#I’m in a 3-stars reads streak how do I break it

[thatbanditqueen]

Here to leave my review on the long awaited Chapter 3 (its okay we forgive you) -

FIRST OF ALL, Ida and Saul are my spirit animals and favorite characters seriously. They so help in keeping the story light hearted and comedic even when Elvis is making me wanna slap him on behalf of Becky! It was relatable and hilarious when Saul was the last one to find out who Elvis was the men in my family are exactly the same. Ida is Captain of the Becky Butt x Elvis ship please she was all for her niece getting some under her roof, we love a supportive queen. And Elvis is a ridiculously charming man - but ridiculous nonetheless. Poor Jerry having to drive them down there, look for a nonexistent lost ring and then give up his comfort all so Elvis could get some. And Becky Butt, baby, my heart is breaking for you already because yes I want them to be happy but I can only imagine how much heartache is to come before Elvis opens his damn eyes!!! That man can be so stubborn. Also, the conversation they had, the way Elvis is always trying to deflect and distract and go on the offensive it gave me Anita phone call vibes 101 I lived for it. Elvis winning over Ruth so quickly, why am I not surprised? The man is a child himself. But with time I know he’s gonna be the best step daddy. Ruth picking up the Becky Butt moniker - LMAO. That names gonna stick and I’m 100% for it. Becky’s such a good mom, always putting her daughter first and making sure she’s comfortable/okay. She’s got a child streak in her that I think pulls Elvis in because he does as well but she has a maturity he never mastered in my opinion due to everyone in his life bending to his every whim. And can I please tell you how grateful that I am that you really lean in to the gorgeous physicality that was Big Daddy. Talking about his stomach, about his largeness, all of it, so many fics hardly allude to it meanwhile I want to suffocate underneath that man. Becky is living my dream. Thanks for updating, what a delightful read it was 💗

Dear Bri,

Thanks for taking the time to write this, it is so very reaffirming to hear what you think! Ida and Saul are so fun to write, I can hear their voices in my head, they are sort of a composite of different family members/friends i grew up with. For some reason, a lot of older women in my life, including my grandmother, were absolute sex instigators. My granny once told me, with all seriousness, that all i needed to do to solve a relationship issue with my partner at the time was just to have sex and forget about the whole fight.... hahaha. SO, yes, Becky may have gotten knocked up young, but she has never been as carefree or in tune with her sensuality as Ida, and Ida wants to really make that happen for her :) I don't know, I could just see Elvis pulling something like this with Jerry, I see it as part of his ego/inferiority duality, like he's somewhat drunk the koolaid that he's some sort of really cool rock star, but also, if he was really confident, he'd just tell people what was really going on, ughh, he was such a cute, clueless dork/ total dick in so many delectable ways, I really enjoy playing with him and writing this fic. And I love love LOVE BDE's physicality, though I will be the first to admit that @eliseinmemphis's posts about worshiping big daddy elvis were fundamental to my own burgeoning fixation with this era Elvis. I need him to crush me. I need to play with his tummy and the waddle under his jowls. Becky is all of us.... and I think her earthy, latent sensual earth mother nature finds BDE attractive and is drawn to him both as a lover, and as wounded boy she wants to nurture.... or will be moreso when/if he gets his head out of his ass and gets over himself enough.

Thanks again for taking the time to give me this feedback!!!! I know it was hard to wait for this chapter, although, in my defense, the wait between ch 1 and ch 2 was a lot longer, life is a little more settled and i think it shouldn't be more than two weeks or so until I post ch 4. I already have somewhat of an outline/set of ideas. But I hate giving a date, because I always seem to miss any deadline I set for myself, and then I publish as soon as I finish, when I really should let things sit and do a proper proofreading job. But don't be afraid to give me a nudge, I've finished chapters because someone asked for it and it motivates me.

all my love,

norAHHHH

v me seeing your message :)

[ajsbookreviews]

First Comes Scandal Book Review

First Comes Scandal

Author: Julia Quinn

Description: She was given two choices...

Georgiana Bridgerton isn't against the idea of marriage. She'd just thought she'd have some say in the matter. But with her reputation hanging by a thread after she's abducted for her dowry, Georgie is given two options: live out her life as a spinster or marry the rogue who has ruined her life.

Enter Option #3

As the fourth son of an earl, Nicholas Rokesby is prepared to chart his own course. He has a life in Edinburgh, where he's close to completing his medical studies, and he has no time -- or interest -- to find a wife. But when he discovers that Georgie Bridgerton -- his literal girl-next-door -- is facing ruin, he knows what he must do.

A Marriage of Convenience

Rating: ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆

Review: Four books, four brothers and four vastly different stories. And now, the last one has come to its end. The Rokesby lineage closes its final chapter.

This last instalment of the Rokesby storyline, First Comes Scandal, began wonderfully. The easy setting, the quick build-up and the plot-line itself made the story entertaining and immersive. 

I had long looked forward to reading about Georgianna Bridgerton, for her character is so uniquely her. Although, I must say, my surprise remained with me when her main love interest was revealed to be Nicholas Rokesby. For the longest time I thought it would be Andrew! Though I’m very happy it wasn’t in the end. I can imagine they would drive each other mad. 

What makes Nicholas and Georgiana a great pair is how much understanding and respect they have for each other. Even if they jest or get angered, there’s a modicum of that high esteem remaining. The trope chosen for this novel displays that in phenomenal manner. 

Nevertheless, there is a reason First Comes Scandal did not receive a higher score. It is far from outstanding, and to break my previous Rokesbys streak, less than seven out of ten stars, was a shame, really. The first half was highly amusing and up to previous standards. Yet…

There’s something about all Rokesby books that is too dragged out, too prolonged to be enjoyable. It usually happens somewhere in the middle, leaning toward the second-half of the story. However, First Comes Scandal stands out against it’s companion novels, for even after the usual “break” in pace, it made me lose complete interest around 80% down the line. It took me some time to resume my reading and what I found was predictable. The book didn’t end in an incredible plot-twist, nor something anywhere near surprising. 

That is not to be said that I didn’t like it, because I did. Not as much as previous instalments, but it was sweet and on par with the general storyline. Thus just… the same for another 50 or so pages. Alas, it got a bit repetitive and boring – it’s easy predictability a major flaw in making the story liven up and regain its footing. 

In conclusion, a decently good book, but sadly tapers down during its second half. Unsure if it’s the best ending to this series… Maybe Quinn would be up to another round of Rokesby novels? 

[celiabowens]

The fact that I'm close to hitting 80 books read in 2020 😳 haven't had such a nice reading year in a while now, tho tbh I'm much pickier with ratings than I used to be and read much less YA

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨4

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) only plot hehe

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: I’m at my tipping point, I swear. I’m dealing with everything in our household, new bed (delayed delivery yay!), cleaning, cooking, dog walking, and working. My only escape are my fics and this weekend I’m telling everyone to fuck off so I can do the writeathon... but sorry for the rant, enjoy more Clark.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Wednesday trickled by like sand in a glass. You could hardly keep your eyes open as you typed away and a double espresso shot was the only thing that saw you through your hours at the gallery. Vanessa was excited for her next event and already asking after some new pieces from you. You promised her some from your storage unit to stave her off as you held in your yawns. 

You collapsed into bed that night beside Marcus. He complained about his day until he drifted off and you followed suit shortly after. You awoke with a decision, the echoes of your boyfriend’s gripes in your head and heart. You hated how miserable his job made him, how dull your own was. It felt like there was nothing else but the almighty dollar.

You called Clark after an email to Jim, your nerves alight in anticipation of the disgruntled reply. It didn’t matter. You were done. You didn’t need to worry about the all caps messages and curt zoom calls.

“Hey,” Clark picked up, he sounded out of breath.

“Oh, hey, sorry, it’s me,” you swiveled in your chair, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Nope, just getting in a work out,” he grunted, “you’re not bugging me if you have good news for me.”

“I think… I do,” you forced out, “I just sent in my resignation.”

“Mmm, you don’t sound… happy,” he hummed.

“I am, I think I’m just processing it,” you replied, “I said I’d let you know today so I’m letting you know.”

“Well, how soon can you be here?” he asked.

“Today?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I guess, I could leave as soon as you want me,” you said.

“I’ll send a car,” he intoned, “I’ll give the driver your number, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah,” your voice almost squeaked, “I can do that.”

“Alright, sweetheart, see ya soon.”

The line cut out and you lowered your phone slowly. You stared at Outlook and the new email icon along the taskbar. You closed the laptop and stood. You could worry about the fallout later, right now, you had to get ready for another day of painting.

🎨

It was starting to feel like deja vu every time you arrived at Clark’s house. You got out and thanked the drive, Jeremy, before he drove off. The doors opened before you got to the top of the steps and your host was already dressed in the same outfit he wore for each session. His hair was neat but his beard was even thicker than before.

“I think you can tell I’m a little antsy to start,” he chuckled, “how are you, sweetheart?”

That pet name caught in your mind again. It might just be a habit of his. Nothing more than an absent-minded word.

“Me too, honestly,” you smiled, “but I have a weird question for you.”

“Ask away,” he said as he walked with you through the foyer.

“The beard… you want that in the portrait or--”

“Oh, ha, yeah,” he ran his fingers along his jawline, “I guess I wasn’t thinking. You’re the artist, what do you think?”

“Well, erm, either way is fine,” you said, “I was just… wondering. I’m not even close to starting on, uh, you yet. I mean, right now I’m just working on the background and basic shapes.”

“I’ll let you make the call when you get there,” he said, “say the word and it’s gone.”

“Alright,” you came to the top of the stairs and he pointed you ahead of him.

He followed you as you entered and you went about filling the jar with water and resituating the set up. He sat as you mixed and chose your brush. You climbed the ladder and peered around the canvas at him. He took on the same pose as usual and you dipped the bristles into the pigment. You could make a happy life of this.

🎨

Clark shifted and cleared his throat. You rolled your wrist and glanced back over at him as you drew your hand back from the canvas. He braced the chair and pushed himself up.

“How about a break?” he asked as he shook out his arms, “back’s a bit stiff.”

“Sure,” you said, “I think I could sit down for a moment.”

You took a step down the rung of the ladder but your toe slipped and suddenly your palette was against your chest. You slid down backwards as Clark rushed over and barely kept you from toppling the entire thing over. You laughed at yourself as he righted you and looked down at your paint-streaked shirt.

“Jesus,” you muttered.

“You okay?” he asked as he kept his hand on your upper arm, “be careful.”

“Yeah, I’m-- clumsy, is all,” you carefully pulled away and set down your brush and palette.

“Come on, sit,” he pulled up the stool and planted it before you, “take a minute.”

As you sat, he stretched his arms over his head and then out to the sides. He paced around the other side of the table, long strides as he worked the cramps from his long legs. He stopped and came up to play with a brush as you leaned an elbow on the table.

“Well, I did have another offer for you,” he said, “I was thinking of waiting but might as well ask now.”

“Oh?” you raised your brows curiously.

He swished a slender brush in the air then lowered it and picked at the tip.

“I’m having a get together on Saturday, some business friends and the like,” he said as he set the brush back with the rest, “it won’t be work. You’ve earned some time off. You can even bring the boyfriend.”

“Saturday?” you pondered, “I’m usually at the gallery on Saturdays.”

“It would be great networking,” he said, “and I already told all my friends about you. They’re excited to see your work. It will almost be like a viewing and it’s only right the artist is there.”

“I could make it work,” you mulled, “Marcus would love to come back.” You snickered, “he loves this place.”

“It’s a nice house,” he said casually, “a bit big for one person… hence, the party.”

“I’ll put it in my calendar,” you stood and slid your palette closer and cleaned it off to remix the mess of paints.

“Great,” he said as he rounded the table and brushed close to you, “it’ll be nice to look at a mug besides mine, huh?”

You laughed as you squeezed out the dark paint and nodded, “ha, sure.”

🎨

The rest of your week was spent much the same. Jeremy drove you to Clark’s and you went up to the studio to continue your work between small talk and silences that grew so thick you had to break them with mindless comments. It wasn’t enough to focus on the path of your brush as the man tugged at your attention.

Marcus was excited when you told him about the party. He raved about how he needed to let loose, about how much expensive alcohol he was going to drink, and the awesome backflip he was gonna do into the pool. You reminded him, he hadn’t done anything like that since college but he swore he could still do it.

You didn’t share the sentiment. You were anxious. You were flattered to be invited but despite what Clark said, it still felt like work. His friends were going to be there and he apparently was trying to sell them on your art. 

You didn’t realise until after you hit send on your email, but you put your livelihood in this man’s hands. A man, you reminded yourself, who was little more than a stranger.

On Friday, a day you were thankfully not called to the mansion to teeter on the ladder and paint, the buzzer rang and drew you off the couch from amid your YouTube binge. The man on the speaker called back that he had a delivery and you let him up. You took the box from him, the thick silver ribbon giving away the sender even before you could read the tag.

Inside you found a black dress with little gemstones set into the fabric like stars in the sky. It was nicer than anything you’d ever owned before and a pair of silver shoes were tucked in beneath the outfit. You took the shoes from the tissue paper and something else shifted in the bottom.

You reached in and revealed a velvet box from the depths of overzealous stuffing. You opened the lid and found a simple chain of diamonds. You gaped in disbelief. They were real. The fake ones didn’t look so nice.

You phone chimed before you could even think to call Clark. It was as if he could see you. You answered and your voice warbled pathetically.

“Hi, I was just gonna call,” you touched your throat as it constricted.

“Yeah? I got the notification that it was delivered,” he said, “you like it?”

“It’s too much,” you gulped out, “really, I can’t--”

“I want you to look nice. I want you to feel good and have a good time,” he said, “I feel like you’ve been working so hard. You need a chance to just let it all go.”

“Look, I…” you were uncertain how to handle it. It was more than generosity but you felt wrong denying it as much as you did accepting it, “I’ve never had a boss buy me diamonds. At least let me give those back.”

“Boss?” he mused on the word, “I suppose, but you gotta dress the part now, sweetheart. You’re gonna rub shoulders with a lot of rich dicks like me. Pardon my language.”

“I didn’t realise it was such an upscale thing,” you put the velvet box down and turned to sit on the couch beside the large box. You played with the silver ribbon and chewed your lip.

“Sweetheart, it’s nothing, you got this,” he said, “trust me, if you can win me over, my friends will be child’s play.”

“Mhmmm,” you stared at the tv mindlessly, “Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing all this?”

There was silence and you heard him sigh then a subtle metallic click.

“Because I can. And you’re a talented artist. Didn’t all the big painters used to have patrons back in the day? You know, Da Vinci and all that.”

“Sure, I guess--”

“Look, sweetheart, I’m glad you like the dress, I gotta go.”

He hung up abruptly and you turned your phone to stare at it in confusion. You were starting to get a bad feeling and that little voice in that back of your head, that little sabotaging bitch, whispered in your ear. No, you wouldn’t let your self-doubt get the best of you this time. You either grabbed this chance or you spent the rest of your life doing menial work and painting the world as it passed you by.

🎨

Friday night, Marcus couldn’t stop rambling about the party the next day. You just couldn’t get over the tickle in your chest, the same one you got before job interviews and doctor’s appointments. You were on edge, even as you spent your stress on him, your body writhing against his as you panted and pouted. It had been a while since you fucked. All the work and the stress had just let things slip past you. Maybe with your new gig, you could get back to those early days when it was all you wanted to do.

You slept soundly. You blamed the sex and the momentous week. You got up, had a lazy brunch time meal, and beat Marcus at MarioKart several times over before he convinced you it was time to get ready. 

