#but I don't need it *now*. i severely needed it for at least six months straight and I needed it well beyond a year after what happened

[lord-radish]

Between OSRS and Hyrule Warriors, I'm playing a ton of grindy games lately. Thank god I'm not working on the Minecraft flatworld project at the same time, right? Hahahaha, hahaha, haha...

(nah jk the real joke is that I'm not working on the Minecraft flatworld project)

[thevoidstaredback]

Barry knew something was wrong when he woke up that morning, but he couldn't place what. There was nothing wrong in the house, nor with his family. His team were as normal as they could be, and none of his rogues had gotten out, nor was anyone causing any trouble in Central City. Then, just as he'd gotten off work at the police station, an emergency meeting for the Justice League was called. Ugh, David's gonna be pissed that he has to call out!

The Watchtower, when he got there, was a mess. Heroes were obviously panicking, and there must be magic users on board because there were things flying every which way. The meeting room, however, was somehow worse.

"What the hell is going on?" The Flash demanded after ducking behind a chair.

"Constantine and Deadman are on a warpath!" Aquaman helpfully supplied from where he was hidden behind his own chair.

"I gathered that much," Flash shouted over the noise of a chair being shattered against the wall behind him.

Aquaman scowled at him. "The hell do you want me to say? I don't know what's got them so upset!

The door opened again, announcing Batman's presence. He cleared his throat and the room instantly fell silent. Things kept flying around, but they were much more lax than they had been. Cautiously, the gathered heroes emerged from their makeshift hiding places to sit in their chairs.

"What's this about, Constantine?" the Dark Knight asked once everyone was seated.

Instead of the Brit, the ghost beside him was the one to answer. "You idiots-" he growled, "-have really fucked up this time!" he shouted.

Flash idly noticed that only the heroes operating in America were present. Huh. He had a dream just like this last night!

"Slow down," Wonder Woman tried to placate, "What's going on?"

Now it was Constantine's turn to talk. "The US Government are more aware of magic then any of us-" He clearly meant the JLD. "-are comfortable with. The fact that they somehow hid it until now is baffling."

Since when is the US Gov. aware of anything? Flash quietly wondered.

Deadman, visible to everyone and slightly calmer than before, said, "It's been brought to my attention that your government as been targeting my people." He held up his hand and raised his voice to stop anyone from interrupting him before they could. "They've taken a child."

This time, both the ghost and the occultist allowed the noise to overtake the room. Superman was the one to put a stop to it by directly asking the two, "What do you mean they've taken a child?"

Zatanna, fashionably late, entered the room and clicked on the projector like this entrance had been practiced. If Flash didn't know any better, he would've thought she had practiced it. As the screen lit up, she took place beside her two teammates. "Phantom is a small time hero in a nowhere town in Illinois - at least, it usually sticks to Illinois - called Amity Park. We've been keeping tabs on the place, though Deadman here is the only one to have ever had repeated contact."

On the projector screen was the picture of a child near or in his mid-teens. He wore a black HAZMAT suit with white accents, white knee high boots, and white elbow gloves. His hair was white and his eyes the colour of cartoon radioactivity. He was snarling in the photo, obviously having been taken during a fight, if the ready stance was anything to go by.

When Zatanna moved to the next slide, it was an overshot of a place that was somewhere between being a town and a city. It was big enough that not everyone could possibly hope to know everyone, but small enough that everyone knew someone who knew someone. Based on the experience of several heroes, as well as several different statistics, it didn't look like the kind of place that would have a lot of police needed crime, let alone a dedicated hero.

"Several World Ending events were started and stopped here." Constantine continued, "Remember six months ago, when natural disasters erupted all over the planet? We tracked the epicenter to here. Same as four months ago when three quarters of the planet's population took an impromptu nap."

The slide was changed to show an empty field. "Two months ago," Deadman picked up, "The entire town and everyone in it disappeared off the face of this planet." Again, he waited out the uproar from the Justice League, continuing as though uninterrupted after they'd quieted down. "Three days later, it all reappeared," The picture was replaced by another overshot of the town, but there was a green tint to it. "A week later, I was called back to my home in the I̷͈̋̿̀̚n̶͙̙̲͇̤̪̅͋͘f̶̟̰̬̤̀̉̕i̵͕̫͖͔̟͝n̸̮͙̋̎̆̈́̂̈i̷̬̫̤̱̱̒͌͌t̷͉̪̐̂̿͝è̴̙̊ ̴̪̠͍̞͆̌̀R̵̻͙̺̯͌e̸̫͉̖̙̖͐͆͊͠ȧ̵̭̻̩̙͇̔͜l̴͔̝͒m̸͖̦̟̠̭̥̄̇͆̀s̶̢͉̳̪̦̹̑͠. That is where I offically met young Phantom."

"Why is it green?" Aquaman wondered.

"Were you keeping tabs on the place before or after this all happened?" Batman asked over him.

"Before," Zatanna answered, "An interdimensional rift opened up in the town eleven months and five days ago. A second one opened up in the same town ten months and two days ago."

"Why didn't we know about it?" Flash asked, nothing else joining the pure curiosity in his voice. "This kinda seems like something all of use should've been told about."

The magician shook her head. "Because this is our area of expertise, not yours. None of you could've done anything except make things worse if you knew."

The speedster nodded, accepting the answer easily. He didn't like working with magic. He didn't understand it, and it took way too long to actually start believing in the stuff, but he knew there was no way he'd be useful in situations that relied on magic. Best leave that to the professionals.

"I went to the town to scope things out and met Phantom," Constantine said, the slide changing to show another picture of the young hero. He was hiding in an alley, staring at his hands with something akin to fear in his eyes. "He let me take a look at the rift, explained a few things to me, and then we set up a means of contact, though he only ever talks to Deadman."

"Wait," Robin spoke up from where he was beside Batman, "I know that place!" Batman didn't show any reaction other than turning to look at his protege. Robin, for his part, glided smoothly past the look from his mentor. "Me and the rest of my team passed through there about three months ago. We met the town hero, but it wasn't Phantom."

"What do you mean?" Wonder Woman asked.

"The town's hero is called Red Huntress. She's helped out the Young Justice a few times in the past few months with some supernatural issues. She deals mostly with ghosts, though."

Deadman bristled, obviously not liking something that the boy had said.

"Oh?" Superman asked, "What did she tell you guys?"

"That Phantom's one of her rogues." Robin said, "Apparently, he causes a lot of property damage and doesn't stick around to help with relief efforts. She told us that he also kidnapped the mayor, and has attacked the local high school too many times to count."

"That's a load of shit," Constantine muttered under his breath. Louder, he said, "Phantom has only ever worked to protect his town. Red Huntress didn't show up until two months after he started his work!"

"We wait to act until we have more information," Batman, the paranoid bastard, ordered, "As soon as we know exactly who we can trust and what we're going into, we'll stick to recon."

Deadman slammed his hands on the table. "You're government took a child! This is not the time for recon! This is time to act!"

"Recon." Batman stood. "Robin, I want a report from you about your team's interactions with Red Huntress, as well as a report from herself. Constantine and Zatanna, I want a full report on everything you know about Amity Park and whatever's going on there. Dismissed." Then, he walked out of the room, Robin trailing closely after him.

"Um, Bat?" Fash stood, stopping Batman and Robin in the doorway, they both turned to face him, "Maybe we should hear them out? This sounds serious."

Batman stared at Flash for a moment longer before walking back into the room. He gestured for the three present members of the Justice League Dark to continue.

Deadman had a small look of relief flash over his face. "Your government's been sending ghost hunters to Amity Park for the better part of a year now. They were dead set on catching Phantom, and now they have. We don't know-" He cut himself off. After a few seconds, he disappeared completely. Constantine's and Zatanna's phones both went off. Nearly an entire minute after Deadman disappeared, the alarms in the Watchtower went off.

"Fuck," Flash swore.

Part 2 Part 4

[fluffypotatey]

okay so:

the year is 2021. the month is june. the new season of hermitcraft, season 8, has just started, and everything is great! the hermits are all messing around, having fun, building insane things within the first week of the server being active, and generally having a good time. everyone's collected themselves into little factions, pranking each other, and it's all the fun, lighthearted, mostly-vanilla content hermitcraft is known for.

and then the split between minecraft versions 1.18 and 1.19 is announced. the delay of new terrain, and especially of new mobs like the warden, considerably disrupt several of the hermits' plans. but it's fine, they'll figure something out, they're professionals, and it mostly goes unnoticed.

about two weeks later, on november 9th, grian turns to mumbo jumbo in one of his episodes, and asks the famous question that would seal hermitcraft season 8's fate:

"mumbo, is the moon... big?"

suddenly, the fans panic. they search back through videos and streams, and realize that the moon had been abnormally large and stuck in a full-moon phase since october 30th. the Moon Big event has begun.

this is where the roleplay really starts. once the moon's size has been brought up, the hermits start a weird combination of scrambling to figure out why the moon's growing, and how to stop it- but also of ignoring it, hoping it won't be a problem, hoping someone else will deal with it. the moon keeps getting bigger, more hermits start realizing it's going on, and a creeping sense of dread starts to grow. but it's fine. it's fine, right? they do little plotlines like this all the time. they'll figure something out, the moon will go back to normal, and we'll laugh about it when this is all over. it's fine.

and then, blocks start flying away. just floating up out of the ground, and falling right back down! like for a moment, a square meter chunk of dirt has decided it's a ballerina and leaped out of the ground! but it's fine, right? the blocks are coming back. no lasting harm is done. they're going to fix it all... right?

the moon gets bigger. it's growing every day- local hermit weirdguy joe hills measures it every stream. the blocks start flying higher. gravity starts getting... weird, with players getting the slow falling effect at random, and being lifted off of the earth themselves. the players form cults and rituals and whatnot to try and appease the moon, convince it to leave them alone, making plans to escape. nothing works. things keep getting worse, and the moon keeps getting bigger. but it'll be fine. these storylines never leave lasting harm, or at least they never have before. they'll be fine.

and then the blocks stop coming back, just floating into the sky forever. the players have the slow falling effect more than they don't now. the moon is now so big it's visible even during the day, and fills the entire sky at night. they start planning their escapes in earnest, and say their goodbyes. some hermits jump into a void hole in the overworld (it was the centerpiece of their village). some flee to the End, some to the nether, some just fly with elytras and hope they can get far enough away in time. one brave hermit, tango, flies himself to the moon in a futile attempt to blow the whole thing up before it can crash.

but in the end, the moon crashes into the server, and everything they'd built was destroyed. and the whole time, there'd been nothing any of them could've done. season eight was over, a full six months before anyone had expected it to end, and season nine wouldn't start until about three months later. and im still not okay about it.

(here's a cool animatic of the moon's crash! honestly i dont think you need too much hermitcraft knowledge to get the gist)

(also the moon crash happened on the day before my birthday lmao.)

….

holy shit

[sebstanaddict]

The Weight of Love

Bucky Barnes x Reader One Shot

Summary: Bucky Barnes never expected to fall for Y/n, the nurse who helped him recover after he got severely injured from a dangerous mission. Six months later, their love is tested as Y/n becomes the one who needs help. When she collapses in his arms, Bucky must find a way to support her and face their challenges together.

Pairings : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warning : none I think, let me know if you find any

Word count : 4k words

Read more Bucky one shots here : The Stan and Barnes Oddyssey

---

The Weight of Love

The first time James "Bucky" Barnes laid eyes on Y/n, he was bleeding out on a gurney, the sharp sting of pain dulled only by the disorienting fog of shock. The mission had gone horribly wrong, leaving him with a deep, jagged wound in his side that refused to stop bleeding. As he was rushed through the sterile halls of New York Presbyterian Hospital, his vision blurred, and he fought to stay conscious. Despite the chaos surrounding him, a calm, steady voice broke through the haze.

"Stay with me, Mr. Barnes. You're going to be okay. Just stay with me."

Her words were like a lifeline in the storm, anchoring him to the present. Bucky had faced countless injuries in the past, his body a patchwork of scars from battles that spanned decades. The super soldier serum coursing through his veins had always ensured that he healed faster than any normal human could. But lately, he'd noticed a change-a slowing down that was unsettling, to say the least. He wasn't healing as quickly as he used to, and this mission had proven that in the worst possible way.

The fluorescent lights of the emergency room passed overhead, casting harsh shadows that danced in and out of his vision. He could feel the life draining out of him, a coldness creeping into his limbs. But that voice-soothing, determined-kept pulling him back from the brink.

"Don't give up on me now, Mr. Barnes. We're almost there."

Somehow, he managed to focus, his vision sharpening just enough to make out her face. She had a mask on, but her eyes-their gentle concern, their unwavering focus-were enough to imprint on his memory even as he slipped into darkness.

When Bucky next opened his eyes, the world was quieter, the frantic urgency of the ER replaced by the steady beeping of monitors. His side ached, but the pain was duller now, a mere echo of the agony he remembered. He tried to sit up, but his body protested, and he let out a low groan.

"You're awake."

The voice was familiar, and Bucky turned his head slightly, wincing at the stiffness in his neck. Standing by the foot of his bed, holding a clipboard, was the nurse who had spoken to him in the chaos of the ER. Her face was calm, her demeanor professional, but there was a softness in her eyes that put him at ease.

"Y/n," she introduced herself, as if sensing he wouldn't recall much from earlier. "How are you feeling?"

Bucky swallowed, his throat dry and his voice rasping when he finally spoke. "Like I've been through a meat grinder."

Y/n nodded, her expression empathetic. "That sounds about right. You were in pretty rough shape when you came in, but the doctors were able to stabilize you. The wound was deep, but it didn't hit any vital organs, which is why you're still with us."

Bucky glanced down at his bandaged side, the stark white gauze a reminder of just how close he'd come to not making it. The serum should have helped him heal faster, but lately, its effects seemed to be... waning. He wasn't bouncing back the way he used to, and the thought sent a chill down his spine.

"How bad was it?" he asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"Pretty bad," Y/n admitted, her voice gentle. "You were bleeding heavily, and with the serum slowing down... well, it took longer than it should have for your body to start the healing process. But you're stable now, and that's what matters."

Bucky nodded, his mind still processing her words. The serum had been a part of him for so long, a source of strength that he had come to rely on. But if it was weakening... what did that mean for him? For the future?

As if sensing his unease, Y/n stepped closer, offering a small, reassuring smile. "You're going to be okay, Mr. Barnes. You just need to give your body time to heal."

Bucky managed a faint smile in return. "Please, call me Bucky."

"Alright, Bucky," Y/n said, her smile widening slightly. "How about I get you some water? You've been out for a while; you must be thirsty."

"Yeah, that'd be good," Bucky replied, his voice a bit steadier now.

