#sometimes the most basic shit is the best

[thedrowsydoormouse]

So the good news is no matter how shit my life is I can still make a perfect quesadilla on the first try without burning myself!

[raiiny-bay]

meet my couple - dhes & kel vs. red & teeth

ty for the tags @hell-dusk, @salemssimblr, & @lynzishell <3

i felt compelled to do both.

tagging: @vicciouxs, @teddybearsims, @mattodore, @gashface, & @lilamausmaus (no pressure ofc)

[orcelito]

Finally went and arranged my furniture, and now im sitting in a very normal (ish) living room. With normal couches and a normal TV. I would not have had this normal living room if not for my dad. Thanks, dad!

[nyxi-pixie]

its always 'wah i was a gifted kid and now im shit at everything and hate myself' well fuck that where are the evil hags who were in gifted programmes and who are now insufferable awful cunts with superiority issues ‼‼‼‼‼

[lucysweatslove]

Need to rant.

I spent an hour and a half working on The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck. I only got 50 pages in. The reading is easy, but I’m annotating a LOT so it’s going super slow.

But I’m annotating a lot to remind myself of all the bullshit, so I can properly roast it. There are some good ideas and points in there but omg he sounds like an insufferable asshole writing a book for himself, ignoring that other people can have totally valid ways of being. Fatphobic undertones, implying there are definitely good values and like, limited ways to correctly prioritize them. I’m now 45% through. I am hate-reading at this point, and I’m torn between:

do I just want to finish it off quickly from here on out? (he has started going into specific things that are negative that he thinks everybody should value highly, versus talking more about his general philosophy)

Or do I want to keep going through slowly making notes ripping him apart.

On one hand: I’m definitely enraged and I kinda want it to end because it’s so irritatingly wrong. On the other hand: i want to give it such a scathing review because of its wrongness that I want to have everything wrong with it detailed meticulously because I enjoy that level of thoroughness.

I’m hoping there will be less to annotate tbh.

[olessan]

I love the fact that I can work as hard as I can manage with a broken tooth and a dying tooth (one on each side, I've been chewing on the cavity for a year) and I still cannot save even $10 towards getting dental treatment (2 impacted wisdom teeth, + tooth broken off under the gum, + bad cavity) because I barely make enough to cover my food and board and the insane energy bill

[ko-eko-ev-go-ms]

The struggle of putting yourself in the position of having to do a bunch of social stuff for a good cause but meanwhile you have SO MUCH social anxiety

[skrunksthatwunk]

mr president a fourth major assignment has hit the two days before a mandatory friday road trip nobody bothered to tell me about until yesterday

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

if I've learned anything from grad school it's to check your sources, and this has proven invaluable in the dozens of instances when I've had an MBA-type try to tell me something about finances or leadership. Case in point:

Firefox serves me clickbaity articles through Pocket, which is fine because I like Firefox. But sometimes an article makes me curious. I'm pretty anal about my finances, and I wondered if this article was, as I suspected, total horseshit, or could potentially benefit me and help me get my spending under control. So let's check the article in question.

It mostly seems like common sense. "...track expenses and income for at least a month before setting a budget...How much money do I have or earn? How much do I want to save?" Basic shit like that. But then I get to this section:

This sounds fucking made up to me. And thankfully, they've provided a source to their claim that "research has repeatedly shown" that writing things down changes behavior. First mistake. What research is this?

Forbes, naturally, my #1 source for absolute dogshit fart-sniffing financial schlock. Forbes is the type of website that guy from high school who constantly posts on linkedin trawls daily for little articles like this that make him feel better about refusing to pay for a decent package for his employees' healthcare (I'm from the United States, a barbaric, conflict-ridden country in the throes of civil unrest, so obsessed with violence that its warlords prioritize weapons over universal medical coverage. I digress). Forbes constantly posts shit like this, and I constantly spend my time at leadership seminars debunking poor consultants who get paid to read these claims credulously. Look at this highlighted text. Does it make sense to you that simply writing your financial goals down would result in a 10x increase in your income? Because if it does, let me make you an offer on this sick ass bridge.

Thankfully, Forbes also makes the mistake of citing their sources. Let's check to see where this hyperlink goes:

SidSavara. I've never heard of this site, but the About section tells me that Sid is "a technology leader who empowers teams to grow into their best selves. He is a life-long learner enjoys developing software, leading teams in delivering mission critical projects, playing guitar and watching football and basketball."

That doesn't mean anything. What are his LinkedIn credentials? With the caveat that anyone can lie on Linkedin, Mr. Savara appears to be a Software Engineer. Which is fine! I'm glad software engineers exist! But Sid's got nothing in his professional history which suggests he knows shit about finance. So I'm already pretty skeptical of his website, which is increasingly looking like a personal fart-huffing blog.

The article itself repeats the credulous claim made in the Forbes story earlier, but this time, provides no link for the 3% story. Mr. Savara is smarter than his colleages at Forbes, it's much wiser to just make shit up.

HOWEVER. I am not the first person to have followed this rabbit hole. Because at the very top of this article, there is a disclaimer.

Uh oh!

Sid's been called out before, and in the follow up to this article, he reveals the truth.

You can guess where this is going.

So to go back to the VERY beginning of this post, both Pocket/Good Housekeeping and Forbes failed to do even the most basic of research, taking the wild claim that writing down your budget may increase your income by 10x on good faith and the word of a(n admittedly honest about his shortcomings) software engineer.

Why did I spend 30 minutes to make a tumblr post about this? Mostly to show off how smart I am, but also to remind folks of just how flimsy any claim on the internet can be. Click those links, follow those sources, and when the sources stop linking, ask why.

[dilfosaur]

well i haven't spilled my guts on tumblr since i was in college but it's the platform that's felt The Most Mine thru the years, so

let's talk!

i've had a huge chip on my shoulder that i wanted off before the year ends. very bad professional experience to follow

so firstly to get ahead of the speculating, i'm not naming names or anything. some of you will puzzle out who i'm talking about, but please don't bother anyone especially not on my behalf. i've worked hard to distance myself from them the past few months. shit happens, especially when you're a dumb bitch (that's me!)

but also this person was someone i considered a close friend and it makes me uneasy to possibly direct backlash at them. "then why post about it" bc i did intermittent work for them for over a year. this is just about that. so hear me out

basically it started off fine. i initially did some commission work for good pay, then was invited to become more involved with their team. unfortunately as i became more involved with their operation it became more disorganized over time. projects started then forgotten, constantly shifting schedules, lapsing communication between roles, confusing financials, and often inconsistent if not late payments. during mid 2023 i was doing colorist work, sometimes on a one day turnaround (all while also preparing drawfee's summer merch launch). the payroll wasn't set up correctly so i wasn't paid for that work for over a year (more on that later), tho to be fair that was largely my own fault at first as i just didnt realize the payments didn't go thru lol

i always consider myself decently capable of separating friendship and coworker-ship; i run a company with 4 wonderful friends, going strong for almost 5 years. that didn't really work out in this case. by early this year our friendship was on the rocks; work issues fed into personal issues and vice versa. so as the rest of this shit plays out, we had just had our first "big fight" which i felt very bad about and added to all the upcoming tension

a huge point of friction was the fact that i really wanted to work with them to make a music video for one of their songs. i've always wanted a chance to make a music video, was confident in a concept i came up with, and even did some concept art for the idea. everyone insisted they loved the concept and that we should do it, but we kept pushing it back for various reasons. it ended up becoming a huge sticking point for my frustrations, which i tried to express productively. TLDR, we eventually got around to discussing it seriously around april.

i planned to ask for $4000 with negotiable add-on for the whole project, which was my Friend Discount price. i was offered a contract for $1000 flat rate, as they insisted that was the only budget they had for it.

don't ask me why i signed it lol. i didn't even counter offer

there was some girlmath to it: i wanted an extra 1k for a student scholarship i provide every spring and well, there it was. but if i had to guess, i saw it as something i just couldn't back down from any more. i caused these folks- my friends- a lot of problems bc i dug my heels in so deep to chase this project, so fuck it we ball

i had about 4 months to solo a 3 minute music video. they wanted it done in august so they could release it before summer ended, bc "it was a summer song". to be fair i was asked if i needed them to pay for anything extra like assistants (which i would have to find and manage) but i was so immediately overwhelmed that i didn't wanna slow down to wait on that process lol. there was very minimal communication other than brief progress check-ins every few weeks. i did everything for that project myself: the original concept, character designs, storyboards, layouts, backgrounds. i even did the editing/compositing for the final cut of the MV. the only favor i did myself was limiting the amount of it that was actually animated to simple loops and motions. hardly my best work but it was work still done

i did it all in between my full time job. i ended up having to take nearly a month away from most of my drawfee duties (with the support of the others) to make the august deadline. i only ever asked for a 3 day extension (notice given about a week in advance, around the same time i was given the final song file lol). i finished the music video at 6am on the final deadline and recorded drawfee the next day on 2 hours of sleep

but it was done, coolies. the team was very happy with the final product. honestly, without getting into it, those were a very emotionally taxing 4 months. on the professional side, i regretted agreeing to the project and especially for the dogshit rate they offered. i felt like a hypocrite- as someone who always wanted to advocate for younger artists demanding their worth in a world that's getting increasingly hostile toward creatives, i failed myself

so when i met with the manager to discuss the release plan, i told them to do whatever worked best for them as i only had one request: i wanted my credit removed from the project

tbh... like... lmao this dramatic bitch right!! but really, i decided that bad practices only breed worse business. friends or not, it was unprofessional of me to accept such a low paying job so i just didn't want my name used in association. everything felt so muddled to me and i was just really tired at this point

