#canon is my best friend but only sometimes. when i close my eyes i can’t see

[deeenjoyer]

iconic to me how everyone in the gang can easily be hcd as queer with no changes to the source material. like yes transfem dennis. yes nb charlie. yes gay mac. yes lesbian dee. i’ve never seen a piece of media so ripe for an lgbt takeover they hit all the letters

[writerblue275]

Heartsteel Ranking: “Scary boyfriend privilege”

(AKA how intimidating they are to people who don’t know them.)

Inspiration: I’ll be honest this is a bit of a random ranking but I thought it would be fun to do and it was!

Champions: Heartsteel

Genre: Ranking

Type: Fluff? This is meant in a funny way.

Tw: Small mention of alcohol (drink responsibly y’all), and swearing (because I do, in fact, have the mouth of a damn sailor.)

List goes least intimidating to most intimidating.

LEAST

Ezreal (One of these days I will do a ranking that doesn’t put him at the bottom! I swear it’s not intentional! 😂)

Let’s be honest no one is shocked he’s here, right? Where else was Ez going to go on this list?? This isn’t a bad thing though! He just gives off such golden retriever energy and it’s amazing and I love him. I want to be at least best friends with HS Ezreal.

Despite the usual happy golden retriever energy, he’s definitely not afraid to tell people off/protect you though. (I feel like he secretly has quite a temper. He’s a Sagittarius after all [love my fellow 🔥 signs WOOT WOOT]. Usually he’s very good about keeping it under control…but if someone [besides you, he absolutely adores you] pushes him too far [ex: by making you uncomfortable]…just see what happens.)

Aphelios

You absolutely have scary boyfriend privilege with Aphelios, but I just can’t rank him higher than any of the other members below. He definitely has that “brooding silent type” down pat, and when he’s wearing his mask, that’s doubled. That air of mystery, baby, he’s got that in SPADES.

We also know he’s tall. Like not Sett, K’Sante, or Yone tall, but he’s got some height on him (unconfirmed 6’). Physically, he’s definitely more intimidating than Ez. Like imagine Phel silently staring daggers at someone. Lmao I’d hate to be whoever pissed him off.

K’Sante

Most of this comes from his height (unconfirmed 6’4”) and the fact he’s one of the gym bros. Like general vibe/personality-wise, I think Phel could be more-intimidating than K’Sante (or even Sett), but have you seen how just MASSIVE K’Sante is? HE CAN CANONICALLY BENCH SETT. Like 😮😮😮

Not to mention I feel like he’d always stick close to you in public, so no one would even dream of trying to do anything to you. (Unless they’re a whole dumbass.) K’Sante genuinely gives me very kind vibes, but he definitely protects those he loves very fiercely.

Sett

Sett is (unconfirmed) 6’7” (at least confirmed the tallest in the group), and JACKED AS HELL. Not to mention “allergic” to sleeves so those arms are out most of the time lmao. Only a fucking moron (or someone who is incredibly drunk) would look at Settrigh and go “oh yeah I am absolutely going to mess with this guy.” RIP that idiot.

He also doesn’t fuck around about the safety of the people he loves. Sett genuinely seems like the sweetest guy (I love this giant, ripped, sewing himbo so fucking much oh my fucking god) but he can/will be intentionally intimidating if it’s necessary to keep you or Ma safe (the two most important figures in his life 🥺). Will walk you home/keep you close to him in crowded situations. He always wants you to feel safe when you’re with him (you absolutely do like how could you not?).

Kayn

So this is based on both appearance and reputation. Obviously Kayn has quite the reputation from his last band (as well as being kicked out of it.) Appearance-wise, he’s not super tall, but he’s tall enough. Not to mention the piercings, tattoos, the fact he’s also in excellent shape (I mean we all saw those abs 😏), has vibrant dyed hair, a very bright red eye, and he is a total metal head. He can also, um, travel through WALLS. (Small detail lol.)

DO I EVEN HAVE TO MENTION RHAAST (even as his stage alter ego)???? Kayn can be pretty impulsive and sometimes acts first, thinks later. (He’s currently working on that with Yone, it’s fine.) Someone would be a damn fool to fuck with him or you. He just gives me very loyal guard dog vibes. (I mean he did wear the damn leash in the mv so….😝)

Yone

There is no one (let me repeat: NO ONE) I’d want to fuck with less than Yone. This man has quintessential resting bitch face (RBF), is like 6’ 2-3” (unconfirmed), in very good shaped (based on the lovely titty window of his outfit. Thank you, Riot designers) and is able to (mostly) wrangle the rest of the group. Also (hella obvious but) HE’S AN INTROVERT (INFJ specifically). People are NOT his thing (fucking MOOD).

Yone is the one who gives the most similar vibes to the TikToks I’ve seen that show cosplayers at Cons with their scarier-dressed friends/partners following behind them keeping them safe. (For Yone, it’s the RBF/air of mystery that really sets the tone.) He gives me such mature gentleman vibes as well. He’s always going to walk you home especially at night, or he’ll stay by your side in a crowd and you are just going to feel really safe with him. Top-tier scary boyfriend privilege right there.

Most

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Ok so the least and most intimidating were extremely obvious to me. It was everyone else in between that made things difficult. This was really fun to write though, even if the concept is a bit silly! 😂

[dellalyra]

Imagine the continue of your latest family formation where reader has high fever and starts crying in her sleep because she's seeing satoru get killed by toji again

The kids getting worried aick because "when did gojo die?!"

And satoru not knowing how it still haunted you even after so many years

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long!! I wanted to think it through but I hope u like it bc I loved writing it!!

CW: hints at ptsd, mentions of blood and canon typical violence and sickness, angst but not really? Soft soft soft soft

Family Formations • Kind

You were tossing and turning in your sleep, fever from the flu still wreaking havoc on your body. Satoru was worried, but luckily, he had Shoko on speed dial – and she would never let anything happen to her precious best friend. You had kicked the sheets off long ago, and the mumbling had started rather funny.

“Satoru you can’t take home a seal from the beach.”

“Megumi let go of Satoru’s hair.”

“Get that stick outta your ass Nanami – you used to smoke blunts on the school roof.”

He was loving it; it was like a free stand-up show!

But then, you started to whimper. He had fallen asleep, and it took some time to rouse him from his slumber but what woke him up was you sobbing in your sleep.

“Please no, please don’t take him from me. Please, not him. Not again. I can’t watch ‘Toru die again, please god NO NO NO NO!” At this point he was kissing your head, whispering your name to wake you from the fever dream, tears in his own eyes because he knew what you were dreaming of.

You gasp awake and bolt upright, wrapping your arms around him.

You stay sobbing in his arms as he consoles you.

“It’s okay, Princess - I’m here. It was just a dream, I’m safe, you’re safe, and the kids are safe. Nothing gonna happen again, okay? He’s gone. Nothing can take me from you again.”

You had been there; you had seen the father of the kid in the next room over. You had heard the burst of the blade through your love’s pale throat, the ivory skin turning crimson red in an instant as he gasped and choked. He had died in your arms. You had screamed and cried and managed to lodge a vine through the shoulder of the man who had done.

But he was here. He fought his way back to you.

You ran your shaking hands over his face and torso – as if checking for injuries.

“I saw it all again, he came back. He had you and he did it again and I couldn’t move and then you were dead again.” You sobbed into his shoulder. He hated seeing you this way, he still had nightmares of the day himself – sometimes the true events, sometimes reversed.

As your breathing steadied, he unwrapped himself from you.

“I’m gonna make you a hot chocolate, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, sniffing into your Kurama plush.

Satoru opened the door to your room.

And he wasn’t prepared for two wide eyes faces on the other side looking up at him.

“Shit.” He spoke. He knew they’d heard, they’re faces told the whole story.

“You died, papa?” Tsumiki whispered.

Your head perked up at the voice.

“Shit.” You agree.

Megumi’s wide eyes and uneasy stance mirror his sisters.

There was no avoiding this conversation, even at 2am.

Satoru looks at you, you echo his panicked look. Fuck, you two are only 21! How do you explain all this.

“C’mere, come sit on the bed for a minute.” You were past the infectious stage now, so it didn’t matter if they got close. They did as say. Tsumiki crawling up to sit facing you and Megumi dragging his frog plush up to sit beside you. Satoru takes his own side of the bed.

“I’m sorry you guys heard that. I was having a really bad dream which made me feel a bit scared.” You pet their little heads.

“Did you really die?” Megumi pipes up, eyes focused on Satoru.

“Yeah, kid. A long time ago. I got pretty badly hurt and I died for a minute, but I used my technique to bring myself back.” He softly says, and these are the moments that you realise how great a father he really is.

“How did you get hurt?” Tsumiki asks, quietly.

You lock eyes with your boyfriend. They’re too young for the truth right now.

“He got hurt trying to keep a little girl safe.” You add.

They’re silent for a minute.

“Who hurt you?” Megumi asked.

“A really, really strong man. I wasn’t as strong as I am now – and I was tired.” Satoru adds.

Another bout of silence.

“Will the man come back?” Megumi asks again. At this point, there’s fresh tears on your cheeks.

“No, baby. He’s never coming back.” You pet the boy's hair. You’re not going to tell him the man in question was his father, 8 years old is too young for the truth.

“How can, you be sure?” Tsumiki’s voice wavers, and she moves closer to Satoru. She’s worried, you can’t appease her worries by just saying he went away, a grain of truth will do.

“Because he died, sweetheart. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

“Are you sure he died? Because Satoru died but he came back.” Megumi questions, ever too smart for his age.