As Y/n poured a cup of water and handed it to him, Bucky took a moment to really look at her. She moved with a quiet efficiency, but there was a warmth in her presence that cut through the sterile coldness of the hospital room. When their fingers brushed as she handed him the cup, he felt a strange sense of connection, a fleeting moment of human contact that made him feel... less alone.

Over the next few days, Y/n became a familiar and comforting presence in Bucky's life. Each morning, she was there, checking his vitals, administering medication, and asking about his pain levels. She seemed to know just when to offer words of reassurance and when to give him space, an intuition that Bucky appreciated more than he could express.

Y/n had seen her fair share of wounded soldiers over the years, but there was something about Bucky that set him apart. Perhaps it was the weight he carried in his eyes, the haunted look of someone who had lived through more than most could even imagine. She couldn't help but wonder about the man behind the soldier-the person who existed beneath the layers of trauma and scars.

One afternoon, as she was adjusting his IV, Bucky broke the silence that had settled between them. "You must see a lot of guys like me in here."

Y/n glanced up, meeting his gaze. "We get our share of soldiers, yes. But none quite like you."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression. "What do you mean?"

"You're... different," Y/n said carefully, choosing her words. "Most soldiers who come through here are dealing with physical injuries, but there's something else in your eyes. Something... deeper."

Bucky's jaw tightened slightly, the memories of his past flashing through his mind like a reel of horrors. "I've been through a lot," he said simply, his voice tinged with a weariness that spoke volumes.

Y/n nodded, her eyes softening. "I can see that. But you're still here, still fighting. That says a lot about who you are."

Bucky looked away, the weight of her words heavy on his shoulders. He wasn't sure how to respond. He had spent so long trying to distance himself from the Winter Soldier, from the man who had done so many terrible things, that he often forgot who he was beyond that. But Y/n's words stirred something in him-an inkling of the man he used to be, the man he wanted to be again.

As the days passed, Bucky found himself opening up to Y/n in ways he hadn't with anyone else in years. It started small-comments about the weather, the food, the monotonous routine of hospital life. But gradually, their conversations deepened, and Bucky began to share bits and pieces of his past.

He told her about Steve Rogers, the friend who had always believed in him, even when he couldn't believe in himself. He spoke of the 1940s, a time when life had been simpler, before the war, before everything had gone wrong. He even hinted at the battles he had fought in the shadows, though he kept the darkest details to himself.

Y/n listened with a quiet attentiveness, never pushing him to share more than he was ready to. She could sense the pain in his words, the guilt and regret that lingered just beneath the surface. But she also saw the strength in him, the resilience that had kept him going all these years, even when it felt like the world was against him.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the window, Y/n sat by Bucky's bedside, her shift nearly over. She had been thinking about him all day, wondering what it was about this man that made her care so deeply. It wasn't just his injuries or his past-there was something more, something that drew her to him in a way she couldn't quite explain.

"Bucky," she began, her voice soft in the quiet room. "Can I ask you something?"

Bucky turned his head to look at her, his blue eyes searching her face. "Sure."

"Why did you become a soldier?" she asked, her tone gentle, not wanting to pry too deeply but genuinely curious.

Bucky was silent for a moment, his gaze distant as he considered her question. It wasn't one he had been asked often-most people assumed they knew the answer. But Y/n wasn't most people.

"I didn't have much of a choice," he said finally, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. "The world was at war, and everyone was expected to do their part. But for me... it was about protecting the people I cared about. Steve, my family, my country. I wanted to do the right thing."

Y/n nodded, understanding the complexity of his answer. "And do you think you did?"

Bucky let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "I don't know. I tried, but things didn't turn out the way I thought they would. The world changed, and I... changed with it."

Y/n reached out, placing a hand gently on his hand. "You're still here, Bucky. That means you're still fighting for something. Maybe it's not the same as it was before, but that doesn't make it any less important."

Bucky looked down at her hand, the warmth of her touch seeping into his skin. For the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of hope, a small spark that maybe, just maybe, he could find his way back to the man he used to be-or perhaps, become someone new entirely.

He wasn't sure what it was about Y/n but he found himself wanting to talk to her, to share the parts of himself that he usually kept hidden and he also wanted to get to know more about her.

"Why did you become a nurse?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

Y/n smiled softly, as if she had been expecting the question. "My brother," she said simply. "He's autistic. Growing up, I spent a lot of time taking care of him, making sure he had what he needed. It wasn't always easy, but it made me realize that I wanted to help people-people who couldn't always help themselves."

Bucky listened intently, sensing that this was something deeply personal for her. "That must have been hard," he said, his voice gentle.

"It was," Y/n admitted, her gaze distant as she recalled those early years. "But it also taught me a lot about patience, empathy, and resilience. I knew that I wanted to make a difference, even if it was in small ways. Nursing felt like the right path for me."

Bucky nodded, feeling a strange sense of connection with her. They were both people who had seen their fair share of hardship, who had been shaped by the challenges life had thrown at them. "Your brother's lucky to have you," he said sincerely.

Y/n's smile widened, a touch of warmth in her eyes. "Thank you, Bucky. That means a lot."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, her hand still placed gently on top of his, the hum of the hospital's night shift lulling them into a sense of calm. For Bucky, it was a rare feeling-peace, even if it was only temporary. He hadn't felt this way in a long time, not since before the war, before the Winter Soldier.

As the days turned into weeks, Bucky's wounds began to heal, though not as quickly as he would have liked. The serum was still working, but its effects were slowing down, leaving him with a lingering sense of vulnerability that was unfamiliar and unwelcome. But with Y/n by his side, the process didn't seem as daunting. She was patient, understanding, and more than anything, she made him feel... human. Her presence became more than just a comforting routine; it became something he looked forward to, a reason to keep fighting, to keep healing.

Y/n, for her part, found herself drawn to Bucky in a way she hadn't expected. There was something about him-his quiet strength, his haunted eyes, the way he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders-that resonated with her. She could see the pain he tried to hide, the scars that ran deeper than the physical ones, and she wanted to help him, to ease his burden even if just a little.

One evening, as Y/n was finishing up her shift, she found Bucky sitting up in bed, a rare smile playing on his lips. It wasn't the first time she had seen him smile, but it was the first time it felt genuine, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" she asked, her tone light as she walked over to his bedside.

Bucky looked up at her, his blue eyes bright with something she couldn't quite place. "I'm getting discharged tomorrow," he said, the words almost hesitant, as if he wasn't sure how she would react.

Y/n felt a mix of emotions-relief that he was well enough to leave, but also a pang of sadness at the thought of him not being here anymore. "That's great news," she said, her smile warm but tinged with a hint of melancholy.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, though his smile faded slightly as he looked away. "But... I'm gonna miss our talks."

Y/n's heart skipped a beat, the sincerity in his words catching her off guard. She hadn't realized just how much their conversations had come to mean to him. "Me too," she admitted, her voice soft.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the unspoken bond between them growing stronger with each passing second. Then, Bucky cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

"Would you, uh, maybe want to grab a coffee sometime?" he asked, his voice almost shy, as if he wasn't sure if she would say yes.

Y/n's heart swelled with a mix of affection and something deeper, something she wasn't quite ready to name yet. "I'd like that," she replied, her smile genuine.

Bucky's relief was palpable, and for the first time since he had arrived at the hospital, he felt like maybe-just maybe-there was a future worth looking forward to.

The next day, when Bucky was discharged, Y/n walked him to the entrance of the hospital. They exchanged numbers, promising to keep in touch, and as Bucky stepped out into the crisp New York air, he couldn't help but feel that something had shifted within him.

He wasn't just leaving the hospital behind; he was leaving behind a part of himself that had been stuck in the past, weighed down by guilt and regret. And in its place, something new was growing-a hope, a possibility, a future that he hadn't dared to dream of in years.

As he walked away, he glanced back one last time, catching a glimpse of Y/n standing in the doorway, watching him with a soft smile on her lips. It was a sight that he would carry with him for days, weeks, and months to come-a reminder that, even in the darkest of times, there was still light to be found.

-----

Six months had passed since Bucky left the hospital, and in that time, he and Y/n had built something together - something real and fragile and beautiful. They had moved into a small but cozy apartment in Brooklyn - not far from where Y/n's father and brother lived - a place that had quickly become a sanctuary for both of them. It wasn't much, but it was theirs, a space where they could be themselves without the weight of the world pressing down on their shoulders.

But as much as Bucky had found peace in this new life, he couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at him every time he looked at Y/n. She had always been a hard worker, dedicated to her job and her family, but lately, it seemed like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Bucky knew about Y/n's family. She had told him about her father, a man who had once been full of life and strength, but who had been worn down by time and illness. Her father had raised her and her younger brother on his own after their mother passed away, working tirelessly to provide for them. But now, the roles had reversed. He was elderly, frail, and needed Y/n's help more than ever.

Then there was Y/n's brother, Austin. He was autistic, a gentle soul who saw the world differently than most. Y/n adored him, had always been protective of him, but his care was demanding. He needed structure, routine, and support that only Y/n seemed capable of providing. She had been his rock, guiding him through life's challenges, ensuring he had everything he needed. But it was exhausting work, both physically and emotionally.

Bucky admired her strength, but he could see the toll it was taking on her. He noticed the way her hands trembled when she thought he wasn't looking, the dark circles under her eyes that no amount of sleep seemed to erase. He had tried to talk to her about it, to ask her to take a step back and rest, but she always brushed him off with a tired smile and a promise that she was fine.

Bucky knew better. He had been in enough battles to recognize when someone was pushing themselves too hard, and Y/n was well past that point. But no matter how much he tried to help, she insisted on carrying the burden alone.

One evening, Bucky was in the kitchen, putting together a simple dinner. The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm, golden light through the windows. He was humming a tune under his breath, something he had picked up from the radio, when he heard the front door creak open.

"Hey, doll," he called out, turning to see Y/n stepping inside. "You're home late."

Y/n gave him a weary smile, her shoulders slumping as she closed the door behind her. "Yeah, it was a long shift," she said, her voice laced with exhaustion.

Bucky frowned, concern etching lines into his face. "You've been pulling too many of those lately," he said gently, crossing the room to take her bag from her hands. "You need to rest."

"I'm fine, Bucky," Y/n replied, though the strain in her voice betrayed her. "Just a little tired."

But as she stepped further into the apartment, Bucky noticed the way her legs wobbled, the way she seemed to be struggling just to stay upright. Before he could say anything, Y/n swayed on her feet, and he rushed forward just in time to catch her as she collapsed into his arms.

"Y/n!" Bucky's voice was filled with panic as he lowered her to the floor, his heart racing in his chest. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow, and for a terrifying moment, he feared the worst.

"Y/n, please, wake up," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. His hands were trembling, the fear coursing through him like ice in his veins.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/n's eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him with a dazed expression. "Bucky...?"

"I'm here, doll," Bucky said, relief flooding through him as he cradled her against his chest. "I've got you."

Y/n blinked, confusion clouding her gaze as she tried to sit up. "What happened?"

"You fainted," Bucky said softly, his voice thick with worry. "You've been pushing yourself too hard, and your body just couldn't take it anymore."

Y/n's brow furrowed, and she looked away, shame creeping into her expression. "I'm sorry, Bucky. I didn't mean to scare you."

Bucky shook his head, his grip on her tightening slightly. "Don't apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. I just... I need you to stop doing this to yourself."

Y/n sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder as exhaustion weighed heavily on her. "I can't, Bucky. My dad and my brother... they need me. I have to keep going for them."

Bucky's heart ached at her words. He knew how much her family meant to her, how deeply she cared for them, but he couldn't stand the thought of her destroying herself in the process.

"I understand that," he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. "But you're no good to them if you run yourself into the ground. You need to take care of yourself, too."

Y/n closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek as she whispered, "But who's going to take care of them if I don't?"

Bucky felt a lump form in his throat as he listened to her words, the sheer weight of her responsibility crashing down on him. He knew what it was like to carry a burden like that, to feel like the whole world was resting on your shoulders. But he also knew that no one could carry that weight alone-not even someone as strong as Y/n.

"You're not alone," Bucky said, his voice gentle but firm. "We'll take care of them together. But right now, you need help."

Y/n tried to protest, but before she could say anything, Bucky reached for his phone and quickly dialed 911. "I'm calling an ambulance," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You need to be checked out properly."

"Bucky, no," Y/n murmured weakly, but she didn't have the strength to fight him. Her body was betraying her, exhaustion pulling her down like an anchor.

"I'm not taking any chances," Bucky said softly, his hand trembling slightly as he held the phone to his ear. "You scared me, Y/n. I can't-" His voice broke, and he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I can't lose you."

The minutes that followed felt like a blur. The paramedics arrived, moving quickly as they assessed Y/n's condition and prepared her for transport. Bucky stayed by her side, holding her hand, his heart pounding in his chest as they wheeled her out of the apartment and into the waiting ambulance.

The ride to the hospital was tense, the ambulance filled with the sound of medical equipment and the soft murmur of the paramedics as they worked to stabilize Y/n. Bucky sat beside her, clutching her hand tightly, his mind racing with fear and worry.

When they arrived at the hospital, the paramedics rushed Y/n into the emergency room, and Bucky found himself pacing the hallway outside, his thoughts spinning in a chaotic whirlwind. He had faced down enemies, survived wars, and fought battles that seemed impossible, but nothing had ever terrified him as much as seeing Y/n like this.

Hours passed, and Bucky was eventually allowed into Y/n's room. She was lying in a hospital bed, looking small and fragile under the stark white sheets. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even and calm, but Bucky could still see the signs of exhaustion etched into her face.

A doctor approached him, explaining that Y/n was severely dehydrated and suffering from exhaustion. They had administered fluids and were monitoring her closely, but she would need to rest for several days.

Bucky thanked the doctor, his mind barely registering the words. All he could focus on was Y/n, lying there so still and quiet. He sat down beside her bed, his hand gently resting on hers as he watched her sleep.

Time seemed to stand still in that small, sterile room. Bucky lost track of how long he sat there, his thoughts consumed with worry and guilt. He should have seen this coming, should have done more to help her before it got to this point. But he had been so caught up in his own struggles, in his own fears, that he hadn't realized just how much Y/n was carrying.

As he sat there, the weight of everything hit him all at once. The life they had built together, the challenges they had faced, the love they shared-it was all so precious, so fragile. And in that moment, Bucky knew he couldn't wait any longer.

Without thinking, without planning, he reached for Y/n's hand, holding it tightly in his own as he leaned forward. "Y/n," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

She stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open as she looked up at him. "Bucky...?"

"I'm here," he said softly, his heart pounding in his chest. "And I'm not going anywhere. Ever."

Y/n blinked, still groggy and disoriented, but she could see the intensity in Bucky's eyes, the way his jaw was set with determination. "What is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky took a deep breath, his mind racing as he searched for the right words. But in the end, it wasn't about the words. It was about the promise he was about to make, the life he wanted to build with her, the love he felt deep in his soul.

"I love you," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I love you more than anything in this world. And I know I'm not perfect, I know I've got a lot of baggage, but... I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Y/n's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as she realized what he was saying.

"Y/n, will you marry me?" Bucky asked, his voice filled with raw, unfiltered emotion. "I know this isn't how I wanted to do it, and I don't even have a ring, but... I can't imagine my life without you. I need you, and I want to be with you, through everything."

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes, her heart swelling with love as she looked up at the man who had become her everything. She didn't care that there wasn't a ring, didn't care that they were in a hospital room instead of some romantic setting. All she cared about was the man in front of her, the man who was offering her his heart, his life, his future.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Yes, Bucky, I'll marry you."

Bucky let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, a wide smile spreading across his face as he pulled her into his arms, holding her as if he would never let go. "You've made me the happiest man in the world," he said, his voice full of awe.

She smiled as she released herself from his arms and reached up, cupping his face in her hands as she pulled him down into a kiss-a kiss that was full of all the love and gratitude she felt for him. In that moment, all the worries and fears melted away, and it was just the two of them, their hearts beating in sync.

They might not have had all the answers, and the road ahead might still be uncertain, but one thing was clear: they were in this together, and nothing could tear them apart.

[anon-sect]

Picture source: Instagram account: @mrstinkysocks

Patten had the perfect guy. He had been in many relationships, but his current one was the best. He really loved the guy, but his two step brothers weren't fond of having a gay brother. They had at many times picked on him for being gay, but he would just ignore them and their insults.

One day, their bullying had gone too far. Patten had received a call from his boyfriend wanting to break up with him. He claimed that he was cheating on him and had pictures to prove it. Seeing the pictures that his boyfriend received, he could tell that they were fabricated by his stepbrothers.

Patten confronted his stepbrothers, Ion and Devin. They didn't deny what they did. In fact, they were completely proud of it. This was last stunt was too much. He decided he would need some payback against his homophobic stepbrothers.

While they weren't looking, he had spiked their drinks with a special ingredient. He waited till they soon lost consciousness after finishing their drinks. He watched as both of them began to shrink in size and taking on the form of white socks perfect for his big feet.

He tried both of them on. They were super comfortable on his feet. He made sure that their senses were left intact and heighted to about 1000%. They would feel more intensity than normal.

Ion woke up as though he was run over by a bus. He felt strange. He tried to move but could only do a little squirming. He tried to speak but had no voice to make any sound. He felt something fill up his body as though it was hollowed out. He could hear his stepbrother talking on the phone above him. It sounded like he was trying to make up with his former boyfriend. As much as he tried to move or speak any form of defiance, he only could manage a little squirming motion.

Devin woke up to feeling the wiggling of toes. He was a little confused at first till he figured out that he was a sock on Patten's foot. He could smell the odor coming from it, but it was much in intensity. He could hear him make up with the boyfriend they tried to breakup with him. Once off the phone, the intense pressure of being stepped on and walked on was insane. It felt like every nerve ending was in excruciating pain. He wanted the pain to end but each step brought on pain fresh and new.

Patten walked into the kitchen to get a snack before relaxing in front of the tv. His boyfriend was coming over later for some make up sex after hearing what his stepbrothers tried to do. He walked back to the couch and propped his feet on the table. "You two tried to ruin my relationship because you don't like having a gay brother. Now, you two will serve my feet for about a week. I might turn you back to normal then. For now, enjoy my feet." He laughed as he watched tv, not giving a care about his new socks.

SIX MONTHS LATER....

Patten saw one of his favorite pair of socks had a big hole in it. One of his stepbrothers was too damaged to change back to normal. The other was dirty, but still intact. He didn't see the reason to restore one and not the other. Keeping them both as socks was the better option. His boyfriend loved the fact about what he did to them. In fact, his boyfriend had used them as cum rags on several occasions. He didn't feel bad that they would be his socks forever now, since they were terrible brothers to him. At least in this form, they were more helpful.

Devin's mind was completely gone. There were no more human thoughts. The only thing that he focused on was Patten's foot. The hole was a badge of honor that he was proud of. Patten's foot had worn him out and he loved it. All he was now just a sock loyal to the foot that wore him.

Ion was screaming daily for Patten to forgive them. Six months of the stench of his brother's foot was a nightmare. He wanted out badly. But when he heard that they would stay as socks due to the fact that one of them had a hole in it, was mortifying. Since the hole would prevent that sock from returning to normal, they both had to remain as socks. He figured that Devin's mind was probably gone by now. He would be a dumb mindless sock. The bad part was that Devin having a hole in him meant that they both now share the same fate. Forever tormented by their gay brother on his feet.

[54625]

What I want out of a QSMP season two.

(Some of these points may be a little divisive - it's just my personal opinion. Content creators will be referred to as players for conciseness. QSMP as it has been for the past year, for the sake of this post, will be referred to as "season 1".)

1. TAKE A FUCKING BREAK.

I do not want to see the QSMP coming back in less than two months at the very, very least. Five or six months to a year is ideal, in my opinion.

This is for a few reasons. Firstly, the obvious; I want Quackity Studios to take the necessary time to make 100% sure that everyone who has worked, does work, or will work for them is compensated. Not just this, but I want the communication among the studio to become streamlined and consistent, for the purpose of maintaining the quality of the SMP, the quality of life of the employees, and entirely avoiding a repeat of the previous situation. Any less will be unacceptable, and prove that all people in charge, including and especially Quackity himself, have not learned their lesson.

Secondly, I am very sure that a lot of players will lack or have completely lost their motivation for the QSMP, due to the nature of the last few months of season 1. I am sure that those who had a lot of lore written up and had to scrap it or cut it short are probably still quite sore about it, and may not have the energy to pick the QSMP story back up. This is especially true if they had already given their characters a canon ending and don't want to overshadow it. When creating a new SMP, or a new season of an SMP, you first and foremost need player motivation to be high. Waiting several months would ensure that the wound of player lore being ruined would have mostly healed over by the start of season 2.

Thirdly, viewer engagement will always be an important thing to take into consideration when creating an SMP that will be televised. The large majority of QSMP fans are completely burned out from watching. Leaving a large gap between seasons 1 and 2 would let fans, who have had an exhausting last few months, recover and reset. It will also allow hype and anticipation to build up when things eventually start being teased and announced again. Fans have a lot of disdain for this project at the present moment, and waiting for a while between seasons will not only let fans know that serious action is being taken behind the scenes, but also will let the sour attitude a lot of fans have right now wear off over time.

2. RESET. FOR REAL THIS TIME.

Probably my most controversial take on this topic will be; I fully believe that if a QSMP season 2 is to occur, it should be a completely new server. By completely new I naturally mean a new map, but also ZERO LORE CONTINUATION. I know this is a hot take, but I personally believe QSMP season 2 is a perfect chance for a completely fresh start, and a fresh start cannot happen if it still takes place in the same universe.

We all know that season 1's lore was overwhelming, slightly confusing, and at the end of the day, completely disjointed. We all fell in love with the terrifying Federation and Codes, yes, we all loved the basis of the story; a group of people from different countries get stranded on a "perfect" paradise island controlled by a governmental body that won't let them leave, and have to work together; but at the end of the day, the lore of season 1 became messy. Very messy. Instead of trying again and again to salvage it, the best option is probably to just start again.

Put the same players in a different map, give them a completely different premise, and let the lore unfold anew. Which leads into my next point.

3. PLAYER DRIVEN LORE.

Let the players develop the story. If a player has an overarching storyline they are unfolding themselves, prioritise letting them do so. All of the best lore in season 1 was player created, and player enacted; Cellbit's regret arc, the happy pills, Cellbit's murdering Fed workers arc, literally everything Fit ever did, Roier's lore, ect ect ect. Server admins should only intervene in player's lore when directly asked, and big changes to the server's status quo should only occur when there is no active lore to be interrupted, everyone agrees it should happen, and it would actively drive engagement up, rather than down.

The best case scenario for a QSMP season 2, in my opinion, is for the server admins and Quackity to come up with an exciting and engaging premise for a brand new universe with brand new characters, to place the players in an interesting themed map, and just let them loose. Let the lore build naturally, and see what comes of it.

IN CONCLUSION.

I vehemently disagree with people who believe the QSMP should not have a season 2. The QSMP is a brilliant idea, and its noble goals shine through all of the incredible friendships and memories it, and only it, made. There is no other server like QSMP.

The act of uniting people from all over the world has been proven to be an extremely important and worthwhile goal. I, genuinely, admire Quackity for his passion in this, and for understanding that this thing should not be easily given up on or let go. Drastic changes need to occur, but the QSMP is bigger than just a Minecraft server; it represents so much unity, community, and love.

It is worth saving.

I hope, desperately and for the sake of everyone involved, past future and present, that the QSMP can come back better and stronger than ever, continuing to further its goals; to tell amazing stories, to forge impossible friendships, to spark joy and laughter, and to bring people together no matter the barriers keeping them apart.

Thank you for reading.

[artists-ally]

{Dirty Little Curse} Azriel x Reader x Xaden

Here is a continuation of She Me Where It Hurts!!! No this isn't a series, but rather a collection of stand alone fics about the same characters if that makes sense. You don't need to read the other parts to enjoy. There's no plot. Just smut hehehehe. Happy Wednesday!!

Word Count: 5,498

Warnings: ACOTAR x Fourth Wing, Smut (dom!Az and Xaden, sub!reader), use of the nickname "pet", DP, spanking, praise kink, breath play, shadow play, unprotected sex, degrading, choking, exhibitionism, just a touch of fluff.

Tagging: @librafairy @needylilgal022 @harrystylesfan2686 @justdreamstars @cyrygher @agent-anna @thelov3lybookworm @blessthepizzaman @highladyofterrasen7

Summary: Xaden has been A little more stressed than normal and due to complications at Basgiath, he isn't able to make it to Velaris for his normal training schedule. Az takes it upon himself to bring him an early Solstice gift.

~~~~~

I made my way down the cobblestone street, adjusting my bag on my shoulder as I made my way back home. The market had been full of people preparing for Solstice; buying presents and decorations for their homes or shops. 

With two bags in my hand, I had plans to spruce up my front door. The holly and various berries would make for a great-

“AHHHHH!” The ground shrunk beneath me, disappearing as I’m lifted into the air. “Oh my fucking- what the fuck.”

A deep laugh rumbled through me, and I looked up and behind my shoulder. “Good morning.”

“Azriel,” I shrieked. “What the- what the fuck are you doing?”

“We’re going on a trip.” He adjusted his grip under my arms and hauled me up. I wrapped my legs around his torso and locked my arms around his neck. “I won’t drop you.”

“What do you mean we’re going on a trip?” I looked out at the Illyrian mountains, watching them fade away. 

“We’re going to Basgiath. To visit Xaden.”

My chest tightened, my blood running rampant. “We are?”

“He couldn’t make it down for his lesson. Happy Solstice,” Azriel smiled, kissing my cheek. 

I beamed, “It is a wonderful Solstice gift. Thank you. How far is it from here?”

“Oh, we’re not going to fly,” Az said, slowing down his pace and coming to a stop. He set me down and flared out his wings before tucking them in tightly to his body. “It’s almost a month's travel.”

“The world is that big?” I gasped, taking his open hand. 

“Yes. Now hold tight, it’s a long winnow.”

I did as told, choosing to let him hold my waist instead of my hand. In the several months that have passed since I first met the shadowsinger and the shadow-wielder, Azriel has stopped by my house numerous times. To give me small gifts, or to take me out for a nice dinner. Or to warm my bed . He was a generous male to say the least. 

Xaden wrote often after he left for Basgiath. Not being shy with all the things he wanted to do to me when he came back to Velaris. Thanks to Az, sending and receiving them made communicating so much easier. 

It felt far longer than a normal winnow, at least forty-five seconds of pitch black whirling around us until we came to a stop. I blinked away the stars and we were in some giant training center. I counted four-five-six-seven sparring mats and a line of machines in the back. 

“Where is he?” I asked, not seeing him amongst the few faces. He’s easy to pick out from a crowd. And he wasn’t here. There were several heads of similar hair; one female on a mat with bright pink hair cropped close to her jaw.

“He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“I can’t wait to see him.” I played with my hands anxiously.

“I didn’t tell him I was bringing you,” Azriel smiled, heading off towards one of the empty mats in the back corner. I had to skip a few steps to keep up. 

“What? Why?”

“Because you were going to be a surprise for him. We do talk about you, and he is far worse at keeping his desires to himself than I am,” he smirked. “It’s my Solstice gift to him. Plus, you’ll help throw him off his game when we’re fighting.”

“You train him as well? Not just with the shadows?” “If he wants to be as strong at wielding as I am, he has to be as physically strong as I am to do so. It can take an incredible toll on the body. And who has more experience, some fifty year old male who has never dealt with a shadow-wielder before, or a five hundred year old male who has had them all his life?”

“Point taken.”

Azriel smiled and kissed the top of my head. “He’s almost here, just tuck yourself back here until I tell you to come out and surprise him.”

“Okay,” I chuckled, sliding behind one of the pillars holding up the ceiling. It was carved from a massive piece of black stone. So shiny I could see my reflection in it. 

A few minutes went by and I could hear the sound of footsteps approaching. The sound of Xaden’s voice greeting Az made my heart jump. He sounded a little gruff, like his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. It wasn’t long before I could hear punches and their feet sweeping across the mats’ surface. 

“Okay, stop.” Azriel shouted through a painting breath. “What is with you today? You’re sloppy. Had I been a real enemy I would’ve already detached your head from your neck.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Xaden said. “Keep going, I’m not going to be the only one bleeding here.”

“Xaden.”

“I said it’s fine.”

“Well, if you won’t tell me-” I felt a cool brush of shadows circle around my hand. “-then maybe you’ll talk to her.”

I stepped out of the shadow and into the light, greeted by the beautiful sight of Xaden’s back. Azriel looked at me, a smile playing on his lips. Az gripped his shoulders and spun him around. Those onyx, gold flecked eyes found mine and I could physically see his shoulders relax. 

“Yn…”

“Surprise!” In two seconds I was up in the air, spinning around in his arms. I giggled, clutching the back of his sweaty head, letting the hair curl around my fingers. “I missed you too.”

“What are you doing here?” He set me on my feet, cupping my face. “I- how are you here?”

“Az winnowed me in. And I had no idea I was coming today, he kind of kidnapped me on my way to my house. Happy Solstice, Xaden.”

He looked behind him as Az stood with his hands on his hips, grinning at both of us. 

“Prick,” Xaden smiled, then kissed me so hard I thought I’d fall over. But the grip he had on my waist wouldn’t ever let me dream of falling. “Okay, sparring done. Let’s get you upstairs and-”

“Not so fast,” Az interrupted, stepping next to me. “You still have training to do.”

“But it’s Solstice, can’t he just skip it for today?”

“Yeah Az,” Xaden mocked. “It’s Solstice, can’t I skip it for today?”

Az glared at both of us. “No. Get back on the mat.”

Xaden groaned. He slid his massive hand across the front of my throat. “How am I supposed to focus now?”

“You weren’t focused before,” Az retorted, picking up a sword. “Now let's go, these drills aren’t going to run themselves.”

Xaden groaned in annoyance. “Will you stay and watch? I need you in my corner to throw him off his game. And to motivate me, of course.” I couldn’t do anything to keep my smile away. “Sure.” I pressed up on my toes and left him with a parting kiss on his damp forehead. “Go kick his ass. Just for me, and I’ll make sure you get first dibs when we get upstairs.”

His eyes darkened. Xaden was not shy when it came to practically shoving his tongue down my throat before he leapt up on the mat. “Let’s get this done, shadowsinger.” 

I watched the two males battel, swinging swords around and clashing them together. Azriel was impeccable with his footwork, but so was Xaden. The two of them looked like a forbidden, hidden secret weapon of mass destruction. They ebbed and flowed. When one moved, the other followed. It was mesmerizing to watch.

And, not to mention, seeing them with both their shirts off, all slick with sweat… It made it impossible to pay attention to anything around me. I was hardly able to force myself to breathe. 

“If you keep staring, pretty girl, you might burn a hole through me,” Xaden said slyly, taking a drink of water. I wasn’t shy about the way I raked my eyes down his torso, and he wasn’t shy about flexing and showing off. 

Az jabbed him in the ribs with the butt end of his sword. “Alright, we’re done for the day.”

“Finally, now we can actually have some fun,” Xaden grinned, pressing me up against the wall. The kiss was full of need, and I could feel just how much he needed me as he pressed my hips into the cold stone. 

Heat radiated off of him. His scent was thick with his sweat and made me want to drop to my knees and run my tongue all over his carved stomach. Had it not been for his hold on me I might’ve just done it. Dropped to my knees, undone the belt holding up his pants, and taken him down my throat…

“Fuck Yn, you don’t know how long I’ve waited to taste you again,” Xaden purred, kissing down my neck. “To hear all those pretty noises.”

“Please,” I breathed. I couldn’t think, not with his scent strangling my brain

Xaden gripped my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “Please what?”

“I need you,” I pleaded. “I need you so bad Xaden. I need you, Azriel.”

I could see that predatory hunger glaze his eyes. From one moment to the next I was in a room, no bigger than my closet back in Velaris. There was a bed, a clothing chest, and that was it save for the line of weapons on the wall.

Not much. And the bed was… not even big enough for Xaden let alone all of us.

“This isn’t going to work,” Azriel grumbled, knocking his wings into everything around him. He let out a string of curses and I could see the shadows curling around his shoulder begin to accumulate.

“Agreed,” I sighed, running my hands over Xadens shoulders. “Anywhere else we could go?”

“Unless you guys want to do this on one of the training mats, then no.” Azriel and I exchanged a look. “I was joking.”

“Don’t care,” Azriel quickly took me out of Xadens grip. “There’s no way in hell this is going to work here. I’d rather sleep naked in Illyria than try to do what I want to do with my pet here.”

My knees went weak. “But what about all the people?”

“Leave that to me.”

Once again, we were back in the training room, Xaden and Az blocking my view. 

“Everyone out,” Azriel’s voice carried over the entire center. People quickly darted around, grabbing bottles of water and shirts left and right. In less than a minute the entire arena was empty. Except for us. 

“I cannot believe you just kicked everyone out,” Xaden scoffed. 

“I won’t hear you complaining when Yn has her mouth on you,” Azriel rolled his eyes. His hand went to my shoulder and he pushed me to my knees. “Get to work pet, I’m getting impatient.”

“Yes sir,” I grinned up at Xaden, undoing the belt at his hips. 

“Fuck I missed your tongue,” Xaden gathered my hair at the back of my head. The soft skin of his tip did wonders for the built up anticipation I’ve had since Az told me where we were going. 

I hummed as he settled in the back of my throat. I worked up and down, holding still when he forced me to. Ten seconds would go by without a breath. It filled me with the most delicious fear. Tears already pricked my eyes. 

“Why are you holding back?” Az asked, pushing on the back of my head until I gagged so hard those tears fell down my cheeks. “That's it, pet. Fucking take it.”

“Easy Az, she still needs to breathe,” Xaden chuckled, wiping away my tears. “But she does look so pretty stuffed full of my cock.”

“Don’t get too used to it,” Az said, pulling me off of him. He grasped my jaw and forced his own cock down. “She’s here to be shared.”

“I wasn’t finished with her yet, shadowsinger,” Xaden growled, shoving Az aside to claim me again. 

“Take what is mine again and I’ll cut out your tongue,” Azriel snarled, pulling Xaden to the wall in a second. 

“Woah woah woah,” I hurried over and stood between the two of them. “As hot as it is to have you two fighting over me, let’s not get violent, okay? There is plenty of me to go around, see?” I took both of their cocks into my hands, stroking them together. 

Xaden shuddered, tossing his head back. Az just grinned down at me. “Does our pet think she’s in charge?”

“No,” I shook my head. “I just want you two to get over yourselves and fuck me senseless.”

“Look at her begging for us, Az,” Xaden took a step towards me, absolutely towering over me. “It’s almost like she has a choice. How pathetic.”

“We’re gonna make you regret saying that.” Az had me on my chest, knees digging into the mat in a split second. He literally ripped off my pants before I could say differently. A hard, unforgiving hand came down on my ass and I screamed. He did it again. 

“The whole fucking Quadrant is gonna hear her if we don’t make her be quiet,” Xaden warned. He kneeled in front of me and lifted my chin. “Unless you want that, pretty thing. Would you like for all of Basgiath to know you’re being fucked dumb by us, hmm? I bet you would, you fucking slut.”

I whimpered, trying to lean away from Azriel so I could take Xaden down my throat. 

“Oh Az, you’ve got to see this. Come look at her,” Xaden mocked, teasing me by inching his hips forward to watch me strain, only to yank it away at the last second. “Did you see that? She’s literally chasing my cock. You want it that bad, huh? Gosh, Yn, you are like a pet.”

“Please,” I begged, nearly frustrated to tears. “Please let me taste you.”

“What do you say, Az. Should I give her what she wants?”

“Just for a minute. I wanna have her even more limp than she was the last time,” Az said. I could feel his smile against my back where he placed a kiss. 

“Be a good girl, Yn.” Xaden finally shifted his hips far enough for me to suck. He wouldn’t move any closer and I could only barely lick his tip. I groaned, the impatient noise carrying farther than I wanted to. I tried to reach as hard as I could but Azriel kept yanking me back every time I got closer. 

I got close again, only to be ripped away. I cried out, dropping my head as I pounded on the floor. “Please,” I begged. “Please let me have him Az, please please.”

“She is literally throwing a tantrum because I won’t let her have your dick, Riorson. This… this is what power is,” Az said, pure sin dripping from his tongue. “You’re fucking defenseless, Yn. We own you. We own your body, we own your pleasure.” A brutal smack to my ass. “Do you understand? You don’t get anything until we say so.”

“Yes,” I gasped, a little light headed at the force of his hand. My voice was trembling. “Yes, you own me. Both of you own me.”

“Good,” Az grit through his teeth, fisting his hand in my hair. His hips met my ass and he walked me forward into Xaden’s lap. With his other hand, He gripped my cheeks until my lips parted. All I could do was take the cock in front of me. “Now make him cum.”

Az moved my head up and down for me, controlling my movements. By the power of magic, I was stripped of the rest of my clothing and those ruthless shadows were back, circling every inch of my skin. 

There was nothing I could do but let Azriel force me onto Xaden. I just kept moaning, which drew the most wonderful noises from the shadow-wielder. 

“You’re really being ruthless tonight, huh?” Xaden said, bucking his hips so my nose hit his pelvic bone every thrust. 

“She was being a brat,” Az explained, releasing another lethal blow on my already sore ass. “She needs to be taught that she can’t get away with any of that.”

“I think she’s learned her lesson,” Xaden said, caressing my damp cheek. “She looks so pretty like this. Ass up, lips swollen… fuck I’m gonna cum.”

Az moved my head even faster, forcing me down down down until I couldn’t breathe. In a minute or two, Xaden was so far down I couldn’t taste him at all. The only sign he was cumming was the strain in his neck and the heaving of his chest.

I choked, gagging for a breath but Az held firm until I began to panic a little.

“I’ll tell you when she’s learned her lesson.”

I was, yet again, yanked away from Xaden. So quickly I was a little dizzy when I ended up in the same position in front of Az. He didn't say anything. Just shoved his cock down my throat. 

“Get behind her and keep her moving, Riorson,” Az commanded, letting go of my hair so Xaden’s hand could take its place. Xaden’s cum trickled down my lips and around Az, I thought he didn’t notice but- “You didn’t even swallow, pet? Bad girl.”

“I- I tried,” I pleaded as I was lifted off. “It was so much, I didn’t have time to-”

“I don’t want to hear excuses." His eyes were like emeralds, but his voice like a knife. “Apologize to Xaden for wasting it.”

“I’m sorry, Xaden,” I sighed, trying to catch my breath. 

Azriel’s hand clamped on my throat so hard I screamed. He tightened and tightened and tightened. “You can do better than that. Tell him what you’re going to do to make it up to him.”

“I’ll- fuck I’ll do anything you want, Xaden. Anything. Anything.”

“You’re really making her beg, Az,” Xaden grinned, taking Az’s hand off my throat so I could breathe. “It’s okay, pretty girl. I know you didn’t mean to waste any of it. It was just too much to swallow down. I’ll just replace it all in your pussy. I know you’ll be able to keep it all in. You won’t have a choice.”

“Please.”

“You’ll get it, after I’m done with you.”

Az positioned me over his cock again, guiding it into my mouth. Without Xadens help, I took it all down and then some. He let me move at my own pace for a little, letting me do as I please. I didn’t falter once, I was too afraid that I’d get another punishment. I’d be lucky if he let me cum.

Xaden’s finger ran from the top of my ass all the way to my clit. He sunk in two fingers and I could hear my wetness hit the floor. “So messy.”

“Fuck her if you want. What’s she gonna do?” Az grinned, now putting his hands on my head. “Ready to take it, pet?”

I nodded, mumbling around him as I prepared. I don’t think I’ll be able to talk tomorrow, that’s for sure. 

Every single square inch of my body was on fire. Between the lack of air, Xaden teasing my clit, and their shadows? I’d be lucky to ever walk again. My fingers and toes were numb with a mix of pleasure and raw, primal fear. Knowing that they, at any point they wanted, could do whatever they wanted to me was… exhilarating.

“You’re doing such a good job, Yn. Making Az feel so good. Keep it up and I’ll make you cum. Would you like that?”

I helplessly nodded. 

“Make her beg for it,” Azriel interjected, forcing me so far down on his dick that I couldn’t breathe. I tried to relax, but I couldn’t breathe. My chest started burning and I was gagging uncontrollably. I tried to pull away, but the hold was too strong on my head. I thrashed. I tried to reach for Xaden, for leverage to get away but I couldn’t move. “Ah ah ah, you’re okay. Stop moving and I’ll let you go. The more you squirm, the more I want to keep you here.”

The words barely registered, but I stopped, tears streaming down my face. A burst of air swept into my lungs and I felt the relief wash over me. Where it came from, I’ll never know, but I was grateful. The taste of Azriel’s cum shot across my tongue and down. Gods above was there a lot…

When he let me up, I scrambled away, backing up into Xaden. His strong arms circled around me as I caught my breath. 

“Too much?” Xaden whispered, pressing kisses to my head. 

I just panted, eyes closed, the ringing in my ears too loud to hear anything. I was so lightheaded. The world was spinning but… I liked it. It felt good to be that out of control of my own body. Nothing could compare to the feeling of my life in someone else’s hands. 

“Yn,” Xaden said a little firmer when I didn’t respond. I just went limp in his grasp. “Are you okay?”

“Y… Yes,” I breathed, my voice nothing but fragments of syllables. “I’m fine.”

“Let's take a break,” Azriel kneeled in front of me, playing with my lips. “Let's get you some water and then we can-”

“No,” I begged, staggering to my knees and into Az, eyes wide. “Please, I need it. I need you so bad.”

“I know you do,” Az said, kissing me gently, “but you also don’t know how terrified you looked. Two minutes, then we’ll get you what you really want.”

I couldn’t really argue against the spymaster. A cup was placed on my lips but I refused to drink. I wanted something first. 

“Yn, please. Just drink a sip. Two sips and then you can have us,” Az baited me, but still refused, turning my nose the opposite way. He sighed. “Don’t make me force you. Please, Yn.”

“Xaden,” I looked over my shoulder. “Can I ride you?”

His eyes went a little wide, but that sly, cocky grin settled on his lips. “Of course you can.”

“After you drink,” Az snapped. “Just two sips is all I’m-”

I got to my knees and straddled Xaden, sinking onto his hard cock. He hissed at the pressure, at the force of me sinking all the way down. I wiggled my hips, taking him deeper until he couldn’t go any more. “I’ll take the water now.”

Azriel just stared at me, white knuckling the cup. He had this feral look in his eyes. That was the only possible way to describe it. He blinked and it was gone, then the cup was at my lips. His hand gently tilted up and I drank it all down, wiping my upper lip with the back of my hand before turning all my attention back to Xaden.

“I got too impatient,” I grinned, crushing my mouth to his. He leaned back, taking me with him as he laid flat on the mat. 

“Ready to do what we talked about?” Xaden said, looking over my head. The light was blocked by Azriel’s silhouette, the shape of his wings casting a shadow over us. 

“Yes.”

I lifted a brow, “What did you two talk about without me?”

“You’ll find out,” Xaden said, bringing my mouth back to his. He caught my tongue between his teeth and pulled, moans spewing out of my mouth. He fucked up into me, feet planted on the floor as he held me in place. 

The sound of our bodies together filled the room and I prayed to the Mother that no one would come in. I don’t think we can explain this one away. 

Hands raked down my spine, caressing every dip and curve of my body. Azriel kissed up my neck. I shivered uncontrollably. 

“Can I cum? Please? I took my punishment so well, please let me cum.” I’m not sure I’m even speaking a language anymore. This might all be in my head. 

“I think we can give you that,” Xaden smiled, fingering my clit. The touch was so light, but it sent me over the edge immediately. I shook and trembled and gasped. Stars filled my eyes as he fucked me through it, not slowing down. A firm hand pushed me flat onto his chest and I could feel Az close in.

I felt an enormous amount of pressure against my pussy. 

“What are you doing?”

“What we discussed a few weeks ago,” Azriel said, keeping me pinned down. “Now, you have to relax or else this is going to hurt. Do you trust me?”

I nodded, “yes, I trust you. I trust both of you.”

“We’re gonna take such good care of you,” Xaden kissed up my chest, teeth grazing my nipple. His hands rubbed up and down my sides, across my thighs. I jolted with another press against my cunt. “Easy, Yn. Just let us take control. You’re being such a good girl. I know it’s a lot, but you can take it. It’s gonna feel so good.”

The tip of Azriel’s cock slipped in right next to Xaden. I couldn’t breathe. At the same time my mind went completely blank. There wasn’t even pain, just pure bliss. I could move my eyes, but nothing else. My arms were pinned down, my legs locked around Xaden’s middle. 

The shadows around me were endless. Holy shit…

“That’s it,” Azriel cooed. “Just let us take you. Just keep drifting.”

I could feel Az sink in, but it was only pressure and pure pleasure. My mind was flooded with images of us, all tangled together, of them to the hilt inside me. I twitched, but I didn’t shudder like I should’ve. 

“We’ve got you, pretty thing,” Xaden’s thumb brushed my cheek. “Just take us. You’ll be alright.”

“Fuck she’s so tight. Cauldron Yn you feel… you’re so incredible.”

I was lifted up, then I was brought back down. Over and over and over. I was reduced to a whining, begging mess of just noise. I couldn’t think words if I tried. I could only feel. Could only feel both of them inside me at the same time. 

My skin was on fire, yet it was cool. The shadows offered a nice sense of reality. It kept me grounded. 

My head lulled back as I was lifted up, rolling forward as I came back down. 

“Malek spare me,” Xaden cursed, throwing his head onto the mat. “Az- Az I can’t- fuck I can’t hold on any longer.”

Both of them moaned at the same time, and I felt Azriel’s teeth clamp onto my shoulder. Warmth bloomed into me and I think I’m cumming, I can’t tell. Maybe it’s Az or Xaden. My mind isn’t my own, every part of me belongs to them now. Every inch of my body is theirs to use.

“You’re taking us so well, Yn. Such a fucking good girl, taking both of our cocks in your pussy like this. I bet you came with Xaden didn’t you? Added to the mess, huh? All you can do is whimper. It’s so adorable, watching you submit to us. You’re nothing but a good fuck toy, a mere pet for us to play with whenever we want.”

“Come on, Yn,” Xaden gripped my face. I could see him, but it was like I was looking through some filter. “You can take more, can’t you? Az still needs to cum. Are you gonna be a good little girl and make him cum?” He nodded my head up and down for me. “Yes you are. You’re gonna take all of it. There's already so much, you're so messy, wanna taste?” 

Not that I could nod, but if I could, I would’ve. Two fingers pressed into my lips and the sweet, yet tangy taste filled my senses. It was like I only knew how to suck on Xadens digits. Like I wasn’t good for anything else but eating the cum he dumped into me. 

“Goooood girl, Yn,” Xaden praised, gagging me slightly. 

I could hear the noises coming from behind me. Azriel was a mess of curses and panting breaths. I could feel the wind from his wings. He was fucking into me so hard. 

Blinding pleasure ripped through me, along with this… this roar from Azriel. I was flattened on top of Xaden, being forced farther and farther onto him. The mighty beats of Az’s wings sounded through the room, he must’ve been using them to fuck into me harder and harder. 

I don’t know when it stopped, when I finally came back to reality. But I opened my eyes and could feel my fingers, could feel the cold mat under us. 

“There she is,” Azriel’s strained voice whispered. “Shhh, you’re alright, we’ve got you.”

I mumbled something. Even I don’t know what it was supposed to be. 

“Easy, Az. Just lay her down,” Xaden instructed and I could feel my legs unfold. I groaned, the stiffness making my joints crack. “We’ve got you, just let us move you.”

Hands were all over me, and I gave up trying to figure out whos belong to who. Every second that passed I gained more feeling back, the tingling subsiding, giving away to pain and this settled ache in my bones. 

“Still with us?” Xaden kissed my cheek, then the tip of my nose.

“Mhmm,” I nodded, keeping my eyes closed. “It’s just bright in here.”

“Let's change that,” Xaden said, and then the room felt ten degrees cooler. “Better?”

I looked around and there was a wall of shadow around our mat. It blocked out most of the light. “Much.”

“You did so well, Yn,” Az said, massive hands squeezing my thighs to get blood back to them. “So so so fucking good.”

“The best,” Xaden agreed. 

I smiled, lifting up my head, I tried to turn over but my arms were trembling so badly I couldn’t. I giggled, “What did you guys do to me?”

“So many wonderful things,” Xaden grinned, kissing my swollen lips. “You were so perfect. You did so amazing. So proud of you.”

I was mush as I laid back down, warm and fuzzy with their sweet words. 

“What do you need?” Azriel asked, playing gently with my hair. 

I took a moment to listen to my body. I noted the utter calm that was inside, and the sheer pain between my legs. There was no moisture in my mouth and I knew it must’ve been intense. I must’ve made a face because there was instantly another cup of water at my lips. 

“Sit up just a little for me, sweetheart,” Az put one of his, again, massive, thighs under my head so I could sit up without having to use any muscle. I could get used to being pampered like this. “Drink slowly.”

It was so refreshing, so cold I could feel it go all the way down. My mind slowly became my own again and I could see clearer. There was no longer this fuzz to my vision. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” A kiss to my forehead. “Anything else?” I shivered. He chuckled, “Clothes it is.”

“Maybe a bed? Not this hard mat? No offense Xaden but you all should really get more comfortable sparring rings.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Xaden grumbled, throwing me a lazy smile. “Let's get you dressed.”

One limb at a time they stuffed me into clothes. They were not the ones I had been wearing, but I wasn’t about to object to them. They smelled like Xaden, and when I looked down, I saw the Fourth Wing patch embroidered on the breast. My heart swooned. 

“Are you in any pain?” Az asked. His concern was so sweet. 

“I’m okay, I promise. You don’t need to worry,” I rubbed his cheek. 

“If you could see what you look like right now you might be singing a different tune,” Xaden scanned my face, tucking hair behind my ear. “You look… thoroughly fucked, to say the least.”

“Good,” I smiled, nuzzling into Az. “Can we all go back to Velaris and sleep now?”

“Sounds like a lovely plan.”

I let them haul me up and I barely clung to Az as he stood up. He positioned me with my legs around his hips, his arms around my torso to keep me strapped to him. The world whizzed by in an instant and I knew we’d be home soon.

Somewhere along the way I fell asleep, knowing that they would take care of me. Knowing that I couldn't be anywhere safer than in their arms.

[ghcstao3]

more mi6 ghost and sas soap i beg!!! it itches something in my brain so hard!!!! i love ur writing sm ur sosososo talented <333

(original post since it’s been so long i am so so sorry. also apologies if it's paced weirdly i never had much of an idea where to take the original prompt. thank you though, for supporting my writing :) <3)

-

Soap would never be so naive as to expect a warm welcome from a team of elite agents, but the cold shoulder he's thus far received from one of said agents hardly seems necessary in its place.

He's barely even said a word.

The haughty bastard keeps staring at Soap, too, like Soap can't tell there are eyes on him behind sunglasses, and a frown behind a medical mask. He refused to shake Soap's hand, hadn't even been introduced by name like the others—Ghost, is all that was offered—and now he was scrutinizing Soap in some indecipherable way that Soap would put up to a cause of him being military, if it weren't for the fact that no one else of similar status was getting the same treatment.

It's bizarre. It couldn't even be the mohawk, for once, because he'd actually grown that out in anticipation of this high-honour, high-stakes mission.

Of course, the treatment doesn't ebb as days, weeks stretch on. But Soap learns to live with it, throws himself into the mission like he has something to prove, acquaints himself with everyone else.

Ghost becomes a background nuisance. He and his perfectly tailored suits hardly hold any weight to Soap by the time they're forced together and everything becomes a whole lot clearer.

Two months into the operation is when the team finally encounters the kind of action Soap is used to; bouts of gunfire, ducking for cover, barking out commands, incapacitating enemies with force before stealth. Begrudgingly, Soap and Ghost are left to cover one another's sixes.

Admittedly, Ghost is a damn good shot and has a rather keen eye for enemies. Soap would never utter this statement aloud, but they work terribly well as a team.

When everything goes silent for several minutes and they've received confirmation that the area's been cleared, that they're free to proceed with the mission, Ghost and Soap cautiously move from where they'd been taking cover.

Then Ghost is shot in the chest.

Another few gunshots ring out following, as Soap drags the agent back into their hiding place. Thankfully his bulletproof vest had taken the brunt of the blow, but it's obvious the wind had been knocked out of Ghost, evidenced by the sharp, wheezing gasps that try to pull air into his lungs.

Soap offers nothing more than a clipped sorry before ripping off the mask that's clearly hindering Ghost's ability to draw a proper breath.

His heart drops. Soap knows that face.

For good measure, he removes Ghost's sunglasses as well, and—fuck. Yes, Soap knows that face. Intimately.

"Simon? You bastard, what the hell?"

Simon winces. He's still breathless when he replies, "Johnny, don't—later. Fuck."

Later. Soap huffs. He only agrees because there are more pressing things, of course, but also because he's not happy to imagine the nasty bruise that was surely going to blossom across his partner's chest in the coming days.

They're not as useful the second time around, but they get what they need done. Soap operates purely on confusion and a mild frustration until later finally arrives, because he'd just like to know... anything, really.

Unfortunately, later doesn't even come when the mission is completed. Later doesn't even come until about a month following Soap's discovery. Suspense nearly kills him.

They're both home again. The operation had been of enough importance that it had, thankfully, warranted everyone at least a short break. Simon is only home because of the bruise that has yet to fade.

Things are tense, initially. Words are terse yet not unkind; they give each other space yet they go to sleep in the same bed each night. Their mutual stubbornness keeps them both from acknowledging the elephant in the room.

Until Soap grows too impatient, nearing the end of his own leave.

Over an otherwise silent dinner, Soap finally asks, "Will I ever get to know what was going on during that mission, then? Why you were being such a prick?"

Simon pauses, setting his fork down with a sigh. His shoulders slump as he sits back in his chair and drags a tired hand over his face, and Soap almost scoffs. Like the issue hasn't been bothering Soap as well.

"I didn't want you to worry about me over the course of everything. In case something happened," Simon confesses.

Soap snorts. "What, like you wouldn't be worried about me? Like you aren't worried about me, already knowing what I do for work?"

"No, Johnny, that's not what—" Simon sighs again. Soap catches the way he almost moves his hand to rub his chest in habit, before rethinking the choice in remembering the bruise. "Of course I worry about you. I just... didn't want to create any unnecessary risks. I trust you, more than anyone, but I've also been in this line of work for a while. I know my own limits."

Soap hangs his head. He... understands. He does. His own career requires the same kinds of limitations, but he's still upset that Simon felt he couldn't manage.

"I'm sorry," Simon eventually murmurs. He reaches a hand across the table and covers Soap's balled fist with a warm, callused hand. "I was wrong. You're a good soldier. Should've known that seein' you were chosen for the task force."

A blush burns at the tips of Soap's ears, and gradually he unclenches his hand. "I forgive you," he says. Soap doesn't think he could fault Simon forever, anyway. "But you'd better make it up to me."

"Of course." A smile tugs at Simon's lips, something almost mischievous. "Anything you like."

(This, of course, meant that Soap would be taking great pleasure in beating Simon's records at the gun range. And perhaps a few other things as well.)

[kiss-me-cill-me]

Stars Forever

Pairing: Robert Capa x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: The night before launch, the crew of the Icarus II stay in a nearby hotel. The sleeping arrangements are less than ideal for you and the ship's cranky physicist.

Warnings: Smut, extremely trope-heavy and contrived shenanigans, kinda enemies-to-lovers, teasing, mentions of birth control (IUDs)

A/N: The title of this fic was inspired by Starless Heaven by Guster. That song has nothing to do with the fic, but it's really pretty so I wanted to share it lol. For the purposes of the "plot" here, reader is taking Trey's place on the ship (sorry Trey). Only one bed is my favorite trope and I just want to write it for every character ever <3

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Capa was a few paces ahead of you, walking with his hands stuffed in his pockets. The soft yellow lights of the hotel corridor surrounded you on all sides as you glanced at the room numbers.

“Quit following me,” Capa barked, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, once he had turned back around and couldn't see you. This was so typical. 

“I'm not following you. I'm looking for my room.”

You checked another room number. That wasn't it. Capa continued down the hallway, not pausing as he spoke over his shoulder again.

“Aren't you with Cassie or Corazon? Go bother one of them,” he spat.

“First of all, I'm not bothering anyone. And second of all, no. Cassie and Cora are together. I'm rooming with someone else.”

At least, you assumed you were. All you had was your assigned room number. With eight crew members and apparently very heavily limited space in the hotel you were staying at for the night, you had been informed that everyone would need to double up. You, Cassie, and Cora had quickly compared room numbers to determine that you were the odd one out, but you had no idea who your own roommate would be. Obviously one of the guys, which was bound to be at least a little awkward. 

But, you would be fine. This was only going to be for one night. Tomorrow, the lot of you would be driven to mission control and then launched into space, bound for the Icarus II module currently hovering in the moon’s orbit, and then for the center of the solar system. This hotel was simply the closest accommodation for tonight, even if it was slightly too cramped for all eight of you.

“Well, quit walking so close to me at least.”

Capa’s voice brought you back to reality, and you realized that you had been zoning out and not looking at the last several room numbers. You checked the next one. Still not yours.

You slowed down, but only a little bit, putting some distance between you and Capa. You had no particular desire to be close to him. Though you certainly didn't hate him as much as he seemed to hate you. 

His dislike was obvious, but it confused you. You hadn't done anything that should have prompted him to feel so negatively toward you, as far as you were aware. But from the moment you and Capa had met at your first briefing, six months ago, you could tell he was incredibly tense whenever you were in the room.

Finally, your eyes landed on the room number assigned to you. You stopped in your tracks, then looked up, confused. Capa was standing in front of the same room.

“Why don't you get lost?” he asked, still testy.

“This is my room,” you said, motioning to the door.

Capa’s eyes darted to the room number and then back to you. His brows creased as he scowled openly.

“No. There's no way,” he said. “This is my room.”

“Well, it's my room, too,” you insisted.

You felt your cheeks heat up. Usually, Capa’s opinion of you didn't bother you much. He was just a coworker. Both of you had proven that you could put personal feelings aside for the sake of the mission, and whatever he thought about you in his free time didn't much matter. But now, faced with the challenge of sharing a hotel room, you suddenly wished that you had spent a bit more time working on your relationship.

“This has to be some kind of mix-up. Why aren't you with one of the girls?” Capa muttered.

“Maybe because there's three girls and five guys?” you replied, sarcastically. “Jeez, Capa - I thought you were good at math.”

Capa rushed to turn his face away, but you still caught a glimpse of the bright blush that rose on his cheeks. You - almost - felt bad. Usually, you tried not to antagonize him, but sometimes you couldn't help it.

“I know there's an uneven split,” he hissed, slightly wounded. “But why would they put you with me?”

You rolled your eyes again, not caring whether he saw you. Capa always thought of himself as the main character. God forbid he be inconvenienced.

“Look, it's late, and I'd like to go to bed,” you sighed. “I'll stay on my side of the room, you stay on yours, and we won't talk to each other. Deal?”

“Fine,” Capa muttered.

It was just for one night. Already feeling your temper wear thin, you slid your key card into the lock. You didn't hesitate to barge in ahead of Capa, not bothering to hold the door open behind you. He scrambled to follow, muttering something to himself.

You stopped short. Capa nearly crashed into you as you saw it first. There was only one bed.

Capa let out a deep breath of frustration. You watched from out of the corner of your eye as he swiftly turned on his heels and walked out of the room.

“Nope,” he said simply, letting the door slam behind him.

As it turned out, there had been a mix-up. But unfortunately for you and Capa, it was not one that could easily be resolved. Talking to the front desk did nothing, as the clerk explained they were booked up completely.

“There are a lot of people staying overnight so they can watch the big launch tomorrow,” she explained cheerily. “The second Icarus ship. Very exciting stuff!”

Capa looked ready to rip her head off, but somehow restrained himself. You snickered as you followed behind him, this time purposefully trailing as Capa made his way to Captain Kaneda’s room. He was almost cute when he was angry.

Talking to Kaneda didn't get you anywhere either.

“Capa, it's late,” the captain sighed. “You'll both just need to put up with it for one night.”

“But we don't even have separate beds!” Capa grumbled.

“Yes, well… if you two really dislike each other so much, that shouldn't be an issue.”

Capa opened his mouth to speak, but then the scandalous suggestion hidden in the captain’s words dawned on him, and he snapped it shut again. You were tempted to interject and say that you didn't hate Capa - his feelings were all one-sided. But then you thought better of it. You had to admit Capa’s hissy fit was amusing, but if you actually had to share a bed with him, it was better to not provoke him too much.

Capa stormed out of the captain’s room, and you followed. Back in the hallway, you ran into Mace.

“Mace,” Capa called, hurrying to catch up with him. “Hey, Mace - switch rooms with me.”

“Why would I switch rooms with you?” Mace snapped.

Capa and Mace didn't get along either. At all. He must have been truly desperate to ask Mace for help.

“Because I'm with her,” Capa replied, jabbing a finger back at you. “And we only have one bed.”

Mace stopped mid-stride, and turned around to look at you. He was clearly amused. Capa’s scowl deepened, and you shrugged. Mace crossed his arms as he spoke.

“No way in hell am I sharing a bed with her, you, or Searle,” he laughed. “You got the shit room? Tough luck, asshole.”

Mace walked away, leaving Capa to rake an exasperated hand through his hair. He turned to face you, looking you directly in the eye for the first time since you had both left your miserably shared room.

“Okay, one of us needs to take the floor,” he informed you.

You had already started to walk away, and Capa hurried to keep pace beside you.

“Well it's not gonna be me,” you said. “If you can't grow up enough to sleep in the same bed as someone else for one night, you get to take the floor.”

Capa’s cheeks blushed pink again.

“You actually want us to sleep together?” Capa blurted.

“Ugh, don't say it like that!” 

You felt your own cheeks start to heat up as Capa’s blush deepened. Each of you pretended not to notice how flustered the other was getting.

You reached the door of your room and slipped the key card inside. This time, you held the door open as Capa followed after you.

“I'm just saying, why sleep on a hard floor the night before one of the biggest days of our lives?” you sighed. “We can both be adults about this.”

Capa silently considered your words for a minute, stubbornly refusing to meet your gaze.

“Well, just think about it,” you said, reaching for your small backpack. “I'm gonna get changed.”

Capa choked, letting a small, strangled sound escape his throat as you pulled your pajamas out of the bag. When you looked up at him, his eyes had blown wide.

“You're getting undressed?” he sputtered. “In here?”

“In the bathroom, Capa. Jeez!”

You stepped into the little bathroom, closing the door behind you before he had a chance to reply. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you let yourself sink back against the door. This was going to be a long night if Capa kept this up. 

You wished he would calm down. It had been funny to watch him scramble around trying to get out of sleeping with you - or, next to you, you corrected yourself. But now, your annoyance had started to settle in again. 

With a huff, you straightened up. It was only one night. You could handle this, and you knew Capa could too, once he had gotten over his initial shock. You set about changing into your pajamas and brushing your teeth.

When you came out, Capa seemed calmer. He was sitting slouched in the small chair next to the desk, which neither of you would have any occasion to use during such a short stay. It was only one night. The words were a mantra in your head.

“Okay,” Capa relented. “I can agree that it's important we both get a good night's rest. Especially with everything happening tomorrow.”

Privately, you thought to yourself that you were the one who needed sleep more than Capa. Your job as navigator was much more imperative than… whatever he would be doing. Capa was little more than a piece of glorified cargo; just coming along for the ride so that he could deploy the bomb. Which was important, of course - but he would have several months worth of time to catch up on sleep before he had to make himself useful, and-

You stopped yourself. That kind of thinking wasn't helpful. It was just nerves making you snap; you always felt tense the night before a mission. And this would be the longest one you had ever been on. Capa was probably feeling the same way, especially considering this was his first. You thought back to your first flight as a rookie, and felt yourself soften a little.

“So we're both going to be mature about this?” you asked.

“Yes,” Capa agreed, sighing as if it pained him.

“Good. Then go get ready for bed.”

You regretted the words as soon as you'd said them. They felt entirely too domestic. Too familiar. A lover telling her husband to come to bed with her.

Capa stood up, crossing paths awkwardly with you on his way to the bathroom. Once the door had shut behind him, you let out the breath you had been holding. Maybe this was going to be a long night.

While Capa got ready for bed, you crawled awkwardly under the covers. Picking a side so that neither of you would be able to argue about that, you settled in and pulled the blankets over your lap.

Capa stepped out, rustled in his bag for a minute, and then came to stand by his side of the bed.

“So, do I just…”

“Here,” you offered. “We can put a few pillows between us.”

The hotel bed had entirely too many of them anyways. You took a couple and placed them between the spaces that you and Capa would occupy, making a little wall.

Capa climbed into bed with you, a little hesitantly. He flicked off the lamp on his bedside table, and you did the same, plunging the room into inky black. 

In the dark, things felt suddenly more… intimate. Your eyes took a long minute to adjust, but when they did, you saw Capa. Still sitting propped up in bed next to you, just like you were as you stared back at him.

“This isn't so bad, right?” 

Your voice was barely a whisper. Capa’s response came at a similar volume. 

“I guess not,” he agreed.

“Let's try and get some rest.”

You sank down, snuggling into the mattress and the pillows at your side. Pressing into them almost felt like you were cuddling against Capa’s body; ironically, the makeshift barrier only made the bed feel more crowded.

“Stop wiggling,” Capa complained.

You bit your tongue. You wanted to snap at him, but you reminded yourself again that you were probably just both on edge. Something in Capa’s deep voice sounded almost miserable.

“Sorry,” you said instead. “Just trying to get comfortable.”

The only sound in the room was Capa’s breath. For some reason, it seemed like he was breathing a bit harder than usual.

“You okay?” you asked.

“Fine,” Capa replied, the word curt and short.

You sighed.

“Capa, why do you hate me so much?”

An uncomfortable silence hung between you. For a few seconds, you thought that he wasn't going to answer, and tried to think of how you could backpedal out of your question as you stared up at the ceiling.

“I don't hate you,” Capa said finally. “I just… you're distracting.”

“Distracting?” you echoed.

As far as you could remember, you had never done anything particularly distracting. At least not to any of your fellow crew members. The months you had spent together preparing for this mission were serious, and didn't leave much time for distractions of any kind.

“Don't worry about it,” Capa insisted, which only confused you more.

“What do you mean? Don't worry about being distracting, or don't worry about you calling me that?”

“Don't worry about any of it!” Capa groaned, suddenly exasperated.

“What's up with you?”

You propped yourself up on one elbow, leaning over the stack of pillows a bit to get a better look at him. Capa flinched, trying to hunch over himself. But it was too late. You had seen the obvious tent in the blankets.

“Oh. My. Gosh!” you squealed. “That's why you didn't want to sleep with me. You don't hate me at all. You like me.”

“Shut up!” Capa snapped, still trying to cover himself with his hands.

You smiled. This was too good. All those months you'd spent wondering what his deal was, and now it was so obvious. Capa had a crush on you. And a pretty big one, by the looks of it.

“It's nothing to be ashamed of, Capa,” you laughed. “You can admit that you like me.”

“I don't,” Capa insisted.

“I have a hard time believing that,” you murmured, eyes trailing down to his crotch.

“Look, don't tell anyone,” Capa begged.

“Why would I tell anyone?” 

You peeled the blankets back, taking the wall of pillows with them. Capa, in his shock, watched as the sheets fell away but did nothing to try and stop you. His hands were still clamped down over his erection, and you lifted them up to guide the blanket away.

“If I told someone,” you continued, “then I'd have to tell them about this…”

You leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss. You felt Capa tense beneath you, sitting up slightly before he melted back into the pillows. You followed him, moving to straddle his waist and put your hands on his shoulders, holding him there.

“W-what are you doing?” Capa stammered.

You’d pulled back to look at him, and even in the darkness you could tell just how wide his eyes had blown.

“I dunno - what do you want me to do?” you teased.

Your fingers trailed up and down his chest, his breath hitching once as you reached the base of his neck.

“Well, you could get off of me, for starters,” he answered, voice wavering.

His deep voice, usually so smooth and clear, had taken on a desperate, slightly strained quality. You moved your fingertips over the hem of his shirt collar, teasing just beneath the fabric.

“Come on, Capa. Be honest,” you prodded. “What do you really want?”

“Fuck,” Capa whined.

“Fuck? We can fuck,” you agreed, voice lowering.

“Th-that’s not what I meant and you know it - Shit!”

Capa interrupted himself as you slid lower, centering your hips over his clothed erection. You rubbed against him, and he clenched his jaw, throwing his head back into the pillows.

“Fuck! How come you like me all of a sudden?” Capa hissed, slightly out of breath.

“Who said I ever didn’t like you?” you questioned, sliding your hands under his shirt.

Capa’s back arched against the mattress as your hands moved over his bare chest. You swore you heard him let out a little moan.

“You’re just doing this to torture me,” he accused.

“And what if I am?” You leaned in to whisper against his ear. “It seems like you kinda like it.”

Your gentle touches turned harsh; raking your nails down Capa’s chest. As he moaned again, you leaned in to capture it with a kiss. His lips slotted into yours, and Capa bit down, desperate. You hummed with your lower lip trapped between his teeth, still dragging your hips against him. Capa mumbled something, and you pulled away to hear him.

“Hm?”

“Please don’t make me come in my pants,” he groaned.

You lifted off of him a little, putting a stop to the friction between you. Capa groaned again, this time at the loss.

“Oh, okay,” you said mischievously. “Let's take you out of them, then.”

You moved to take off his shorts, pushing them down just enough to free his leaking cock. Capa had a pretty one, you had to admit. Even in the dark, you could see how it shined with small, milky beads of his arousal. As it sprang out from the confines of his boxers, Capa whined desperately.

“This too,” you said, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Capa sat up to tear himself out of his t-shirt, and then started to pull off yours. Once you were both out of your shirts, your lips crashed together again, and Capa’s arms wrapped around your waist, pressing into your back to pull you closer.

“Hang on,” you breathed, pulling away to wrestle yourself out of your own shorts.

Tossing them to the side, you went back to straddling Capa, and pushed him back down to lie flat on the mattress. Your bodies were tantalizingly close together, hovering just on the edge of you sinking down onto his cock. Capa’s hands came up to rest on your sides - clearly wanting to touch your breasts but not daring to. You guided his left hand to cup one.

“Fuck,” Capa sighed again, digging his fingers into you.

“Be patient,” you scolded, giggling a little at the way Capa’s brow creased.

“Haven’t you played with me enough?” he moaned.

“I don’t think so, actually.”

You lowered yourself down just a bit, enough to let his tip brush through your folds. You were pretty wet already, but not quite enough to take him in yet. Pressing down more, you trapped his cock between yourself and his stomach, sliding up and down the underside of his length.

“Ah!” Capa gasped.

His fingers tightened on your breast, and you basked in the feel of his hands on you. The way your clit was rubbing against him with every stroke of your hips wasn’t so bad either, and you thought fleetingly that you might actually be able to get both of you off just like this. You considered it, but where was the fun in that?

You sat up, reaching down to position him so that it would only take one more stroke to enter you. You felt how wet you had gotten his shaft, just by rubbing against it, and laughed softly to yourself. Maybe you did like Capa a little more than you’d thought. As you swirled your hips, getting the head of his cock wet enough to slide into you, Capa lost what little remaining resolve he had.

“Fuck - please,” Capa whined.

“Please what?”

“You know what you’re doing, you jerk.”

“And?”

Capa bucked his hips beneath you, but you inched up and away from him, keeping his prize just out of reach.

“Tell me what you want,” you taunted. “You can use your words, right? Or am I ‘distracting’ you again?”

“Yes - it’s very fucking distracting to feel you dripping down my cock,” Capa moaned.

If he was trying to get to you, he would have to do better than that.

“Come on, just tell me. What do you want?”

“You! Fuck,” Capa grunted. “God, I want to be inside you.”

“There, was that so hard?” you laughed.

“Fuck you, you’re driving me crazy.”

He was speaking through clenched teeth, jaw straining once again as his eyes squeezed shut. The sight was enough to make you pulse, clenching around nothing. You had held back for long enough, you decided.

In one swift motion, you sank down onto his cock. The stretch was enough to make you hum, pleasure filling your chest as your walls wrapped around him. Capa was slightly less subtle, moaning loudly at the feel of you.

His desperate, needy sounds were like music to your ears. Slowly, you rocked your hips back and forth, keeping yourself pressed flush against him. Capa let out a breath.

“Don’t stop,” he begged you.

You didn’t plan on it. You kept your pace steady, stopping the rhythm every once in a while to swirl your hips.

As much as you were enjoying the sight of Capa falling apart beneath you, you needed more to help yourself over the edge. You brought your fingers down to your clit, letting the motion of your hips guide the pressure.

“Oh, I’m close,” you sighed.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you tossed your head back. Capa’s hands were planted on your hips now, greedily pulling you down as far onto his cock as you would go. His voice was a mess as he answered.

“Me too - fuck - you're gonna need to get off of me.”

“Not yet,” you moaned, grinding your hips down again.

“What do you mean ‘not yet?’” Capa grunted, sounding miserable.

“So close,” you replied, your own voice getting shaky.

And then, you felt the coil in your stomach snap. You cried out, pressing down onto him harder than ever as your nails raked down his chest. While you rode out your high, Capa scrambled to grab at your hips and lift you all the way off of him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck - get off!” he gasped.

As your orgasm faded, you looked down to see Capa, desperate and flushed-red cock in his hand, spurting ropes of cum onto his own stomach. He’d managed to pull you off just in time, but barely. A smirk crossed your lips as you watched him.

You weren’t sure what he was so worried about. As precaution, all female members of the Icarus crew had been required to have IUDs placed months ago. They would last the duration of the journey, and ensure that no mishaps occurred. Although, now you considered that maybe Capa and the other men hadn’t been told about that, to prevent… well, to prevent them from getting any ideas about doing what Capa and you had just done.

You crawled off of him, grabbing a box of tissues from one of the nightstands.

“Here - clean yourself off,” you told him. “I like to cuddle after.”

Capa took the tissues and wiped up his cum, tossing everything into the trashcan next to the bed. You flopped down on top of him, forcing his arms to wrap around you in surprise before they settled into the curves of your body.

Bringing his lips into a slow kiss, you felt the hum of Capa’s moan against you.

“You’re gonna kill me if this is what the next three years together are going to be like,” Capa complained.

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’” you teased, resting your head against his chest. “And besides,” you continued, poking him in the ribs, “what makes you think that this is what the next three years are gonna be like?”

You could practically feel Capa blush, his arms tightening and the skin on his chest getting just a bit hotter.

“I mean…”

“I’m just kidding,” you laughed. “Of course I’m gonna keep torturing you like this. Since you like it so much,” you added.

“Yeah, well… maybe I’ll torture you instead next time,” Capa threatened, tugging you harder against him.

“You can try…” Bringing your lips back up to his face, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “It’s kinda cute that you have the confidence.”

You giggled as Capa held the sides of your face, stopping you from pulling away as he kissed your lips. Both of you sank down, Capa turning to hover over you this time as he kissed you again. 

You smiled against his lips. You could certainly think of worse ways to spend the next few years.

Taglist: @cillianslvt, @cillmequick, @dynamitehacke, @franzine-xii, @hanawrites404, @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch, @littlewinter1917, @mothhball, @nnattu, @red-riding-wood, @sea-star-of-the-ocean, @slut4thebroken (also going rogue and tagging @vintagepvssy because of our only one bed trope conversation lol)

[moirindeclermont]

@hugmeter06 requests an "All the Polín first times we didn't see" about a certain willow tree. Perhaps it's the first time Colin makes Pen release without even touching her core, at least directly.

They are promenading, and upon seeing the willow tree Colin is struck with a very wicked idea. He watches his adorable wife, who is watching him, rolling her eyes. "Colin, no! It's broad daylight and everyone could be watching us".

Colin pouts but then looks at her.

"What if we don't need to get naked at all. I just need you to sit in front of me while we enjoy the shade under the tree."

Pen knows her husband has something in mind, but she can't fake a thrill going through her as she think of what he might be up too. He always has the best idea, she has to recognize that...

They put a blanket over the grass, and they sat comfortably, Colin behind Pen. Slightly inappropriate but not scandalous. Not yet.

"I think we need better memories about this spot."

"Colin..."

"If I can make you release without touching, what would be my reward?"

They exchange a brief kiss, very chaste.

"If you can manage that, you can tie me when we get home".

The look Colin has in his eyes informs her he doesn't want to lose. She should remember that a challenge is the last thing a Bridgerton needs.

The next several minutes passes with Pen trying to resist from moaning and whimpering as Colin begins to whisper in detail what he plans to do once he ties her up later.

"I think I want for you to wear the silky nightgown, the red one that I love so dearly,"

She wants to reply, but Colin is faster.

"Nah, I don't think so. Your job is to listen today, okay?" In that deep, deep voice that makes her tremble.

"After, I would tied you up using the light belt that keeps together your robe. Only your hands. And I'd leave your mouth open, I want to hear all of your sound.

I'd love to kiss you all over. First with my hand, and then with my mouth"

All Pen can hear is his voice, the ton and everyone's else is in the background, while she's trying her best to not mount him right there..

"I think for tonight I want to discovering how many times I can make you release. I think we arrived at three, but I would love to know if you arrive at six... Or more.

And while every release can be on my fingers or my tongue or my cock, every time you'll tell me one of your dirtiest fantasy."

Pen gulps, her breath accelerated and her hand sweaty as she feels her core getting wetter and wetter.

"I know about your fantasy of doing it in the middle of a ball, watched by everyone. I know about your fantasy of me tupping you in my coat, pretending I'm a pirate. I know about your fantasy of me taking my pleasure while you read and write."

She can't move a muscle or she would release. Her core is asking desperately for something to fill her and her nipples are hard against her bodice.

"I'll make you confess some more. Like how much you like when I say I have a wanton wife. A harlot."

She does moan now, but it's very quiet.

"I know you're close. Such a nice naughty wife I have. If the Ton knew you are so naughty, making your husband make you release in the garden... What would they say?"

She is close. He didn't touch her and she is close.

"I don't know what they would say, but I'd answer them that you're my harlot. Say it Pen"

"Say I'm your harlot while you find your pleasure."

"I'm a harlot," and luckily she is not screaming it, as she comes hard, right in the middle of the garden, under the willow tree that saw a particular awkward conversations months ago.

"You're amazing. And mine. Let's both rest 10 minutes before going home. We have much stuff to do."

And she smiles. Her husband wants to wait because he is not presentable either. They wait and exchange soft and chaste kisses, until they take their leave.

They're not seen for two whole days after that afternoon.

I accept request! Dm me or send me an ask with your favorite first time you want me to talk about.

[anexperimentallife]

FML. Confirmed with a blood test that it's dengue, and it will probably get worse before it gets any better. Doc said I am in the early stages right now, so no idea how bad it's going to get.

I've gotten ONE mosquito bite in the past month or so, so of COURSE the one that bit me HAD to be carrying dengue fever.

The only treatment is palliative--drink fluids and take pain meds and tylenol--but we're ALSO going to have to pay for daily platelet counts until I turn the corner. (This after we just spent everything we had on my dentures, which already need replaced because of a fuck-up of mine that I don't want to talk about.)

Could be as brief as 2-3 more days before I start improving, could be longer. Probably longer. Some people get a very mild case, and some get more severe, so it's a crap shoot. I just know I've been miserable, waking up alternately shivering and sweating at night.

It's rare for dengue to be fatal, at least--although I'm in several high-risk groups. As a friend of mine who had it before says, "Dengue probably won't kill you, but it'll make you WISH you were dead."

The flash kinda washed out the blotches, but this is the pic I sent my doc, who said, "Yeah, that looks like a Dengue rash, but go in for a blood test to make sure." I'm now pretty much red all over, and like... my skin is swollen? Like, I usually actually have some definition in my back, but not now. (I know, what a thing to focus on, right?)

On the plus side, it has taken me six years on a tropical island before I got my first major mosquito-born tropical illness, so... yay?

[atimeofyourlife]

A song for the night

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: open mic night | rated: t | wc: 689 | tags: pre-steddie Eddie performs at open mic night at the bar Steve works at

Open Mic Night was somehow both Steve's favorite and least favorite night of the month to be working the bar. It was his favorite because it usually wasn't too busy, and he got to enjoy the local talent of musicians and comedians. It was his least favorite because for every one good or half decent act, there were five or six bad ones. And unlike the patrons of the bar, he couldn't just go out for a smoke during every comedian whose jokes sat firmly in the misogynistic, homophobic, and racist categories, or every tone-deaf singer that didn't understand how to tune an instrument. And to top it all off, he had to be the one to get up on the stage between each act, enthusiastically thanking them, trying to rouse something of an applause, before introducing the next act.

It was after a frightfully painful comedic routine, that seemed to have consisted solely of the guy talking about how much he hated his wife, that Steve caught sight of him. An attractive guy with long dark hair.

"Okay, thank you Derrek, for that interesting comedy routine. Everybody, give it up for Derrek." Steve kept his voice full of fake enthusiasm as he brought his hands together a few times. He then checked the list for the name of the next act. "And next up, we have another local musician. Please welcome Eddie Munson to the stage." Steve clapped a few more times as he made his way offstage, heading back behind the bar. He glanced up at the stage, and saw the most handsome man he'd seen in his entire life. It felt like it didn't matter whether or not this Eddie was any good, Steve was going to enjoy just watching him.

He couldn't keep staring the entire time, having to serve drinks to the other patrons of the bar, but his attention did keep getting drawn back to the man on the stage. He looked and sounded incredible, playing an acoustic medley of metal songs. Steve had to shake himself out of it after he'd gotten distracted while pouring a drink, overfilling the glass and covering his hand in beer. He handed the beer over to the customer, before drying his hands on a paper towel. Thankfully, it was nearly time for the next act, so Steve made his way back to the stage, hoping that someone else being up there would help him focus on his work again. Eddie finished the last song, and stepped back from the mic, starting to pack down his guitar. Steve stepped on to the stage, applauding as he went.

"Now, wasn't that incredible, ladies and gentlemen. Everyone, give a hand for Eddie Munson." Steve said into the mic, not having to fake his enthusiasm as he clapped this time. "And after that amazing set, next up we have Tammy Thompson."

Steve went back to the bar, wincing at how this next singer sounded. She'd performed several times at previous open mic nights, giving Steve an in joke about her sounding like a Muppet with Robin.

He started serving drinks again, noticing how the bar had emptied significantly, most of the regulars heading out to smoke for a few minutes to save their sanity, Steve just wished he could join them.

"What can I get to make this sound better?" A voice asked.

Steve turned quickly to see Eddie, and it took him a moment to get his brain to formulate the words needed to respond. "Legally, I don't think I'm allowed to sell something that strong."

Eddie laughed at that, his laugh as breathtaking as his singing voice. "In that case, I'll just take a PBR."

"Sure." Steve grabbed the beer. "Anything else I could get for you?"

"Your number, maybe?"

Steve's eyes widened for a second as he blushed a deep pink. He scrambled for a pen and a napkin, scribbling down the number as neatly as he could. "Here. Maybe we could get a drink some time?"

They both winced as a particularly pitchy note came through the speakers. "Just not when it's another open mic night."

[julianalvarez9]

one nail drives out another / joão félix

summary: it had all started as a mutual favour: you weren't over your ex, and neither was he. but the old saying one nail drives out another proves to be true. author's note: had this in the drafts for too long and just needed to get it out, even if i just couldn't finish it in a way that i liked :( hope it's still good tho.

warnings: smut with a plot. wc: 2.2k words

the deal was simple: he calls you when he feels alone, and you do too.

in reality, it's simpler to say that you call him to avoid calling your ex. this is what you said to yourself every time: it was for a good cause, really. anything to help you avoid the man who broke your heart several times. 

joão was one hundred percent better than that man could ever be, and you knew it was safer: at least, he wouldn’t break your heart. above every single adjective he could be described with, he was kind. and after knowing him for such a long time, you also were aware of how hard it was for him to let his past relationship go, no matter if he knew it wasn’t good for him, no matter how much she actually hurt him. he was in the same situation as you: heartbroken and on the verge of falling, again.

the kiss was heated, tongues meeting and battling each other for dominance, while letting you taste him. you still could feel the vodka on his lips, intoxicating, although you doubted if what was making your brain go into overdrive was the alcohol, or joao’s ragged breath. “i need to stop thinking about her for a second,” he pleaded, warm brown eyes normally turning a shade darker. he continued the trail of kisses, messy and wet over your neck. “please, help me”.

tonight, it was your turn to call joão.

you were about to call your ex, again, for the second time after six months, until you thought otherwise. it wasn't rocket science to understand that you were feeling alone. the flat in which you lived in now was the same one you once shared with your ex boyfriend, and sometimes, no matter how many hours you try to spend out of the four walls, you can't forget what happened. how it all went wrong, so suddenly. the doubts start to creep in when the sun sets, and you start doubting whether it maybe was your fault, after all. surely, nothing you could have ever done could excuse his cheating, but why weren't you enough?

[12:11] you said: are you awake?

[12:11] joão said: yeah

[12:11] joão said: i was just about to text you

[12:12] you said: mind if i come to your house?

[12:12] joão said: it would be my pleasure

it's been a few weeks since you've seen him, with the international break getting him away from you and his schedule just being crazy in general. and even though you were thankful for it, as a way of getting your feelings on check, you also found yourself missing him. which made everything worse. after almost four months, he knew you like the back of his hand. knew how to rile you, how to touch you, what you liked. you craved him in a way no other guy would fulfill. 

you had tried it.

you barely make it through the door before joao's planting his lips on yours fiercely. it's been too long, he thinks, while sinking his fingers hard onto your hips and backing you onto the main door, hard.

"you don't know how much i missed this," he says, and the warmth starts to seep into your bones, not only where you would expect it to when a pretty boy like him has his hands on you. the effect he has on you it's incredible, and you can only moan in response, legs almost giving up when he sinks a bit to grab the back of your thighs, signaling you to jump. you've got your legs clamped around his waist while he gets both of you into his bedroom.

he lays you onto the bed carefully, with him on top of you while the heavy makeout session continues. his hands roam your entire figure like he has forgotten the trace and wants to remember it. as if he could ever forget, he thinks to himself, before focusing right back into your taste. "do something, joão," you beg, your hands going to the top of his head and slightly tugging on his hair when he starts to trail down his kisses, wet lips tasting all the exposed skin he has available, before growing impatient and pulling the end of your shirt softly. although he's desperate to taste you, he remains calm, helping you take the clothes off before he proceeds to do the same.

he cups your heat through your underwear, and your hips bucked instinctively against his hand. he smirks, the little devil, when he feels how wet you are for him, even though your core remains clothed. you know it's been too long, and you're chasing this fix like he was the most addictive drug. "you're so wet, princesa, so needy. is this all for me?".