the manager was very understanding and then offered that i could be paid more. they said that their team "was surprised" i accepted their low rate and they would be happy to up the amount. this confused me as the initial budget seemed pretty set and at no point between april and august was i offered a better rate. i knew these guys weren't made of money. so, i declined. i didn't want to put anyone out of their means over work that was already done and agreed upon. but more importantly, i was over the whole thing and didn't want to prolong the project with a contract renegotiation. i just insisted my name be removed

they decided to use a pseudonym (which i was fine with) so they could create a story about a character who made the MV (this sounds really convoluted but i don't know how better to put it without getting specific, sorry). that way if people asked about the credit, they could speak comfortably about it without signaling that something went wrong behind the scenes. ok, kind of a silly narrative imo but whatevs. and maybe this is where i finally went truly wrong but. yolo i guess

i gave the name "D. Smithee", D as in dilfosaur and Smithee as in Alan Smithee. look it up for fun film trivia ig! was it passive aggressive of me to reference that in this context? yeah, honestly. but i thought it was kinda funny and really not that deep. if it was a problem, i have other real, non-cheeky pseudonyms i regularly use. the manager accepted it and all i had to do was wait for them to post the video and i could leave the whole experience behind me

a week later i received a message from the manager that my pseudonym had been denied by the rest of the team bc one of them got the reference. fair enough lol. however, they decided that rather than ask for a different name, the were going to make one up for me that they liked and would "fit the [story]", without asking me

and that! is when i finally snapped!

i was so tired of giving them concessions at this point and having a credit made up for me without any input from me felt genuinely violating and unethical. i started to Panic bc of how stressed i was, and asked for my overdue payments (aka the $500 still owed on the MV, and the colorist rate from a year prior that was never paid even tho i reported it in january) to be scheduled ASAP as i was leaving the work discord immediately

i finally told them off for exploiting me throughout the months while i kept trying to just be nice and finish my contact cleanly. in return i was told that it was unfair to say that as i agreed to everything- i accepted their cheap rate and denied further payment so that was all settled, and it was ok to change my credit without my consent bc i "said they could do whatever with the release". i called bullshit, ended the convo as kindly as i could, and cried lol. they agreed to ditch the pseudonym and just give no credit. that night was the last i heard from anyone on that team

and the real kicker?

august came and went. then september, october... and they never released the music video

and i don't know why, because i was never contacted about it. i've been removed from the picture entirely i guess. 4 months and boatloads of stress. just. up in smoke. i don't know what i expected honestly

it's hard to not take everything that happened personally and as done in bad faith. i really do, honestly. i've had plenty of shitty deals in my almost 10 year art career, but it hits different from people you saw as friends. but to the point of "why not keep it private", i have never felt so disrespected as a professional as i did this past year. i can toy with money and credits and other formalities all i want, but my work- my ideas, my labor, my effort- is still so important to me. i felt like the biggest idiot for doing so much work, pouring so much of myself into a piece for someone's use, for what has amounted to nothing

but more importantly i hated myself for undervaluing my work, even if initially i thought this person was a trusted friend. money is not really an issue for me- drawfee is my main job and i am fine and comfortable. it's so important to pay artists appropriately but i often undersell my own work bc i value the collaboration and passion between creatives more than the reward. i think a lot of artists tend to feel the same, and it often makes us easy to take advantage of. it's so difficult to find the balance between passion and making a fair living, and i think there's some shame within ourselves when artists choose to prioritize that passion

i wanted to finally get all this off my chest bc i was ashamed of every choice i made. things like this happen all the time i'm sure and hiding these mistakes only make it easier for it to happen to other people

tldr always value your work and protect your passion from people who just see it as a product. and don't give cheeky pseudonyms i guess lol

(and again pls don't bother anyone involved about this. a lot of chaos has left my life as i moved past all this, and this is me closing a door without opening new ones hopefully lol)

this shit was truly

so ass.

but i'm moving past it now

but on a nicer note. outside of all of this nonsense, i made lots of good memories this year. i'm truly so grateful to the many wonderful people in my life who keep me going even when i fuck up big time!

and thank you to all of you strangers who, despite everything, give me the time of day. especially if you read this whole thing. you're a real one :')

happy new year!

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Sometimes I feel like us as the bat family fandom forget how starry eyed people get about Nightwing canonically.

Because with the exception of early era Tim most of the Batkids are like. lol that’s my loser older brother or some variation of yeah…he’s some guy I guess? He helps me with homework?

And Nightwing is the canonically a center of multiversal light.

When Heroes meet Nightwing they do the vigorous handshake and the “it’s an honor to meet you sir, I have heard so much about you oh my god”

There are so many character where they are literally shown giggling and kicking their feet whenever Nightwing talks to them.

Even the people who don’t have the celebrity level worship of him respect the hell out of him and call him as soon as they need help.

From raven to Starfire to Superman to Superboy to all or the flashes there is so much respect and awe given to this one dude.

And it is deserved

But imagine you are Damian Wayne and you’ve been working with what 90% of the people you’ve met (all bats) have been calling an embarrassment to your father’s legacy.

Your mother hates him and your Grandfather doesn’t feel that strongly about him.

The red hood calls him an embarrassment and a coward and he couldn’t even keep Red Robin from running away.

Your father tells him that he never should have been Batman

And you’ve worked with him and you know what you think everyone is full of shit about him and you and him the new Batman and Robin are the best no matter what anyone says.

And fuck it the fact he keeps going in a suit that everyone tells him he’s not good enough for is scratching something in your brain that you’re refusing to acknowledge because why would you feel that way? You are the circus freak have nothing in common (shut up)

And then you meet the justice league and all the extended teams.

And people are falling over themselves to listen to a word out of your brothers, your Batman’s mouth. They wait for a nod or headshake and dictate decades worth of planning on it.

Both Drake and Todd’s hero teams ask him for advice with or without their designated bats presence.

The man of steel asks for child rearing advice and wonder woman cracks a joke about a spar

Newer heroes whisper about him in the halls

He’s literally your favorite hero’s favorite hero

And it’s breaking Damian’s Brain

Because well… he kinda gets slapped around in Gotham. He’s the butt of half the jokes the other Batkids make and Dick just smiles and takes it.

The rogues have a bounty on nightwings ass and he gets leered at by goons, rogues, civilians and anti-hero’s alike and he doesn’t say anything.

He lets oracle crack jokes about a pretty face and having to do everything herself

Let’s Jason run the alley despite the fact that apparently he knows how to take it back

Apparently he’s had 12 people tailing Drake since Paris and despite being the man Ra’s Al Ghul calls detective has yet to notice. (Because you can’t tell me Dick was just magically at the right place to catch Tim falling to his death on coincidence)

And necessary to peace talks because he’s the best they have at deescalation

Like imagine you are a child who was raised to believe power is this obvious, all consuming thing. That the ones who control the board are visibly larger than life figures who fought their way to the top and cling to power by even the thinnest hangnail if they had to.

People who ignore simpler morals or an overall greater goal or good

And then you’re taken in by the man who whispers the correct answers into the larger than life figures ear.

Like I feel like that would have such an impact because Dick didn’t take power from anyone to reach his goals, it’s why his siblings don’t really defer to him unless in crisis.

Dick didn’t take power, no people just looked at him and decided he was the best option to give it to.

Everyone basically looked at this kid and went, yeah you’re the future of all heroism.

And if that dude can’t even get Bruce Wayne’s respect what chance does Damian Wayne have

[mercurial-chuckles]

Witless Wednesday Thought

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Warnings: Fluff | Hot n Spicy Supersolider | Bucky losing his shit | Bucky defending you | Smitten Bucky | Smitten Reader | Language | Mutual Pining | Kissing | Happy Ending | Language | ~1k | Unbeta'd | Lemme know if I'm missing anything. A/N: I was working on another story when this tiny one sucker-punched my flow of thoughts. I scheduled it for yesterday, but that didn't work out. Anyhoo, here ya go! Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! I do not consent to AI scraping my work. GIF credits to the OP. Divider made by me. Check out my other works: Masterlist

Part of ♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

Indulge Away!

You'd never seen Bucky so angry, so enraged.

As a matter of fact, you barely saw any other emotion flit his face except impassiveness.

Sweet heavens! He was the most devastatingly handsome man you'd ever seen, too.

Normally, you would admire him inconspicuously, just like you did every day when he walked through your part of the office. But you snapped out of your 'Bucky delirium' for Wyatt's sake, who was currently being throttled by the supersoldier against the shelves.

"You don't call her that," Bucky growled.

Holy Shit! It took you a moment to peel your eyes away from that bulging bicep and clenched jaw to make sense of the situation.

One moment, Wyatt thanked you for resolving the system layout issue, 'I knew I could trust you, dawg!' Wyatt said, and the very next second, you saw Bucky throwing him against the shelves. You didn't even realize Bucky was there. He was so fast it made you question your senses.

Bucky must have misunderstood. As much as he'd adapted, James Buchanan Barnes was still a man rooted in a different era. Modern slang still tripped him, you figured.

"Please," you pleaded hurriedly, unsure how to actually intervene.

Wyatt coughed, stunned, his feet dangling as he struggled in distress.

"Bucky," you said, scared out of your wits. He looked down at you intensely, and you quickly took a small step back when you realized how close you were. As much as you silently pined loved Bucky and had imagined him doing wild things to you with that very same rage on countless occasions, you were, very realistically, intimidated at the moment.

"Please, Bucky," you whispered.