“Hey! I’m unique little man, only the strongest can do that.” He winks, but humour won’t work now.

“We’re sure he died honey.” You nod at the boy.

“How are you sure?” Tsumiki interjects, Jesus you’re getting the fifth degree here at 2am.

You both quiet for a second.

“Because I’m the one who did it, ‘Miki.” He grasped her little hand.

Funnily, that seems to ease both their worries. What these kids have been through, it astounds you – not that you or Satoru had it any easier.

However, it’s a testament to their trust in you both. They know that Satoru would kill for them, and you would too. They feel safest when you two are the ones handling the issues, because they will forever be safe with you both.

“And it makes you sad, because you were there Mama?” Tsumiki asks, petting your hair, as if she’s the one to comfort you.

“I was, angel. I was very scared, and sometimes when bad things happen your brain remembers them, and that’s why sometimes we have nightmares.”

“Were you hurt?” Megumi asks.

“No honey, I was just very scared and very sad. You see, I love Satoru so much that I felt like I was dying too, because of how much my heart hurt. Him and I are made of the same star, and that’s why we love each other so much. So sometimes I get bad dreams of it happening – but I promise you both. We’re all safe now.” You pull all three of them into you, whispering ‘I love you’ to Satoru.

After a minute of family hugging, Satoru leaps up.

“I’ll be right back, 4 cups of hot chocolate with extra cream for Tsumiki, extra cinnamon for Megumi, extra marshmallows for my princess and extra sugar for me!” He does a silly walk out the door to make the kids laugh – well, Tsumiki laughs, Megumi rolls his eyes.

They snuggle in between your pillow and Satoru’s.

“Does everyone get someone made of the same star, mama?” Megumi asks.

You smile at him.

“Some people get lots of people, some people get friends, some get boyfriends or girlfriends. There’s matches out there for everyone, in all ways. Some people know them forever, some people only meet when they’re really old. Your papa and I were lucky to reunite when we were so young.” You muse.

“I hope mine is a Prince, or a handsome King!” Tsumiki says.

“You’d make a great Queen, ‘Miki.” You giggle with her.

“I hope mine is kind.” Megumi quietly muses. Your sweet soft boy, so much more sensitive than he pretends.

The other half of your star walks back in at that moment, holding a tray of mugs – steaming and overflowing with cocoa.

You all curl up in your California King Bed that night, you and Satoru holding hands over the heads of the kids between you – Tsumiki by Satoru, and Megumi by you. You lock eyes and smile as they both fall asleep.

“Goodnight, Princess.”

“Goodnight, ‘Toru.”

7 years later, Megumi’s other half of his star came barrelling into his life, all smiles and pink hair and chaos – but as he had hoped, completely and utterly kind.

Recommended Listening:

Matilda - Harry Styles

[thatdesklamp]

Sometime in Summer, Before 2004

set in ‘intrinsic warmth’ canon, because I needed to write something happy and I thought I should share it <3

Satoru can’t believe you don’t remember when you met him.

“This means you hate me,” he says to you, one day, in the Chapel. It’s mid-July, hot and sticky, and the weight of the heat in the air has made him lazy.

He’s got a white shirt on, and he’s pretty sure he’s got some sweaty patches there—if he was with someone else, Satoru would put in some effort to hide them, because someone else would probably think it was gross, but it’s you, and so he doesn’t need to. He likes that about you: it’s one of the many things he likes about you. You know him so well that he doesn’t care about things like that anymore. After all—Satoru flattens his hair down over his forehead—you don’t care about his new haircut, which he hates more than anything anywhere at anytime ever.

Satoru’s lying on his back with his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling with hazy eyes. His sunglasses are crooked on his nose, and he pushes them up.

A few days ago, he’d used Limitless to try to throw a pillow at you, but he’d overshot it and accidentally blown a hole in the ceiling. He does feel bad, just a little, mainly because you haven’t stopped talking about how cold the winters are going to be. Satoru would like to tell you that you can just get close to him for warmth, but he hasn’t mentioned it because he’s such a good friend.

He thinks about that, maybe more than he should. He would like it if you could get over your whole touch thing, because he wants to be able to touch you. Sometimes, in the winter, he’ll see you shivering on your own, this huge divide between the two of you, and he just wants to put his arm around you and stop you from being so cold.

You’re always telling him how much of a heat radiator he is—my space heater, you say sometimes, which Satoru likes, because he likes it when you say things to him like that, like you’re staking a claim on him, that he’s your best friend, and it’s not only that you’re his—and so he figures that you should just shuffle closer sometime, and it’d be fine. Satoru hasn’t ever really touched you, and so he doesn’t know what it’s like: and he knows nearly everything in the whole world, so he wants to find out what it’s like at some point.

“You hate me,” he says again, when you don’t respond to him. Satoru looks over at you, pouting. “Why do you hate me?”

You’re cross-legged, leaning against the wall of the Chapel, flicking through a Vogue magazine. You roll your eyes and tut.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Yes, you do.” Satoru makes a big display of being really, really sad. He does this sometimes, because sometimes it’ll prompt you to say something a bit more overt, in terms of your friendship with him.

Satoru tells you all the time how much he likes you, how much of a good friend you are to him, how cool you are and how amazing you both are—but you’re more reticent with your feelings, and so he has to treasure every single time you say something like that.

He doesn’t think you know that he does it on purpose, but at the same time, you have these crazy psychic powers that you can always find things out about him. Satoru often thinks that you can read his mind—you can just look at him, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. It’s kind of spooky, but he’s okay with you having those superpowers, if it’s just you.

And it’s not like you’re going to use it for anything bad. You’re too cool to do that, and you like him. Which is really cool. You like him.

Except he’s pretending you hate him, which is funny.

“I don’t,” you say. You stop reading the Vogue—success! Satoru has claimed your attention—and start fanning yourself with it. “I just don’t remember everything in the world, Gojo.”

“It’s not everything in the world! It’s the first time we met. That’s important!”

“I remember the second time we met. That was more impactful, anyway.”

“How?” Satoru doesn’t understand that at all. “But you’d just met me! How was that not impactful?”

“I didn’t know you’d want to talk to me again,” you say, shrugging. “So, when you did, it was surprising. That’s what I remember.”

Satoru makes a face, scrunching up his nose. “Of course I’d want to talk to you again.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Course I would!” Satoru groans and then sits up, making a heaving sound. He pushes his glasses into his hair and pulls up the bottom of his shirt to wipe his sweaty face. “Agh. Too hot. Too hot, and you don’t remember when we first met, and I’m too hot!”

He looks over at you, feeling a bit petulant. You’ve stopped looking at him, and you’re focusing back on the magazine. You’re not even reading it properly—he can tell, since your eyes aren’t moving. Weird. Satoru groans again, to get your attention back, and you press your lips together.

“Hebi-Hebi,” he says. “Hey. Hey. Look at me. Look at me.”

You do. Satoru grins.

“You’re so mean to me,” Satoru says, and he rolls over to his stomach to get a bit closer to you. “So mean. How are we going to celebrate our best-friendiversary?”

You choke. “What?”

“It’s a thing,” he says, grin widening. “I’m pretty sure it’s a thing. When we became friends!”

“Shouldn’t that be when we became best friends?” you ask. You tilt your head against the wall, seeming to actually consider it. “There’s a difference between a friendiversary and a best-friendiversary, surely.”

“Oooh. Yeah, maybe.”

“So we should remember a date for our best-friendiversary instead.” You hum, thoughtful. “That would be nicer, since that’s more important.”

“So you’re saying we’re best friends?” Satoru asks, goading.

You raise your eyebrows. “Of course we are.”

You say it like it’s obvious. Satoru feels all glowy inside.

“Of course.” Satoru drags out the words, feeling how it sounds in his mouth. “Of coouurse. Of course we are! And you know what?”

“What?”

“Best friends,” he says, waggling his eyebrows at you, “should remember when they first met!”

You blow a burst of air through your lips, clearly pretending to be unamused. For all of your psychic superpowers about figuring out his thoughts, Satoru thinks he can read you pretty well too. It’s funny when you pretend to be all aloof and not like him, when it’s obvious that you actually really really do.

“You’re so annoying,” you say to him. Satoru laughs, and your lips twitch.

Ha-ha! Another success!

Satoru likes it when he can make you smile. It doesn’t happen all that often at all, and so when he manages it, it’s a huge success. It’s one of the best feelings in the world, he thinks, when he can make you smile. It’s only trumped by the times when he can make you laugh, which then is only trumped by the times you call him by his first name.

Satoru is Satoru, but you only ever call him Gojo. Which, yeah, is his name, but it’s also his name to everyone else—everyone else in the world thinks of him as Satoru Gojo, from the Gojo family, heir to the Gojo technique, which is really cool sometimes, but also really annoying and kind of not cool.

But to you, he should be Satoru. You’re the only person that he’s ever met that he’d want to call him Satoru. And so, when you don’t, he feels strange. You tell him often that he needs to get used to not always getting what he wants, but Satoru doesn’t think that he should have to, not really. In his opinion, everything would be better if he could get what he wanted all the time.

“So mean to me,” Satoru says again, without much gusto, because the day’s getting even hotter and he can’t really summon the energy to play out your usual routines.

You seem to be getting tired, too. You’re watching him with a funny look on your face, but your eyelids are drooping and you keep blinking all slowly, the way you do when you’re sleepy.

“Sure,” you say, yawning.

“Can’t believe you admit it.”

“Mmhm.”

“Can’t believe—” Satoru stifles a yawn: he caught it from you. “—that you don’t remember. I remember, Hebi-Hebi.”