You pulled on the gifted outfit after fighting with your make-up and hair. You gave a little tada spin to Marcus and he lifted his brow as he tried to figure out his tie.

“Wow, where’d you get that?” he purred, “fuck, let’s be late.”

He ran his hands over your hips as you neared him and fixed his tie for him. You giggled and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Jeremy’s on his way,” you warned, “I don't wanna bite the hand that feeds.”

“Oh, and it feeds you well,” Marcus chirped, “you think he’ll let me have a spin in the McClaren?”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t. I don’t need to scrape you off the side of the road,” you took your phone as the screen lit up, “come on, he’s here.”

“Fuck, babe, really, you’re gonna make me follow you out of here with your ass looking like that?”

“Stop,” you tittered, “you know, there might be more sellers tonight?”

“Oh yeah? I guess you’ll be paying a mortgage soon enough.”

“Me?” you scoffed.

“Sure, I’ll be your sugar baby,” he kidded.

“Well, baby is accurate,” you teased as you stepped onto the elevator, “please, just behave.”

🎨

You were surprised to see Vanessa at the party but reassured to see a familiar face. Clark had been distracted by his other guests and you did your best to mingle, letting Marcus take the lead until he was distracted by another guest’s Rolex and started asking too many questions. If you did start selling art to these kinds, you suspected you’d be paying for a lot of overpriced brands. That was a worry for another time.

You stood with Vanessa and a man she introduced you to. Bruce Wayne was tall and his dark-hair was combed back neatly as he spoke over the glass of wine in his hand. You were bored of the Monet-Manet argument, one you’d heard a million times from the stubborn gallery owner, and you were at your limit of socialisation.

You excused yourself and put down your unfinished drink on a table. You looked around but couldn’t see Marcus anywhere. The last you saw him, he was with Clark but you couldn’t find him either. You frowned and wandered between the pairs and trios gabbing around the room.

Just past the bar, you looked back and still no sign of either man. You huffed and your heels clicked into the foyer and to the stairs. You’d go to the studio and sit for a moment and collect yourself. You just needed to take a breath.

You climbed the stairs slowly, the din of the party floating up behind you. You came to the top but stopped as your eyes were drawn to a pair of open doors opposite the studio. You neared and stayed against the wall as you peeked inside. Marcus admired an old-six shooter and spun the barrel.

“You got everything, man, I swear,” you hid behind the door frame and listened.

“Eh, it’s all just things,” Clark replied, “I bought that from an auctioneer down in Texas. A verified antique but it just hangs here. Not good for much but looking at it.”

“Dude, what I wouldn’t do to live here? Have cool guns and even cooler cars? Shit, you know how fucked it is that my lady is making bank and I’m over here with my dick in my hands? I mean, I’m proud of her but… I mean, if I could get paid thousands for drawing, I would’ve tried to learn.”

“She’s good. Dedicated,” Clark remarked, “she’s special. Worth more than money.”

Marcus hummed and you heard the barrel click back into the place. Neither of the men spoke as you heard something shift and Clark cleared his throat. Subtle footsteps moved around the room and you pressed yourself to the wall. You should leave and let them talk but you couldn’t help but be curious.

“Isn’t she?” Clark prodded.

“Y-yeah, but… I don’t know. I just wish I had more,” Marcus said, “I probably sound like a chump, huh?”

“You can’t have it all,” Clark replied.

“Says the guy who can buy anything and everything,” Marcus moped.

“Oh?” Clark intoned, “so… how about it then? Fifty thousand.”

“For what?” Marcus chuckled nervously.

“Her,” Clark answered.

“Her-- I… my girlfriend?” he sputtered.

“If money can buy me anything, that’s what I want,” Clark said firmly, “it’s a one time offer… whether or not you agree to it, I’m gonna fuck her.”

You skin crawled at his words and you covered your mouth in disgust and shock. You inched closer to the door to hear better as you waited for the response.

“One hundred,” Marcus said.

“Seventy-five,” Clark countered.

“That’s my girlfriend, dude,” Marcus hissed.

“And yet you’re haggling with me over her. Eighty.”

You tore yourself from the wall before you could hear anymore. You felt hollow and heavy all at once. Your eyes were glossy as you scurried over to the studio doors and pushed the left one open. You unhooked the diamond necklace and tossed it onto the paint-stained palette and rolled up your brushes.

You stormed over blindly to the easel and pushed it over. It clattered to the floor loudly but you were already out the door and halfway down the stairs. You gripped your clutch and the bundle of paintbrushes tightly as you continued on outside and the blurred outlines of luxury cars passed you by. 

You stomped up the long drive in your heels as you flicked away tears and pulled out your phone. You knew it was too good to be true. Any of it; your art, Clark, Marcus. You weren’t good for anyone unless they could get something out of you.

[novamirmirsblog]

*Gasp* There's only one bed??

Word count: 792

Genre: Not actually sure :3

Request: No

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: Will I make this a series? Maybe. If enough people like it. Will there be bickering? Yes. Enjoy! And lemme know if you want more of this trope gone wrong

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

"...Natasha"

"Sorry what?" the name of one of the most annoying avenger's ever woke you from your daze.

"Come on Y/n, did you listen to a word of what I just said?" Your supervisor dragged their hand over their face.

"Sure. A week-long mission in Moscow. Are you trying to kill me with jet-lag?" you stretched and readjusted yourself in your chair.

"Watch the attitude or I'll just let you figure it out when you get there."

"Figure what out?"

"You have an avenger coming with you."

"What! Why? That's not fair. They just get in the way." You stood up in protest, your supervisor making their way to the door.

"Sorry, Y/l/n, should have been listening." They handed you a folder. "Here's your mission brief. Wheels up in 10."

~~~~~

Natasha. It was Natasha bloody Romanoff who you were stuck with. You supposed it made sense, considering she spoke Russian and was their star child for a while. You disliked the Avengers because they made things messy. Sure, Natasha should have been the least messy out of all of them considering she's a spy, but you'd seen the footage from New York. You were clean and efficient which is why you rose through the ranks of SHIELD quickly. You were a top level agent by your 25th birthday and they had only waited as long because your superiors didn't want someone so young getting all the high end jobs.

You had only worked with the redhead once before and it had been a complete clusterfuck. It had ruined your perfect track record and you hadn't appreciated it. After a long flight and an even longer hike from the top secret runway (because of course SHIELD can't just use a normal airport) to the small hideout you found yourself, all you wanted to do was pass out. The two of you had done very well not talking to each other and while you didn't want to break the streak, you wanted the single bed more.

"I'll take the bed, you can have the floor." You flopped on the bed and tried not to look over at the furious assassin.

"No. You can have the floor. I'll take the bed."

"Ugh are all avengers little princesses?" You rolled your eyes and wondered if you could wait till she was asleep to have a shower so you didn't lose the bed.

"Just because I want comfort doesn't mean I'm a princess."

"Fine. Are all avenger's prima donnas? Wait," You hold up a finger "Yes. Yes they are."

"Move."

"No"

"I'm not going to ask you again agent. I'm your superior here."

"That's where you're wrong princess." You bit out with equal amounts of venom "We're equals here and I don't give up my things. Ever."

Natasha stomped over to you and shoved you off the side of the bed.

"Ow. You psycho. Guess I'll just go use all the hot water then..." You grabbed a towel and fresh change of clothes from your bag and went to the shower before she could stop you.

~~~~~

After your unfortunately lukewarm shower, you made your way over to the bed where Natasha was innocently reading a book. Perhaps if she wasn't so annoying, you would have admitted how cute she looked with her reading glasses on. You stood right next to her in an attempt to intimidate her out of the bed.

"Why are you in my bed."

"Hmm?" she looked tilted her head towards you but her eyes never left the words on the pages.

"I am not sleeping on the floor. God only knows what's been there." You shivered slightly at the thought of... things... crawling about down there.

Natasha didn't respond.

You grabbed her book and started to read aloud - that got her out of the bed.

"'I'm in love with you' he said quietly" You read dramatically, spinning when she tried to snatch the book back.

"Y/n, stop. Give it back."

"'Augustus'" You slapped your hand on your chest and gasped. You lowered your voice "I am" You looked at Natasha, not breaking eye contact. "He was staring at me and I could see-" You burst into laughter with the ridiculousness of the situation. Natasha, the scariest person ever - was reading a sappy romance. It was a strange piece of information that was added to your brain.

For a moment you wondered if Natasha took offence at you mocking her book choice but the soft, barely there smile suggested otherwise. Before you could get distracted, you dropped the book, causing Natasha to dive for it as you dived for the bed.

“HA it’s my bed now Romanoff.”

“I don’t see your name on it. I don’t want to sleep on the floor.”

“No look, it’s right here. Next to all the fucks I give about you not wanting to sleep on the floor.”

“That means you either give fucks about me sleep on on the floor or your name isn’t actually on the bed.” Natasha deadpanned, a slightly smug aura surrounding her.

“Fine. Let’s flip a coin.” You quickly get out a coin. “Heads I get the bed, tails you take the floor.”

The coin spins in the air and you catch it.

“Oh look. Heads, guess I’m taking the bed.”

“Wait, hang on. You got the bed either way!”

You snuggled under the covers “I can’t hear you” you said in a singsong voice “the pillows are just soo comfy”

You felt a thud on the other side of you as the bed dipped down.

You rolled over to face the smug redhead “Um no. No way in hell. Get out.”

“Night night Y/n.” Natasha said in a sickly sweet voice, turning off the lamp and laying on her back.

You shoved some pillows between the two of you. “If you cross over onto my side I will set this damn bed on fire and let you burn to death.”

You reached up and switched the main light off, kicking Natasha whenever her foot crossed the threshold of the pillow wall.

[peachbear88]

If I Could Tell Her

A/N: Wow! Another song-inspired one-shot. "If I Could Tell Her" - Ben Platt. Also, this is a high-school AU.

Word count: 2,411

Wanda x Reader

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

"Yo, Y/N! Heads up!"

Your head whips around and you duck, moments before the football hits your face. Steve jogs towards you, scooping up the ball. "What happened? You get distracted by something you like?" He gestures to the rafters where at least a dozen girls sit, watching you with beady-eyes. "Who's that over there?" You ask, pointing to a girl sitting under the large willow tree. The sunlight seeped through the branches of the tree, hitting her auburn hair perfectly. She looks up and the two of you make eye contact. You turn away, blushing. "The girl under the tree?" You nod, unable to form coherent words. "That's Wanda Maximoff." Your eyes widen as you turn to gape at Steve. "As in...?" He nods sadly. "Yep. She hasn't been the same since Pietro died." Pietro Maximoff, former captain of your football team. Former, since he died in a horrific car accident. You didn't know he had a sister. Steve pats you on the back before running back onto the field and you prepare yourself for the ball, all while your mind is whirring from the person that is Wanda Maximoff.

-------

You spend the next few weeks observing her and her habits. With the big game coming up soon, you’re soon overwhelmed with practice but you still make time to watch over her. She enjoys eating lunch under the willow tree instead of the cafeteria, she shares at least 3 other classes with you and she spends her break periods in the library. You're watching her one day as she picks out a book and a hand taps you on the shoulder. "Jesus!" You jump, only to find Tony standing behind you. "Taken a liking to little Miss Maximoff eh?" He chuckles as you slap the back of his head. "Don't worry, I won't tell." He winks before slipping out of the library, leaving you to your own devices.

-------

"Alright class, we're switching up our partners!" You and about half the class groan as Steve grabs his bag, waving goodbye at you. You look at the seating chart he left behind scanning it until your eyes land on your name. You do a double take as you read the name beside yours. Wanda Maximoff. Your heart is pounding when she slips into Steve's old seat. You slap a perfect grin on your face before turning to her. "Hi." She ignores you, continuing to unpack her bag. You frown a little before resuming your efforts to start a conversation. "It's not very polite to ignore people." You tease cheekily, earning you a glare. "I know who you are. Piet would ditch me just to talk to you." Your smile falters. "I'm sorry about Pietro." She scoffs. "That's what everyone says. You didn't do anything. It's not your fault he's lying six-feet under." Your fingers rap against the wood of your desk as your teacher drones on about the Pythagorean theorem, wracking your brain for a way to appease her. “He talked about you a lot." You whisper and you see Wanda's prickly attitude dissipate. "He did?" You nod enthusiastically. It's a white lie. No harm no foul. From that moment onward, she seemed a lot less cold and even invited you to her house on Friday.

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

Friday rolls around and the butterflies in your stomach have formed a mosh pit. Steve and Tony spend the day teasing you relentlessly as you fidget, your mind kicking into overdrive. Wanda meets you after school and you hitch a ride to her house. "This is it." She gestures to a small suburban house before pushing the door open. The smell of cinnamon and tea leaves hits your nose as you enter. "Mom, I'm going upstairs with Y/N!" She calls out before racing up the stairs. You pause for a moment as Mrs. Maximoff beckons to you, wiping her hands on her apron. You approach her and she gives you a soft smile. "I've never seen my daughter so happy. Whatever you said, thank you." You smile. reassuring her that it was nothing before hiking up the winding stairwell. By the time you reach the top of the stairs, Wanda has already gotten comfy on her bed, clicking through different movies. "Hey. What took you so long?" She teases, patting the empty spot next to her on the bed. "You have a lot of stairs." You reply defensively, plopping down next to her. She stares at you in disbelief. "You're on the football team and you struggle with stairs?" You glare at her. "I have a fear of them okay?" She looks at you, her lips pursed before bursting into laughter. "You- Fear of stairs? Wait 'till Rogers gets ahold of that." She gets out in between giggles. You gently slap her arm but you can't help but join her in laughing. She wipes the tears of joy from her eyes. "Thank you. I haven't laughed like that in a long time." You smile at her, slipping your arm through hers and resting it on her waist. She stiffens and for a moment, you think you went to far but she covers your hand with hers and leans against you. "What do you think of this show?" She asks, turning to see your response. You shrug indifferently as she starts the show but inside, fireworks explode and you do a little celebratory fist-pump in your mind.

-----------

The next few weeks are a bliss, save for the terrifying shadow of the upcoming game. Wanda's presence alleviates the terror and of course, Steve and Tony constantly tease the two of you as she eventually starts hanging out with you more during school hours. The day of the game comes crashing down. Throughout the day, you're palms are sweating and despite all the smiles and reassuring hand squeezes you receive from Wanda, you're still sweating buckets.

-----------

"Are you ready?"

You're clutching the guitar so tightly that you're sure it will snap.

"Yeah, I got this." You manage to say as Steve gives you a small hug.

"Good because the cheer team is done and they're calling you up." He whispers before shoving you into the school's football field. You stumble, glaring at him before jogging towards the principal who agreed to your surprise performance. Your eyes scan the crowds of people until they land on Wanda, who's cheering like crazy, little blue and green stripes painting her face. You smile in spite of yourself before talking to microphone from the principal. "Hi everybody. I uh... Before the game starts I just wanted to do a little gesture for somebody. A special somebody." You stutter, beads of sweat trickling down your forehead as hundreds of eyes stare at you expectantly. You take a deep breath before strumming the guitar gently.

"He said,"

"There's nothing like your smile, sort of subtle and perfect, and real."

"He said,"

"You never knew how wonderful that smile could make someone feel."

"And he knew,"

"Whenever you get bored you scribble stars on the cuffs of your jeans."

"And he noticed,"

"That you still fill out the quizzes that they put in those teen magazines."

"But he kept it all, inside his head."

"What he saw,"

"He left unsaid."

"And though he wanted to,"

"He couldn't talk to you."

"He couldn't find the way."

"But he would always say,"

"If I could tell her,"

"Tell her everything I see,"

"If I could tell her,"

"How she's everything to me."