Bucky seemed to snap out of his trance as he blinked, his expression still rigid. He released Wyatt, who stumbled and fell to the floor.

Wyatt crawled away a little. Bucky stepped closer and sneered down at him, "Apologize. Now." He warned.

As much as you enjoyed your friend's sense of humor, Wyatt was so out of his depth sometimes, and you were sure his penchant for saying inappropriate shit would be the end of him. Because after all that just happened, he wouldn't shouldn't have said "Are you serious?"

Wyatt was a personality, alright! You tried your best to look at Wyatt, but Bucky's tall, broad frame blocked your view.

Bucky chuckled darkly, crouching down in front of Wyatt, who was still sprawled on his ass.

"Take a guess. DAWG," Bucky growled.

This shouldn't be funny.

This really shouldn't be turning you on as much as it was.

Wyatt finally seemed to realize the issue.

Fucking finally!

You wanted to explain that what Wyatt said was just an endearment, but the basic functioning of your brain had been fused.

"Look… I didn't mean…" Wyatt started, his gaze shifting to yours, and you must have looked like a stunned animal.

For the love of God, Wyatt! Shut up and say sorry! You thought.

"I'm sorry," Wyatt finally squeaked, trying to push himself off the ground when Bucky leaned further.

Bucky gestured toward you, "Apologize to her," he ordered.

Your heart pounded wildly. You hoped to stay upright and not fall victim to your dancing nerves.

"Sorry," Wyatt muttered, looking at you, and you felt terrified for him too. The poor guy was freaking the fuck out, and all for what, being cool?

"It's alright," you mumbled awkwardly. If not for the very adult feelings currently coursing through your body for the six-foot-something supersoldier, the whole thing might have felt like Wyatt was being scolded for pulling your pigtails on the playground.

When Bucky rose to his full height, you expected him to dash off. But he didn't. He stayed rooted in place, eyes fixed on Wyatt.

Wyatt, however, finally managed to peel himself off the floor, and he bolted in a jiff.

Good for him.

Not so great for you.

You stood there trembling, flushed, and utterly confused.

Bucky slowly turned to you, and the intensity in his gaze caught you off guard. You awkwardly shuffled back, lost your footing, and staggered. He steadied you, metal arm circling your waist and pulling you forward into his chest.

Goodness, Bucky was tall! He was so strong, all muscle, and smelled divine. The urge to nuzzle into his chest made you blush even more. Luckily, a modicum of rationality still prevailed.

But his eyes were so blue and beautiful you couldn't stop looking into them. He didn't avert his gaze either.

Bucky tilted his head and moved closer, studying your face while your brain buzzed and your ears rang.

"You okay?" he asked, his breath warm against your face.

It was totally unfair for a man to look the way he did.

"You with me, doll?"

That nickname in his raspy voice had your lips parting. Reminding yourself to respond, you put some effort into nodding your head a couple of times.

Noticing his eyes shift to your lips, your heart picked up, and you bit on your lower lip, feeling the pulse thrumming in your entire body. His tongue peeked out, quickly proceeding to lick his lower lip.

What was going on? Were you dreaming? But if you were, why did it feel so vivid? You fully expected to wake up on your couch like yesterday, with the TV running in the background.

Bucky slowly stepped back, removing his hand and taking all your sanity with his retreating touch.

"I..." Bucky began, running his fingers over his stubble and licking his lips again. You couldn't help but stare. His lips were so damn pink, and you really, really wanted to kiss him.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Your brain needed rehabilitation from Bucky Barnes.

"Wanna grab a coffee with me?" he asked.

You heard the words coming out of his mouth, you did, but you didn't quite process them. You just kept staring at him.

When you finally noticed the shift in his expression, his face falling and eyes apologetic, you cleared your throat.

"Coffee? With me?" That was a dumb response, but that was what your self-deprecating self came up with.

Bucky nodded, quite expectantly and hopefully.

"Okay," you managed to say, offering a small smile.

Bucky sighed in relief. Then he smiled, all shy and adorable, and you bet you could faint just like that.

Charming bastard! He was gonna kill you with his looks.

"Thank you," he said, grinning wildly. He felt overwhelmingly everywhere around you. Bucky shuffled, rocking on his feet awkwardly before nodding at you curtly.

"Right. Umm…I'll be here at 5:15," he said, and you nodded, though a bit too surprised he knew exactly when you clocked out.

Bucky took a few steps toward the door, and you stared longingly at his retrieving form. He stopped, turned around, and looked at you for a whole minute. His gaze transfixed you. Bucky strutted toward you and pushed you against the wall, both hands cupping your cheeks, making you gasp at the feel of them, at the feel of him.

"Sorry... I just..." he breathed against your lips, giving you a millisecond of space to push him away--you didn't. Instead, you rose on your toes, hands on his chest. Bucky groaned softly, pressed a gentle kiss to your nose, then tilted your face closer and captured your lips, tasting, nipping. The rough stubble scratched your skin sensually.

And somewhere in the corner of your mind, it became clear that Bucky Barnes, an Avenger, had no reason to stroll through the Technical Analysts' floor except for you.

Leave your thoughts if you enjoyed reading it. 💞✨

♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

If you'd like to be tagged/removed from my works, please do so here.

[clioerato]

Reverse of this post.

AU Unrealistic 90s, sorry

Eddie is like: "Well, Steve is just a really loyal ally. Really… physically loyal. And caring. I guess that's just the level of friendship a popular dude has." And Steve is genuinely convinced that they've been together for a long time and that Eddie knows.

1986:

They start hanging out. Then they hang out every day. Then they live at Steve's for a week straight.

Steve: “You can leave your stuff here, you know. Closet’s half empty.” Eddie: “Damn, you really are the most considerate straight dude I know.” Steve: “…Huh?”

1986:

They regularly sleep in the same bed. Sometimes they hold hands. Sometimes they kiss. Sometimes they kiss for a long time. Sometimes for a very long time.

Eddie (after kissing): “This is crazy. I mean, I get it, experimenting and all…” Steve: “What?” Eddie: “Nothing. I’m cool. You’re cool. We’re cool.” Steve (искренне): “Yeah. We’re the best couple I know.” Eddie: “…Couple of what, though?” Steve: “What?”

1987:

Steve gives Eddie a silver ring on a leather cord. Eddie wears it, even in the shower.

Eddie: “This is, like, a friendship ring, right?” Steve: “That’s literally a promise ring.” Eddie: “…A promise of what?” Steve: “Of us, Eddie. What the hell else would I mean?” Eddie: “Right. Us. Bros. Tight.”

1987:

Eddie: “You take care of me like we’re married.” Steve (smiling): “We might someday.” Eddie: “We might… legally non-binding kind of way.” Steve: “Eddie. We file taxes together.” Eddie: “You’re just very organized!”

1988:

Robin: “How’s your boyfriend?” Eddie: “Boyfriend? Who?” Robin: “Steve. Your literal partner in life. Your domestic co-op. The man whose shampoo you steal.” Eddie: “Steve’s not my boyfriend. We’re just… you know… post-labels.” Robin: “Eddie. You live together, you kiss. He holds your hand. He told me you're his boyfriend.” Eddie: “…He what?”

1988: Eddie: “Steve. Real question. Are we… dating?” Steve: “You’re joking, right?” Eddie: “Sorry! I didn't mean to! Maybe I misunderstood. I… I'm sorry, did I ruin everything between us?” Steve: “Eddie. We have a dog. We hosted Thanksgiving. We kiss. We have sex. You made me a Mixtape titled ‘songs that remind me of us’.” Eddie: “I thought you just needed a roommate with benefits and deep emotional intimacy?” Steve: “That’s literally a relationship.” Eddie: “…Holy shit. We’re boyfriends?” Steve: “We’ve been boyfriends for years, Munson.” Eddie: “Huh. Go figure. Guess I’m dating King Steve.” Steve: “You’re lucky I love you.”

Now that Eddie’s caught up emotionally, he’s 110% in. Possibly too in.

Eddie: “So... should we elope? Vegas? Matching rings? I’m thinking silver, with little bats engraved—” Steve (choking on his cereal): “Wait. What? Now you want to get married?” Eddie: “Well, yeah! We’re already basically married, babe.” Steve: “Don’t ‘babe’ me while talking about bat rings and eloping.” Eddie (grinning): “Too late, husband.”

*** Eddie: “So I saw this house. Big porch. Weird attic. Ghost potential’s high, but I think we can make it work.” Steve: “...Are you asking if I want to buy a house with you?” Eddie: “Well, yeah. We live together. We share a car. We kiss. A lot. I have a drawer full of your socks. I think it’s time we haunt a place jointly.” Steve: “This is how you propose real estate to me?” Eddie: “You should be grateful. The realtor loved my ‘gothic charm.’” Steve: (sighs) “We’re gonna need a mortgage... and a sage bundle.” Eddie: “You love it.” Steve: “I do.”

Grocery store, middle of the cereal aisle:

Cashier: “You want to sign up for the store discount card?” Eddie: “Yeah—uh, do I have to put my husband’s name too, or just mine?” Steve (pauses, then stares): Cashier: “...Congratulations?” Steve: tearing up immediately, holding a box of Cheerios like it’s a wedding bouquet Eddie (realizing): “Wait, you’re crying??” Steve: “You said—you said husband! In public!” Eddie: “I also said ‘Cheerios,’ are we crying about those too?” Steve: “Shut up.” Eddie (gently): “I meant it.” Steve: “I know. That’s why I’m crying.”