“You should tell me, then.” You shuffle down until you’re lying next to him. You’re on your side, looking at him with a faint smile playing across your lips. Satoru feels glowy again. “Remind me, about the first time we met.”

“Should I?” Satoru asks, not caring about hiding his smirk. “Would you like that?”

“Maybe.”

“Then,” Satoru says, as he turns onto his side too, so you look like two mirror images of each other, if someone was looking down from the Chapel ceiling, “I’ve just got to, haven’t I? If you’d like it, then I’ve got to do it.”

Your lips press together, and then all of a sudden you’re smiling, big and wide, the way you barely ever smile in front of him. Satoru feels his stomach swoop. He loves it when you smile. My best friend, he thinks. Mine.

“I guess you have to,” you whisper, and you’re almost shy, almost hesitant. You know that you don’t need to: Satoru, surely, by now, has made sure of that. He’s spent his whole life trying to make you happy, all of his life that he’s enjoyed living. He doesn’t think that there’s anything he wouldn’t do for you, if you wanted him to. He’s certain you know that by now.

“Then I will.” Satoru brings up a hand between your bodies, and he loves how you don’t move away from him, the way you do to everyone else. You trust him, more than anyone in the world. This is what he loves, too: just as much as you are his favourite, he is yours.

Satoru rests his head on his arm, and settles in for a story; you’re watching him, with soft, affectionate eyes, and he is more happy than he ever has been. He keeps thinking that, when he’s with you. And, every time he sees you, he thinks it again. Here you are, listening to him, devoting your attention to him wholly, and you’re the best person he’s ever known.

“So,” Satoru says, so determined to keep your eyes on him, to keep your focus for ever and ever and ever, “it was a few months before my seventh birthday, and I didn’t know that I would be meeting my favourite person in the world.”

[kurithedweeb]

This is an elaboration of my answer about clothing culture in DoS (this one) on veiling within priesthood for @tsunami1022! There’s some context and the original commented question in the post, but my answer is too long to put in the comments so here it is. I myself am not religious or studying religion so don’t expect this to match up with any actual religion, this is just what I imagine for Ru’aun. We’re gonna talk specifically about veiling in the Church of the Matron Irene.

The act of covering their face is a way to elevate the veiled closer to the goddess. You don’t look upon a holy power without consequences, so being veiled is a disciple’s way of giving themselves a layer of protection and being able to look and be closer to the goddess. There’s different levels to it. I mentioned that devotees cover their eyes, members of the church cover the lower half of the face and the High Priest’s entire face is covered.

The covering of the eyes allows you to look up to the goddess. To see her and study her. It allows her to look back at you and take notice that you don’t have to shy away, so when you pray she may hear you above the din of the masses. Still, you may look at her, but you won’t see her clearly. She’s a vision to interpret, shapes to read like shadow puppets. The mask over the eyes is the only veil that may be removed outside of worship. It’s something you wear to church and for your prayers at dawn and dusk, and most people remove it when going about their daily lives but scholars and prayermen (staff of the church and those housed on church grounds) only remove it when washing or sleeping.

Covering the mouth allows your words to mingle with the words of the goddess. Outside the church, your word is taken as her message, you are the middleman between the divine and the mortal. Only the most dedicated to her teachings can interpret the Matron for the masses, those who have followed their entire lives and intend to follow until their deaths, the priests and nuns. These veils are never taken off, not even to eat and drink, and can be stripped from the veiled by the High Priest or local Lord if they act against Irene’s teachings. You cannot be seen without it, and the dorms on church grounds are all single rooms so you can wash and sleep without breaking this rule.

The High Priest is considered a vassal of Irene, a vessel if she wished it. He may speak to her and she may speak to him. He is the closest to divinity a person can get. To look upon his true face is seen as equal to looking upon the true face of Irene. She speaks through him. He doesn’t interpret anything, she and he are there together, his words are hers as far as anyone is concerned. He has several veils that suit different ceremonies and these can be exchanged for or worn together with different masks to show tone because you can’t read his expression. He may only remove the veil in the most intimate moments of his life: the embrace of a lover, the moment he is married, the death of a family member, the birth of his child, and as part of the ceremony to pass on the mantle of High Priest.

Aside from the different roles the different forms of veiling take, there’s also universal meanings. Veiling in real-world religions has a number of meanings: it’s seen as a symbol of holiness, purity, modesty, protection and mystery, and it can also be a connection between the veiled and their God. In Christianity, which I believe is what the canon church of Irene is based on, objects and people are sometimes veiled because they have a certain dignity and close relation to holy power—this includes the hands of the priest since they’re consecrated, the veil of a bride, and the habits of nuns who are supposed to consider themselves married to God. For the Church of the Matron, another important symbol is unity. 

When you devote yourself to the Matron, your veil becomes your new face, so much so that some disciples who have been best friends for a decade can’t recognize each other without their veils. You are the closest mortals have come to Irene’s divinity, your name and face are sacred things now that belong to her, and you are no longer an individual. You are an extension of her power. You are now a shard of the whole of the Church of the Matron; you too are just a touch holy.

Anyway, the veils are shields from divinity on both sides! It’s a huge scandal within the church (keep it hush-hush from the public for the public image) for a veil to be relinquished or stripped from a wearer.

[wickjump]

I’m giving you a free card to rant about any character if you want to

I just like listening to people rant about characters or things they enjoy tbh, I find it interesting what they have to say

ok.. not a character but a ship because right now i have really bad brainrot for crepic, ive already done an essay long ramble about cross, and my essay long ramble about epic is in the works, so let’s go!!!!!!!!!

okay i genuinely really love them. more than most ships. hell i love their dynamic regardless of what it is—romantic, platonic, whatever. they’re something i genuinely care about a lot!!!!! they mean da world 2 me… do not be mean to them around me!!

(this is going off of cross’ canon and not epic’s, since they don’t overlap! epic is canon to cross, cross is not canon to epic. kind of an ink and dream situation)

i love the fact they’re so close. they’re besties. best buds. best friends. besties. a lot of characters have the ‘dating close’ but not ‘friends close’ aspect in their ships/dynamics (ie cream) but not crepic! they have both!!! they’re not friends to lovers they’re best friends and lovers. and it’s unique to them in a way, you can’t name two characters who are canonically best buds like they are. and it’s GREAT. they play video games and eat cookies and make no homo jokes three years into their relationship. and i really love that for them. the idea of a romantic relationship following this just feels that much more natural compared to other characters. oh god im tired soryr anyway

i also love the angst. ive been thinking about this for ages. cross doesn’t remember epic. epic remembers cross. it hurts especially if you like to think they were also dating prior to this. imagine waiting years to see your lover again only for them to just.. not remember you. at all. and obviously you don’t tell them you were dating because then there would be that weird “so should i date you again? is that what im supposed to do now?” pressure that you don’t want, you’ll bring it up later on when you’re more comfortable with each other again, but lo and behold he likes you again and you can’t help but tear up even though you’re not a genuinely emotive person because it’s so similar to how it was the first time and you missed this.

epic has reflexes. sometimes he itches to give cross a quick peck on the cheek because he’s used to that but they’re not dating obviously so he can’t. when they start dating again though he absolutely capitalizes on it. sometimes he wants to call cross a generally romantic nickname but doesn’t. bruh is fine anyway. he used it all the time back then too. no need for other names anymore.

sometimes cross acts like he used to and epic feels a pang of sadness and nostalgia. there’s something so sad about memory loss. it’s like you lost a lover but they’re still there. they just don’t remember you. you’re stuck alone with the memories that you both once shared. and it’s kind of miserable. they’re so “sometimes i wonder if she sees me through your eyes. what would she think of me now?” “well. i think you’re pretty great.” pls understand

i like to headcanon that cross didn’t age as much as epic either due to the nature of his au and xgaster and the overwrites. so cross looks exactly the same as the day epic lost him (httyd,,,, save me) and beh they’re cute. so cutie actually. cutie pies!!!!

they r so affectionate physically cause i said so. they cuddle on the couch and play video games but if anyone asks epic says no homo and cross nods even though his face is literally buried in epic’s neck. yeah uh huh. so straight of you guys. yep. cross gets embarrassed in public about it becasue that’s literally canon he’s so stupid I hate him so much I hope he dies /affectionate. in private though cross is all over that shit. daddy issues amiright

they’re so stupid too. people don’t know if they’re dating or friends because they’re just like that. cross, normally the most uptight pissy prick out there, seems to only unwind when epic’s around and he drags cross to do something fun or stupid (often both). cross just seems happiest. and epic, normally full of “yeah lmao i am so unbothered and chill and not harboring dark secrets and withering sanity as well as living off of 0 sleep total”, seems the most relaxed around cross. i like that.

also their dads hate each other and it’s hilarious. they also probably hate each others dads too given how they each abused them like what!!! stop abusing ur kids guys…! but xgaster and epic!gaster would be in-laws and that’s super funny to me. imagine hearing that. the son of the guy you hate most married your son (who you also beat as a kid). wtf

i love the idea that epic, after ages, opened up to past cross about his issues and now all that is gone. the comfort and understanding is gone. and epic misses it but he doesn’t know if he can open up like that again. god

they’re so bittersweet. but they’re also soulmates 2 me. cross found epic again in another life,, how great is that. memory loss cannot keep them apart!!!!! they are so close. in a do not separate box. they’re like color and killer or error and ink to me. in a little ‘these guys MUST be kept together’ kennel. bonded pairs.

hfhrhfjhhh. they love each other a lot but they’re really unserious about it. everyone is done with how obnoxious they get when they’re with each other. epic puts up with cross’ temper tantrums (love you but you got issues cross) and cross is the only one that seems to find the rubber chicken jokes funny a millionth time in a row even though by now they’re to everyone’s chagrin.

they’re so cool. and lovely. i think they should be boyfriends forever and ever and never die so they can always be in love. they mean a lot to me they’re like if me and my childhood bestie worked out

I LOVE CREPIC!!!! Thank u for the ask i used this as an excuse to rant about them. needed to get this out of my system. this isn’t even all I could talk about in terms of them it’s just. so long already

OK BAIII!!!