"But we're a million worlds apart."

"I don't know how I would even start."

"If I could tell her."

"If I could tell her."

"He thought,"

"You looked really pretty, er uh..."

"It looked pretty cool when you put red streaks in your hair."

"And he wondered how you learned to dance like all the rest of the world isn't there."

"But he kept it all inside his head."

"What he saw, he left unsaid."

"If I could tell her,"

"Tell her everything I see."

"If I could tell her,"

"How she's everything to me."

"But we're a million worlds apart."

"I don't know how I would even start."

"If I could tell her."

"If I could tell her."

"But what do you do when there's this great divide?"

"And what do you do when the distance is too wide?"

"And how do you say,"

"I love you?"

"I love you."

"I love you!"

"I love you..."

"But we're a million worlds apart."

"I don't know how I would even start."

"If I could tell her."

"If I could..."

You strum a final chord, taking a deep breath before the crowd bursts into applause. You see Wanda, her hands covering her mouth and although she's too far away, you can almost make out the tears pricking her eyes. "Let's give it up for Y/N Y/L/N!" The principal roars before beckoning to the rest of the football team. "Now for the Westview Buffalos!" You fall in line with the football team, cramming the helmet onto your head and pretending not to see the confused glance Steve sends your way.

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

Your team wins the game by a landslide and as you all hustle into the changing room, Steve and Tony pull you aside. Tony is the first to confront you on your romantic gesture. "Damn, that was smooth! You gotta teach me how to do that." Steve on the other hand has his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he shoves Tony to the side. "I thought you said you didn't know Wanda was Pietro's sister before I told you?" You're about to answer when you see a familiar flash of auburn hair and you feel a cold blanket of dread wrap around you. "Shit." You mutter, shoving your two friends out of the way. "Wanda!" You sprint after her as she runs through the corridors of the school and into the parking lot. You manage to corner her at her car. She turns to face you, tears streaming down her face. "You liar!" She screams and you flinch. "You told me he talked about me! You told me he cared! You told me he..." Her voice falters before cracking. "You told me he noticed me." She whispers and your heart shatters. You step forward, attempting to hold her hand but she wrenches it away before gets into her car. "Don't ever, talk to me again." She snarls before speeding off into the night. You slowly fall to your knees. This was all your fault. You tried to repair her heart but instead, you smashed it apart, stepped on it and damaged it beyond repair.

---------

The next few days are spent with her avoiding you and you avoiding Steve and Tony. You continue to watch her from afar, making sure to not make yourself known. You're watching Wanda read under the willow tree when you feel a tap on your shoulder. It's Steve. He plops down next to you and before you can get up, Tony sits down on the other side of you, sandwiching you in between them. "Y/N..." Steve starts but you cut him off. "Steve, I already heard the whole spiel. I know what I did was wrong but I just wanted her to be happy." Steve slaps a hand over your mouth. "Let me finish. What you did was wrong but there's something you're missing." You raise your eyebrows as you gently lick his fingers causing him to swiftly remove them from your mouth. "Oh ew! Don't do that!" He shrieks causing you and Tony to laugh. "Then don't put your hand over my mouth." He rolls his eyes. "Anyways, she was genuinely happy when she was with you. She really loved you." Steve says, casting a sad glance at Wanda who was completely oblivious to the trio. "You have to make it up to her." Tony remarks wisely, giving you a gentle pat on the back before he and Steve leave.

-----------

You spend the rest of the day walking around in a daze, a plan formulating in your head.

--------

A pebble hits Wanda's window causing her to stir in her sleep. Another one hits the window and she groans in annoyance. At least 3 more pebbles hit the glass before she gets up, ready to give the culprit a piece of her mind. "Alright, I've had it!" She exclaims as she pries her eyes open but her rant slowly dies away in her throat. There you are, standing on her front lawn, a small pile of pebbles next to you. "Oh good. I thought I was going to have to use all of these." She snorts and goes to close the window but your desperate cry stops her. "Wait! Please let me explain." When she doesn't close the window, you out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "What I did was wrong." She scoffs but doesn't say anything. "I wanted to ease the pain but I just ended up hurting you more. That song, he may not have noticed all those things but I did." Her harsh glare softens a little and in that moment, you allow yourself a little hope. "You may be hurt right now but I want to be the one that gets to love you, the one that gets to care for you, the one that provides a safe haven for you. The one that you can let inside your walls. I hurt you and I know it will take some time for you to recover but I will wait for as long as you need." You pause, gauging her reaction before continuing. "Will you please, give me a chance?" The small ball of hope growing inside you is instantly crushed when she closes the window. You sigh before trudging back to your car but you stop in your tracks when you hear a familiar voice. "Y/N!" You whip around to see Wanda running straight at you, a blazing look on her face. Your first thought is that she's going to tackle you and beat you up but instead, she launches herself at you and wraps you in a tight embrace. You melt a little as you wrap your arms around her. "I'm willing to give you another chance." She whispers and the butterflies inside you explode with joy. You pull away from her to stare into her deep emerald eyes. "Thank you." You mutter before leaning forward and meeting her halfway in a gentle kiss under the stars.

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

WOAHHHH!!! DAMN!!!!! Another one-shot! I really, really like writing one-shots now... Maybe I'll do some more highschool AUs. I'm personally, pretty proud of this one.

Taglist: @username23345 @musicinourlips @gingerbreadcookieforlife

[toosicktoocare]

writing a 3-chapter 911 fic set after 911 S4 Ep 3 and 911 Lone Star S2 Ep 3 :) 

Also found on AO3

Buck thumbs at the screen of his cell phone, eyes blurring faintly around the edges. He taps to his messages, working around a yawn as he types out a quick text.

[To: Eddie] made it

Even through the dirt and pollen prickled across his windshield, the apartment complex before him looks nice, modern, and somehow a little out of place. His phone buzzes in his hand, and he frowns when he spots Eddie’s name flicking across his notification bar. It’s late… Well, Buck thinks, looking at the red 3:16 AM time blinking at the corner of his jeep’s radio, it’s actually really early, and Eddie should definitely be asleep right now.

[From: Eddie] Good. I was worried.

Buck doesn’t miss the faint blush that creeps up his cheeks, and yet, his eyes all but sink at Eddie’s text. The warmth flushing his cheeks is superficial; it doesn’t touch his eyes with bright colors, nor does it guide his lips into a smile. It just… hurts. His chest feels tight, and his heart feels too small against a towering, empty rib cage. Sighing, he taps back a message.

[To: Eddie] you’re such a worrywart

The sudden low rumble of thunder overhead scares Buck. He jumps, and his phone flies from his hand, hitting the passenger seat floor with a thump. “Shit,” he mutters, feeling around for it in the dark, snagging it only after it buzzes with a third message.

[From: Eddie] how am I not supposed to worry when you tell me you’re taking a solo boy’s trip right after a 24-hour?

[From: Eddie] I’m pretty sure the single gray hair I found on my head is not because of Christopher.

[From: Eddie] He’s bummed you didn’t take him, by the way.

Buck skims through the messages, shaking his head.

[To: Eddie] tell Chris he’s my wingman for my next 10 trips

[To: Eddie] also go to sleep old man

His phone lights up with a series of emojis, some of which don’t actually make sense, and Buck can’t help but laugh quietly to himself. He and Hen have been teaching Eddie to use emojis more in his texts so he doesn’t “sound like such an old geezer,” as Hen so nicely puts it, and since then, he’s been using every symbol he can get his hands on, unaware of how inappropriate many are. It’s cute, and that alone is enough to have Buck’s smile curving back downward, and the pain that was temporarily pushed back by harmless messages of angry face emojis comes back to the center of his chest, a heavy pressure he can’t shake. His eyes flick across Eddie’s final message.

[From: Eddie] I can hear you groaning from here, so I’ll stop. Seriously though, get some rest, Buck. I’m pretty sure my old man heart can’t take another 20 hours of you driving back on no sleep.

[To: Eddie] will do. night Eddie

He locks his phone, and for a moment, he just stares at the raindrops drumming lightly against his windshield. They mix in with the dust and grime of a twenty-hour road trip, streaking down in inconsistent zigzags that blur the apartment building in front of him. Even enclosed in the car, he can feel the thickness of humidity pushing against his jeep, and he can only imagine how heavy it is when paired with the rain.

This is stupid, he thinks. He shouldn’t be here. Sure, he can give spontaneity a run for its money on many an occasion, but this? Twenty hours in a car on no sleep? Exhaustion doesn’t even begin to cut it, neither does the headache pounding dully against his temples. Still, he knows that if he didn’t come, he’d be spending yet another sleepless weekend alone, with only his thoughts twisting into daggers in his mind.

He works through his nerves, breathing low and deep, focusing on how wide his lungs can expand along his rib cage and not on the fact that he’s sitting in his jeep twenty hours from home ridiculously early in the morning in a different state.

“Come on, Buck,” he tells himself, shaking out his arms and rolling his shoulders. “Just go.” He follows his own verbal lead, hopping out of his jeep with a low gasp. The rain is somehow suffocatingly hot against his skin yet cold enough to have him trembling. He curses under his breath, wrapping his arms around himself as he jogs up to the apartment building, whipping past rooms until he stops on the number he’s read everyday in a text for the last three weeks.

He’s tucked under an awning, staring at the door that somehow seems far too large and daunting, just like everything else in this damn state. “Knock.” He rolls his eyes at his own voice and lifts his hand, rapping his knuckles quickly against the door.

It takes a moment for a light to flick on behind the closed blinds, and then Buck can hear locks clicking. His breath goes tight in his throat, stopping just before his lungs, and his shaking slows until he’s impossibly still on this foreign apartment step. The door opens, and he frowns, eyes briefly flicking from the tall, dark, and very shirtless man and back to the number on the door that he knows he got right.

“Hey, man. Can I help you?”

“Uh,” Buck drags out around a nervous laugh. He smiles sheepishly, and on instinct, rubs at the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry. I was looking for—”

“—Buck?”

The man’s face twists, his jaw tightening into a sharp line, and Buck leans over, looking past the man’s shoulder to see TK walking into what appears to be a combo living/dining room from a dark hallway. He looks tired but openly worried, and Buck can feel what little composure he’s hanging onto by a frayed thread crumbling.

“Woah, wait. This… This is Buck? This is the guy from LA you’ve been texting for weeks?”

TK rolls his eyes, but the furrow in his brow remains, so prominent against his pale face. He pads quickly across the room, squeezing into the doorway. “Stop, Carlos,” he mutters, sharing a quiet look with Carlos before he turns back to Buck, frown deep. “Buck? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Buck can only imagine how he must look: pale, drenched, tired, broken. He can feel his eyes stinging, and he swallows thickly. “Do you remember when I asked you if you wanted to hang out sometime if you’re ever in LA, and you told me you have a boyfriend?” The words are practically spilling from his tongue. He practiced. For twenty hours, he ran through just how exactly he planned to initiate this impromptu visit, but now that he’s living the scenario, his mind’s a jumbled, shaking mess.

“Uh, sure?” TK cocks his head to the side, and for a moment, he holds an expression that shows how lost he is, but then his face softens, and Buck can already hear the apology mixing in with recognition.

“Shit, Buck. I didn’t mean to insinuate—”

“—no, it’s…” Buck struggles with his words, his voice shaking. He laughs again, but the small huff of air cracks, and even though he wishes he can blame the sudden dampness on his cheeks on the rain dripping coldly from his hair, he knows his eyes are overflowing wells he can no longer control. “I just… I guess I’m just really confused, and… I wanted… You seem so confident, and I just—”

“—Hey, it’s okay,” TK tries softly. His eyes, Buck thinks, are endless pools of understanding that tug him in.

“Why don’t you come in?” Carlos starts, stepping aside. “You’re shivering.”

Buck jerks through a nod, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes, and he follows TK and Carlos inside, arms wrapping back around his middle tightly, whether to warm himself or keep himself from breaking, he’s not too sure.

“Do you have any clothes to change into?” TK asks, frowning as he plucks at Buck’s wet, short-sleeve shirt that’s clinging to his torso.

“Ah, no,” Buck laughs weakly, eyes falling to the floor. “I didn’t really… I kind of just left?”

“Okay,” TK nods carefully, eyes holding onto Buck’s shaking frame for a moment. “Carlos, do you have something he can borrow?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Buck watches as Carlos disappears into the dark hallway, and then, he just sort of checks out. He can feel that he’s being ushered into a bathroom, and he’s faintly aware that the bathroom is nice. It’s large, open, and for a moment, he’s mutely in awe. But then there’s dry clothes being shoved into his arms, and he stares blankly at them, frowning.

“Buck?”

Buck’s slow to pull his gaze from the clothes to TK, but when he does, TK’s still frowning, and Buck offers a half-smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry. I’ll just be a minute.”

TK’s nod is hesitant, matching his motions. He stops to pull open the mirror and rifle through it before he slips out of the bathroom, and Buck stares, tired and numb. He’s slow and shaky when removing his wet clothes, but when he’s slipping into dry clothes that, though are a tad short, fit him fairly well, he begins to feel more present and aware.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. He paces the length of the bathroom, eyes catching onto his flushed, worn reflection. “Shit,” he repeats, louder, because he’s staring in a mirror in a bathroom in an apartment in freaking Texas.

“Hey, Buck? You okay?”

Buck turns to the knock on the door. “Y-yeah. Coming!” He shakes out his arms again, briefly bends over to splash some water on his face, and then he slips out of the bathroom, feeling an odd concoction of apologetic and embarrassed.

“Better?”

TK’s eyes are mutely narrow, almost to the point that Buck thinks he’s being looked through not at.

“Yeah, thanks.” He steps after TK until he’s dropping down onto the couch after TK motions toward it. “This place is… it’s really nice.”

TK opens his mouth to speak, but Carlos cutsin, slipping from the kitchen and masterfully balancing three coffee mugs between his two hands.

“Thanks. Coffee?”

“God, yes,” Buck all but groans, and he eagerly accepts the mug, his fingers stretching and wrapping around it, leeching the warmth. Carlos drops to the couch beside him, and Buck smiles softly, turning back to see TK sitting down on the edge of the coffee table across from him, his coffee going untouched.

“Look,” Buck starts, clearing his throat. “I’m really sorry. I should have called.” He takes a moment to see that both TK and Carlos are now sporting shirts, but their hair is still rumpled, and though both are alert and focused on him, he can still catch the hint of interrupted sleep in their eyes. “And I should have not shown up stupid early in the morning.”

“Well,” Carlos drags out, leaning back against the couch and propping his feet up on the table. “You’re here, so let’s hear it.”

“What?” Buck knows what, but the question’s quick to slip from his tongue.

“What you said at the door,” TK clarifies softly, leaning forward to pat Buck’s knee. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Buck pulls his gaze to the mug still wrapped tightly in his hands, his eyes watching the dark liquid, the steam still billowing faintly up, breaking at the rim. “How’d you know?”

“That I’m gay?” TK supplies, and Buck nods, keeping his gaze trained downward.

Laughing, TK leans back. “It’s kind of just something I always knew. I just never thought of women the same way my friends did.”

Frowning, Buck pulls his gaze up from the cup, working TK’s words around his head, new gears slotting into a stuttering machine. “What if I like women, and I thought I only liked women, but—”

“—then you met someone, who happens to be of the same sex, that you click with so well that it’s almost scary how right it feels?” Carlos interrupts, and Buck whips a wide gaze to him, nodding quickly.

“And you think maybe you’re just really great friends with this guy, but then you start to think about how you can’t imagine what your life was really like before him, and you really don’t want to imagine what your life would be like without him.”