Later that night, in their definitely haunted new house: Eddie (quietly, as they’re brushing their teeth): “You know I really do want to marry you, right?” Steve (mouth full of toothpaste): “Mhm.” Eddie: “Not just for grocery discounts.” Steve (spitting): “I love you.” Eddie: “I love you too, husband.”

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141! (Part 1)

Let's get this out of the way, the restaurant fucking sucks. Don't even know how it's still open. The food is terrible. The owner is an incompetent drunk who's never there. You got referred to the job from a friend of a friend. You did an interview with the head chef/manager, John. He hired you because you were hot.

"The fuckin ass on that one, huh?"

Just like any man that works in a restaurant, they're all horny fucks who love to tease you. You'd run back to the kitchen and ask to tweak an order. Price would wink and say:

"Next time it's gonna cost ya."

When it gets slow (which was all the time), you'd sit in the back and chat about how they met and what they did with their lives. They all get paid under the table for various reasons. Johnny takes smoke breaks with you, sometimes Price joins. Gaz pours shots for everyone after "busy" nights (busy meaning there was an hour where there were two tables to serve instead of one). Ghost... well he's strictly work. Sometimes he engages in banter with the guys, but he only acknowledges you when needed.

Your first month flies by, you basically get paid to sit around and talk with the most charming men on the planet, and Simon.

"He'll warm up eventually. Just gotta loosen 'em up, just like any tight ass."

Soap smirked as he leaned against a counter while everyone was wrapping up for the night.

"Don't you have dishes to put away?"

Ghost snapped while wiping down his station. At least he was nice to look at.

You and Gaz would roll up the forks and knives talking about bullshit, knees touching. Soap and you would light each others smokes by touching one lit end to the unlit one, all while still holding the cigarettes in your mouths (he called it a cigarette kiss). Price would constantly make food for you:

"Gotta plump you up 'fore it starts getting cold, yeah?"

He'd look you up and down while sliding you a basket of fries. And Simon? Cold as ever. Even when he started driving you to and from work because your car broke down. He drove like a madman, but it was totally silent. You made the mistake of reaching for the radio once, he gave a admonitory grunt and you snatched your hand away.

As time went on, you got comfortable with everyone and they got comfortable with you. It started with suggestive jokes.

"Simon's just straightforward, doesn't beat around the bush."

Price said one day while prepping vegetables with Ghost.

"What are you talking about? He beats around the bush all the time Price, you know that."

Soap walked by with a shit eating grin while he was carrying a bucket of dishes to the back. Uproar from the guys. Ghost storms off following Johnny, knife in hand. You want to stop him, but Gaz places a hand on your shoulder.

"Best not to do that, just let 'em settle that amongst themselves."

Johnny comes back disheveled, wearing a different shirt. Simon is stone faced as usual as he goes back to prep. It only got worse after that.

You'd watch as the boys messed with each other more; pats on the back, that turns to squeezes on the shoulders, that turned to slaps on the ass.

"They're just handsy," you think to yourself.

Eye contact that lingers for a second too long.

"They're just close friends," you think to yourself.

Compliments that boarder on harassment.

"They're just joking around," you think to yourself.

Then you entered the walk-in freezer, only to make direct eye contact with Johnny as he has Kyle's dick down his throat.

"Oh, uh-huh..." you think to yourself.

You didn't look at their faces for a week, they acted as if nothing happened. Then, the flirting only got worse.

"Behind!"

Price would yell while grinding up against Simon's ass when passing behind him.

"Yes, Chef."

He'd respond while he continued cooking, unfazed. They seemingly shared clothes: the younger guys preferred to don John and Simon's apparel all the time. You stopped going into the walk-in for a while, you figured you'd give Gaz and Soap some privacy (although they didn't seem to mind an audience). Christ, was everyone fucking everyone here?

You were taking a smoke break with Price when he leaned back on the railing and adjusted himself, it wasn't really adjusting himself as it was more him gripping his thick dick and looking directly into your eyes. You nearly choked as he smiled.

Ghost threw you a hoodie when he dropped you off one night. It started raining before you got home and you were complaining about just getting your hair done. You tried to give it back but he refused to take it.

"Keep it. I don't care about that one anyways."

He shrugged. You'd wear the oversized hoodie to bed, the smell was comforting. Smoky, dusty, boozy, like Javanese vetiver. It smelled like a grown man. Delicious. Accidentally wore it to work one day when you were in a rush getting ready. That started a trend for the rest of them to get you to wear their clothes. It less of a trend and more of a competition honestly. They'd "accidentally" spill drinks or food on you.

"No worries, I've got an extra shirt in my car!"

They'd have a wide, cheeky smile plastered on their faces while giving you their shirt. Of course, they wouldn't take them back either; so you had a growing collection of huge shirts that you'd wear around your apartment. Eventually, you had to go back to the walk-in. Thankfully, there were no exhibitionists present. You were reaching to grab some ketchup when the door opened. You and Johnny stared at each other for a long moment.

"Need help getting that, bonnie?"

Before you could respond he was reaching over you, pressing his chest on your back. He handed you the bottle while his dick grew hard on your ass. He was breathing hard in your ear, waiting for your reaction. You pushed back on him and that's all he needed, he gripped your hips and grinded into you. Even through your jeans you could feel his dick twitch when you moaned. It was a hot minute of panting while he pulled you back onto him desperately, like he was trying to fuck you right through the denim. The door handle clicked. You both froze, staring at the entryway.

"Johnny?"

Gaz's head popped in. Your face got hot while he stared back and forth at the two of you. One thing led to another, and your pants are around your ankles while Johnny is face first in your wet folds. Kyle is standing behind you, fucking your thighs and leaving sloppy kisses on your neck.

"Pretty doll, how long have ye bin waiting fur this, huh?"

Soap looked up at you with so much adoration, like he was servicing a goddess.

"Gonna cum Johnn-"

Gaz whimpered and bit your shoulder to muffle his groans as he came right between your thighs and cunt. Soap cleaned up the mess greedily, savouring the taste of both your juices. He didn't stop eating you out until you finished. Gaz held you up while your knees buckled when you came undone. Gentlemen they are, pulled up your pants for you and wiped the smeared lipgloss from your face. You stumbled out of the freezer, walking past the kitchen. Price's eyes crinkled as he saw you head out onto the floor.

~

"You shouldn't do that in there. It's unsanitary. And a health code violation."

Simon looked straight ahead as he weaved between cars. You opened your mouth, but no words came to mind, so you just nodded. Your leg bounced nervously. He grabbed your thigh, stopping the movement. His hand stayed there until you were in front of your place. You stared at him, his brown eyes boring into you.

"G'night."

He pulled his hand away, placing both of them on the steering wheel. You walked into your apartment, dizzy with confusion. "What the fuck is going on?"

[bamjio]

❛ 𝗷𝘂𝗶𝗰𝘆! ❜ ━━ ✿⠀wolverine nsfw headcanonns.

Wolverine x female!reader

warnings !! ━ suggestive content, voyeurism, kinks, mentions of wade n other xmen members, lovesick Logan teehee, specifically Hughs' wolverine.

❛If you could see it from the front, wait 'til you see it from the back.❜

( wtf happened to me this is the fastest update I had probably done ever since WVD came out. )

Start of strong start of tough,

LOGAN HAS A MASSIVE DICK, you've seen it and he knows it. def loves teasing you too, when you give him oral, he wants you to take your time— sometimes. most of the times he's a sex devil, obsessed with seeing your hardworking struggled face, eyebrows furrowed and eyes determined. Logan hates to admit it but he wants to shove his cock down you and seeing your face. won't admit because he's not freaky outside.

gives the best head in the whole dimension, loves seeing you arch, he def knows where your spots are, multi tasking at its finest, fingering and eating you out is definitely something, his only goal is making you either squirt of cum, doesn't matter loves it when you make that sound everytimes you're close. he's 99.9 Selfless when it comes to giving, all he wants is your attention, not caring if his dick exploded from holding it in, deep inside him is a man that def wants to tease and edge you, but he's known to you as a nonchalant man, unless he's desperate — hell definitely be a beast.

did I mention that he's quite rough? not too rough, but perfectly rough. he adores it when tears run out your cheeks begging him to keep on going, although he is naturally rough, he knows his limits, it's like autopilot tbh. puts you to missionary everytime. He's not a lazy man he knows how to move, and his stamina would definitely last up to many hours. An old man with a young energy, how nice is that.

have I mentioned he has deep fantasies? He's the type of boyfriend that won't mention it till you do— he had desires of maybe fucking you in charles' mansion, he doesn't mean in a room, he means infront of his colleague, yknow? but he keeps that fantasy deep behind, Charles knows about his little dream, finds it fascinating. only person he told about it was probably Hank. He also has this predator and prey kink that ONLY works for you, you running for your life and him chasing you down, basically fuck or die type shit— except he'd rather not kill you.

he gets turned on whenever you're training or fighting, doesn't know why but he definitely loves the sweat on your face and the look of distraught, he wonders sometimes if he's okay, wade calls him lovesick because he's like a little puppy following you and finding you very amusing, not to mention he's very obedient too, wade tells him he's a "pup in a big man's body when it comes to y/n" he doesn't deny it, he likes it.

One secret— you two fucked in the mansion and almost got caught, risky but he'd do it again.

Two secrets— he unintentionally told wade that he had thought about him and wade fucking you.

Three secrets— he has pictures hidden, different boxes in different occasions full of your pictures.

HELP, MY PUSSYS' GONE CRAZY!

First post that I felt 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, will make a sfw version of this and will make a wade nsfw version, probably the last time I make nsfw hcs, don wanna go overboard to being 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂.