[demigoddessqueens]

my favorite (patient) doctor

A/n - is it ok to just fast forward for only the scenes of a hot doctor? Well I did, hence the fluff alphabet

Summary: A-z fluff Alphabet for Dioneo

Masterlist 11

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

In the public eye, it’s soft touches and subtle (not really) glances but behind closed doors, you can’t keep your hands off each other

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Dioneo is top tier (boy) friend material; perfect listener and a deadpan sense of humor that always makes you grin

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

That tall frame with muscles biceps?? Born to cuddle, forced to be a doctor

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

As a doctor, he’s used to nore time nursing other patients and nobles but would not be a stranger to other domestic tasks, and if you ever got together, at least you would have some of the help for the home

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Chances are you would be the one calling it off because Dioneo could not conceive of any reason to let you go, and it would destroy him still

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Just say the word and set date and he’ll be there by your side, just as you desire.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Very gentle, wants to make sure you feel safe around him, and keens for how gentle you are with him too

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Those arms are meant for hugging and holding, and you have no qualms reciprocating right back

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It’s canon he does fall hard and falls fast, so don’t be too surprised after a few days or even a week, at most

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Very jealous and you see it cross his face if Tindaro tries to make advances towards you. He knows you don’t reciprocate but it’s a harsh reminder of the differences

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Dioneo just adores your lips, how sweet they taste when you kiss, but feels more smitten if you ever kissed his cheek

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Given his streak of patience, I’d say Dio would make children feel safe, indulging them with a story or two

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

You and Dioneo try to enjoy the morning as much as possible with kisses and affection before there’s a banging at the door for the day

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Sometimes passionately, but also so sweetly as it’s a refuge from the Plague ravaging outside

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Pretty early on, like as soon as you start talking to get to know each other.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It would take a lot to hurt him; and if anything, even if you didn’t reciprocate his feelings he wouldn’t bother you

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

You may have not given second thought to any answers about yourself but Dio

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

You were out walking the gardens with him early one morning before everyone else awoke, the sun peeked through to kiss your hair, an amused smile on your face as a butterfly landed on your hand

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very protective!! Mercenaries, diseased people trying to get in, just get tucked away right behind him

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

When is he NOT trying is more like it?? Grand gestures may or may not be your thing, but Dioneo always wants to communicate how much he cares for you

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Self doubt or a form of all consuming jealousy if a noble gets too close to comfort with you

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Maybe just a healthy amount of “I know I look good” with a mix of “but I think you look better”

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Dioneo knows his work is a part of him but if he didn’t have you, the happiness and fulfillment and brighter optimism you’ve brought would cease

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Likes it when you cook (if you can), a homecooked meal can be a love language

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

The snobbish attitude or looking down on others just because of the circumstances of birth

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Maybe some light snores but you are entirely cuddled and tucked away safely under his biceps

[thatonebirdwrites]

This chapter is long. It covers Kara meeting Jack and Sam for the first time. Which means Sam enters the timeline much sooner than in Canon. So readers can chew on that. It also starts Sam's Tale. Meaning we're entering the horror sections. Then we'll dig deeper into what the Superfriends decide to do in the present time to aid our Trio in their healing journey.

I admit, my homelessness experiences played a role in how I wrote Sam's Tale. I did not sugarcoat it.

As always, I have done my best to portray these experiences thoughtfully and well. My end-notes include thoughts, research, and life experiences to help readers better understand DID, C-PTSD, panic, and other heavy topics.

EXCERPT:

Sam Arias makes perhaps the worst decision of her life at age fifteen. A charismatic boy literally sweeps her off her feet at a party, and she learns that sex with boys is not really her jam. It’s not bad. She definitely can be attracted to guys, but the sex is just not that great.

So when over a month later nausea sets in and she misses her period, she starts to panic. She can’t be seen buying a pregnancy test. Her mother is already on her ass for going to the party instead of studying. Perhaps a terrible plan, but she has no recourse. She goes to the store, stuffs the test into her pants, and buys a candy bar. Her first theft and hopefully her last.

The test is positive.

Sam sits in the stall at her high school and stares at the test. She blinks a few times. Closes her eyes and counts to twenty, but each time she looks, it’s definitely positive.

She’s fucked. Majorly fucked.

She rubs her face and wishes she could call Jack, but he’s in England and they’ve only ever written each other since the penpal program matched them. Sometimes she’ll make a mixtape for him, and he’ll send his own. Even though he gave her a number, international charges would have her mother yelling at her for wasting money.

So she calls the only other person she knows might help.

“Yo, Sam, what are you doing calling during school?” Lucy Lane’s voice ripples into her phone. “Isn’t there like rules or something—”

“Luce, I’m pregnant.” Sam puts her face in her hand. The test’s plastic feels cold against her forehead.

“Oh shit.”

Sam isn’t entirely sure what she expects from the friend she’d made at a theater camp. Sam preferred the calculus of the mapping out the set and its measurements to acting. Lucy quickly took her under her wing, and Sam learned she’d ran off with some girl to National City, broke up, and now builds theater sets. Sam isn’t sure if Lucy ever graduated high school or not. Talking of her past isn’t a thing Lucy does.

So okay, maybe she does expect Lucy to pull a ridiculous feat like sneak her off school grounds without anyone catching them.

Sam doesn’t question it. She’s learned better. When Lucy sets her mind on something, she makes it happen, no matter how ridiculous the steps she takes to get there.

The wind sweeps Sam’s curtain of brown hair back, while Lucy shouts ridiculous jokes over the roar of her truck and the loud rap music. Lucy pulls onto the highway entrance ramp, probably way above the speed limit. Sam has no idea where they’re going, but who cares? Her mother is going to kill her when she finds out Sam’s pregnant, so why not take a moment for herself?

Lucy pulls into the Sierra State Park and drives up a narrow road to the mountain peak’s parking lot. She pulls to a stop, cranks up the brake, and turns to Sam. “So, uh, you really are…?”

Sam hands her the test.

“Damn. Was the sex good at least?”

Sam shakes her head.

“Well fuck. That sucks. I’m sorry, girl. Look, there’s a few things we can do.” Lucy taps her driving wheel, nibbles on her lips, then nods. “I’m getting out the beer.” She throws open her door and dives into the bed of her trunk where her cooler always is.

Sam steps out and walks to the edge of the gravel lot. Benches form a train of seats that overlooks a massive cliff. To her left, a trail winds up a rocky expanse to the fairly flat peak. She can see National City in all its glory with the ocean beyond, sparkling in the noon sun.

“Beer or Sprite?”

“Beer but only one.” Sam needs to take the edge off her sizzling nerves.

Lucy hands her a beer and guides her to a bench. She takes a swig and sighs. “So, uh, you got two choices. Abortion or keep it.”

Sam sniffs the beer and wrinkles her nose. “Couldn’t get the good lager?”

“Hey!” Lucy pretends to look affronted. “Best stuff I could buy on my stupid theater salary. Just you wait until I sign up for the Airforce. I’ll come home with the best beer you’ll ever taste.”

Sam hates the idea of Lucy going off to the military, but her friend seems determined to follow in her father’s footsteps. Considering how good she is at hand-to-hand combat already, Sam could see her excelling there, but it hurts. She’s one of Sam’s closest friends. She takes a long swig of the beer and grimaces. “Probably bad for any baby,” she mutters.

“Look, you don’t got to keep it.”

“And what if I do?” Sam snaps.

Lucy holds up her hands, the beer in her left. “Hey, I’m not saying you can’t keep it. But you’re young.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’m two years your elder, thank you very much.” Lucy takes another swig and wipes her mouth on the back of her hand. “Look, I’m just saying being a teenage mother is hard. You sure you wanna sign up for that?”

Sam wants to scream at her shitty luck more than anything else. “How much time do I have to decide?” she says instead.

[thomatri]

We Meet Again

Synopsis - you and Thoma were childhood friends until him and his family abruptly moved away. It wasn’t until you moved to inazuma that you get reunited

Warning - high school au/modern au, a Little Canon divergent for plot reasons, angst

———————————————————————

11 years ago

———————————————————————

I knock on Thoma door growing impatient. Suddenly the door opens revealing Thoma dad and I get excited

“Hello Mr.Ryūnosuke is Thoma there, he promised to play today” I ask with a wide smile. Thoma dad laughs and nods

“Thoma, y/n here come on!” Thoma dads yells with a smile for Thoma who rushes outside

He peeks behind his dad right leg as he always does and jumps at me, engulfing me in a big hug

“Come on I promised you an adventure today!” I say grabbing his hand running and giggling

———————————————————————

Present time

———————————————————————

I sigh as I fix my clothes my eyes drift off to the Polaroid pictures hanging from a vines in a curved way on a wall. Specifically a photo of Thoma and I. I sometimes think of the photo from time to time. Thoma up and left without a word at 8 years old. Not only him but his parents as well. They didn’t keep in contact and I’ve looked all over Mondstat three times over for them so I’m positive there not there. Well I looked all over Mondstat when I used to live there. You see I moved my first year of high school because my dad had a incredible work opportunity in inazuma and considering that I didn’t have any close friends in Mondstat and I felt like I needed a change in scenery I obliged now I’m here in inazuma.