“Holy shit,” Buck breathes, nodding still. “Yeah, all of that. How’d you…”

“Have you considered that you may be bisexual, Buck?”

Buck turns back to TK, frowning. “No? I mean, maybe?” He groans and leans forward to set his coffee mug down before he throws himself back against the couch, running his hands down his face. “I guess I haven’t really tried to label it? It’s not something I really thought about before—”

“—Eddie?”

Buck drops his hands to his lap, sighing, his entire body deflating against it. “What gave it away?”

“Every other text you send me has something to do with him or his son,” TK supplies, and Buck nods, a weak smile trying at his lips.

“Sorry about that.”

TK shrugs. “It’s cute. You two seem really close, and it’s obvious his son thinks the world of you.”

Buck smiles again, and though small, it feels natural, real, and he stops looking at the plush carpet as if it’s the most endearing thing in the world and pulls a slow gaze back up to meet TK’s present, encouraging eyes.

“You haven’t told him.”

It’s not a question, but Buck still shakes his head anyway. There isn’t a single inch of his entire being that doesn’t want to tell Eddie, that doesn’t want to open up to Eddie, to tell him that he’s the only constant that makes complete sense in his life. It’s maddening, enough, apparently, to drive twenty hours to Texas to confide in people he’s really only just met.

“I don’t know how,” he mutters, his voice cracking. His eyes are stinging again, and he doesn’t try to blink back the tears. “I’m so… scared,” he adds, his hands smoothing down his thighs. “I almost ruined everything between us once—I can’t… I don’t want to risk that again.”

“At some point,” Carlos starts, leaning forward and clapping a hand to Buck’s shoulder, “you’ll have to tell him. Not for him, but for you. You go on like this, and you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

“Plus, while I don’t know Eddie personally, from what you say about him, it sounds like he’ll be understanding regardless of how he ends up really feeling.”

Buck’s gaze, though blurry, shifts between TK and Carlos, back and forth, two warm, kind faces that encompass him. He knows, deep down, that they’re right, that Eddie will understand no matter what because that’s just the type of person Eddie is: impossibly kind and endlessly forgiving. Still, since he’s accepted that something’s wrong, that his heart’s sporting some cuts and bruises that’ve been building over the years, he’s afraid. He’s scared of what will become of his own mind if he tells Eddie how he really feels because of all things he faces on a daily basis, his thoughts are the most frightening.

“I just,” he tries, a hushed sob ripping up his throat. “Sorry. I just… I’m not usually this—”

“—emotional?” Carlos finishes at the same time TK cuts in with “feverish?”

“What?”

“I second that,” Carlos starts, frowning. “What?”

TK grabs the ear thermometer he snagged from the bathroom minutes before, waving it before Buck’s face. “Your skin’s warm to the touch, and people aren’t usually chilled after running around in humid, Texas rain.” TK leans forward, pressing the thermometer into Buck’s right ear, and Buck can only frown, pressing the back of his hand to his own cheek and sluggishly equating his headache to the heat that brushes against his knuckles.

“101.4,” TK mutters when the thermometer beeps. “When’s the last time you slept?”

Buck cocks his head to the side. “It’s Saturday morning, and I worked a 24-hour Thursday to Friday, so Wednesday?”

“Jesus, Buck!”

“You drove here after a 24?” TK spits out, slipping to his feet and crossing his arms. “With a fever?”

Wincing, Buck makes to get to his feet, slipping until he’s perched only on the edge of the couch. He’s heard this disappointment before, always after he’s done something others deem too reckless, and he’s found the best remedy is to remove himself from the situation, to reflect alone, work through his own, warring thoughts. “Sorry, I’ll go—”

“—what?” TK stammers at the same time Carlos almost growls “you most certainly will not.”

Buck blinks slowly. “Sorry, I’m confused?”

“Buck, you’re definitely not leaving this apartment to venture out into a state you’re unfamiliar in with a fever.” TK softens his tone, and his expression follows suit. “Sorry for yelling; we’re just worried.”

“Oh,” Buck mutters, his lips rounding. “I’m probably just tired.”

“I wonder why,” Carlos teases, and Buck laughs around a yawn.

“Are you guys sure, though? I can find a hotel—”

“—Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.” TK cocks a brow, and Buck smiles, sheepish and small but real.

In minutes, he’s set up on the couch with blankets and medicine already pumping into his system, and in the short time it’s taken to get him settled, he must have thanked the two, at least, forty times, stopping only when Carlos slammed a pillow into his face. He assured the two, repeatedly, that he’d wake them if he feels worse, and once they were sure he wasn’t lying, they slipped off to the bedroom, leaving Buck alone.

It’s nearing four in the morning, and Buck’s already nodding off, the weight of exhaustion and the heat of the fever pulling him down, but when his phone begins buzzing, he jerks forward, squinting at the name: Eddie’s (Dumb) Landline.

Eddie doesn’t call from the landline; he specifically calls from his cell phone. Christopher however… Buck can’t press the answer button fast enough.

“Chris? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is your dad okay?”

“Hi, Buck.”

“Hey, Bud,” Buck says, voice tight, worried. “What’s going on?”

“I had another nightmare.”

Buck’s face falls, and he gnaws lightly at his lower lip. “Yeah? How come you didn’t wake your dad?”

“He’s tired. He said you’re on a trip.”

“Ah, yeah,” Buck mutters, smiling softly. “I drove to Texas to visit some friends.”

“How come you didn’t take me?”

“Because,” Buck draws out, “I had to make sure they were prepared to meet the single coolest person on the planet.” Christopher laughs on the other line, and then he tries to hush himself, mumbling how he has to be quiet, and Buck smiles wider.

“You should go back to bed, Chris. It’s really late. Remember what we talked about: you’re stronger than any nightmare.”

“I’m stronger than any nightmare,” Chris parrots back, and Buck nods, more to himself.

“Night, Buck. Love you.”

Though Buck’s heard it countless times, hearing Chris so openly express himself to Buck never ceases to catch Buck’s breath, to spread warmth across his chest, press band aids against wounds only he can see.

“Love you too, Christopher.”

[accio-victuuri]

Hi can you provide the link to read manhuas you prefer?

Hello Anon! OMG Manhua/Manhwa Rec! Here we go! I’ve only been reading for 2-3 months (consistently), so this will be pretty limited. I will link to the legit sites. A google search will direct you to others.

Most of these are WIPs and some, sadly, are discontinued. I won’t add TGCF or MDZS here cause those are already a given. 👇🏼

• Body Electric by Dong Ye ( completed, supernatural, lots of trigger warnings and plotty )

Ba Song is the hotshot cop who’s been handed an open-and-shut case: the suicide of a young woman. Except… who commits suicide by stabbing their own body and strangling themself? There's only one man who can help him with this mystery — Bo Shan, the renowned forensic pathologist with a severe and cold personality. What's more, his body produces bioelectricity, allowing him to acutely sense bodily injury with his touch. There's an electric current between them, and each touch sizzles with energy

If you like crime dramas and stories where they solve mysterious cases then this is for you. The romance is subtle, and their relationship is not insta-love. strangers to colleagues to friends to lovers trope. This also discusses alot of issues the society has that will make you stop and think. Ba Song is really the honorable MC in here who always wants to help people and do good. While Bo Shan is the reluctant one but deep inside, he wants to make a difference too. I wish they would make a donghua or live action out of this.

• 30 year old by S-Monkey - ( ongoing, age difference, blind dates, slice of life)

Charlie Wei is a single and handsome executive. He’s also a closeted gay guy who’s been on way too many bad blind dates with women. Charlie’s still hung up on his ex-boyfriend James and is… gasp, 30! Charlie’s family thinks he’s straight and too old to be without a wife! During another bad blind date, Charlie meets the flirty Ethan, who both annoys and intrigues him. Can Charlie finally come out and find true love with Ethan or will he continue on his streak of bad blind dates?

The cover looks melodramatic but it’s really not. This is so funny! I read this because people were saying it reminded them of BoXiao. And yes, there are moments here that remind me of them, but it’s more like an AU of BoXiao. I stayed up late trying to get caught up in the chapters and you won’t realize it cause it’s just that good. I love seeing the older MC loosening up and being more of himself. and the younger one being more responsible in his career. They just become better versions of themselves because of each other. It’s so sweet!

• I ship me and my Rival - by Pepa ( ongoing, comedy, reads like a meta )

This follows the adventures of Wei Yanzi, a third-rate actor in the Chinese entertainment industry, stumbles onto a shipping fandom for himself and another actor (Gu Yiliang) while trying to escape from the flame wars and negativity. He's so taken with this group of fans who actually see him as a good guy instead of an enemy/rival of Gu Yiliang that he falls head-first into fandom and becomes actively involved in trying to provide shipping fuel and the fans' daily dose of fluff.

IF THERE IS ONE thing you will read here, let it be this. It is hilarious. If you are a CP fan you will relate so much and it’s a good time. It just shows how people who think are rivals can actually be really good friends in real life. What we see is not always what it seems. and people will interpret things based on their bias. The MC here is so dramatic! how his inner feelings/reactions were drawn will make you laugh.

• Path to You - by Sinran (completed, slice of life, age gap fluff and comedy )

When almost college dropout Jensen attempts to drink away his problems, unemployed Nathaniel suddenly pukes on him and ruins his night. As an apology, Nathaniel offers to help Jensen with his studies. Despite Jensen's difficulties in getting along with people, the two become friends and something deeper begins to grow between them

The story is so soft. If you want something with mild angst/misunderstandings— then pick this. I love the progression of their relationship and how they take care of each other. There are other themes showed here other than the romance.

• Red Candy - by Hanse (completed season one with a cliffhanger, explicit scenes, assassins )

Shihyeon, aka “Red Candy,” is a secret agent whose code name comes from bathing in the blood of his marks on dangerous missions. Shihyeon’s tasked with seducing and obtaining intel from Hajun, a hot college professor. Shihyeon can disarm enemies, but didn’t expect to be disarmed himself by Hajun’s own tight body. Now Shihyeon’s caught between loyalty to his spy agency and Hajun. Can Red Candy survive the incoming wave of enemies and still indulge in the sweet ecstasy of Hajun’s embrace?

THIS STRESSED ME OUT MAAAN. Wow. I loved this. That season one cliffhanger. It’s definitely up there as my favorite. If you think about it, the tropes are really not original. An assassin is sent to shadow a person and they develop a relationship. That simple. But NOOOOO! There are so many things going on. The Main mystery plot, Their relationship, their shared past plus you have other sketchy secondary characters. And did i mention explicit scenes? Lots of them. I want this two to have a happy ending!!!

• Lone Swan - by Chu Man (discontinued, cultivation, star crossed lovers)

After losing his memory, Yiqiu Shen, a disciple from the decent sect meets a very special man named Luofeng Yan, who is the leader of the evil Divine Wind Cult. When escaping and conflicting with Yan, Shen gradually finds his original self as well as his previous love back. Together they rip off the facade of the martial world and reveal the hidden true

I didn’t want to add a discontinued story here, with no novel as a source material but this one made an impact on me. so. yeah. THE ART. breathtaking. The plot = layered. There are times I don’t even know who is telling the truth. It had so much potential and i hope it will get picked up again at some point. People rec this to those who enjoyed TGCF and MDZS, and they are right. 👍🏼

• Dragon in Distress by Si Wang Wen Hua - ( ongoing, dragons, past life, lost power, fantasy )

This is a story about a little Eastern green dragon and a little Western black dragon playing together.

The synopsis is pretty simple if you look at it but this one is pretty interesting. and surprisingly funny. tinie AoAo is so cute! 🤍 the other MC has tsundere tendencies tho. Lots of lore and more truths to uncover as the story progresses. I’m not giving it enough justice with how i’m reccing it, but if you like dragons and fantasy — give this a go.

• Breaking through the clouds 2: Swallow the Sea - Huaishang (ongoing, based on a novel, crime, drama, cases)

Wu Yu, a newcomer of the Public Security Bureau, is gentle and frail. He doesn’t care about the difficulties posed by Bu ZhongHua, his strict boss, and only wants to stay in the background to be paid on time with enough for food. However, no one knows that this young man’s head is targeted by top drug traffickers for a large bounty or that this courageous young man has once slaughtered the dragon of the abyss. With a chain of interlocking cases, a series of troubles come one after another. Can the two people work together to survive through the difficulties?

Do you see a pattern with me? lol. I like crime themes. This one is the same and by the looks of it, the cases they solve will take longer to unravel. I haven’t read the novel it’s based on yet so i’m just going with how the manhua is progressing. I like it when Wu Yu turns full on action-mode and when ZH takes care of him. Plus it helps that they are both gorgeous. I’ll get back this with a proper link.

• Where the Wind Stays - by Yusa (completed season one, curses, demons, possession, timeskip, explicit scenes)

To break an ancient curse that plagues the royal bloodline, young Prince Tasara is destined to be sacrificed in death. Nara is enlisted as a palace servant to carry out the prince’s execution when the time comes. But he develops a soft spot for the cursed prince, and after committing an atrocious and unforgivable act against Tasara, Nara is desperate to right his wrongs. Soon, their lascivious relationship that had been kept under wraps tests his resolve. Will Nara be tempted away from his original mission? There’s no telling how far he would go to earn Tasara’s forgiveness.

This story broke my brain, in a good way. I don’t wanna say much cause it will spoil the story. It’s the type that you gave to see and suffer through yourself. I am excited for what happens in season II!!!

Honorable Mentions:

I’m placing these here cause I have only read a few chapters and tho I liked them, I wanna read more before reccing it in full. 👍🏼

• I accidentally saved the Jinghu’s enemy

• Global Examination

• Monster entertainment

• Demon Apartment

And that’s it! Hope enjoy Anon! 😊

[screamingintothevoid28]

Quotes from The Song Of Achilles I think about multiple times a day (sad edition)  ((SPOILERS))

. 'And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth, when another is gone. Do you think?'

'Perhaps' Achilles admitted (chapter 9)

. This is what it will be like, every day, without him. I felt a wild-eyed tightness in my chest, like a scream. Everyday without him." (chapter 14)

. 'How long will he live?'

She made a noise in her throat, it took me a moment to understand it was laughter

'Why? Would you prepare yourself for it? Try and stop it?'

'Yes,' I answered. 'If I can' (chapter 15)

. He stirs and the air stirs with him, bearing the musk sweet smell of his body. I think: this is what I will miss. I think: I will kill myself rather than miss it. I think: how long do we have? (chapter 15)

. "Even there beneath the bright sun my skin went cold. He will not come home at all." (chapter 16)

. "He no longer belongs to me alone" (chapter 16)

. "There I lay on the cool stone floor, and closed my eyes. I could not stop imaging how it would end-spear tip or sword point, or smashed by a chariot. The rushing, unending blood of his heart" (chapter 16)

. As for the goddesses answer, I did not care. I would have no need of her. I did not plan on living after he was gone." (chapter 16)

. "I embraced those thin, wiry limbs. I thought, this is what Achilles will feel like when he is old. And then I remembered: he will never be old." (chapter 16)

. 'My life is my reputation,' his breath sounded ragged. 'It is all I have, I will not live much longer. Memory is all I can hope for' (chapter 26)

. ' You ask a question that philosophers argue over,' Chiron had said. 'He is worth more to you perhaps. But stranger is someone else's friend and brother. So which life is more important?'