[solxamber]

Signed, Sealed, Bonded || Jade Leech

Being an Esper is hard. Finding a Guide is harder. Somehow, the only one who can handle you is Jade Leech, who is both the best and worst thing that has ever happened to you.

or: Guideverse AU!

Series Masterlist

So, picture this: You wake up, make yourself some coffee, look outside the window… and BAM—a glowing hell portal is vomiting out nightmare creatures like it’s Black Friday at the Underworld’s Walmart.

No big deal. Just another Tuesday.

This is life now. The universe is one big, unstable loot box, and sometimes, instead of daily struggles like taxes or existential dread, you get eldritch horrors trying to redecorate your city with human remains.

And that’s why Espers and Guides exist.

Espers are the special little guys (derogatory) with godlike powers and a tendency to explode if left unattended. They punch things, obliterate monsters, and generally keep civilization from crumbling like a stale cookie.

But Espers have one teeny, tiny problem. A small, insignificant, itsy-bitsy little flaw—

Espers have a fun little self-destruct feature where, if they overuse their powers and aren’t calmed down properly afterward, they go berserk and start turning cities into craters.

Whoops.

That’s where Guides come in—people with the power to keep Espers from self-destructing and turning the planet into a post-apocalyptic wasteland. They are the Espers’ emotional support humans. Their job is to keep Espers stable, sane, and not prone to going Godzilla-mode on a bad day.

Cool system, right? Makes sense? Keeps society from crumbling?

Yeah, except there’s a problem.

The problem is you.

You are the single strongest Esper on the planet. SSS-Class. Top of the charts. The kind of power that makes scientists scream and military generals start sweating through their uniforms. If Espers were trading cards, you’d be the one people would sell their kidneys for.

There’s just one little issue.

You… cannot be guided.

Like, at all.

Every time a top-ranking Guide tries to do their job, your body reacts like you just swallowed a fork.

S-Class Guide tries to guide you? You feel like you’ve swallowed a beehive.

A-Class Guide reaches out? Your skin crawls like you’re being haunted by the ghosts of bad life choices.

Government’s best, most elite SSS Guide gives it a shot? You feel like throwing up and committing a crime, but you can’t decide which one first.

Basically, your Esper powers took one look at every high-ranking Guide and said, “I’d rather die.”

The entire world is losing its shit over this.

The government is stressed. Scientists are conducting emergency research at 3 AM. High-ranking Guides are offended because how dare you reject their very expensive, very prestigious guidance?

Nobody knows why.

Is it a genetic anomaly? A cosmic joke? Are the gods simply looking down at you and laughing? Science is baffled. The government is stressed. At this point, your mere existence is a “can we patch this in the next update?” level of disaster.

You’re a walking nuclear reactor with no off-switch. And people are starting to panic.

And meanwhile, you’re just standing there, the world’s most unstable walking nuke, trying not to sneeze too hard in case you accidentally vaporize a small country.

It’s fine. It’s totally fine.

It’s absolutely not fine.

Because if they don’t find a Guide who can actually handle you soon…

You’re going to go berserk.

And when an SSS-Class Esper goes berserk? Well. You know those fantasy novels where an ancient dragon wakes up and annihilates an entire civilization in one breath? That, but worse.

You had been this close to blacking out.

It wasn’t supposed to be this hard. You were an SSS-Class Esper, for crying out loud. You could sneeze and flatten a city block. But that Gate had been a nightmare, and without proper guidance, your body was losing its mind. Your veins felt like molten lava, your hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and your head was pounding with the kind of stress headache that could legally qualify as an assassination attempt.

So, like any responsible, law-abiding Esper who didn’t want to be put down like an unruly dog, you dragged yourself to the Guidance Center.

The moment you stepped inside, they immediately threw their best Guide at you—a fellow SSS-Class, the crème de la crème, the poster child of the entire system.

“Let’s begin,” they said, voice dripping with confidence, as if you weren’t already suffering. They reached out, their hands warm as they pressed against your skin.

And then.

Oh, God.

It hit you like a truck full of nausea and existential horror. Your stomach flipped so violently you actually gagged. Your muscles screamed in protest, every cell in your body rejecting the touch like a bad Tinder match.

You scrambled backward so fast you almost ate floor.

The SSS-Class Guide stood there, horrifically offended.

"Are you serious?" They demanded, arms crossed like a petulant child. "Again?"

You barely heard them over the sound of your own labored breathing because Wow. That had been unpleasant.

So now you were curled up on the floor of the Guidance Center, shaking from both overexertion and the delightful aftereffects of a guide touch that had made you want to throw yourself into oncoming traffic.

The SSS-Class Guide was still watching you, arms crossed, debating whether they should be more concerned about your wellbeing or their ego.

Which is exactly when Jade Leech walked in.

There was a pause.

Then a slow, deliberate click of polished shoes as he stepped toward you, tilting his head.

“…Are they supposed to look like that?” he mused aloud.

“No,” said the SSS-Class Guide, deeply unamused.

Jade hummed thoughtfully before crouching beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder. It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t hesitant.

And for the first time since your powers awakened, you didn’t want to fling yourself off a building.

Your whole body went limp.

The shaking stopped. The nausea faded.

Your mind, which had been screaming at a constant 200% volume since you turned eighteen and acquired your powers, went quiet.

It was the most blissful thing you had ever felt in your entire life.

The SSS-Class Guide was gaping at you like you had just committed high treason.

"Are you kidding me?" they spluttered. "Him?"

And then, with a huff, they stomped away, absolutely furious that you—the greatest Esper in history, the walking apocalypse—had rejected them but accepted some random nobody.

You, meanwhile, felt clear-headed for the first time in years.

You looked at Jade—at his unreadable expression, at the sharpness of his gaze.

And then you asked, voice hoarse but steady, "What’s your name?"

His lips curled into a polite smile. "Jade Leech."

"And your grade?"

He tilted his head slightly, as if entertained by the question.

“B-Class.”

Silence.

You stared at him.

Then, before you could stop yourself, you started laughing.

Of course this was happening. Of course the universe gave you a Guide you could accidentally kill.

What an absolute joke.

And yet…

You didn’t let go.

Jade Leech was the key to your survival.

Not in the romantic, fated, "I would perish without you, my love," kind of way (you weren't that dramatic, despite what your coworkers said). No, this was purely a matter of self-preservation.

For years, you had been operating like a high-powered, government-issued, barely-functioning time bomb.

Every time you subdued a gate, your body veered dangerously close to going berserk, and the only thing keeping you from breaking reality into tiny, apocalyptic pieces was the occasional half-hearted guidance session that felt about as effective as slapping a band-aid on a leaking nuclear reactor.

It was not ideal.

But now?

Now you had Jade.

Jade, the B-Class Guide who had accidentally waltzed into your life, touched your shoulder, and immediately rewired your entire nervous system.

For the first time since awakening as an Esper, you had felt calm. Like your power wasn’t on the verge of ripping itself apart. Like your own body wasn’t actively rejecting the guidance meant to stabilize you.

And it was incredible.

So, being the responsible and absolutely not impulsive person that you were, you did the only logical thing.

You decided to bribe him with a gift and ask him to temporarily bind himself to you.

Look, it wasn’t permanent.

Permanent bonding was a whole different beast.

If you bonded with Jade permanently, that was it. Game over. No take-backs, no re-dos. No guiding anyone else for the rest of his life.

Espers could still receive guidance from others, sure. But Guides? They could never guide anyone else again.

Which—haha, wow,—that had never caused any problems, ever. Definitely not an entirely predictable storm of jealousy and possessiveness among Guides who suddenly couldn’t tolerate the idea of their Esper ever touching another person.

So, no. You were not going to ask him chain himself to you for eternity. That would be both cruel and incredibly selfish.

But a temporary bond?

A temporary bond would greatly reduce the risk of you accidentally draining him to the point of no return. It would give you the stability to actually push your limits without fear of self-destruction. And most importantly, it would allow both of you to thrive.

It was perfect.

Which was why, two days later, you found yourself standing at the entrance of the Guidance Center once again, clutching a neatly wrapped gift like it was a sacrificial offering.

You marched inside with the confidence of a person who had rehearsed this conversation in their head a thousand times.

And then promptly lost all of that confidence the second Jade turned to face you, smiling like he already knew exactly what you were about to say.

"Back so soon?" he asked, his voice perfectly polite. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You cleared your throat and forced yourself to act like a normal human being.

“I wanted to thank you,” you said, shoving the box into his hands before you could second-guess yourself. “For the other day.”

Jade’s eyes flickered with something sharp and unreadable as he took the box, his fingers brushing lightly against yours.

Then, before your already struggling brain could catch up to the recklessness of what you were about to do, you pushed forward.

“I also had a proposal for you.”

Jade tilted his head, looking far too entertained.

“I see,” he said. “Do tell.”

You inhaled deeply.

"Would you be interested in forming a temporary bond with me?"

There. You said it.

Now, all you had to do was wait for him to either:

A) Refuse outright because it was too much effort.

B) Agree immediately because having the strongest Esper in existence on a leash would give him unfathomable influence.

What you did not expect was for him to smile.

Not a normal smile. Not a polite, professional, "oh wow, what a fascinating suggestion," kind of smile.

No.

This was something else.

A slow, deliberate, sharp-edged thing.

Jade stepped closer, gaze glinting with quiet amusement.

"And what," he murmured, voice too smooth, too knowing, "would you be willing to offer me in return?"

You blinked.

Oh.

Oh, you might be in deep shit.

It had been weeks.