———————————————————————

I walk to my homeroom. I make it a point to come super early so I can pick the best seats but as soon as I open the door I’m met with a familiar face I’d never thought I’d see again

“Thoma?” I ask and he looks up shocked and smiles awkwardly with a wave

“Heyy Y/n, fancy seeing you here” Thoma says and I grab his hand which is soft and warm just like it used to be

“I’d love to go on an adventure but we’re in school right now” he jokes and I pull him away somewhere private

“What the hell are you doing here” I ask a hand on my hip not really sure why I’m mad

“Well I switched schools from-“ Thoma starts

“You know what I mean, why are you here in inazuma and why did you leave me” I say feeling myself be overwhelmed with emotions

I put my head down but suddenly Thoma hugs me

“I was gonna wait to tell you but clearly it can’t wait” he says and I nod and he chuckles a little

“My dad moved to inazuma for a job opportunity to branch out his wine business, mom and I went on a boat to give him a gift but the boat crashed somewhere random. We never did find my dad and we had to start life somewhere completely new” Thoma explains and I feel bad I know how strict Inazuma was back then, foreigners were barely aloud

“So why didn’t you write or something” I say feeling myself bubble up with anger again

“Inazuma was stricter back then” he says with a shrug

“What about now?!” I say and he sighs and looks away

“I was busy I have a lot going on right now” he says

“You can’t just write a letter idk try to send a text something” I say getting more and more angry

He opens his mouth to say something but closes it still avoiding my gaze

“You mean so much to me Thoma even now it feels like a dream seeing you again, I was so worried about you” I say feeling my anger go away suddenly and walk away

———————————————————————

[captain-lessship]

Frozen Over Pt. 3

Trigger Warnings (Whole Work): Canon Typical Violence, Manipluation, Abuse, President Snow being President Snow, Eventual Character Death.

Content Warning: Abuse (Only one instance in this chapter in the form of hitting and I rather be safe than sorry), blood and illness (Snow’s illness)

You were awoken in the dead of night by one of the house tenders, he shook your shoulders. You jolted awake, “What is the matter?”

“Your grandfather is asking for you. He is declining.”

You jumped out of bed and a grabbed your house robe, tying it as you ran down the hall, calling to the tender to wake everyone else up and send for his doctor.

You made the corner and didn’t stop til you reached the double sliver door of his room. You opened them quickly, “Grandfather?” You called into the room.

You saw him propped up in bed, coughing into a handkerchief. You slowly approached him. “Grandfather,” you took his free hand in yours. “You are not doing better. I sent for your doctor.” You said, voice uneven.

“They can’t do anything to help me.”

“Maybe they can give you something to ease your pain. It’s a Quarter Quell. Hopefully one of the best ones yet.”

“What about after?”

You stopped, “Then, we go to your country house. I think city air is really messing with you.”

He coughed again, sounding like he was trying to hack up his own lung. It is worse at night due to him laying down. His eyes that were irritated stared into yours, his look was apologetic, for only what the two of you knew.

He stared at you, removing his hand from yours and letting it come to your face. “You have grown up. You shouldn’t be worrying about me.”

“I am just… not ready to let you go.”

At that moment, the doctor had arrived. You looked at the doctor, “His cough is worse. Is there anything you can do to help him sleep?”

“We will try. Please go back to bed, Mr. Snow.”

You looked at your grandfather and he nodded, excusing you. As you left, you saw your younger sister by the door way.

“Let’s get you back to bed.”

“Is grandpa okay?”

You thought, “Yes, he is. Sometimes people get sick.”

As you walked her back to her room, she asked you another question, “Are you grandpa’s favorite?”

You stopped. How could you be his favorite? Memories came back to you as a pain burned on your face.

“You are doing what?” You said with restrained anger.

“It is not as bad as it-“

“Because it isn’t happening to you!” You shrieked as you jerked up and out of your seat.

“Sit down.”

“No! You shouldn’t be doing that to him! You are whoring him out like he’s nothing! He’s a person and he’s my friend.”

The look he gave you chilled you to your core.

“Your friend?”

He stood up from his chair and walked to you, you were frozen. You watched him come to you and were slowly starting to expect a close conversation but your were surprised when he slapped you across your face with the knuckles of his hand.

They were bony and made a loud pop as they were thwacked across your cheek. His ring nicked you just below your eye, a small droplet of blood came from your face. You held your face and looked at President Snow.

“If he is your friend, I am not yours.”

You smiled as you opened her bedroom door, “Grandparents don’t pick favorites.” Only closing it once she got in bed.

Silently, you walked back to your bed room. Moonlight flooded the hallway, covering it in a silver blanket. You looked up at the moon that was half full or just shy of it. You continued your walk to your room, letting it ring in your heart that Finnick was still your friend and nothing was ever going to change that.

It was a few days later that you found yourself sharply doing your eyeliner, barely breathing as you did it. You liked the bird of prey look it gave you.

Your stylist, Kimber commented on your hair texture before a small gasp came from her.

“What is it?”

“A white hair.”

You reached to where her hand was and plucked it from your scalp, it was indeed a white hair.

Kimber began listing all sorts of causes: Genetics, Vitamins Deficiencies and Bad Luck. All you could do was stare at it, it was the exact same shade as your grandfathers.

You let it fall to the ground, “Well, it could be worse. A grey hair never killed anyone.”

She smiled at you remark, “You are rather relaxed considering what you are doing this evening.

You were tasked with the announcement of the Quarter Quell. You had also been tasked with telling the public during the previous night that your grandfather would be absent during that time as he had decided to spend some time with his family. The news got a mixed reaction but many understood. Why deny an old man a visit with his family? That would be cruel!

“Oh it is nerve wracking! But I know you will make me look wonderful.”

“Obviously, I would have been fired years ago if your looks weren’t up to par, then again, I have a lovely canvas.” She winked at your reflection.

You laughed, “But the loveliest canvas of all?”

“My wife!” Kimber swooned.

“Tell me about this outfit.” You glanced to the hanger that held a high collared black suit that had a cape sewn on the back along the shoulder line.

“A design of mine. I call it ‘Future President’, like it?”

“Future president?”

[thestobingirlie]

Do you have any random thoughts or hcs about Steve and his parents? I know that’s vague but if you have just like anything to say about them I’d love to hear it because the little snippets you say about them and the way they’re portrayed in your Saint Stephen fic has entranced me

i think about steve and his parents a lot so sure!!! here’s my (current and subject to change) harrington family backstory (some of these might be repetitions of previous hc posts, but i can’t be arsed to go back searching for them):

i think steve’s dad, richard harrington (hereafter referred to as dick) has a big thing about proving himself. he started working for his dad right out of high school (a real estate company), and he always wanted to prove that he was deserving of it, and live up to the standards his father set for him. he dedicates so much time to the business that it grows from being hawkins based, to indiana based, and so on.

he was a hawkins boy, born and raised, unlike diane, the future mrs harrington. he liked that she was from out of town, made him feel bigger than the small town he grew up in.

they had steve when dick was in his 30s, and diane in her late twenties. diane suffered through the birth, and decided she never wanted another child. she found it hard to connect with steve as a baby, and felt uneasy about her position as a stay at home mother. all of this culminating in the steve falling down the stairs incident, at which point dick gave in and hired a nanny.

steve and diane do still bond though, and when steve’s a toddler he’s become a total mommy’s boy.

dick got rich, had women throwing themselves at him, and cheated on his wife. repeatedly.

now, steve and dick were originally pretty close. dick wasn’t ever really that close to his dad, who suffered a lot with ptsd, and he didn’t want to make that same mistake. but then steve (at around 6 years old) caught him with his affair partner, and told diane.

dick was trying to apologise and make it work, when his parents started getting old and ill. and diane came up with the ultimatum that either they move back to dick’s hometown where she can keep a better eye on him, or they’re done.

he starts to resent pretty much his entire family. steve for catching him and telling diane, his parents for getting sick, and diane for making him move home.

so they move, but that doesn’t end dick’s affairs, and instead causes an even bigger divide in the family. he still has to travel frequently for the company, and diane doesn’t actually want to leave dick or their family, so instead of dealing with it, she lashes out at dick, and emotionally relies, very heavily, on steve. who she calls her best friend and the only person in the world she has left in her corner. it becomes a pretty unhealthy relationship, though neither would recognise that. steve likes helping his mum! he wants to support her and be in her corner, and with his growing resentment towards his father, he feels it’s his duty to stand up for her.

dick never really liked how close steve and diane were, in the typical 80s father fashion of not wanting a sissy for a son, but he especially didn’t like the way diane was turning steve against him. but any attempt to rectify this just sent steve further away. and by the time we see steve in canon, he interprets pretty much anything his dad does in a negative light. deservingly or not.

as a family they have a lot of issues, but they do all love each other, though sometimes they might not feel loved by one another.

and as it stands in the saint stephen universe, the loss of steve really did cause the entire family to just fall apart. they can’t function without him. they hadn’t realised how much their marriage had grown to rely on steve until he was gone. and, for better or worse, it’s caused a lot of realisations about their dynamics (primarily for dick, who’s suddenly aware of just how distant he and steve were, and that, much like his relationship with his dad, he no longer has the opportunity to fix it)

anyway, if you want anything more specific just ask!!! and thank you! i’ve loved using saint stephen to explore diane and dick’s characters, and i’m glad you’ve enjoyed them!