We had been silent we were 14 and these things had been too hard for us. At 28 they still felt too hard" (chapter 27)

. 'Do you see?, he says 'It is the beginning! ' I cannot escape the feeling that, below the surface, something is breaking" (chapter 28)

. It was not honour that made Meleager fight, or his friends, or victory, or revenge. It was Cleopatra before him, her face streaked with tears. Here's Phoinix's craft: Cleopatra, Patroclus. Her name built from the same pieces as mine" (chapter 28)

. I knelt and pressed his hands to my face. My cheeks flowed tears 'for me then, save them for me. I know what I'm asking of you. But I ask it. For me'

'Anything else, anything. But not this. I cannot'

I looked at the Stone of his beautiful face, and despaired

'if you love me--' (chapter 30)

. 'Bring him back to me' he told them...

There was more to say, but for once we did not say it. There would be other times for speaking, tonight, tomorrow and all the days after that. He let go of my hand" (chapter 30)

. "The last thing I think is: Achilles" (chapter 30)

. 'Do you think you were the only one who loved him? You care for him in death than in life,' Her words bitter with grief. 'How could you let him go, you knew he couldn't fight!'

Achilles Screams and shatters a serving bowl. 'Get out!'

Briseis doesn't flinch 'Kill me. It will not bring him back. He is worth ten of you. Ten! And you sent him to his death!' (chapter 31)

. "Achilles' gaze lifts to meet hers. She is a afraid but does not draw back. 'I hope Hector kills you.'

'Do you not think I do not hope the same? He asks" (chapter 31)

. “Thetis’ black eyes seem to contract, like dying stars. 'I am glad that he is dead.' she says. It is the last thing she will ever say to him” (chapter 31)

. 'And the arrow flies, straight and silent, in a curving downward arc towards Achilles' back...Achilles smiles as his face strikes the earth' (chapter 32)

. ' I have done it,' she says. At first I do not understand. But then I see the tomb, and the marks she has made out. Achilles, it reads and beside it, Patroclus.

'Go' she says 'He waits for you'

In the darkness, two shadows reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet and light spills in a flood, like a hundred golden urns pouring out the sun" (chapter 33) 

[well that was a roller coaster, I’m so sorry, it’s fine, I’m crying too. Anyway, this is part 2 of 3, if you saw the 1st part you’ll know I annotated the entire book using 3 colours 

Orange - sweet moments, Green- sad moments , Red- Iconic moments/lines 

This is green.]

[hiccanna-tidbits]

this is a genuine, curious question! what's appealing 2 u about jackunzel :^] ??

Sure, I can talk about why I ship Jackunzel!!!

@gryffindorkxdraws has some posts about why she likes Jackunzel here, here, and here, so those are a pretty good rundown of reasons to supplement mine. But I’ll make a list of my own!

Why Jackunzel Owns My Entire Soul: An Essay in Disorganized Bullet Points ~I dig the sun/moon symbolism! Like Jack was chosen by the moon and Rapunzel has the powers of the sun. It’s such a nice contrast, and it also lends itself really well to star-crossed lover-type fantasy/fairy tale AUs (which I am ALWAYS a sucker for!) ~From what little we know about Jack’s preference in girls (i.e. the slight crush he seemed to have on Tooth), Rapunzel seems like EXACTLY his type--bubbly, energetic, optimistic girls with a bit of a maternal streak. I think even the RotG director confirmed Punz is the kind of girl Jack would like! ~Jack also absolutely seems like Punzel’s type--if Flynn/Eugene is anything to go by, she’s kind of into sarcastic troublemakers with a hidden soft side XD And she also seems to like guys who are good with kids, if Eugene reading “The Adventures of Flynnigan Rider” to the younger kids at the orphanage is anything to go by! ~They both seem to be naturally pretty social people who suffered a lot from being isolated for a really long time--Jack had it worse, obviously (300 years--OUCH), but it was rough on Punz as well, growing up for 18 years with no one for company but Mother Gothel and Pascal. Jack, spending all that time with no one able to see him and only the guardians (who weren’t even really his friends from much of that time) for company, would understand that pain a lot. I feel like they’d be able to connect on a really deep and intimate level about the pain they felt at being isolated for so long, and this would give them a really strong bond that I can easily see turning into something romantic. ~They’re both just such genuinely lively and fun-loving people, and I can imagine them having a ton of fun together and just genuinely really enjoying spending time together. Like imagine the snowball fights!!! The ice-skating!!! The sledding!!! Chasing each other through the forest!!! Jack grabbing onto Punz and her wrapping her hair around a tree and swinging them around Tarzan-style!!! Like literally the entire scene where Punzel leaves her tower for the first time and is goofing off and doing Silly Shit for like an hour straight??? Like man...if Jack was there, they’d have the TIME OF THEIR LIVES together. Idk I just really love couples who I think would have a lot of fun together, it’s so pure <3 ~They’re both so loving!!! Like Rapunzel goes out of her way to be supportive to an entire tavernful of terrifying “ruffians and thugs” because they have dreams, and she’s so sweet to Flynn/Eugene no matter how many times he snarks at her and tries to alienate her!!! And Jack loves loves LOVES entertaining kids, and it genuinely makes him so happy to give them snow days :3 I just feel like they’d shower each other with love, and it’s honestly no less than they both deserve!!! ~Rapunzel especially is such an affectionate person, and I can see her doing just absolutely everything in her power to make Jack feel as seen and as loved as possible after 300 years of being alone. And god, does he NEED it, too. Like no way is this boy NOT touch-starved, and with some MAJOR self-esteem issues (although he’s good at hiding them). Rapunzel would do absolutely everything in her power to build him up and make him feel wanted and validated--and since it’s in her nature to do so, it would never feel like a burden or an effort for her. And she’d love him so much that hyping him up just comes naturally! She’s just got the kind of nurturing personality that someone as affection-starved as Jack really needs, and I think she could help him feel safe, comfortable, and loved in a way a lot of people couldn’t. ~For all the fun they’d have together, I also feel like Jack needs someone to ground him a bit and provide the Brain Cell to perhaps reign in that Unchecked Chaotic Energy of his sometimes XD Rapunzel certainly has a smart and rational side--I mean, she charted STARS as a teenager!!! She figured out how to get this stranger she captured to take her into the kingdom to see the lanterns!!! Girl can be spontaneous and goofy, sure, but she’s got smarts and kind of a mature streak that I think mesh with Jack really well. He’d never feel like she was a wet blanket stifling his fun, but she’d also have a sense of when to transition away from goofing off and focus on responsibilities (princess and guardian responsibilities in this case, I suppose?) ~On the flipside, I don’t see Rapunzel as being someone annoyed or irritated by Jack’s antics. She might like...gently scold him if he takes a prank too far, but she never finds his shenanigans to be grating and tiresome the way other people might. Rather, I think she’d be endlessly entertained by him. Like in his memory reel when he’s dicking around pretending to be a deer, she’d get a kick out of that! Jack would always be trying to make her laugh and make her smile, and Punz would love that so much about him! ~They’re both searching for a deeper meaning and a deeper sense of purpose in their lives. Rapunzel entertains herself with hobbies, but doesn’t feel like her life has really “begun” and is desperate to find out if her hunch is right and the floating lights really ARE meant for her. Jack has no idea why he was chosen by the moon or what he’s meant to do, and he’s determined to find out so he can finally have a sense of purpose. Rapunzel clearly wants a sense of purpose too, since she wants to do more with her life than pass the time with hobbies. I can definitely see them bonding over this! ~They’re both just so adventurous, and love to explore! Rapunzel is curious, and loves to read and learn, and she wants more than anything else to see the world and all it has to offer. Jack loves adventuring and flying around the globe spreading winter and fun, and he could show Punz everything she ever wanted to see. A perfect match, honestly! ~Aesthetically I LOVE the similarities!!! Like they both like to go barefoot, kinda showing their free-spirited natures. And I love how they’re both naturally brunette, but had their hair turned a different color by magic. It’s a little thing, but I think it’s a really neat parallel and it helps cement me thinking they really ARE perfect for each other in every little way! Haha XD AND they both have small green companions, and as of Ralph Breaks The Internet, they’re hoodie buddies as well!!! Not that surface-level parallels like that are actually that significant BUT I just think they’re neat XD ~While I am fond of Flynnzel/Eugenzel (still my favorite canon Disney couple!), finding out their age gap is around 8 years admittedly made me a bit uncomfy and just pushed me further into loving Jackunzel as an alternative option. I still really love Eugene as a character and adore his and Punzel’s dynamic, but these days I prefer their relationship as more of a big bro/little sis type thing. Jack I think is the best match for Rapunzel romantically, and Eugene I prefer with Elsa--or poooossibly Tooth, Astrid, or Zarina, if I read a fic that sells the pairing well enough! ~On a related note, I was into Jack x Tooth the first time I watched RotG, but after discovering Jackunzel, there was no going back--I was hooked! Rewatching the movie, Tooth strikes me more as a mom figure/”fun aunt” for Jack, and I actually prefer her with Bunnymund (I am WEAK for “the grumpy one is soft for the sunshine one” lmao)

Well, I think that just about covers it!!! I’ll add more reasons if I think of them! Thank you for the ask, and I’m always happy to answer more ship asks about CGI crossover pairings :3

Also @ the anon who asked for Jackunzel headcanons--fear not, I shall provide them!!! I just wanna make a complete list and accumulate all the ones from my various fics so it’s gonna take a while XD

[lesetoilesfous]

Hii :3 I love reading your stories Lese? Is it alright if I call you Lese?? I saw that you were taking prompts and are very close to getting a bingo on that last row. Buried Alive for Anders maybe, whenever youre available ofc? Fenders??? :0 hshsjsjskjd

Hey, thank you so much!! I'm happy to be called Lese, I like Les or Kat, but anything works!!! Thank you so much for helping me try to get a bingo, I really hope you enjoy this one!!!

@badthingshappenbingo Fandom: Dragon Age 2

Prompt: Buried Alive

Pairing: Fenders

Characters: Fenris, Anders, Marian Hawke, Varric Tethras

Additional Tags: Graphic Depiction of Injury, Buried Alive, Panic Attack, Trauma Responses, Pre-Relationship, Past Flogging, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending

Word Count: 2,380

Rating: Mature

“I’ve got it, go! GO!” Anders’ voice bellowing is the last thing Fenris hears before the overwhelming thunder of the cavern collapsing around them drowns out everything else.

He feels as if his mind and his body are torn apart as he runs: his legs leaving his conscious control as they’re overtaken by sheer animal instinct to get away from the collapsing mountain, his mind and sweat-stinging eyes full of the image of Anders’ tall, broad body holding his staff over his shoulders and propping up enough of a threshold for his friends to escape. Fenris’ sweating, bloody feet skid on the sandy stone as he’s deafened by the roar, his breath coming in and out of his lungs in great heaves of fresh snow and broken glass. Ahead of him is the ocean: wide and blue and wrinkled, utterly untouched by the chaos on the beach. Varric skids into the sand beside him with Hawke’s hand on the back of his jacket, her bicep tense where she’s half-lifting the dwarf off the ground.

Fenris blinks, turning around, dizzy suddenly with breathlessness and adrenaline as every chemical pumping through his body flushes into his racing mind. He stumbles, and Hawke catches him, deftly, her blue eyes wide and over-alert the way they always are whenever they get into a situation they might not survive. Fenris has seen that expression on soldiers before, and doesn’t doubt she’s carried it with her since Lothering. He neither pulls away nor leans into her touch, and after a moment she drops her hand to rest on her thighs, bending almost double as she heaves in her breath.

Behind them there’s a hissing avalanche of sand, and great scabs of reeds come tumbling down onto the beach as the cavern crumbles. Fenris has seen the devastating effects of gaatlok before, but somehow his memory never fully prepares him for the imminent blast radius. Slowly, terribly slowly, Fenris’ heart starts to slow, and his breathing begins to return to normal. He becomes aware of the sweat drying on his neck, and the salty taste of the sea breeze in his mouth. His ears are still ringing with the thunder of the cavern collapse when he hears a snap.

The sound is sharp as a whip, even through the stormcloud of noise, and Fenris notices Hawke and Varric exchange a startled look out of the corner of his eye in the split second before he starts running. Fenris stumbles to a stop in front of the cave entrance: a mess of black and grey boulders stained with algae and riddled with tumorous molluscs. The stones have cracked open in places, revealing rich layers of red and orange and yellow. Fenris barely notices, he breathes, and coughs on the sand kicked up the collapse, and breathes again before shouting into the mess. “MAGE! MAGE! MAGE! IF YOU YET LIVE, ANSWER ME.”

Fenris stops, and hears his own voice snatched by the wind and away down the dunes. At Hawke’s heels, Dog is whining, frightened by Fenris’ uncharacteristic display of emotion. Hawke puts a hand on Fenris’ shoulders, and he shrugs her off and hates her a little when her mouth falls in a brief moue of sympathy that’s gone when he blinks. She climbs up the rocks a little, one boulder reaching halfway up her torso. “ANDERS! ANDERS, ARE YOU IN THERE?”

There’s an ominous rumble, and a skittering rain of gravel and sand tumbles down the boulders. Varric clears his throat. “Go easy on the yelling, you two. We don’t want to make it worse.”

Fenris turns to him, seized by a sudden, terrible blade of hope that skewers his heart and twists in it. “Varric. What do we do?”

Varric raises an eyebrow at him. “I grew up on the surface, remember? Your guess is as good as mine.”

Anger, sudden and red, floods behind Fenris’ eyes. “That’s not good enough!” His voice rings against the rocks, and Varric purses his lips. Hawke steps between them.

“Quietly, remember? Come on, if we start moving this lot now then -” She doesn’t finish. Doesn’t say, if he’s unconscious, he might have a chance. Doesn’t say, we could get him before he bleeds out. Doesn’t say, there’s no way we can stop him suffocating, now.

Fenris nods, more relieved than he wants to admit at finally having something to do. He starts grabbing rocks, randomly at first - until one boulder grinds down onto his hand and he has to bite his arm til it bleeds to stop himself from screaming. After that it’s slow, terrible work, one rock at a time, for hours, as the bright blue sky above them bleeds to gray to welcome a hot, muggy evening and black stinging bugs emerge from the dunes to nip curiously at their burning skin.

Fenris’ knuckles are aching, and his palms are chafed raw, scratched and bleeding by the time they get through. Hawke is little better, her knuckles scraped and bruised. Even Dog is covered in a thick layer of dust, and Varric has lain Bianca reverently beside a dune with his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, an expression of uncharacteristic severity on his face as he frowns at the boulders.

The first thing they find is his staff. Fenris knows it wasn’t important to him - had seen how easily Anders had dropped one staff for another, stolen from a former gangster or some other ne’er-do-well who had had the misfortune to attack them. But there’s still something terribly simple about the snapped, useless wood when they find a splintered shaft in the rubble. Fenris blinks, and sees Anders, wide shoulders braced by that staff as he held up the collapsing ceiling, hair thick with dust and rubble. He swallows against his dry throat, sore with rock dust, and keeps moving rubble.

The sky is bleeding red by the time they find him. Dog finds him first, yelping and then whining as she scrabbles at the dust. Fenris thinks, distant, numb in his shock and delayed grief, that Anders would be surprised to learn the hound cared. But then he’s there, his feet having moved him again, without thought, and he’s crouching to lift a great splintered boulder out of the way, and his toes touch soft hair and Fenris nearly cries out. As it is, he dumps the boulder and rushes forward.

Anders is pinned between a series of rocks. His eyes are open and his hand is purple and covered with cherry red blood. Blood seeps out between the boulders around him, and his nose and mouth are thick with it. His eyes are wide open and staring, and for an awful, awful heartbeat Fenris thinks he’s dead. But then the low, soft sound of murmuring reaches him over the constant sound of the sea. “Letmeoutletmeoutletmeoutletmeoutletmeout.”