he wants to edge you, he wants to make you beg for him, but who's he kidding? joao's almost as desperate as you, not even being able to take off your undergarments fully, and instead, moving it to the side. he slides two fingers inside of you at once, your slick coating his fingers instantly as he feels you clenching around his digits. soon enough you're almost there and he notices, instead taking your fingers off your entrance and savoring your taste in his mouth, humming contently. he wants to feel you tightening around his length instead of his hand, and he hurries to extend the condom over his hard on.

your lips part when you feel his tip at your entrance, right where you need him most, and your fingers grab onto whatever skin he has close to you to remain grounded. his biceps are the ones suffering the attack of your nails on them, pleading him silently to, finally, make his way into you. he's slow at first, with you so tight after a few weeks apart from each other, and his eyes flutter shut, trying to maintain his composure until he bottoms out. you can't even think straight at this point, small whimpers leaving your mouth pleading him to move. joao finds the rhythm that has you moaning his name nonstop soon enough, like he always does, and you grab him by the nape of his neck to get him to kiss you and swallow your desperate noises.

“i won’t last long,” you warn, voice barely audible while your back arches away from the bed, creating a gap from the mattress. “go ahead,” joao encourages, keeping the pace that is driving you mad, and soon enough, you come undone under him. he helps you ride out your high, and thanks to how you’re clenching around him, he lets go too, not long after you. 

the air is tense once the moment has seemingly broken, both your staggered breaths, the only sounds heard through the four walls. joao knows he has to say something about the elephant in the room, but still, he doesn’t know how. you’re the first one to move, not sparing him a glance as you start to collect your things to leave, wanting to avoid the question repeating in your head. what the fuck are we?

"why do you never stay over?" he asks instead, resting his back over the bed frame. his hands pillowed under his head in a relaxed gesture, but he’s anything but calm while the question floats in the air. 

"what?" you call, not having heard his ask: you were too busy trying to find your underwear to pay attention to what the portuguese was saying. still, he continued. "it's like you run away from me every time,” he says, frowning at the thought. 

once he realizes that he won't be having an answer until you find what you're looking for, he focuses on your surroundings, scanning the poorly lit room until he finds your undergarments. they're dropped by his side of the bed, serving as a reminder of what had occurred between you two not too long ago. 

joão hooks the piece of lace cloth on his fingers, catching your attention, before you go and take them from him, slipping them on almost effortlessly. “is there a problem with me?".

now, with you not completely naked, you can answer him, although still refusing to dive into his warm brown eyes. "absolutely not”.

“and here you are, running away,” he laughs bitterly while getting up from the bed to grab his shirt. god bless, you think. the mere sight of him, laying on his bed, in just his black calvins was almost enough to get you back on the bed. but you can’t, you remind yourself. 

“i thought it was what you wanted, no?” you counteract. it’s like joao doesn't remember the talk you had before it all began. “part of the no feelings attached thing you talked about," you remind him, and he huffs annoyed, before going back to being seated on the edge of the bed, back towards you. 

you can see the marks your fingernails made on his tanned skin, still red from your doings. you’re tempted to bring it to his attention, maybe to avoid his teammates catching them tomorrow morning when he has to go back to training, but the words die on your throat.

he mutters lowly, gripping his hair like he’s about to pull some strands off. "you don't think we fucked it up already?”.

"what are you talking about?".

of course you know what he’s talking about. the deal made it clear that it was just sex: but you were friends first and foremost, and you couldn’t avoid your friend group, which you shared with him. you couldn’t avoid the questions they asked. who has you smiling so big lately, y/n? are you seeing anyone? no, of course not. i can present to you a friend, then. 

the mere thought of you with someone else made joao see red, and that's how he noticed something had changed, and that he had to do something about it before what he feared became a reality. he initially had said he had enough of relationships, and just didn't want the complications it brought. and after what he went through, it was safe to say his trust issues were at their worst. just like yours. that's why it was such a good deal at first: to get the benefits of a relationship without the problems of actually keeping one. 

“i missed you while i was away,” he begins, and your stomach turns when you hear what he has to say next. “you don’t see a problem?”. you want to say that you missed him too, but the question leaves you feeling uneasy. of course it’s a problem for him, you think. he has grown attached, like you have, but doesn’t want any of it.

“good thing that i’m leaving then, no?”.

joao's quick to stand on his feet and go over to where you are, almost turning the knob and exiting his bedroom. “stay. please," he begs, hand softly grazing your wrist to avoid you getting away from him. at this point, you're confused and hurt enough to start regretting even getting here in the first place. “you’re not making sense right now, you know, right? saying that this is a problem and then asking me to stay the night”.

 through your years being friends, you realized that joao wasn’t the best one at explaining his emotions with words. maybe, because the words weren’t truly his -having to find the words, in a language that wasn’t your own, sure made things more difficult than they needed to be-. "you and i not being together is the problem", he gets to say, almost like a last resource to get you looking at him again. "what about what you said before? that you're not ready for another relationship?".

it work in his favour, because the sentence previously muttered by joao as you turn to face him again. you’re looking into his eyes now, trying to find even an ounce of doubt that would make you leave again. you didn’t want to force him into being with you: you knew the risks when you accepted this fucking deal. you didn’t want him to feel trapped into a relationship he had never intended to start.

"i guess i'm ready when it's you,” joao smiles, softly caressing the skin of your cheek with his thumb. you feel yourself melt under him, his sweet touch and his thoughtful words. “i know you're not her. and i'm not him. but i get it if you-".

the kiss is needy, again, like it had been when you first arrived, but this time you are the one to initiate it. your hand found its way into his hair, and you pulled him impossible closer, hoping that this would clear up all his doubts without you having to say anything. of course you knew he wasn’t him. you had never dared to make the comparison, not even for a second. once the kiss is over, you rest your forehead against his, before softly whispering onto his lips. “we can take it slow. i just need you, nothing else”.

“whatever you need, princesa”.

[stardust-falling]

Unfortunately, I am once again asking for assistance.

Due to several factors I don't really want to talk about, I've suffered a series of mental health episodes over the past few weeks that have left me, quite frankly, in the worst state since... basically before I started working on trauma recovery. I've come pretty close to being hospitalized a few times, but aside from the additional trauma that might incur, I also just simply couldn't afford it.

My ability to work an outside job was already limited by my C/PTSD among other things, but for right now, I can't even think about picking up a shift without having a panic attack. I can still force myself to do things if necessary, but... honestly I really need to be able to not do that, at least for a little while until I can get back on track.

Unfortunately, I can't afford to take a break with no income. A few surprise expenses came up recently which very nearly brought everything crashing down. It's only thanks to the support of my followers and fans that we were able to scrape by, but right now there's no buffer whatsoever. My partner's already working as much as he can, and almost his entire paycheck is going to rent payments and other bills. I can't ask him to work even more to cover my expenses as well.

Last month, I had to skip getting a prescription filled. I can't do that again. My cats are more than six months past due for their shots just because we can't afford it, and I'm stressed every day that I might lose them because of this. They are my literal lifeline.

To cover my own expenses, I need a bare minimum of $600 USD a month, broken down as follows:

Medication: $100

Medical Debt Bills: $300 (total $6000)

Credit Card Bills: $100 (total $3500)

Utility Bills: $100

This is just literally what I can't afford to stop paying no matter what, it doesn't cover groceries or gas, and I also need an additional one-time $500 to take my cats to the vet.

Any percentage of this that I can make through ko-fi tips, donations, requests, and patreon pledges is more time I don't have to spend forcing myself through panic attacks and hallucinations to work an outside job.

I'm hoping to get to a more stable place both mentally and financially eventually, but for now... I'm stuck. I'm stuck and it scares me. I want to heal, but right now it's like all the work I've already done and the progress I've made is evaporating. I'm struggling to keep up with even the most basic daily tasks, let alone my creativity and emotional well-being.

If you can help support me, I'm really, really grateful. The best way to do so would be through joining my Patreon, but really anything helps. I have some requests open on my ko-fi if you'd like to get something out of it, and here is a link to donate directly to my Paypal if you'd prefer that. I'm not really in a stable-enough place to make a full commitment right now, but if you leave a note with your donation that includes your url and a character name (or just a character on ko-fi), then I'll do a little doodle for you as thanks once I... am not struggling so much with the urge to delete myself from existing.

Thank you.

[barry-j-blupjeans]

"Listen," Taako said, kicking his feet up on the Director's desk. "Cha'boy needs to live somewhere else."

"I'm… sorry?" the Director said. She looked like she had just woken up. Because she did. Whoops. The concept of time and Taako didn't really agree with each other. If the best time to get his thoughts out was six in the goddamn morning, then who was Taako to reject that? Not after he spent all night with motherfucks he has to dorm with.

"Cha'boy," Taako repeated, slowly. "Needs. To live. Somewhere else."

"Can I-" the Director sighed, dropping her face into her hands. She inhaled. Rubbed at her temples. Looked back up with an expression Taako could only describe as deep and utter regret. "Do I even want to know why?"

"No," Taako said. "But I got a list, so hang onto your hat. Number one-" he leaned back in the chair, teetering on the back legs. "-I need my beauty sleep."

"Don't we all," the Director asked, deadpan.

"You'll be fine," Taako said. "But this look takes work, compadre. Do you think I just wake up looking like this?" The Director opened her mouth. "Don't answer that." The Director shut her mouth. "But I doubt Magnus even knows what an inside voice is and Merle doesn't understand the concept of closing his fucking bedroom door and I am so, so close to committing even more crimes against death."

"Taako…"

"Two," Taako said, holding up two fingers. "Merle and Magnus both, objectively, smell awful. Have you stood near Merle recently, Director?"

"I… can't say I have," the Director said. There was a deep look of worry on her face now.

"Good," Taako said. "'Cus it's bad. I think he just eats deodorant instead of actually putting it on. And number three-"

Taako considered. Being tired of having to sneak his boyfriend around probably wasn't a good excuse, considering the Director didn't know that one, said boyfriend existed, and two, that he was even on the moon in the first place. Or knew the moon wasn't, y'know, the moon. But man, it felt bad to end his list on two. That was pathetic. He at least needed a three.

"Number three," Taako began again. "I deserve it."

"You deserve it," the Director repeated dryly.

"Sure as hell do," Taako said. "Like, you deal with a weapon of mass destruction several times and you don't even get a sweet room upgrade? Do you even have a retention plan, Director?"

Yes. Score one for Taako. He was so good at this.

"I like to think that the agreement of not dying from said weapon of mass destruction is some pretty good retention for most people," the Director said, which, yeah, fair.

"But I'm Taako," Taako said.

"Yeah," the Director said. "And it's five in the fucking morning, Taako. What the hell do you want me to do about it?"

"I'll take a new room," Taako said, crossing his legs in a different direction. The Director slid some documents away from his feet. "And maybe like, a raise. Sound good?"

"Hm," the Director said. She squinted at him. Taako dropped the chair back down to all four legs. After a moment, she cleared her throat. "What month is it?"

"May-ish," Taako said. "Y'know, around there."

"Around there," the Director said, nodding. "Come back to me, uh- let's- let's say after midsummer. And we'll see what we can do."

"After midsummer," Taako said echoed. "Need I remind you that last midsummer, the entire sky kinda like, got fucked up with a buncha eyes? Remember that? That was a thing that happened."

"Rest assured that they will be dealt with this year if they so choose to return," the Director said.

"Somehow that's not really reassuring me," Taako said.

"It's part of the retention plan," the Director said. "Now if you could please get the fuck out of my office, that would be stellar."

[hellenhighwater]

This may be a mildly weird question, and I apologize if it is, but do you have any advice for how to figure out if a person (specifically oneself) would be a good cat owner? I love cats, and a lot of my future dreams involve owning one (or several). However, I often worry that I wouldn't be a good cat owner. When I was a kid, I was often nervous/skittish around animals because I couldn't predict them and was afraid of getting scratched or bitten. I'm a lot better now than I used to be (will actively seek to interact with my friends' pets, have been trusted to look after peoples' dogs for short periods of time), a lot of my instinctive reactions to being startled by animals are still . . . not entirely helpful. (Not directly harmful! I would never! But stuff like freezing up or pulling away in such a way that it can give the wrong signal to animals.) Plus, I'm not always great at picking up cues/body language from people, and based on what I've read, that's about 75% of how animals communicate, so even during good interactions, I'm always a little worried that I'm doing something wrong because I'm missing some cue.

Again, I love cats and would very much like to have one or more someday. But I only want to do that if I can be sure that I'm going to be able to give any cats of mine a good life, and I don't want to get a cat only to have to rehome it a few months later. Any tips on how to handle all this?

Thanks so much for your time and, more generally, for the delight of seeing Malice and Vice (and the kittens!) periodically on my dash. Your posts about them always brighten my day. <3

It sounds like you'd be a good owner to the right cat, and that you may want to find someone who can help you pick that cat out when you're in a position to adopt one. If you're lucky, a local shelter or rescue may be able to help you with this. If you can, call ahead and explain that you're looking for your first cat, and would like some help finding that one; ask if there's a good time to come meet some cats where someone who knows the current cats well could maybe point you to one that might be right. Also, if a personality profile for a cat includes "good with kids," that probably means they're going to be tolerant of any mistakes you might make re: body language.

You should definitely look for an adult, at least six years old, maybe even a cat in the senior category (which, depending on how a shelter or rescue categorizes cats, can be any cat over the age of 10. Cats can live a long time, so 10 is really not that old.) Try to not get attached to specific looks and just go by personality.

Cats have a lot of personality variety, and there's tons of cats out there that are truly very friendly and cuddly, and really just need someone to meet their basic needs and shower them in affection. An adult cat that has lived with people before, or who was just a friendly stray is probably going to take it fine if you freeze up or pull back suddenly, and if they're old enough to have become chill, will just walk away if you're bugging them. Crucially, you do not want to try to take a difficult or traumatized cat as your very first one. Those cats need help, true, but you need to learn first.

You can learn a lot about body language for cats online, but mostly you learn it by exposure. Plus, cat body language can be very individual-specific, so it's fine to just learn over time what your cat is saying.

There's tons of cats that are just sweet-natured. A'Tuin, my momma foster, would make a great first cat for someone! She's not shy about coming up and asking for attention, and will even use her paws to pull my hand to her face for ear scratches. She's good with not using her claws, has never tried to nip or bite, and mostly just wants to be looked after and cuddled. And there's tons of cats like her out there.