[insomniamamma]

Closing Time: Marcus Pike x F!reader

A/N: This is my first installment in my Year of Kisses themed creation challenge! I was invited to join the fun by @oonajaeadira and @yearofcreation2023! I have never really participated in anything like this so be gentle. This fic plays fast and loose with Marcus Pike canon. I wanted to write for our Perfect Boyfriend without watching seven something seasons of the mentalist. If Marcus is OOC that is entirely on me. Also Sherri is entirely based on a supervisor I had once. I loved that lady to pieces.

Warnings: Angst. Break ups. Language. Alcohol. Some drunken flirting and kisses. Reader has a truly shitty ex.

          This is the last place he wants to be. C'mon, Marc it'll be fun, said Danny. You need to get out of this fucking office, said Sherri. You're just gonna sit home and mope otherwise.          I'm not going to mope.          You're gonna sit home and watch old movies and pine. For that stupid Lisbon woman, or whoever's managed to break your heart lately. Sherri gives him the look.          Fine. She means well. Sherri and Danny and Big Bill, they all mean well. They know him well, too well maybe. Marcus's New Years plans involved getting take out and catching up on the Christmas movies he'd neglected. White Christmas. Die Hard. Gremlins. The classics. Fine. I'll go. For a little while.

         And now? The jukebox is playing "Hallelujah," John Cale's version. It's just past midnight and the ball dropped on the tv over the bar and people kissed each other and called their friends and Marcus's phone sits like a brick in his pocket, a fossil from when Lisbon would call, from when Dierdre and Sarey would sometimes call. Can't think of a single person he wants to call. He stands arm in arm with his friends who dragged him here, rocking back and forth with them, "hallelujah, hallelujah, Halle-loo-oo-oo-oooh-jah--"          And that's when he sees you, hunched at the bar, the only other person in this dive who isn't paired off, who isn't singing along with a bunch of drunks, your face pinched and closed off in the bleary bar mirror, peeking out around plastered on stickers and flyers for long defunct bands. He can tell that you've been crying.

         You drink and watch your phone light up with messages. Hey you okay? Did you make it home? U ok? What happened? You don't give a fuck. They can wait until tomorrow to find out if you lived or died or caught an Uber back home. Fuck. Home's not even home anymore technically. Staying the night at my Mom's. He'd texted. We'll figure out the logistics tomorrow. He'd texted. Logistics. Three years and it boils down to fucking logistics. Three years in and he dumps you at 11:50 on New Years Eve. So that's how you find yourself alone in this little pub with a bunch of drunks singing along with the jukebox, but at least it's quieter here. You catch your own reflection in the mirror, face peering over half empty liquor bottles with plastic spouts stuck in them, eyes puffy from crying. You laugh. A low and bitter sound. Who dumps somebody on New Years Eve?          "...couldn't've waited twelve more hours," you say, muttering into your half-finished drink, into the black hole at the center of the galaxy, "Couldn't've sucked it up for one more fucking night!" The last bit comes out loud, and you feel eyes on you, hunker down into yourself, into your glass, like a snail pulling into its shell, and then the noise of the bar resumes.          He'd rested his hands on his shoulders and peered into your face like he did when he meant kiss you or say something sweet. I'm not in love with you anymore, he'd said, the same tone of voice used for things like hey can you take the garbage out, or hey, we need more dish soap the next time you go to the store. Okay, so maybe bitch-slapping him in the middle of the dance floor in front of all your friends wasn't the best move, but it felt good and right. And now he keeps texting you about his stuff. His clothes and his x-box and you and the girls did a round of tequila shots before and you can't quite figure out how this all happened.          Why now? Why tonight? Things were good, weren't they? Or at least not bad, and you watch the ice melt in your drink and feel tricked, bamboozled, and oddly relieved. If he's willing to pull this shit you're better off without him, you think, but deep down you just wish it was all a mistake, that you'd just have someone warm to come home to, even if things weren't great. That maybe the both of you will wake up tomorrow and be like did we really break up last night? That's crazy. But he's texting you about his x-box and his ps 5 and how he really needs it even though you went halfsies on it. Text me one more time and you get nothing. You hit send and turned off your phone. Thank fuck his name's not on the lease. Let him stew. Let them stew. Fuck 'em.          You feel someone settle at the bar beside you.          "Hey, are you okay?"          "What do you think?" It comes out harsh and you regret it instantly. This stranger  in this dive on New Years Eve has nothing at all to do with what's happened. You turn to look and you see a tired man with his lips quirked up in a smile that doesn't quite hit his eyes.          "Sorry," you say, and shake your head, "I'm not--fuck--this has been a hell of a night. I hope you're not looking for a hookup because I got dumped at ten-till and the last thing--" He laughs, a soft low sound.          "A hookup's the last thing I want," he says and holds out his hand, "Come and sit with us. So you're not all by yourself." You eye him skeptically.          "Is this some sort of pity thing?" He laughs a little, a soft exhale, "If it is, we can be pitiful together. He glances over at a table of drunks, "I'm only here because they dragged me. I was going to order a pizza and watch Christmas movies-"          "It's past Christmas."          "I spent Christmas working," he says, "If that's not pitiful I don't know what is." You feel yourself warming to him.          "I bet you don't even have a tree up."          "I do!" He smiles, and this time it does touch his eyes, frames them in lovely crinkles, and maybe it's better to hang out with a handsome stranger in a bar than sit and drink and brood about how tomorrow you're gonna have to clear your boyfriend's shit out of your place. Ex. Ex boyfriend you have to keep reminding yourself. "It's not a real one, and it's only four feet tall. But it's there!" He offers his hand again.          "C'mon," He says, "You don't have to be all alone." Fuck it, you think, down the watery dregs of your whiskey sour and place your hand in his, allow him to draw you from your place at the bar. He is striking, leather jacket across broad shoulders, tight jeans that grip him just right, and eyes so deep and warm a girl could fall right in and drown.          "I'm Marcus," he says, and gives your hand a squeeze, but doesn't let go. You tell him your name and he leads you away from the brightness of the bar, back to where the jukebox plays a distorted love song "the curl of your bodies, like two perfect circles entwined see you feel hopeless, and homeless, and lost in the haze of the wine--" back to his table of friends, smiling and laughing, sticky shot glasses and half-filled pints between their hands. Sherri. Danny. Big Bill. Sherri has large blonde hair and gummy blue eyeliner and a cigarette roughed voice.          "You seem nice enough, what're you doing with this sad sack of shit?" She jerks her head and Marcus looks like he wants to evaporate and you laugh.          "I got dumped--let's see--" you power up your phone just long enough to check the time, lock screen lit with a tangle of missed texts --"47 minutes ago? Guess two sad sacks of shit are gonna find each other, huh?"

         The night passes in a warm blur, you and your newfound friends drinking together and laughing, Sherri's got stories that leave the table wheezing laughter and all through it Marcus is a warm presence at your side, your hands keep finding each other's, his gentle grasp an anchor in this storm of a night. You feel like you've speed-run the stages of grief over your ex. Sherri eyes you over shot glasses that have popped up like mushrooms over the course of the evening.          "Listen here," she says, pointing a pink lacquered dagger of a nail in your direction, "Keep the PS5. He paid his half in cash right? Unless you wrote him out a receipt he can't prove shit. His name's not on the lease. Leave whatever you see fit in a cardboard box by the front door and block his number. Wash your hands of him. You don't owe him shit."          "Yeah, fuck him," says Danny, and Big Bill comes back from the bar holding too many drinks and Marcus rests a warm palm on your shoulder.          "Hey," he says, those big dark eyes full of concern, "You don't think he's gonna try anything do you? You're safe, right?" And your first impulse is to laugh, the only thing your boyfriend, ex-boyfriend is a danger to is game controllers and the fifteen year olds who roast him over discord, but Marcus looks so sincere.          "Yeah. He's--I'm not worried."          "Can I give you my number? Just in case something happens--" Danny launches in to the worst mob-movie New York accent you've ever heard in your life.          "You give Markie here your number, see? One woid and your ex'll be sleepin with the fishes. We'll fit him out for the old cee ment loafers, we'll--"          "Jesus, Dan, you sound like the bastard child of Tony Soprano and Rizzo the Rat--" And everyone loses their collective shit.          "If I'm Rizzo the Rat, then you're Miss Piggy--"          "No way am I Miss Piggy! I'm nowhere near that wound up--"          "Bill here is Sweetums."          "If I'm Sweetums, Marc's that grouchy Eagle."          "No way," you say, "He's Kermit. Tell me I'm wrong."          "Hi-ho this is Kermit the frog here with a muppet news flash," and that's it. You are crying into your drink with laughter, and once you can breathe and put words together you tell him--          "You are the last person in the world I would've thought could do Kermit the frog--" And he smiles, a bashful one that pinks his cheeks and turns his face away.          "Marcus has many talents," says Sherri, "Don't let him fool you."