Fenris drags on the lyrium sewn into his skin and for the first time in his known life finds himself thanking the Maker, or Andraste, or the Creators, for this hideous, agonising ability. He plunges his hands through the thick stone of the rock, and wraps his fingers around a horrifically mangled mass that he thinks is one of Anders’ shoulders, and pulls.

Anders screams - an awful, hoarse thing that breaks on the way out of his split lips. But he’s out, and in the dirt, and breathing, and Fenris doesn’t think before he pulls the man into his arms and holds him so tightly his arms hurt. Fenris’ tattoos are still glowing, star-bright in the growing dark, and his muscles feel locked in place as he buries his face in Anders’ shoulder and breathes in the stink of sweat and piss and blood. He doesn’t care. He holds Anders so hard he’s shivering. He can’t shake the idea that if he lets go, even a little, he’ll forget how to breathe.

After several long minutes, in which Fenris’ muscles become so tense they ache like a bruise, Anders comes back into himself, slumping into Fenris’ arms. The movement jostles his mangled shoulder, and he whimpers, and Fenris’ arms tighten around him, as if a simple embrace will stop the pain. When Anders starts to cry, softly, trembling into Fenris’ shoulder, Fenris realises that his own face is already wet with cold tears that he doesn’t remember crying. Above them, the sky is charcoal and midnight blue, and the first stars are climbing over the sea.

Hawke lights a campfire, and steps closer to touch Fenris’ shoulder. He doesn’t react, but she doesn’t let go until he turns to look at her. Her face is still streaked with dust, and her eyes are red, but there are no signs of tear tracks that he can see in the dark. Her strong jaw is tense when she says, firmly, “We need to deal with his injuries.” Her face softens, slightly, as she adds, “You can hold him again, after.”

Slowly, feeling as if he’s been petrified in place and is now trying to coax stone, Fenris stiffly uncurls his arms. Anders doesn’t do or say anything, though his breathing hitches at the movement of his mangled arm. Fenris pushes his dusty hair out of his face, trying to avoid a thick gash across his forehead. “Mage. We need to look at your injuries.”

Anders looks at him slowly, his brown eyes almost gold in the firelight. He nods, and Fenris moves his hand to gently begin the process of peeling his blood-encrusted coat away from his skin. Anders clenches his teeth, his jaw thick with stubble full of dust, and breathes in long, shaking breaths as Fenris moves the filthy leather. When he gets to the worst of it - a place where Anders’ coat and shirt are black with blood and concave as they’ve been pushed into his body, Fenris grits his teeth. “One - two -” Before he says three, Fenris rips the coat free, causing Anders to cry out and topple forward. Fenris catches him on his good shoulder, and behind Anders, Hawke and Varric’s faces go pale.

“Blood and ashes.” Varric murmurs, looking sick. Anders’ breath starts coming faster in short, shallow pants. Fenris rushes forward, brushing his cheek with his thumb, fingers curled around his ear.

“It’s alright. It’s alright. We’ve got you.”

It takes Hawke an hour to get the debris out of the torn, broken mess of Anders’ shoulder blade. When she’s done, there’s a thin sheen of sweat across her pale skin and she looks older than she has since Bethany joined the Wardens. The fire is low and red, but Varric keeps wandering off to fetch more driftwood. There’s a small pile of shattered stone and bone on the sand that Hawke buries almost immediately. Dog is lying down beside her master, sandy head on her great paws, whining occasionally when Anders huffs a soft sound of pain. Fenris is trying, hard, not to stare at the canvas of familiar scars exposed by their impromptu operation, glittering silver in the dark like a crosshatch tattooed across Anders’ freckled back.

The sea laps softly at the beach behind them, and around them the dunes hiss with the breeze. Hawke looks at Fenris, “That’s all I can do, for now. Hopefully his mana will be back tomorrow and he’ll be able to heal the rest.” She swallows, thickly. “I knew I should’ve brought Merrill.”

Between them, Anders is all but unconscious, lying on his front, naked down to his waist, skin covered in newly cleaned cuts and bruises. Fenris stares at him for a long moment, running his fingers through the other man’s hair. He thinks he’s trying to comb the dust out, but it’s not doing much and it’s more of a nervous habit than anything. He breaks the sighing silence between them. “It’s not your fault.”

Hawke says nothing, sitting back on the other side of the fire and staring at the shifting sea, gilded with silver by the moon. The fire licks gold and rubies across her skin. She bends her knees, and rests her elbows on them, pressing her forehead to her skin and breathing for several long moments. Fenris waits. He knows he won’t be sleeping much tonight, anyway. Eventually, Hawke turns her head to the side, still resting on the pillow of her forearms. “I didn’t know you were close.”

Fenris’ fingers pause in their combing of Anders’ hair. But after two heartbeats, the discomfort of not reminding himself that the man beside him is still alive is greater than compromising whatever bud of new life they’d been nurturing between them. He bites the inside of his cheek to try and wake himself up from the distant feeling of grief and shock. “It...has not been happening for long. But I think the feelings which led to it have been growing for some time.” A shadow of a smile touches the corner of his lips. “Perhaps it has been growing since the day we met.” Hawke snorts, and Fenris’ ghost of a smile grows into something honest when he looks at her, and more than a little self deprecating. “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”

Hawke shrugs, the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth softening as she looks at him. “Oh, I don’t know. Opposites attract.”

Fenris snorts, then, and Dog looks up with a hiccoughing huff to see what they’re coughing at. Fenris leans forward, feeling the heat of the fire licking up his sides as he scratches Dog’s soft head. She whines, and yawns, baring a series of black and yellow teeth. Fenris leans further, and digs his fingertips behind the warm velvet of her ears. Dog’s tail thumps softly against the sand. Fenris looks up when he feels Hawke watching him. Her blue eyes are like bottled lightning in the dark. “You’re a good man, Fenris.”

Fenris gives her a tight smile, trying to stifle the pain behind it, and sits back, moving to drag a blanket out of his pack and lay it lightly over Anders. Anders huffs, and sighs in his sleep, face creasing in pain when he moves onto his shoulder. Fenris cards his fingers through his hair until the wrinkles ease, before looking back up at Hawke and saying, honestly. “So is he.”

[dokidokey]

when you drag sakusa out to a very early morning / very late night meteor shower watching, he thinks how it would end up if he confessed the feelings he’s been harboring for a long time now.

pairings: sakusa kiyoomi x reader

prompt: “you woke me up at 3 am for this?”

genre: fluff

warnings: platonic relationship, pining

word count: 1,700

notes: my 2nd hqhq server collab yay! THIS is the masterlist consisting of other writers who participated, check it out!

Apart from Sakusa’s love for cleaning products, especially green apple-flavored sanitizers, he also loves his sleep. He cherishes it as much as he does his hand sanitizers. So when he hears his phone ring in the middle of the night, he’s already thinking about how he’s going to make you pay for disturbing his sleep.

You aren’t calling though. It’s an alarm he knows he never set up. 2:50 AM glares right back at him from his phone screen, and much to his dismay, he hears his bedroom door open and in walks you, in all your grinning glory.

“Hi!” You greet him, giving a little wave of your hand before you tuck it back behind you. “So. . . you’re awake.”

“You think?”

A sheepish smile graces your face as you rock back and forth on your heels. Sakusa trusts you enough to let you inside his room, being that you’re his roommate and, dare he say it, best friend. He takes it as an achievement that his cleanliness rubbed off on you. Whenever Bokuto or anyone from his team would come over, he didn’t have to stress himself over how much of their germs would get transferred inside his  things and yours because you do it for him. Sometimes he thinks you’re more extreme than he ever was.

“I told you I was going to wake you up but you didn’t say anything? So I just set up an alarm for you, just in case,” you shrug nonchalantly. Then you add, “besides, I don’t do this often so don’t give me that look.”

“What look?” he asks, pushing his comforter off him and sliding on his slippers.

“That look!” You accuse, pointing a finger at his face. You follow Sakusa as he makes his way to his bathroom, leaning on the doorway and watching him as he opens the faucet. “Like you’re so bored.”

Kiyoomi meets your gaze on your reflection in the mirror. “Maybe I am.”

You groan, crossing your arms and frowning at him. Sakusa ducks his head down as he gathers a handful of water on his palms and splashes it onto his face. Honestly speaking, he really doesn’t mind that you woke him up at this hour. Bokuto has long bled his ears off about his obvious crush on you and it came off as a surprise to Sakusa that it was Bokuto that noticed first. The rest of MSBY knew it some time after when they overheard Bo blackmailing him to attend one of their parties.

The only person that still doesn’t know is you.

And he prefers it this way. This way, where he doesn’t have to tiptoe around you. You’ve been friends for a long, long time now and Kiyoomi knows you like the back of his hand. He can tell anyone that asks that he knows how you use your handkerchiefs in a color-coordinated way － starting from red to black, like a rainbow of some sorts. Kiyoomi knows that you wake up at 6:15 in the morning. That is after you snooze your other alarms that have a 5-minute interval.

He’s fine like this, with you frowning at him from the doorway of his bathroom at this ungodly hour in the morning rather than getting rejected. Because if you liked him back, you would pay attention to him, right? You’d notice things the way he notices things about you. You’d see him in another light than everybody else. You’d be hyperaware because that’s how Kiyoomi is with you.

But you aren’t, so he turns around and reaches over to grab his face towel to dry his skin. “What do you want, anyway?”

“You really weren’t paying attention to me!” You cry, throwing your hands in the air as you step away and plops yourself on his bed, facedown.

Now that he thinks about it, Sakusa has no recollection of you telling him about waking up this early, so it must have been one of those rare instances he was preoccupied with something else. “So?” He prods as he steps out of the bathroom and grabs his phone, “what?”

“I’m not telling you,” you shout but it’s muffled against the covers of the bed. You stand up, grab his wrist, and push his door open. He says nothing as you lead him out of your shared apartment and inside the elevator, pushing the button to the highest floor. Once you reach the top, you both trudge up the metal stairs that leads to the rooftop.

The air is biting as it touches Kiyoomi’s skin, sweeping his hair back like a black veil. The city below is alive with the constant honks of the cars and the lights that almost rival the stars, giving the horizon a yellow haze.

“What are we doing here?” He asks, walking closer to the edge but not touching the railing.

“We wait,” he hears you reply.

“So you woke me up at 3 AM for this?” Sakusa is confused. “For real?”

You hum enthusiastically, head bobbing up and down as you smile at him. Your eyes form crescents, contrasting the real one that’s hanging quite full above. You turn away from him, giving him the chance to study your side profile. You really are beautiful. A light chuckle escapes his lips when he notices the slight bump on the bridge of your nose. Sakusa has woken up to countless mornings of you complaining about how much you don’t like it.

“It’s cold out here,” he mumbles, pocketing his hands to keep them warm. He wonders how you can stand the cold breeze in a tank top, a part of your chest and your arms exposed.

You huff and roll your eyes, scrunching your nose. “I know but who cares?”

“I do.”

You huff again, crossing your arms and leaning slightly on him. Sakusa is aware of the way your hair bites against his skin, of the feel of your arms against his. It feels warm, enough so that a shiver crawls up his spine.

“Oh, there they are!”

His thoughts are disrupted with a pointed finger aimed at the sky. He squints as he looks to where you’re pointing and there it goes, streaks of white painting the darkness. He watches as they fall collectively, highly aware of your grip on his arms now. An arm is wrapped around his bicep, both palms laid flat on his skin. It burns and it hurts to have you close like this, dangling at the very ends of his fingertips without any chance of having you fully.

Your giddiness is adorable though. You’re practically bouncing on the tips of your toes, eyes wide and alert for more coming comets as they rain down the atmosphere. A small squeak of surprise and wonder alike would fall from your lips every time, and comes with it is the gentle feeling of your grip on him getting a little tighter.

“Oh, that one’s so bright, Omi!” You gasp. Sakusa follows your finger to a bright falling meteor, streaking the sky brightly. You both watch as it falls and gradually gets swallowed by the dark.

“Do you know Halley’s comet?” You inquire suddenly. Your eyes are the brightest of all the lights and stars tonight as you look at him with a pout. “Do you?” You softly prod.

Kiyoomi shakes his head with a hum. He lied. He does know what it was. How could he forget when it was the very first topic you talked to him about when you got partnered for a science project way back in high school.

“It’s like the most famous comet of all, how can you not know?” You look at him dramatically, face scrunched up. “It shows up around every. . . sixty eight. . . ? No, around seventy five years, I think. God, I’d be so damn old. I don’t even know if I’ll live long enough to see that,” you exasperate. Kiyoomi barely absorbs the words you’re enthusiastically discussing. He knows he should be paying attention to your words but how can he when you’re right there? You’re distracting enough and the fact that you’re now latched onto his arm is making his head spin.

You sigh as you put a foot forward, toeing the concrete. “People who can see it twice are so lucky. Yeah, sure, I’d see it but I’m so old then? I don’t even know if my eyes can still see clearly when that happens.”

Sakusa flicks your forehead. “You talk like you aren’t always squinting today,” he says. “I told you many times to get your eye checked.”

“My eyes are totally fine!”

“You can’t even read the text on the menu last week! I don’t even know how you saw those meteors.”

A pinch is delivered to the skin above Sakusa’s wrist and he flinches. He pinches you right back and contemplates the thoughts that are running through his head right this moment. Tonight is a great opportunity to confess his feelings or ruin your friendship. If it goes well, then good for him. If it doesn’t, at least it ended quite decently. Right?

His mouth is moving before he fully processes the words he’s saying.

“I could wait for that comet with you,” he says and he almost throws up. It sounded so disgusting and cheesy and so unlike him that he is sure Atsumu would never let him live that down if he heard.

“Omi.” You choke out a laugh, patting the back of his hand, “Atsumu is never going to let you live that down.

Sakusa groans internally, his jaw clenching as his stance goes rigid. Is that your way of rejecting him?

“But sure,” you muse and his heart rate picks up, “I just hope you won’t drop me when I’m old and wrinkly.”

And there goes his unplanned attempt at confession that went by way smoother than he expected, excluding the fact that he lowkey got rejected. It’s pretty evident you don’t return his feelings. He’s more stressed now about how he will break this news to Bokuto tomorrow at practice.

“As long as you’re clean,” Kiyoomi replies, “I think we’ll go a long way.”

[glitching-desert-snake]

prompt time! how about some funpoison, one of them teaching the other how to do something?

Here you go, sorry this took so fucking long (over a month)

description under the read more

[comic description]

Panel 1: Party Poison and Fun Ghoul are crouched behind their white Trans Am in the desert. Party Poison is a light skinned person with dyed red hair that is shoulder length on one side and shaved on the other. They are wearing a light blue dead pegasus jacket with a black t shirt underneath and white pants. Fun Ghoul is a brown skinned person with dark brown hair in two long braids. He has a patch of light green skin to the left of his mouth and a scar along his mouth. He is wearing a yellow long sleeved shirt with stripes a navy green vest over it and dark grey pants.

"Ready?" Party asks, tussling Ghoul's hair.

"Ready as I'll ever be" Ghoul responds, grabbing their rayguns.

Panel 2: Close up of Ghoul handing Party their raygun which is yellow with red and black stripes. "Lets go!" He shouts.

Panel 3: Party and Ghoul stand back to back with their ray guns out as a hoard of Draculoids, who are wearing all white, surround them, walking like zombies with their arms out.

Panel 4: A draculoid with an angry expression punches Party Poison to the ground with iron knuckles. They have a pained expression of their face and a pale pink splotch of a wound on the right side of their face.

Panel 5: Fun Ghoul shoots an orangey red blast from his neon green raygun at the draculoid and it goes down. The blaster makes the sound effect Nyoom

Panel 6: Fun Ghoul helps up Party Poison who is on the ground. Behind them are dead draculoids lying on the ground with blood pooling around them. In the background the sun is starting to set and the whole desert is streaked with red and orange.

Panel 7: Ghoul embraces Poison and puts his hand on their wound. "You're hurt..." He has tears welling in his eyes and looks concernedly at Party. The background is a vignette made of blue paint splotches

Panel 8: Close up of Poison's face as they look anxiously at Ghoul's hand and places their own on his. "Ghoul, I'm fine." They pause, "Really."

Panel 9: Close up of just Party's hand pushing away Ghoul's hand. The background is light blue and the panel is rectangular and shorter than their hands.

<page break>

Panel 10: Ghoul is further from Poison now. He reaches out his cupped hands "You got hit bad" he insists. Poison looks at him blankly, slightly rolling their eyes. Their left hand is holding their arm.

Panel 11:"Have you learned nothing!?" Poison shouts with a zigzag word balloon. Their hands are on their temples and they look angry.

Panel 12: "I'm just trying to help you has a friend" Ghoul shouts back, his word ballon mostly smooth with a few zig zags pointed at Poison. Ghoul's hands are splayed open to his sides he has tears in his eyes.

"Are you really?" Poison demands, also with some zig zags on his word balloon pointed at Ghoul. They are pointing a finger at Ghoul with an accusatory look on their face. The background is orange paint splotches and the panel is rectangular and shorter than the two killjoys.

Panel 13: Profile of Party standing with their hands clasped together "Ghoul we talked about this." They say with a trembling face and tears coming down their cheek, "And if you want our friendship back? You need to stop doing stuff like- like this." They pause, "I see you still trying." The background is maroon stripes of paint starting farther from Poison and ending near but not past them.

Panel 14: Ghoul is looking down, "I'm sorry. I just-" His word balloon has a few dashes in it, then a loop, then he says "I still care about you" The background is a painted soft pink circle behind Ghoul.

Panel 15: An over the shoulder shot of Party and the back of Ghoul's head. "I know that" Party says, looking right at Ghoul with a serious expression, "And I do too. Which is why I'm telling you to stop." The background is a painted dark orange rectangle.

Panel 16: Shot of just Party Poison from the waist up. With a tear in their eye they hand a green helmet with light green stripes to Ghoul, "Take the long way home." Their word balloon stretches and then they say, "And maybe... don't come back trying to make moves this time."

Panel 17: The sun is low, a sunset at its finale letting the stars out from above its swaths of deep red and burning yellows and orange. Ghoul on his bike is small, riding into the distance. His red tail lights streaking into the night. Party Poison leans on the Trans Am, which is reflecting the violet from the sky in its windows and says Look Alive Sunshine across the back. Party watches him go and their silhouette is lighted on the edges by the glow of the last rays of sunset.

[end description]

[lysmune]

Twins

You spend your day with Beelzebub, your night with Belphegor.

For the twins’ 2021 birthday. Fluff. Cute stuff for once. Time and memos. Attic Sandwich.

i: 8:00AM

      A tangerine sticky note on the fridge. He recognises that handwriting anywhere.

     ‘Happy birthday, Beel! There’s cake on the top shelf of the fridge and everything on the third shelf is yours. I hope you like the food, and here’s to a fulfilling breakfast.’

     It ends with a few hearts and a smiley face, and it makes him grin. He opens the fridge to find an array of delights: rice balls stuffed with salmon; pastrami (He thinks that’s what they’re called) sandwiches piled high; Madam Scream’s macarons; a generous bowl of cold noodles, whose toppings have been neatly packed into individual lunch boxes, and the chocolate roll cake that tops it all, stuffed to the brim with chocolate cream and decorated with fresh strawberries.

     All of this must’ve taken hours of preparation, and he smiles, touched by the amount of care, by the fact that you’ve thought of him.

     In return, he sits down and slowly, taking his time, savours all the food you’ve cooked for him.

ii: 9:00 AM

     Dressed in a new top and cargo pants, you kiss his cheek and wish him happy birthday in greeting before he responds by nuzzling your neck, arms wrapping around you, picking you up with ease and spinning you in a small circle.

     “Thanks for the breakfast,” he beams as he settles you down on your feet, though he never quite lets you go, pecking the edge of your lips quickly. “Going anywhere special?”

     You grin. “Anywhere you want today, Beel.”

iii: 1:00 PM

     Wherever he goes, you follow, hand in hand as you both stroll through Devildom with amicable chatter and many, many stops. The homeware stores are what catch his attention and he leads you into them pretty frequently, perusing the blankets, the plushies, the pyjamas, particularly fixated on the bear-patterned ones.

     “They’re for Belphie,” he clarifies, and he asks for your opinion, asks if you find anything that his twin might adore. It’s the lapis-dyed blanket, soft to the touch and patterned with polar bears and dots, that you pick out and Beel, without a second thought, without a question, purchases it. He apologises for dragging you through the process, but you squeeze his hand tighter in reassurance.

     “You’re sweet, Beel,” and he blushes crimson to the tips of his ears, smiling gently before he presses his lips to your cheek.

     With a slight tug, he pulls the both of you into the fluorescent-lit streets and you realise that he isn’t walking as fast as usual when he drops to your side.

iv: 3:00 PM

     “You’re not hungry, Beel?” you ask as he pops open a soda and he cocks his head to the side. “You didn’t eat lunch.”

     Oh. Now that I think about it. He supposes he hasn’t, which is just as surprising to him as it is to you; he’s never skipped a meal, not even by accident. He should be famished, on all accounts, but he’s strangely full. Maybe it’s because he’s had his sights wholly on you the entire day.

     “Do you want me to make you something?” you ask, to which he shakes his head, extending his hand out instead. You take it and he, making sure to be careful, pulls you to him, and he watches your brow crease with worry. “You okay?”

     “I’m okay,” he assures. This close, he smells you, sweet and honeyed, and he finds himself eyeing your lips. “Can I ...?”

     Laughter spills, then, “Of course.”

     Leaning forward, he captures you in a kiss, his hands resting on your waist while you clasp yours behind his neck. Orange on the tip of his tongue, the taste of bittersweet chocolate and coffee, and you, and it’s enough to make him feel a little warmer, a little light headed. For a moment, he pulls away to let you breathe before he returns for a second one, this time a little rougher, fingers hovering up and down your sides. He hums into your mouth, delighted as you tug and card through his hair, and he has to remind himself to be softer when he holds you closer, bodies flushed, bereft of distance.

     He lets himself linger when he breaks it off, your swollen lips barely touching his, your forehead against his as you let your palms rest on his chest, cheeks dusted red, the heat of it all near unbearable. So beautiful and he can’t help but kiss you again, light and brief this time, before he loosens his grip on you.

     “I like you,” he finds himself confessing as he gazes at you, raising his hand to your cheek. “I like you a lot.”

     “I like you, too, Beel,” you reply as you thumb a peck into his palm, pressing closer.

     ”I’m glad,” he replies, his voice soft, the sound of his heart loud in his ear. “I feel full whenever I'm with you, and you always make me really happy.”

v: 4:00 PM

     A pillow covered in white fluff with a pair of bear ears sewn onto two of the tips and a pompom for a tail, a violet sticky note tacked atop its head. Belphegor wants to laugh at the gift you’ve left for him, but he squeezes it to his chest instead, cuddling it.

     The stitch work isn’t perfect, he can tell. Ears lopsided, frayed bits of thread, meandering seams, and when the odd, perfect sew catches his eye, he’s sure it’s Asmo’s handiwork, not yours; he chuckles at the thought.

     Plucking the note, he leans back against his bed and reads it.

     ‘Hey, Belphie, happy birthday! I’m not the best at sewing, but I hope you like the bear pillow. Here’s to even sweeter dreams.’

     A heart and a few stars scrawled at the end, Belphegor can’t help but smile before he sticks your note on the wall beside him.

vi: 6:00 PM

     With a plate of today’s dinner in your hand, you knock on the twins’ door, calling out to him before you take a step back. You’re surprised when he greets you almost immediately, something he doesn’t do that often, considering his sleeping habits.

     “Took you long enough,” he huffs as he grabs your hand and leads you into the room.

     “I was grabbing you dinner,” you point out, setting the plate down on the table beside his armchair. “Did I miss something?”

     He shakes his head, a mischievous smile curving his lips. “Nope, I just wanted to see you.”

     Leaning forward, he presses a quick kiss onto the top of your cheekbone before he sinks into the chair, dragging it closer as motioning for you to sit on his bed, reaching for his meal once he’s settled.

     “Did you have a good day with Beel?” he asks, eyes sparkling once he takes in the sight of sushi before him; you chuckle. Sure it’d been a little pricey, like most human world foods that Akuzon stocks, but you figure you could always make an exception for his birthday.

     “I did,” you answer as he stuffs an ebi nigiri into his mouth, chewing.

     He swallows, then, “Good, then you’re mine for the rest of the night, yes?”

     “Yep.”

     He hums in approval. “Great. Give me a minute and we can have a little fun.”

vii: 8:00 PM

     Belphegor ends up taking longer than you anticipated, though you’re not complaining, seeing as he’s striking up conversation most of time, whether that be about your outing with Beelzebub today or how you’re feeling, in general.

     “Did Beel give you his gift?” you ask while he places the plate back onto the table.

     “Yep,” he confirms. Lacing his fingers with yours, he leads you towards the staircase, turning back to flash you lazy, cheeky grin. “Your gift was just as cute, though.”

     You chuckle out a ‘thank you’ before be whisks you right up the stairs and onto the loft of their room. It’s a shared space, Beelzebub’s half filled with racks of snacks, a copper coloured speaker beside it along with a misplaced dumbbell or two, while Belphegor’s is dotted with blankets and throws, puffed up pillows encircling the telescope that claims centrepiece.

     He seats himself at the far right corner, pulling you down with him, snuggling up to you after he drapes a blanket across your forms. Glancing up, you watch the painted stars across his ceiling dance through the drapery, shifting like sun sparked azurite, violet streaking the slow moving celestial bodies. “How beautiful.”

     Belphegor hums in agreement before you hear a switch click shut. In an instant, everything is brighter, the night sky coming to life above you in golden glimmers as you let out a sigh of wonder. He laughs beside you, tugging you closer until your side hits his, and he rests his head on your shoulder.

     Carding your fingers through his hair, you wonder if this is enough for him, that just being there is what he wants. As if he noticing your worry, he says, “Thank you for being here, really.”

     You smile at his words, pushing a few locks behind his ear. “It’s your birthday, Belphie. I’ll stay the whole night if that’s what you want.”

     “I want a lot more than that,” he whispers and, before you can even think of a reply, he presses his lips against yours, hands cupping your cheek as you clasp yours behind his neck. He tastes like mint, clean and peppery, the smell of shampoo lingering in the air when he pulls apart after his tongue skims yours for a brief, teasing moment. He gives you no time to catch your bearings, trailing kisses down the column of your neck, suckling and playfully biting, leaving you love marks that you’re sure are going to show tomorrow. “Can I be a little bit more selfish?”

     “Yes,” you sigh out and his smile crescents into you skin.

v: 2:00 AM

     “Sleep here tonight,” he states. It isn’t a question, it’s an order, one that you comply to with nod of your head and, as if on cue, you yawn. He laughs, taking your hand in his before he sweeps you to your feet. “Tired?”

     “Just a little,” you assure, though Belphegor’s not quite as convinced. “I can still stay up.”

     With a shake of a head, he’s tugging you down the staircase, making sure that he’s not rushing his steps. “You’re really not that good of a liar,” he points out and you offer him a lopsided frown, bleary-eyed, shoulders hunched over.

     Honestly, it’s really not surprising that you’re tired. Beel sent him a picture of the monstrous feast you’d cooked up and he’s sure that must’ve taken at least half a day; then there’s the pillow you made for him, which probably took a lot of trial and error. Today, he suspects, has exhausted the last reserves of your energy and, while he’s happy that you’re willing to push yourself for him, he’d rather you get some rest.

     Leading you to the bed, he watches in amusement as you flop onto the mattress, clearly fatigued while he sits at the edge, arms crossed over his head. “Thought you said you weren’t tired.”

     “I’m - oh,” and he follows your gaze to the sticky note he’s taped onto the wall; your sticky note. He catches the blush that starts to creep across your cheeks, head quirking to the side. “Oh.”

     “I just had to keep it. It’s from you, after all,” he professes and your gaze softens, and it warms him inside out. “I like you; I like everything about you.”

     You sit up, pressing a quick peck to the edge of his lips. “I like you, too,” and he lets the words settle into him, skin tingling with goosebumps.

     He allows you to pull him with you when you lay back down into the bed and you let out a laugh. He simply sighs, turning his back against the wall to face you, wrapping an arm around your waist, bringing you in closer.

     Your arms slip under his to rest at the back of his shoulders. “Stay here?”

     “Where else would I go?”      You chuckle. “That’s true,” you manage as you snuggle against him, burying your head into his chest. The sight of you, so vulnerable and so trusting of him, makes his breath hitch in his throat, makes him feel a little lighted, and he presses a kiss onto the crown of your head.

     “Good night.”

[esmealux]

Could you do 31 and 23 for the prompts?

I absolutely loved this prompt, thank you! <3

This got a lot longer (1.8K) and a lot angstier than I intended. But fret not, it's hurt/comfort at its core and it's Deckerstar stargazing. And also,

ANTI-SPOILER ALERT: This piece takes place after 5a/during 5b. I have not watched the trailer, nor will I. I therefore have no idea what is going to happen in 5b, or if what this fic suggests is remotely close to what is hinted at in the trailer—and I would like remain oblivious. *Looks at you with puppy eyes* So please don't mention anything from the trailer in the comments? It would mean a lot to me ❤ (And yes, I do realise I could've waited two days before posting this, but I wanted to give you guys a little something while you wait.)

Rated M, just to be safe.

Enjoy, my loves!

31. Lost in the middle of nowhere + 23. ‘Hey, at least the stars are beautiful tonight, right?’

He gets in his car, and he drives.

He has no destination in mind, nowhere but ‘away’. Away from Him. From feelings he can’t contain. From eons of neglect. From pain.

Far away.

He drives till there’s no more gas and ends up stranded where the streets have no name, in the moonlit desert.

The car shudders and comes to a halt. With ridiculously shaky hands, Lucifer brings a cigarette and a lighter to his lips, desperately needing the distraction. He flicks the lighter repeatedly, chaotically, but the fire won’t bite, and suddenly he’s hyperventilating, and both cig and lighter are sent flying through the brisk night air.

He roars into the dark void of the night. The thunderous sound resonating off the distant mountain walls startles him like an unexpected ghost. It sounds like him, but not like him. Not like Lucifer, Devil, fallen angel. It sounds like Samael, falling angel—screaming into the abyss as he plummets towards fire and brimstone, his fate and punishment, dealt by Dad.

Lucifer suddenly can’t get out of the car fast enough. He leans against the trunk, his chest heaving rapidly, his lungs fighting for air. He’d thought he was healing, that he was actually starting to put millennia of trauma behind him. And maybe he was. But then He waltzed down and ripped the wound right open.

Such a pestilent, tyrannous prick.

Lucifer needs a drink.

He finds a bottle of something strong and amber in the glove box and brings it back to the trunk. It’s only half-full, and he’d need at least five more bottles to just get tipsy, but it’ll have to do. He wasn’t looking to get shitfaced, anyway. He just wants to take his mind off things, to breathe. And right now, (now that his chance of having a smoke is lying somewhere in the sand) a couple of sips from a mildly exquisite whiskey and the ensuant burn in his throat are the best way to do that.

She finds him like that—because of course she finds him—sitting on the trunk of his car with the near-empty bottle in his hand and looking absolutely wrecked.

She’s tentative as she approaches him, afraid she’s not welcome, that he really did want to be alone. But as she gets close and he looks up at her, dark eyes glistening in the moonlight, she knows being alone is the last thing he needs.

Without a word, neither from her nor from him, she gets up on back of the car and scoots close to him, still keeping some air between them.

‘I thought you could use a friend,’ she says with a slight smile, exactly like she did all those years ago. Now, however, the last word isn’t an overwhelming, meaningful declaration, but a cosmic understatement, and Lucifer can’t help but snort.

Reaching over, Chloe grabs his hand and interlocks their fingers. ‘Also, I wasn’t gonna let my partner get lost in the middle of nowhere alone.’

‘I’m not lost,’ he objects, but his voice, hollow and lined with despair, betrays him. He may know the way back to LA, but he is definitely lost.

Sensing he doesn't want to talk about it, Chloe gestures towards the bottle still dangling from his fingers and asks for a sip. His lips tug up into the smallest of smirks as he hands over the bottle with a half-hearted ‘Be my guest’.

She leans her head back, eyes turning to the night sky as she takes a swig (just a nip; one of them still has to drive home at some point). It tastes like evening kisses. Occassionally, morning kisses too.

A cool breeze whirls around them, and Chloe snuggles closer to Lucifer. She does have a plaid in the car, and she will get it in a minute, but right now, she settles for stealing some body heat, hoping her seatmate doesn’t mind too much. She hands him back the bottle and snakes a hand under his layers, up his bare back. He sighs shakily, the taut muscles beneath Chloe’s hand loosening up. It tugs at something in her chest—the way he’s calmed by her touch alone.

Chloe looks up again, at the tiny, abundant jewels glimmering against the dark sky. ‘At least the stars are beautiful tonight, right?’

In the middle of downing the last drops of whiskey, Lucifer absent-mindedly replies with a ‘Hm?’

‘Stars,’ Chloe repeats. ‘They’re beautiful.’

Hesitantly, almost reluctantly, Lucifer lets his eyes glide up. He’s quiet as he takes it in, the black canopy adorned with white, pearlescent specks. His gaze is somewhat distant, reminiscent. Wistful.

‘Lucifer,’ she breathes, not as a vocative, but as an eureka. She’s said his name so many times before, screamed it, whispered it, cried it—with passion and pain and everything in between—but now is the first time she says it actually knowing what it means. Or at least she’s pretty sure she does.

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ she asks him with a whisper, more in awe than accusatory, and the soft, melancholic smile he gives her is answer enough. ‘You let there be light.’ It’s not a question this time, just an overwhelming realisation spoken out loud.

‘Well, technically,’ Lucifer corrects, glancing over at her, ‘it was Dad who created Light.’ His gaze turns upwards again, eyes suddenly twinkling with pride. ‘The almighty wanker was just too lazy to hang it up there himself.’

Stunned, Chloe stares at the sky with new reverence. It’s breath-taking, both the sight itself—diamonds and sparkling dust sprinkled across a sea of nothing—and the fact that Lucifer made that. He literally hung the stars in the sky.

The fact that he hasn’t mentioned this before, that he hasn’t boasted about it, hasn’t proudly told everyone he’s the artist behind the original Starry Night also says something.

Peering up at him from where her head is now resting against his shoulder, Chloe sees a look on his face she can only describe as ‘homesick’.

‘They remind you of your dad’s love for you,’ she realises, voice quiet.

Lucifer scoffs, but there’s no humour in it. Just pain. ‘What love?’

Chloe doesn’t blame him for doubting. With all the light God (apparently) gave Lucifer, He gave him a thousand times more darkness. (And she is going to talk to Him about that. Later. When she’s hugged the living shit out of His son). But Chloe can tell He, despite everything, does love Lucifer—and that Lucifer is using this resentment towards Him to avoid facing the fact that he, still, loathes himself just as much. If not more.

The thought makes Chloe sick, and she suddenly feels the need to tell him, ‘You’re worthy, you know?’

He looks down at her. A wet streak on his cheek catches the silvery light of the moon. ‘I do?’ The insecurity in his voice is a sharp jab in her chest. But again, she doesn’t blame him.

‘You are,’ she states again for emphasis, holding his gaze. ‘You’re worthy of love, and light.’ With her free hand, the one that isn’t stroking the small of his back beneath his shirt and jacket, she cups his face and swipes her thumb across his stubble. ‘You deserve it. You deserve happiness, more than any other person in this world.’

He doesn’t say anything in return, but he doesn’t have to. The smile he gives her in return, warming and breaking her heart at the same time, speaks for itself. Just to get her point across, she leans up and kisses him. It’s teary and tender, and it’s a promise. To always love him—both the light and the dark, and all the colours in between.

They lean their foreheads against each other’s when they break apart, eyes still closed.

After a long, needed moment, Chloe lets her hand drop from Lucifer’s cheek to his thigh.

‘So,’ she breathes, the pall from their prior conversation vanishing into the night with her light, playful tone, ‘constellations?’

He chuckles beside her, the sound low and warm in her ear. ‘Not what you humans make them out to be.’

She fights the urge to roll her eyes at his ‘you humans’, and asks, intrigued, ‘No Big Dipper?’

‘No.’ He clicks his tongue. 'But there is a Big Pecker somewhere.’

She glares at him. ‘You drew a dick in the sky?’

His lips spread into a proud grin. ‘And a pair of boobs, if you have a little imagination.’ He points to a distant spot above them. ‘Those seven points there, the brighter ones—they form a symbol in my mother tongue. A message for my dear twin.’

‘Oh?’ Lucifer rarely ever speaks of, much less in the celestial language. It’s another part of his past Chloe hasn’t learned much about. But hopefully, over time, she will.

‘Yes, it means… how would you say?’ He thinks for a second—or pretends to—and eventually concludes, ‘Cunt, I believe, would be the appropriate translation.’

This time, Chloe doesn’t resist rolling her eyes—because nothing about that is ‘appropriate’. Maybe except for the fact that it was directed at Michael.

‘I know,’ he says, like he’s reading her mind. But he really isn’t, because he follows up with, ‘An insult to the temple of pleasure I value more than any other organ.’

Having met the guy, Chloe doesn’t disagree; Michael definitely lives up to more vile name-calling than ‘cunt’. (Also, she's pretty sure Lucifer is wrong about it being his favourite body part. She’s pretty sure the organ he values more than any other is his own Big Pecker, because she’s seen the way he looks at himself in the shower, and all the other places she finds him naked; the vain idiot is practically obsessed with his own meat. Not that she blames him.) But before she has the chance to tell him that, he says-

‘You have to forgive me. I was only a couple of thousand years old.’ There’s a glint in his eye, and Chloe can’t help but laugh, because it’s true what Linda said; he really is the oldest, most immature person in the world.

Chloe tells him as much.

He simply smirks in return. ‘I may be old, Detective, but I’m more vigorous in bed than any mortal man, old or young, and you know it.’

It only proves her point, about him being immature, and obsessed with his penis. But frankly, Chloe does know it, and for once, she feels like stroking his ego (among other things). So she grabs him by the hand, leads him into the car, onto plush leather, onto her, and as the stars twinkle and gleam above them, they put that vigour of his to good use.

[killian-whump]

Game Night! [Liveblog #4]

I’m gonna try to finish up the last game and the end of the video in this post, so we better get right to it!

The last game they’re going to play is called Quiplash. Okay, they’re going to be given a prompt... and whoever finishes the quip in the funniest way wins. Kat warns that she’s a master at this and that everybody’s going down. Colin seems impressed by her bravado, but incensed to win nonetheless. “Here we go,” says Sam unenthusiastically 😂

AND THE GAME IS ON!!!

...or it’s meant to be on. Sam’s not joined the game yet. Seems to be having some sort of technical difficulty. “You scared of losing, Sam?” Colin asks helpfully. “All the rest of us got in pretty easy...”

Sam has joined. His name is now Colonislosin 😂 It’s hard to see exactly how it’s spelled. I don’t think any of them can see it that clearly, either. Sam has to tell them what it says.

“We’ll see,” Colin says. “We’ll see.”

The game begins. “It’s more like Col-on is losin,” Sam says. “Col-on.”

The audio is breaking all up in this segment, and Josh even comments on “Low internet signal. We’re doing great.” Hmm. I paid $10 for this, you damn well better find a stronger internet signal.

ROUND 1! The first quip is: We can all agree that... The two answers are: “Covid sucks” and “Josh... is... hairy” “Covid sucks” wins ~ and Colin gets all the points.

The second quip is: A terrible name for a funeral parlor. The two answers are: “Happy Times Palace” and “We put the Fun in Funeral” “We put the Fun in Funeral” wins ~ and Kat gets all the points.

The third quip is: “Knock Knock” “Who’s There?” The two answers are: “Me DUH” and “Get the fuck away from my door” “Get the fuck away” wins and Josh gets most of the points. Colin gets some too, I think, for his answer, because Sam voted for it.

The fourth quip is: “Something that would make a creepy replacement for the horses on a merry-go-round.” The two answers are: “Mini Josh’s” and “Creepy Princes” AREN’T THOSE THE SAME THING?! 😂 “One and the same,” says Sammy. “You don’t want to sit on a mini Josh, do you?” Sam ponders. Josh forgets to even vote, and Sam gets points for “Mini Josh’s”

At the end of Round 1, Sam is in the lead, with Kat and Colin tied for second.

I wanna take this moment to apologize for how BORING this post is so far. During the games, all five people (the three stars, Josh, and Sammy the producer) are in these miniscule windows on the far right of the screen. You can barely even see them. And during this game, there’s little to no conversation going on between/during the quips. As much fun as this game might be to play, it’s not a lot of fun to watch. The last one was better, but even that tended to DRAG for the audience at home. Josh really needs to work on the games he’s having stars play if he plans to keep charging $10 a month to watch this stuff. Also, the audio keeps breaking up in this segment, so even when they talk, some of it’s hard to decipher.

“I respect that Colin is doing this instead of reading bedtime stories to his children tonight,” Josh says as everyone’s entering in their answers for Round 2. “[That’s] how committed I am,” Colin replies. Kat says something that is so broken up, I can’t even begin to figure out what it is. Something about bedtime stories and Colin’s kids. It’s probably funny. 🤷‍♀️ I’m getting mad about my $10 gift card being gone again.

Alright. Round 2.

Quip #1: It never ends well when you mix ___ and ___. Answers: “poo and oatmeal” and “Sam and Josh” Okay, that second one is gold. Who did that? Apparently Colin did “poo and oatmeal” and Kat did “Sam and Josh”. Bless her. Colin gets the points with more votes, though.

Quip #2: The worst car feature that ends with “holder” Answers: “penis” and “diaper” Sam is just blinking rapidly. Now he’s laughing. “How does that work?” he asks. No one answers. “But I wanna know,” he says. “How does it work?” Josh wins the points with his “penis” answer - which Colin voted for, by the way - but no one cares now. “Does it move?” Kat asks. “Or does it just-” “Don’t ask too many questions,” Josh says. “What kind of size is it?” Sam asks. “Is it stationary or is there a motor feature?” Kat asks. “Maybe it’s a good idea...” Sam concludes, as Josh laments the kind of dreams he’s going to have now.

The third quip is literally happening in the background now, as everyone talks about the penis holder. Colin is noticeably silent on the topic XD

Quip #3: Something upsetting you could say to the cable guy as he installs your television service. Answers: “you smell like fart” and “want to see my murder room?” I’m sitting here going, “don’t be Colin, don’t be Colin” while simultaneously knowing 100% that Colin absolutely typed “you smell like fart” into his phone and... Yeah. Yeah, I’m right. That was him 😂 And he got 0 points. “Oh, boooo,” says Colin. Honey... Honey, I’m sorry, but that was bad.

Quip #4: The name of the reindeer Santa did not pick to pull his sleigh. Answers: “ohdeer” and “tipsy” Neither of these are very good. I hate this game. Kat gets the points with “tipsy”.

OH WOW, YOU GUYS. The final points are tallied and...

WHAT IS THIS TOMFOOLERY?! Colin is LOSING?!?! I mean, I know “you smell like fart” was bad, but this is unbelievable! I call shenanigans!!!

Colin is literally sitting forward in his chair now, lmao. The determination is intense, you guys. I once again cannot handle him right now. I wish he wasn’t in the teeny tiny window so I could show you guys better, but look at him getting his fucking game face on:

This man is a peanut and I love him with every fiber of my being. Look at him being a competitive little somesuch in last place. I can’t, you guys. Bury me here, etc, etc, I’m just a goner for this ridiculous man.

O’DONOINTENSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Last Round: Quip: Strange side effect to hear during a drug commercial. Answers: “cream cheese will come out of your butt” “seeing double horowitz” and “the screams of baboons” - there’s only three because Kat didn’t get her answer in before the time was up. Aaaaaaand the sound’s breaking all up again 😣 Josh is wondering what the point is of voting, if all you’re doing is giving points to your competitors. “Do you have to give all three votes?” Colin asks. “See,” Josh says. “Colin is thinking strategically, like me.” “Well, I’m not entirely sure the other two, I think, deserve any more than one point.” But it’s... it’s the WAY he says it, OH MY GOD, lol. Lemme... I gotta... Okay, I screen recorded it for you guys.

That O’Donosass is actually almost worth $10, you guys.

Which is good, because the audio is getting worse and worse on this and it’s starting to piss me off. Anyway! Everybody’s got a lot of points, because those were ALL good answers (Colin’s was “the screams of baboons” which I quite like). Let’s see the final tally...

Josh is the winner! But Colin managed a come-from-behind close second, so I’m really proud of him :D Sam mentions how Josh invited them all there to play games and then BEAT them. Josh is closing out the show, saying he hopes everyone enjoyed it... “I enjoyed it,” Josh says "But maybe that’s just 'cause I won at the very last second.” “No, well, you won ONE,” Colin cuts in. “You won ONE game.”

SERIOUSLY. BURY ME RIGHT THERE 😂😂😂

“Colin won the first round,” Josh says.

“...and then we have these two other people.”

Incidentally, I wish everyone’s webcams were as clear as Kat’s.

Anyway, now there’s some sweet summing up... and Josh hawking everyone’s current projects... (gee, it’s like this is promotional content or something) and the show closing down and-

“Can I win next time?” asks Sam Heughan.

~ The End ~

I hope you guys had fun reading this. I gotta say...  this one video isn’t worth $10. I can see if you’re a huge fan of Josh’s or really into celebrity culture, $10 a month might be a fine price to pay for a bunch of this kind of content... but for a one-time video when your fave happens to show up on his channel? Nah. He really should have a “one time access” fee available for individual videos that’s a LOT less. Like, I’m talking, like... $1 or 2. This is literally a zoom call... and as such, the quality’s only as good as his guests’ webcams and audio and everyone’s internet connections. Also, I found the game format enticing... but ultimately boring due to the games chosen. The Would You Rather was the most fun of the three, because we actually got to hear from the stars and get some banter going. The games relied too much on the stars interacting with their devices instead of each other or anyone really engaging the audience. Honestly, if it was any of my faves other than Colin in this video, I might not have even watched the whole thing. Colin’s adorable competitive streak and eagerness to win play games is what kept me watching. The idea is cute, but it needs some work. And the price is too high - especially with the audio issues in the last ten minutes or so. That’s my final verdict.