Weeks of asking Jade to temporarily bind himself to you. Weeks of bargaining, negotiating, and trying to convince him that this wasn’t some tragic, toxic love story where the frail Guide got used up like an expired battery. Weeks of him smiling at you like you were a particularly amusing lab rat scrambling against the walls of a maze.

And yet.

Despite all of that—he still guided you.

He still stepped in when your brain felt like it was melting from the inside out, still pressed a steady hand against your skin like it was the easiest thing in the world, still whispered, “Don’t fight it. Just relax.”

Which was a very funny thing to say to someone who could literally kill you by accident.

And that was the problem.

Because he wasn’t bound to you.

Which meant that if you drained him too much—if you accidentally pushed him past his limits—there would be no failsafe.

And if that happened—if you were even a fraction too reckless—

He would die.

And you would go to jail.

And, even worse, you would probably cry.

So, obviously, the rational thing to do was to pull away whenever you felt like you were taking too much.

Which brings you to now.

Jade had been guiding you for forty-five minutes.

FORTY-FIVE. MINUTES.

An ungodly amount of time. A suicidal amount of time.

You could already see the signs of fatigue in him. His touch had grown warmer, heavier, his breaths had slowed into something almost too steady.

He was getting tired.

Which meant it was time to get the hell out of here before you became a murderer.

You twisted, trying to sit up, and—like the absolute menace he was—Jade simply… swung his legs over yours, caging you beneath him like some deranged, smug, lanky cryptid that refused to let you escape.

You froze.

He smiled.

That sharp, infuriating, absolutely unhinged smile.

"Now, now," he murmured, voice sickeningly patient, "where do you think you're going?"

You stared at him in horror.

"You've been guiding me for almost an hour," you hissed, your muscles tense with the effort of not launching him across the room. "I refuse to let you die because you’re too stubborn to let me leave."

Jade tilted his head, considering.

"Hm."

You blinked.

"Hm"???

You had just laid out the possibility of a tragic demise and all he had to say was ‘hm’???

"What the hell does that mean?" you demanded.

Jade leaned in slightly, pressing his fingers against your neck, his touch featherlight.

"I wonder," he mused, eyes glinting with something that looked too much like amusement, "do you think perhaps you are underestimating me?"

"Underestimating you?" You nearly choked on your own disbelief. "Jade, you are a B-Class Guide. I could literally snap you in half like a goddamn glow stick."

"And yet," he said smoothly, "I am still here."

Your eye twitched.

"That is not the flex you think it is—"

"Shhh," he murmured, pressing his fingers against your temple. "Relax. Just a little longer."

You wanted to argue. You really, really did.

But the second his touch deepened the guiding, your entire body sagged under the weight of exhaustion.

You hated how much you trusted it.

You hated that, in the end, you let him win.

Because as much as you wanted to fight him, as much as you wanted to break free and flee the room—

You needed this.

And he knew it.

Which was why he was smiling so much.

The absolute menace.

Today, you did something very dangerous.

No, not fighting another Gate. Not risking your life for the safety of others. Not even getting guided by a man who was one unfortunate sneeze away from becoming a tragic obituary.

No, you did something far worse.

You asked Jade Leech what he wanted in return for keeping you alive.

It was a reasonable question! A necessary question! Because at this point, the man was essentially your life support, and it felt a little irresponsible to just assume he’d be happy with some gift baskets and heartfelt thank-you notes. If you were going to keep depending on him, you needed to know what he wanted.

So you asked.

And the menace smiled.

Which immediately sent your self-preservation instincts screaming.

That was never a good sign. Jade’s smiles were like sharks in shallow water—unsettling, unnatural, and a clear warning that something was about to go very, very wrong.

You braced yourself.

And then he said:

"A nature trail."

You stared at him.

And blinked.

And then stared at him some more.

Because surely you had misheard him.

“A nature trail,” you repeated slowly, because there was no possible way that was all he wanted. You had prepared for blackmail. You had budgeted for bribes. Hell, you had been willing to break the bank if it meant keeping him around (not to brag, but the government paid you stupidly well for constantly risking your life). And yet, out of all the possible insane, ominous, power-hungry demands he could’ve made—

He was asking for a casual stroll through the wilderness?

Jade nodded, the picture of serenity. “Yes.”

"That’s it?" You squinted at him, like maybe if you looked hard enough, you’d find some hidden, sinister agenda buried in his expression. "That's all you want? Not money? Not status? Not, I don’t know, government secrets?"

Jade’s lips twitched, his amusement almost palpable. “For now.”

For now.

For now???

You triple checked that he was being serious, eyed him with the kind of deep, unblinking suspicion normally reserved for politicians and people who ate their cereal without milk, but all he did was nod serenely.

And so, finally, reluctantly, completely aware that you were probably walking into some elaborate trap—

You sighed and muttered, "Sure. What the hell."

It was almost alarming how much fun you were having.

For once, you weren’t dealing with the constant, soul-crushing sensation of your own mind and body trying to rip each other apart like two rabid raccoons fighting over a single McDonald’s fry.

For once, you could just exist without the underlying fear of accidentally exploding something—or someone—if you weren’t careful.

And as it turned out, existing was kind of nice.

You took the time to smell the flowers (literally, because Jade had shoved one under your nose and said, “Tell me, do you also detect the faintest hint of decay?” which was an incredibly alarming sentence but a nice flower).

You watched as little woodland creatures scampered through the underbrush, entirely unbothered by the fact that an SSS-Class Esper and a B-Class Guide were just casually strolling through their home like a scenic couple in a nature documentary. And honestly?

It was peaceful. Disturbingly peaceful.

But the real sight—the real discovery—was Jade himself.

You had never seen him like this before. Completely in his element. He had dumped the entirety of your picnic basket into your arms without hesitation and was now roaming freely, examining plants with the intense curiosity of a man who had just found Atlantis.

Every few minutes, he’d pause and rattle off some absurdly specific nature fact at you, like, “This particular plant releases a toxin that causes temporary blindness if ingested. Isn’t that fascinating?” or “Did you know that otters sometimes use tools to crack open shellfish? Much like humans, they have a preference for certain objects. Some even carry the same rock with them for years.”

You had absolutely no idea why you found this so entertaining.

Maybe it was the way he spoke, all smooth enthusiasm and quiet amusement. Maybe it was the way he moved, effortless, unhurried, utterly unbothered by anything except whatever flora had captured his attention next. Or maybe—God help you—it was just him.

Not that you’d ever admit that. You’d rather eat your own boots.

Still, you couldn’t help but watch as he suddenly stilled. His gaze snapped toward something in the distance, eyes gleaming with open delight, and you knew—instinctively, immediately—that something was about to go down.

And sure enough—

"Ah."

That single, quiet syllable was so ominous you had to physically fight the urge to take a step back.

Then, Jade turned toward you, expression eerily composed despite the unmistakable excitement in his gaze, and said, “Do you see that mushroom?”

You followed his gaze toward the completely ordinary-looking tree. And then you squinted.

There, just barely within sight, was a mushroom.

A mushroom that looked like every other goddamn mushroom you had passed on this trip.

And yet.

Based on the way Jade’s entire soul had just left his body in pure, unfiltered joy, you could only assume it was some rare, once-in-a-lifetime god of the fungi.

You watched as he immediately took his phone out, snapping so many pictures you were half convinced he was going to submit them to a mushroom appreciation forum.

Then he paused.

And the exhilaration on his face dimmed—just slightly.

Because, unfortunately for him, the mushroom in question was just barely out of reach.

And you—a fool, an absolute clown, an irredeemable dumbass—

Put your bags down.

Walked up to him.

And lifted him up.

For a single, terrifying moment, there was silence.

Jade froze. His hands hovered in midair, like even he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

Then, slowly, he reached forward.

Plucked the mushroom from its resting place.

And you—practically sweating bullets at the realization of what you had just done without even thinking about it—lowered him back onto solid ground.

The first thing he did was examine the sample like it was the most precious object in the entire world. The second thing he did was glance up at you—not with his usual smug amusement, not with teasing mirth, but something else entirely.

A slow, quiet smile.

Warm. Gentle. Uncharacteristically soft.

And that was the exact moment you thought, “Fuck my life, I’m doomed.”

Without another word, you picked your bags back up and followed him to the next area.

The Gate had been particularly easy to suppress today—by which you meant no spontaneous explosions, no sudden existential dread, and, most importantly, no feeling like your brain had been wrung out like a wet dishcloth. All in all, a successful day.

So when you spotted Jade afterward, you figured you wouldn’t need much from him. A little guidance, maybe. Some grounding. Nothing too serious.

What you did not expect, however, was to immediately slump against him like a Victorian maiden succumbing to the vapors.

At first, Jade visibly tensed. His muscles coiled, and he took a sharp breath—like he had genuinely thought you had just dropped dead in his arms.

But then he glanced down.

And instead of finding you on the verge of unconsciousness due to Esper-induced burnout, he found you…completely at peace.

Relaxed.

Asleep.

And oh.

Oh, this was interesting.

Jade stilled, the way a hunter does when something rare and unexpected steps into their sights. His lips quirked, amusement flickering across his face as he tilted his head, watching you with the same fascination he reserved for poisonous plants and particularly lively prey.

You had just…collapsed. Right into his arms.

Voluntarily.

Slowly—very slowly, like he was testing the weight of a particularly fragile glass sculpture—he adjusted his stance, shifting just enough so you could lean more comfortably against him.

And when you made a soft, barely audible sigh of contentment—an actual sigh of contentment—he almost laughed.

Jade glanced around, taking in the others in the vicinity. There were still a few agents packing up equipment, cataloging monster remains, finishing the usual post-Gate cleanup. No one seemed to be paying particular attention to your current predicament.

He debated waking you.

For about half a second.

Then, instead of nudging you upright, instead of rousing you from your accidental nap, he merely settled in more comfortably, adjusted his grip, and decided:

"A little while more wouldn’t hurt."

The first time you met Floyd Leech was…an experience.

Not in the way people say, “Oh, yeah, skydiving was an experience!” or “That seafood buffet really did a number on my stomach, what an experience!” No. This was more of a “I just survived a category five hurricane with nothing but a pool noodle and sheer willpower” kind of experience.

You knew Jade's twin was an Esper, and you'd heard the rumors about Floyd’s personality. Some people said he was unpredictable, others called him a walking natural disaster with an attention span that could either last three seconds or three months. B Rank Esper Floyd Leech, SSS Rank Menace.

And then, by sheer misfortune (or fate, depending on whose side you were on), you both ended up suppressing the same Gate.

Hearing him laugh as he shredded a monster like it was nothing but a chew toy was unsettling even for you. You had seen horrors beyond human comprehension, had fought creatures made of shadows and teeth, had experienced the kind of pain that would make a lesser being crumble—and yet.

Yet.

The way Floyd’s eyes locked onto you in the middle of the battlefield, the way his grin stretched wider, wider, as if he had just found a new favorite thing to play with—your instincts screamed at you. Your fight-or-flight response hit so hard you almost accidentally activated your Esper abilities on pure reflex.

(And the worst part? You were technically stronger than him. That did not make you feel any safer.)

Then, as if to truly cement his status as an absolute enigma, he took one look at you, tilted his head, and said:

"Ooooh~! A shrimpy!"

A shrimpy.

He just…he called you shrimpy.

And the worst part? It was kind of funny. Actually, it was lowkey adorable.

So you just. Didn’t stop him.

Which he took as an invitation, apparently, because the next thing you knew, he was slapping an arm around your shoulders like you were old friends. And with zero hesitation, he dragged you along as you both exited the Gate, whistling a happy little tune as if he hadn’t just been reveling in combat two minutes ago.

You barely had time to process what had just happened before you saw Jade.

Jade’s gaze looked…sharper.

It wasn’t obvious—he was still smiling, still polite, still the ever-composed Guide who had saved your ass on multiple occasions—but there was a distinct flicker of something behind his eyes as he looked at Floyd practically draping himself over you.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t frown. Didn’t tell Floyd off.

He simply stepped forward, placed a hand on your shoulder, and gently pulled you away.

And just like that, the weight of Floyd’s arm disappeared, replaced by the steadier, more deliberate touch of his twin.

And Floyd?

Floyd just looked between the two of you.

Then, he grinned.

Then, he laughed.

And then, with all the enthusiasm of a man about to cause absolute chaos, he threw his head back and cackled.

"Ooooh, Azul is gonna LOVE this~!"

And before you could even begin to ask what the hell that meant, he waved and walked off toward a Guide—one who was probably prepared to deal with his absolute insanity.

You barely had time to recover before Jade gestured for you to sit.

Guidance was nothing new at this point. Usually, he just held your hand, grounded you with a touch, let his presence stabilize your energy until you were back to normal.

But today.

Today, he touched your foreheads together.

Your breath caught.

His hand was light against your jaw, but firm enough to keep you still. His forehead pressed against yours, close enough that you could feel his breath ghosting against your lips.

Your eyes fluttered shut on pure reflex, your fists clenching as if that would somehow stop the sudden, ridiculous way your pulse spiked.

This was fine.

This was fine.

Your mind was clear. Your energy was balanced. You were not thinking about his breath on your lips.

You absolutely, one hundred percent, were not thinking about how his voice, so soft, so deceptively gentle, murmured:

"Breathe."

You were so, so doomed.

The Gate had been massive—one of the worst ones in years.

It had opened with no warning, no telltale energy fluctuations, nothing. By the time the first responders had arrived, the battlefield was already drenched in blood.

A-class Espers, gone.

S-class Espers, gone.

By the time you had been thrown into the fray, the situation had spiraled so far out of control that your arrival felt less like a strategic decision and more like a last-ditch gamble.

Eight hours.

Eight hours of relentless combat.

Wave after wave, monster after monster, every time you cut one down, another two would replace it.

You had fought until your muscles felt like molten lead, until your vision blurred at the edges, until the very air around you burned with overuse of your own power—until the Gate finally stabilized just enough for you to close it.

And then, you stumbled out.

And everything hurt.

Everything was too much.

The sound of voices, the shifting of energy, the distant cries of the wounded—it all crashed into you like a tidal wave, scraping against your raw, frayed nerves. You were this close to losing control, to snapping under the pressure, to letting your Esper abilities swallow you whole.

But Jade wasn’t here.

Jade, your Guide, the one person who knew how to handle you when you reached your breaking point—wasn’t here.

Apparently, no one had informed him of your involvement in the battle. He was still on his way.

Which meant you were falling apart, and there was no one to catch you.

And so, the SSS-ranked Guide on standby stepped in.

The moment their hands touched you, you recoiled. Their presence was too much, too invasive, too overbearing, like someone trying to force a puzzle piece where it didn’t belong.

But you didn’t have a choice.

Their energy pressed against yours, crushing down, shoving your frayed emotions back into place like jamming a lid onto a boiling pot.

You wanted to throw up.

Your entire body screamed wrong, wrong, wrong.

But if you pushed them away, if you lost control, if you went berserk right here in the aftermath of this bloodbath—people would die.

So you clung to them, shaking, white-knuckled, letting them guide you as best as they could.

And you hoped—prayed—that Jade would get here soon.

When Jade first stabilized you, he had thought of you as entertainment.

It was hilarious, really. The strongest Esper to ever exist, the one the government practically worshiped, the one whose very presence made monsters hesitate—completely helpless without him.

Oh, you could fight. You could tear through Gates like they were made of paper, you could reduce monsters to mist and regrets, but the moment it was over? The moment your power turned inward and tried to rip you apart? Only he could fix it.

Jade had never considered himself sentimental, and certainly not possessive. People were people. They came, they went, they lived, they died. He had met more than a few Espers in his life, had guided his fair share, and yet—none of them had ever needed him. Not the way you did.

And the best part? You were terrified of hurting him.

Absolutely adorable.

Your desperation to keep him safe was comedy gold. You were an SSS-rank nightmare, strong enough to turn city blocks into craters, and yet, the moment he touched you, you flinched like you might break him. You barely let him guide you for more than a few minutes, always watching him like he was made of glass, like he might shatter if you took too much.

Jade had never been one for attachment, so he simply dodged all your attempts at even a temporary bond. What was the point? He liked the little game you two had going on. You kept asking, kept trying to tie him down, and he kept laughing and evading, watching you get more and more frustrated. Too much fun to stop now.

Even when he invited you to the nature trail, it had been on a whim. A little curiosity, a little test. He expected you to sulk in the corner, maybe grumble under your breath about how boring it was, or sigh dramatically like you were suffering for his sake.

Instead, you had participated.

You had followed him through the trees, asked questions, even leaned in close to examine the plants he showed you. And when he couldn’t reach a mushroom, you had—without hesitation, without even thinking—simply lifted him up.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That had been the moment something inside him had shifted.

Jade wasn’t sure he liked it.

It was unfamiliar, uncomfortable. Unsettling. A quiet sort of tug, deep in his chest, something that made him pause when he looked at you.

Before, it had been easy to laugh off questions.

"Jade, what’s the deal with you and them?" someone would ask, and he would smirk, deflect, change the subject.

Now?

Now, when people asked, he had to bite back the urge to say, “They’re mine.”

So when he heard about the Gate—eight hours, a battle, an ambush that had already killed dozens before you were called in—

He didn’t hesitate.

He had barely taken the time to grab Floyd, all but shoving him into the driver’s seat. "Drive."

Floyd, ever delighted by drama, had driven like a man possessed. Jade wasn’t entirely sure how they weren’t in a burning wreck by the time they arrived, but at least they got there fast.

And when he stepped onto the battlefield, pushing past medics, ignoring protocol—he saw you.

Sick. Wounded. Barely standing.

In the arms of someone else.

His stomach turned.

Jade had never experienced jealousy before, not in any real way. He was too patient, too controlled, too much of a sadist to truly be envious of anything. But seeing you there, shaking and exhausted, clinging to someone who wasn’t him—

Something ugly coiled in his chest.

For the first time in his life, Jade Leech felt like throwing up.

The moment you saw Jade, it was over for the poor, unfortunate soul currently keeping you upright.

You shoved the deeply offended Guide off you like they were an inconvenience, a minor roadblock between you and salvation. You could apologize later. Right now, your legs were giving out, your head was spinning, and the only thing you knew for certain was that you needed him.

Jade barely had time to react before you reached for him, stumbling forward, barely coherent, barely standing.

And he ran to you.

Jade Leech—calm, composed, unshakable Jade—ran.

You collapsed against him the second he was close enough, clutching him like a man stranded in the desert clutching the first drop of rain. His touch was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality, the only thing that made the burning, suffocating feeling inside you ease just a little.

“Thank you,” you gasped, fingers twisting in the fabric of his uniform, voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for coming.”

Jade stiffened.

You barely registered it. You were too far gone, too exhausted, too feverish. But if you had been paying attention, you would have seen something rare, something almost unheard of—

Jade Leech looking completely and utterly shocked.

Like he hadn’t expected you to say that. Like he hadn’t expected you to look at him like he was something worth holding onto.

And then, because you were nothing if not a disaster, you giggled—actually giggled, delirious and exhausted and overwhelmed by relief.

“Your face…” you murmured, the edges of your vision darkening. “You look so—”

And then you went completely limp in his arms.

Jade was not panicking.

No, truly, he wasn’t. Panic was an unbecoming emotion, a pointless thing that only clouded one’s judgment. It was inefficient. Wasteful. Jade Leech did not panic.

So when you went completely limp in his arms, when your body sagged against him like a puppet with its strings cut, he did not panic.

He simply—assessed the situation.

He shook you gently, then not-so-gently, but you were completely unresponsive, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His hands slid over your back, fingers pressing against the pulse points in your wrists, your neck—too fast, too unsteady, too weak.

He tried guiding you, pushing that familiar, stabilizing force into you, but it was like pouring water into a cup that had already shattered—it wasn’t enough.

You needed something more.

Jade hesitated.

For the first time in years, he hesitated.

And then, before he could think better of it, before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was not soft, nor was it gentle. This was not a kiss meant to be romantic, nor was it something he had ever done before. But kissing—intimate, overwhelming, all-encompassing kissing—had long been known as one of the most effective ways for a Guide to stabilize an Esper.

And Jade had never needed to put in this much effort before.

Your lips were warm beneath his, feverish and trembling. He could feel it the second it worked—your grip on him tightened, fingers twisting in his coat as you gasped against his mouth. A shudder ran through your body as you pulled him closer, kissed him back.

Jade felt something snap.

It was an ugly thing, this feeling in his chest. Sharp-edged and burning. He didn’t know if he was kissing you to help you, to save you—

Or if he was kissing you because he wanted to.

But then—oh, then—his lips curled against yours as a slow, unbearable sense of triumph unfurled inside him. Because you weren’t just kissing him back.

You were kissing him back in front of everyone.

In front of all the other Guides who had spent years chasing after you, aching for the chance to stabilize you, to prove themselves worthy of being your match.

And yet, it was his arms you had collapsed into. His touch that had soothed you. His lips you were parting for, grasping at like he was the only thing keeping you from slipping into the abyss.

Jade had spent months dodging your attempts at forming a temporary bond, laughing as you fumbled for something more than what he was willing to give.

Now, you were clinging to him.

And wasn’t that just the most delicious thing?

Waking up to someone kissing you was new.

Waking up to Jade kissing you, though? That was absolutely not on your bingo card.

Your mind, sluggish from the near-death experience of the century, took a moment to catch up. There was warmth against your lips—soft, careful, lingering. A hand at the back of your neck, cool fingers threading through your hair. The faint scent of damp earth and saltwater, familiar, grounding.

And then, your body caught up with your brain and realized oh, holy shit, that’s Jade.

A normal person would pull away, maybe demand an explanation. Possibly scream.

You?

You wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer.

Jade let out a noise—half a laugh, half a surprised hum—but he didn’t stop you. If anything, he melted into you, his lips curling into a smile against yours. His hand tightened at your nape, fingers splaying against your back, and when you deepened the kiss, he sighed into your mouth like he had been waiting for you to do it.

That was almost enough to send you straight into cardiac arrest.

When you finally pulled away, you were fully awake, body thrumming with energy. Not just from the guiding—though, yeah, that was part of it—but from the undeniable, inescapable fact that Jade Leech had just kissed you. That you had kissed him back.

Jade didn’t move far. If anything, he leaned in closer, forehead brushing against yours, his breath still warm on your lips. His gaze flickered across your face, taking in the flush burning its way up your cheeks, the way you were still holding onto him like you’d fall apart if you let go.

You wanted to say something, maybe tease him, maybe demand an explanation, but words weren’t exactly functioning right now. You could barely think beyond holy shit that was the best kiss of my life.

Jade, for once, wasn’t smug.

Or, no. He was trying to be. He had the smirk, the casual tone, the playful tilt of his head. But his fingers twitched against your back, his grip just a little too tight. And when he finally spoke, his voice was a fraction softer than usual, a little too careful.

"Would you," he said, "perhaps, be interested in permanently bonding with me?"

You blinked.

Jade Leech. Jade Leech. The same Jade who had dodged every attempt you made at even a temporary bond, who found it hilarious that only he could stabilize you, who treated your guiding sessions like some kind of ongoing game.

That Jade had just asked if you wanted to bond.

Permanently.

Your heart stuttered. His hand was trembling.

He swallowed, like he was waiting for you to say no.

You didn't answer. Not with words, anyway. Instead, you grabbed him by the collar and kissed him again.

Jade made a startled sound before melting into you completely, his arms locking around you like he had no plans of letting go. His lips curled into another smile against yours—this time, not smug, but genuine.

Like he had won.

You had asked him eighteen times.

Eighteen.

And, frankly, Jade was getting impatient.

The first time, it had been endearing. You had looked at him with wide, wary eyes, like you thought this was some elaborate joke. You had stammered out a, "You—You're sure? Like, actually sure?" and Jade, who was in a good mood, had simply hummed and said yes.

The second time, it had been amusing. You had grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him aside, and, in a whisper like you were plotting treason, said, "Look, I won’t be mad if you back out. You know that, right? Like, this is a huge deal, and if this was just, y’know, heat of the moment, that’s totally okay. No hard feelings."

The third, fourth, fifth, and so on?

Infuriating.

Jade could not, for the life of him, figure out how to convince you that he meant what he said. Yes, he wanted to bond. Yes, permanently. No, he had not lost his mind.

And yet, here you were, pacing across his living room, your arms crossed, rambling for the nineteenth time about how he still had a choice, how you wouldn’t hold it against him if he didn’t want to go through with it, how he wouldn’t be able to guide anyone else ever again if he bonded to you, how that might be too much to give up.

Jade, stretched out on the couch, chin propped against his palm, sighed.

He had enough patience to last centuries.

But this?

This was getting ridiculous.

"—and I'm just saying," you continued, voice a little frantic, "I've seen Guides get really resentful about it. You could go from stabilizing a hundred people to just me. And you know how bad I get, how it hurts, and I'm not saying you can't handle it, but, like, are you sure? Like, really sure? Because—"

Jade leaned forward, grabbed your collar, and kissed you.

You stumbled, caught off guard, and his lips curled when he felt you tense up before relaxing completely. He kissed you slow, deliberate, like he was trying to make you feel the answer you had refused to believe.

And when he finally pulled away, he let his teeth graze your bottom lip just slightly, smirking when he felt you shiver.

"Does that answer your question?" he asked, voice smooth, teasing.

You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water.

Jade’s smirk widened.

"You're overthinking it," he said, reaching out, gripping your wrist, tugging you closer. "There’s no one who could entertain me quite like you do, you know? Maybe it’s time for a career change. I’ll be your Guide, and yours alone."

Something inside you lurched.

Something possessive.

Jade, yours.

Only yours.

His gaze flickered to your lips. Amused. Challenging.

"So?" he said, voice mocking light, but his fingers tightened around your wrist, his pulse beating just a little too fast. "Are we doing this or not?"

Your breath hitched.

And then, you grabbed him by his collar, yanked him down, and kissed him again.

This time, you bit his lip.

Jade laughed into your mouth—pleased, triumphant—before pulling you against him and kissing you so deeply you felt it in your bones.

And just like that, the bond clicked into place.

Waking up with Jade curled against you was a rare privilege.

For one, he was a light sleeper. Most of the time, you barely shifted and he’d already be watching you like some creepy forest cryptid. But today, he must’ve been exhausted from the bonding because he was still tucked against you, his breathing slow and utterly unguarded.

It was… nice.

Nice enough that you felt unreasonably smug about it.

You shifted just a little, tightening your hold around him, and he hummed in contentment, pressing closer without fully waking up. Unfair. How was this the same Jade who deliberately guided you half the time by whispering things against your lips just to make you flustered?

You could get used to this.

And then it hit you.

You’d bonded. Permanently.

But you had never actually asked him to be yours.

As in, romantically.

Your eyes snapped open. Oh. Oh, you had fumbled.

You knew Jade had agreed to the bond, obviously, but—was he in love with you? Did he see this as just a Guide-Esper partnership? Did you just lock yourself into a lifelong working relationship like some corporate contract??

He slowly stirred and just as he blinked at you, before you could think better of it, you blurted out, "What are we?"

Jade went still.

Like, completely, horrifyingly motionless.

You felt him exhale sharply, his hand twitching against your side, as if physically restraining himself.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then, finally, slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at you, and the expression on his face was somewhere between fondness, disbelief, and the soul-crushing realization that he was in love with a complete idiot.

"...Are you serious?" he asked, his voice painfully even.

You hesitated. "...Yes?"

Jade closed his eyes.

He inhaled.

He exhaled.

He inhaled again.

Then, finally, he muttered, "God give me strength."

You frowned. "Look, I’m just saying, you never actually—"

"Do you think I would bond with you permanently if I wasn't in love with you?" he asked, voice slower, more deliberate, as if carefully handling a very stupid but very precious object.

You blinked.

Paused.

And then you felt heat creep up your neck.

"...Oh," you said, a little dumbly.

Jade sighed.

But before he could say anything else, you reached out and pulled him back into your chest.

You hid your face against his hair.

"...Love you too," you mumbled, voice muffled, but he could hear the smile in it.

Jade, after a long beat of silence, finally let out a breathless laugh.

And as you held him close, warm and undeniably happy, he thought, Yup. They’re my dumbass.

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