"I can see that you are lonesome just like me And it being late, you'd like some company Well, I turn around to look at you, and you look back at me The guy you're with, he's up and split—the chair next to you is free And I hope that you don't fall in love with me--"

         The lights are up and Tom Waits plays through the bar. People settle their tabs and head out into the bright night. It's snowing, large flakes that catch and hold the light, street-lights haloed in whirling yellow.          "Do you need a ride?" He asks, snow catching in his hair, his hand warm around yours.          "I can walk," you say.          "I'll walk with you,"          "How'll you get home?"          "Taxi. Uber. I'll manage," he smiles, soft and sad, "Let me get you home safe, okay?"          "Okay." Marcus offers his arm like some old time movie character and you loop your arm through his. Snow falls, slow and soft and heavy, and the bars let out all around, spilling people into the streets, closing time everywhere, and people sound happy, buoyed on the promise of a better year, at least for a few days until the shine wears off and it's back to business as usual. Sooner than you want you're at your front step.          "This is me," you say, and wish it wasn't, wish for more time in the swirling snow with him, and his hand traces down your arm, his fingers find yours and lace through.          "Are you okay?" he asks.          "No. But I will be." You surge forward and hug him, wrap your arms around his broad back and snow-dotted jacket, and he grips you in kind, cradles the back of your head in his hand, tucks your face into the warm join of his neck and shoulder, "Thanks for looking out for me." He squeezes you tighter.          "It's my pleasure," he says drawing back to look at you, his hands on your shoulders, "And if your ex--"          "He won't," you say, "He couldn't even wait till midnight. Couldn't even give me a kiss. I mean, not that I'd want him to now--" Marcus reaches for you, brushes the pad of his thumb over your cheek, the question hanging in his eyes. You nod and he presses his lips to yours, waits for you to kiss back, and then his tongue slides soft between your parted lips, tender, undemanding, your face cradled in his warm, calloused hands.          "Come upstairs with me," you say, and you feel him draw back, bright line of hurt in your chest.          "I want to," he says, "I want to take you to bed if you'd have me--"          "Then why--"          "I don't want to push you," he says, "I move fast. I scare people off sometimes. I like you a lot. I don't want to hurt you, okay?"          "Okay." That line of hurt resolves itself into a dull ache, "I should get some sleep. Gotta dump Asshole's stuff on the curb bright and early." He leans in kisses your cheek.          "See you next year."          "See you."

         At some point in the deepest ditch of night you turn your phone back on. Peer bleary-eyed at the notifications, unanswered texts. You send a group text to the girls, home safe don't worry about me. You give your ex a time to come get his shit and then block his number. You drift in the dark, and your phone vibrates against your chest.

         M: If you don't feel too terrible, I know a place that does breakfast all day. Best blueberry pancakes in town.          M: I'd like to see you again.

[prolix-yuy]

Writers' Iron Chef #16: Anywhere but Here

[PROMPT] “Just take my hand and close your eyes. Pretend we’re anywhere else but here.”

[TIME LIMIT] Optional, 10 minutes prep. time 30 minutes writing time Optional, 10 minutes editing time

Pairing: Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Rating: M, light allusions to sexual acts, non-descriptive character death, canonical violence, lots of retrospection and angst. Sorry friends, I hurt my own feelings with this one. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ so MINORS DNI.

Summary: The end comes with a kiss, and hope.

Notes: Written for Writers’ Iron Chef Prompt 16.

This was an interesting one because I was really into writing for Tess, but as soon as I finished the prompt I realized I wanted to take it in a completely different direction. But, in the spirit of the challenge, you're getting exactly how I wrote it! I did this between The Last of Us Episodes 2 and 3, so spoilers for 2 and slight allusions to the podcast behind the scenes conversations, though you don't need to know anything beyond the episodes.

Thanks to @writersironchef for always giving the best prompts!

Joel sometimes treated her with kid gloves, and it drove her mad.

It was worse in the beginning when he hadn’t yet seen the steel of her spine or the fire of her tongue. Walking the streets of the Boston QZ and hearing the chest-shattering rat-a-tat-tat of artillery fire explode around a corner, Joel had pulled Tess into a narrow alleyway, blocking the entrance with his body.

“Close your eyes,” he growled into her ear, which only made them flash hot and pissed to his own.

“Fuck you, Miller, I’m not a child.”

She ended up bandaging him that evening. 

Tess didn’t want a guardian, a shadow, an “attack dog” as people began to call him, but try as she might, Joel kept coming up as her best option. Not for conversation, or for a laugh. But if she needed ribs broken and gray morals, she knew who to call. 

And she saw something he needed from her. The snarl of his brow, the curl of his lip, the hunch of his shoulders when he darkened doors was what he brought. But the pain that bled through the wrinkles around his eyes, the penance she felt hanging over him like a funeral shroud, the way work drove his hands when everything else shook made Tess believe he needed something more than a job.

So when she comes to him, not sure if it’s hormones or stress or something sparking between the two of them, she knows it has to seem like practicality.

“Take my hand,” she says, and he looks at it like a child too often tricked. But he takes it, the cracks in his skin catching against hers. Leading him to her bed he balks.

“We can’t,” Joel says, but it sounds more like I won’t. She doesn’t push, lying down with her back to him. Her hand on the other side is an invitation.

The second time, after securing a load of ration cards that puts them ahead of schedule, she lays down and waits. His eyes burn along her cheek, her neck, the splay of her hand on her stomach, but the door shuts softly behind him.

It's only when she’s as broken as he is that he comes to her. A family, son bitten but without symptoms, breached containment. Tess rounded a corner, gunfire peppering the air only moments after she locked eyes with the mother screaming for sanctuary. She died last. Mothers always do.

When Joel finds her she’s drunk, staring into space at the kitchen table. Talking does nothing. Neither does shouting. She stumbles to her feet and tells him to fuck off, only to be spun back to face him. Dried tears cut harsh lines into her face. Everything is too grimy, too tight and breathless and bright. Her head pounds, and she raises her fists up to beat it back. Joel’s hands circle her wrists, bringing them back down to her side. 

“Pretend we’re anywhere else but here.”

He grounds her, first with eyes that brim with self-loathing. Then with hands heavy on her hips as he leads her back to the bed. Then with the weight of his body, pressing her into the mattress. She screams, and he lets her. She sobs, and he doesn’t try to make her feel better. 

Later he gives her what she’s offered, and she accepts. It’s not enough, but it’s something more than nothing. 

Days, then months, then years pass, and all time does is make them harder. Joel comes home - their shared home, now, a decision made in silence one day - stinking of ash and something greasy Tess doesn’t question. They make plans and medicate and indulge in what keeps the world out. 

“Close your eyes,” she says when his thoughts race so fast she can’t count his heartbeats anymore.

“Take my hand,” she says when his eyes get too faraway.

A part of her heart wants to tell her it’s a form of love, but it’s survival. Joel is useful, merciless, cold. She’s smart, resourceful, cunning. She likes it that way, even when the parts of herself she used to know fade further and further from sight. They’re surviving.

And then the girl comes along.

She’s angry in the way only teens can be, but at least she has good reason. And while she shakes up their plans she gives Tess something Joel cannot.

Hope.

In a gray world, hope is what makes Tess feel a spark of life again. It grows as they travel, reaching across the divide. There’s a possibility, a glimmer of something that could make everything they’d ever done mean something more than natural selection.

But hope is dangerous. A ring of teeth is all it takes to snuff it out.

So Tess stands there, with the tiniest flame of hope in her heart, and begs them to leave. To do one thing for her if she’s soon to be mindless, indoctrinated into a new family. It breaks Ellie’s heart, and it fills Tess with wonder that someone she’s known for less than a day could mourn her. 

And Joel. Oh Joel. She knows what this will do to him. Another one dead. Another body in his wake. In the stare-down that follows her ultimatum she watches the one small part of him that she’d scraped away for her own eyes shutter back up. She wishes he’d treat her like that first day one more time. Like she was something to be protected. Like someone saw her as precious even when she bared her teeth and raised her hackles.

But there’s no time. That’s what she tells herself. And they run. 

So she stands alone, their savior. In the absence of an audience she thumbs her lighter, ready to let flame render everything to dust. It will be the greatest thing she’s ever done. And she’ll do it alone.

She takes a breath, the screech of infected coming closer.

Just take my hand.

She squeezes her fists tight.

Close your eyes.

She blinks out the terror encroaching on her.

Pretend we’re anywhere else but here.

It’s warm, like a campfire on a summer evening. The cicadas chirp around her. And someone meets her lips with a kiss.

END

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[serenelystrange]

“Cuz I’m pretty?” Eddie can’t help but tease. “So pretty,” Buck says, giving him a solemn look. “It makes me want to cry sometimes.” In which Eddie walks in on Buck giving it good, and promptly loses his entire mind. They, as always, fall in love about it.

Explicit

Brief Buck/Tommy

Blow Jobs, Getting Together, Feelings Realization, Humor, Fluff, Post-Season/Series 07, Post-Canon, Silly, Slight Dom/sub Undertones, First Kiss, First Time, Gay Eddie Diaz ,Bisexual Evan "Buck" Buckley, Recreational Drug Use, this is not nearly as filthy as it sounds, But it is a little filthy, No cheating

At AO3 or under the cut:

The problem with ADHD, Buck thinks as he hears the door to the loft open, is that the passage of time sometimes just… ceases to exist. 

He can’t see him, but he hears Eddie’s strangled gasp, and he feels Tommy’s surprised jerk down his throat. Coughing, he pulls off and pinches Tommy’s thigh in annoyance. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Tommy soothes, petting Buck’s head with one hand, the other awkwardly covering himself. Since Eddie is still just standing there in the doorway, looking up at the ceiling, skin flushed deep red. 

“You might want to come in and shut the door,” Tommy suggests. “Before the neighbors get nosy.” 

“Right,” Eddie says, coming in and shutting the door behind him. “Buck, you said to come by around eight, right?” He asks the question to the closed door he’s facing, and he hears Buck laughing softly as Tommy helps him up off his knees as they get themselves in order. 

“We’re decent,” Buck says, “you can turn around.”

“Speak for yourself, babe,” Tommy teases. “But shit, yeah, I really do have to get going.” 

He kisses Buck quickly and gives Eddie a friendly smirk as he heads to the door, passing him now that he’s finally turned around. 

“Tommy,” Eddie says, nodding instead of going for the bro-hug he normally would. No way he needs to feel what was just in Buck’s mouth against his hip. “Have a good shift.”

Tommy claps him on the shoulder as he leaves and Eddie manages not to react, and then blessedly the door opens and closes again, leaving him alone with Buck. 

It’s only slightly awkward. 

“Sorry,” Buck says, hands shoved deep in the pocket of his jeans. 

Eddie just raises an amused eyebrow, he knows the cup-and-hide motion well.

“You know I lose track of time,” Buck huffs. “I didn’t realize it was already past 8.” 

“It’s fine,” Eddie says, “but I have to ask. Why were you just in the middle of the room? You have a bed, and a barely used couch! That can’t have been good for your knees.” 

Buck rolls his eyes and laughs. “You calling me old?” 

“You have so much metal in your leg, man,” Eddie says, shrugging. “But don’t let me tell you how to perform your open-concept blow jobs. You do you.” 

“You’re the actual worst,” Buck says, shaking his head. “Order us some pizza? I’m gonna go, uh, wash up.” 

“It’s already on the way,” Eddie says, eyeing the couch that at least looks unsullied. “Have fun jerking off and brushing your teeth.”

“The *worst*,” Buck repeats, laughing as he heads off to do just that. 

“It’s kinda a game,” Buck says hours later, unprompted. 

They’ve gone through 2 six packs and two forgettable Netflix movies, and he feels just loose enough to answer Eddie’s question from earlier. 

“Hmm?” Eddie asks. He turns his head sleepily to look at Buck, still resting on the back of the couch. 

“The open-concept blowjobs,” Buck says, grinning when Eddie’s eyes go wide, suddenly awake. 

“The fuck?” Eddie asks, having forgotten the comment if not the visual. 

“We play around with submission and stuff,” Buck says, shrugging easily. “Turns out I really like being on my knees, and he likes bossing me around a little. It works out.” 

“Oh,” Eddie says, because he isn’t sure how he’s supposed to respond to his best friend telling him he likes to suck dick on demand. “That’s cool, I guess.” 

“Yeah,” Buck says, smirking. “I’m a fan.”

“He’s, uh,” Eddie hesitates, not sure how to word it. “He’s like, nice to you, right? You know, during?”

Buck laughs, but nods. 

“Yeah, Eds,” he says. “He’s nice to me even when he’s shoving me to my knees, don’t worry.” 

“You’re having way too much fun teasing me,” Eddie groans. “Sue me for wanting to make sure my best friend’s boyfriend isn’t just using him for sex.” 

“Hey,” Buck says, suddenly giving Eddie his full attention, big blue eyes wide and only slightly glassy. “I know you just worry about me, and I appreciate you. But it’s really all good. I promise.” 

“Good,” Eddie says, nodding. “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Buck agrees, eyes fluttering closed as he leans against the couch tipsily. “I’m sleepy.”

“Then go to bed,” Eddie says, fighting back his own yawn. “I should go home anyway.” 

“No,” Buck says, reaching out with his eyes still closed and grabbing at Eddie’s arm. “You’re too sad there. Stay here. The fancy new couch doesn’t even know your overnight butt yet!”

“My overnight butt?” Eddie asks with a soft laugh. Tipsy Buck might be his favorite Buck. 

“Yeah,” Buck says, as if it’s obvious. “Your butt, overnight! He doesn’t know you yet, Eddie. You gotta fix that.”

“Fancy new couch is a guy?” Eddie can’t help but ask. 

Buck opens his eyes again and gives him a serious look.

“We don’t sit on women, Eds. It’s rude.” 

“Ok, bud,” Eddie laughs, “if you say so. You win, I’ll stay here if you go get me a blanket.” 

“Ok,” Buck agrees, but doesn’t move. “In a minute.”

He’s snoring softly in the next moment and Eddie just rolls his eyes fondly. He’ll get his own blanket just as soon as he can convince himself to move. 

He’s out cold before he can even finish the thought. 

The next month is a whirlwind of crazy at work, but by the time school starts Chris is back home, Bobby is back as captain; and Eddie finally feels like he can breathe again. Which is, of course, when the dreams start. 

At first it’s the normal nightmares; his helicopter going down, suffocating desert sand, Chris lost in endless bloody water, Buck dangling lifeless from the ladder. But somewhere along the way, then dreams shift, and he should be thankful they aren’t nightmares anymore. But the new dreams are disconcerting in a different way. 

Eddie knows he’s dreaming, but he can’t seem to shake himself awake. Instead, he falls back into it, suddenly naked in his bed, Buck bent between his spread legs, swallowing his cock down like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. 

“Fuck,” Eddie moans, thrusting up erratically. 

Dream Buck doesn’t flinch, just bobs up and down as he swallows reflexively around Eddie, looking up to meet Eddie’s eyes with a heated gaze.

“So good,” Eddie whimpers, threading both hands through Buck’s curls and shoving him down roughly, mindlessly chasing the orgasm that’s just out of reach. 

Just as he feels the tingle starting in his spine, he’s wrenched from the dream by his phone alarm, and Eddie nearly throws the damn thing across the room. Sweaty and heaving, he shoves his hand into his boxers and jerks himself off roughly, dripping so much from the dream that he doesn’t even need to worry about lube. It’s over almost immediately and Eddie isn’t sure he’s ever come so hard in his entire life. 

Closing his eyes, he flops back down to catch his breath, Buck’s sharp gaze still burned into his eyelids. 

Work is, suffice to say, awkward. 

The dreams go on like that for days, each morning Eddie waking up hard as nails and nearly crying with the need to come. He eventually learns to compartmentalize for the sake of keeping both his job and his best friend; and after a week or so he can even look Buck in the eyes again. 

When he starts to dream about being the one to blow Buck, he doesn’t think too deeply about it. He tells himself that it’s pure curiosity about something he’s never done, and who better to imagine experimenting with than his best friend who he knows he’d always be safe with. He has no gag reflex in his dreams, and dream Buck is appreciative of the fact, begging Eddie to let him come every night, big hands grappling at Eddie’s shoulders so hard he swears he’ll have bruises each morning he wakes up. 

It’s not until the kissing starts that Eddie starts to worry. 

“Come here,” dream Buck says, tugging Eddie up from where he’s been sucking and teasing him. “Let me kiss you for a while.” 

Eddie goes willingly, melting into Buck’s side and meeting him halfway for the kiss, sighing in contentment. Dream Buck kisses him sweet and honeyed, satisfyingly slow in a way that maybe only exists in dreams. Eddie can’t bring himself to mind. 

He wakes up with a start from the latest of the dreams, lips tingling with imagined pressure. He’s not hard for once, but his chest is still heaving, and he doesn’t realize he’s crying until he tastes the salt on his lips. 

“Fuck,” Eddie whispers to himself. 

What the hell is he supposed to do about this?

Buck and Tommy break up after a few months, and Eddie is surprised at how fine Buck seems to be. Usually relationships throw him into a crisis when they end. 

“It just ran its course,” Buck explains to the team at breakfast. “Tommy’s great, but it wasn’t going anywhere. We’re still friends.” 

“Good,” Eddie says, feeling like he has to make light of it all. “Because he’s the only one I know with access to a helicopter, and I’d hate to lose that.” 

Buck laughs in delight as Hen smacks Eddie on the arm. 

“Be better,” she says, glaring at him briefly before rolling her eyes and giving in to the amused smirk. 

“Well,” Bobby says diplomatically, “I think you’re being very mature. Proud of you, kid.”

“Yeah, Buck,” Chim adds. “Friends with your ex is a whole new level. Good for you.”

Buck grins at them before going back to his pancakes, completely unbothered. 

“Hey,” Eddie catches him after work a few weeks later, “you have plans tonight?”

“Nope,” Buck says, zipping up his bag and closing the locker. “You need me to hang out with Chris?” 

Eddie shakes his head, cringing at his own oblivious behavior from months ago. 

“Nah,” he says. “Chris is hanging out with Pepa for the weekend, she’s going to teach him how to grow tomatoes.”

“He’s gonna love that!” Buck grins excitedly. “And ooh, we’ll get fresh tomatoes out of it!”

“You’ll have to help him,” Eddie says, wiggling his thumbs at Buck. “I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever owned.”

“Obviously,” Buck says, as if he never even considered he wouldn’t be the one to help. “But what did you want to do tonight?”

“Honestly?” Eddie says, glancing around to make sure they’re alone. “I just wanna get trashed and not think about anything more complicated than snacks for the next 48 hours.”

Buck laughs in surprise but nods in agreement immediately. 

“Sounds like the best plan,” he says, “I’m in.”

“Truth or dare,” Buck asks late that night, and Eddie looks over at him confusion.

“Were we playing truth or dare?” he asks. “I thought we were playing Uno.” He looks down at his empty hands and then at the foot of space on the couch between them. “Where did the Uno cards go?”

Buck giggles and gestures vaguely to the floor. “So many more than uno,” he says. “There’s like at least 100.”

“Cien!” Eddie declares, joining Buck in his giggles. “Maybe we shouldn’t have eaten all those gummies,” he says after a moment, truth or dare forgotten. “What if there’s an anemone?”

“Like where Nemo lives?” Buck asks, frowning in thought. “We aren’t near the ocean.”

“That’s not right,” Eddie says, humming to himself. “Oh, I know, an embroidery!”

“I can’t embroider,” