are thrown out when Bob invites you over on Christmas Eve while Anna is at her mother’s house. You’ll never be able to look at your friend’s dad the same way ever again.

✤ More Than Enough — Bob x Reader – Complete

The first two times Bob Floyd ends up in your emergency room he’s a mess. You never expected him to return a third time. But when he does, it changes everything.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

I'd love to know more about the Bucky x autistic reader fic <3

This is such a pet project of mine to the point that I'm definitely overthinking it now and I just need to get it finished and posted.

I started it to help me work through my feelings while I waited for my assesment, and it's been so long I've had my diagnosis! It's very much based on my own experiences of being autistic and never feeling that I'm reaching the goals that everyone around me has set on my behalf. (But this has a soft fluffy ending).

It's called Let The Rain Fall and it follows Bucky learning about a talented agent who is still on desk duty, never really been in the field and doesn't go on missions. Determined to help her reach what he deems is her full capacity he befriends her and encourages her out from behind her desk.

She is our autistic reader, she much prefers being in charge of mission reports from the comfort of her office but, when disaster strikes, she steps in and is forced to reveal the full extent of her talents.

As Bucky gets to know her he starts to understand her more and more and they get closer and closer.

Little snippet under the cut, all SFW!

Bucky wasn’t sure he’d ever had such a nice time waiting in the jet. He was often resigned to babysitting the Avengers’ jet, car, boat, whenever there was actual teaching to be done. He didn’t mind so much, it gave him the space to read his books, listen to some music or catch up on all the history he’d either missed or inadvertently been a part of. 

But today you were there too, and your presence brought him a sense of calm that had truly surprised him. 

“Make yourself at home.” He insisted, gesturing to the spare seat. 

“Thanks.” You sat carefully.

“I mean it, make yourself comfortable, we’ll be here for a while. You want a drink?” Cautiously you tucked your legs up, crossing them on the seat. Your boots were clean, immaculate even, worn only through the compound and into the hanger this morning, but you were careful to keep them as far off the seat as you could anyway. 

Bucky poured coffee from a large flask tucked into the side of his seat and topped it off with a generous helping of milk. 

“That’s just how I like it.”

He smiled, wide and pleased, “I asked around, wanted to make sure you enjoy your first mission.” 

“Not really a mission if I don’t do anything,” you blew steam from the top of your enamel cup and took a sip, cupping your hands around the warm metal. 

“Well, it’s all I’m doing and I’m an ‘Avenger’.” Bucky laughed, reaching his arm out to clink your mugs together. “Cheers to the easiest job on the roster.” 

You fell into an easy silence, Bucky read his book for a while until you couldn’t hold it in anymore and told him you’d read it a few weeks before. Before you knew it two hours had melted away and you were curled up comfortably in Steve’s seat, giving Bucky a run down of your favourite books so far that year. He watched you, the wide grin softening into an indulgent smile while you blossomed before his eyes. 

He knew some of the other agents had been whispering about you, while you boarded the jet, that you were odd, childish, over the top and impossible to be around. But he enjoyed the exuberant way you described each plot, the glimmer of excitement in your eyes when he agreed with you and the blunt dry way you told deadpan jokes before breaking into peals of laughter. 

Silently he prayed that you’d come with him again, just to spend time with him even if you didn’t want to be in the field.  

[zeroseuniverse]

Together

Word Count: 1k Summary: In which he comes to the conclusion that she would be his forever while watching her help his sister Pairing: Seonghwa x reader Warnings: Cancer, Seonghwa has a sister in this, mentions of verbal abuse

Seonghwa’s heart was shattered when he heard the news of his only little sister being diagnosed with a deadly disease, he fell to the ground in tears at the news. He had no idea what to do for once, he called the only person he knew could help.

She was in the middle of her literature class when she received the call, Seonghwa knows her schedule, he would never call her during school unless it was an emergency, and knowing her professor he shouldn't have let her take the call in class so she grabbed her bag and left quickly to the hallway picking up the call on her way to her car.

“Hwa?”

“I need you.”

“I’m already on my way, I’ll be there in 10.”

She didn’t hang up the phone, leaving it in her cup holder as she listened to his sobs and sniffles on the other end of the line. He needed her, and she’d be damned if she wasn’t there for him. He kept murmuring his sister’s name sending her further into her panic, was she okay?

She barely stopped her car before she hopped out, rushing into the house as fast as she could, she came to a halt when her eyes caught sight of Seonghwa’s little sister watching her brother with guilty eyes, the utter sadness in the room caused tears to spark in her own eyes.

“Hwa…” Her voice broke through the quiet, making his head snap up, he rushed into her embrace, passing her a paper before sinking into her touch, hoping to wake up from this nightmare.

She glanced down at the paper, taking in the medical document with careful eyes, her eyes widening when she catches the diagnosis but nothing prepared her for when she saw the date. “This was two months ago.” She said, looking up at the younger girl with wide eyes, “You kept this a secret until you were about to start Chemo and couldn’t hide it anymore?”

“It was so scary, and I didn’t want to worry everyone too much, but my doctor told me I should get some support, just in case it goes south, I shouldn’t have tried to distance myself from everyone if this goes bad.” The young woman was sniffling, holding back her tears as she watched her brother sob helplessly in his lover's arms.

“Okay, honey, go make some tea okay?” She said down to her boyfriend who tried to protest but she nudged him in the direction of the kitchen anyway, before moving over to the girl on the couch.

“Am I going to get lectured? Cause you can save it, Mom already did enough of that.” The girl sighed, sinking into the couch, but the woman simply pulled her into a hug, pulling a hand up to stroke her head, “Uh…okay. This is is not what I was expecting.”

“Tell me why you actually kept this a secret.”

“I told you.”

“I also know you are terrified of hospitals and probably wouldn’t go alone even if it was serious.” The elder said, giving the girl a knowing look, as she pulled away enough to make eye contact.

“He said he couldn’t be with a sick girl, that when my hair fell out all my beauty would go with it. I was embarrassed.” The girl whimpered out, the memories resurfacing painfully.

“Your boyfriend?” It wasn’t much of a guess, the woman had despised the boy since he was introduced at thanksgiving, he gave his girlfriend a hard time about her eating habits and the older woman smacked him right across the face in the middle of dinner when he got mouthy about Seonghwa not being a real man with how childish he was.

“Ya know the word boy is there for a reason,” The older hummed after getting the confirmation, “No real man would ever berate a woman like that, or berate Hwa, I mean have you met that man.” she joked, nudging the girl to get a smile out of her, “And we will be there with you every step of the way, in fact, how about we take charge of the situation. Cancer won’t control you.” 

“What do you mean?” The girl asked, watching the woman rummage through a box nearby.

“Two years ago my bestfriend was diagnosed with cancer. He decided he didn’t want to wait for cancer to take away his decisions. He knew his hair would fall out with chemo and decided to beat it to the punch. He came over one night at 3 AM and told me he wanted me to shave his head. He wanted to feel free of the beauty standards that were on him all of the time at work. He felt that nobody should have a say in what he was going through and made it his own.” She explained pulling out an electric shaver and passing it to the girl, “You don’t have to, but if you would like, I’d be honored if you helped me show you that hair doesn’t matter.” 

“Wait what?” The girl gasped in shock, holding the battery powered shaver tightly, looking at the older woman confused.

“I want you to shave my head, you aren’t going through this alone, I want to do this with you.” 

“Are you serious?” 

The woman replied by pulling a part of her hair up in a hair tie and reaching for the scissors she keeps in the drawer by the couch, she cut the strands swiftly with no signs of hesitation before reaching over to switch the shaver on with a reassuring smile.

The two had a very teary eyed moment before the hair began falling, Seonghwa watching from the doorway as he watched the woman he now knew was for sure the love of his life support his sister. After about an hour, both females were crying into each other’s shoulders with bald heads whispering to each other that they looked beautiful and how they were in this together. They probably would have gone on for longer if Seonghwa hadn’t joined the hug, embracing his favorite people in his arms tightly as he silently cried with them.

The only thoughts on his mind were that they were going to beat this together, and he was definitely going to propose to this woman, and he was going to do it soon.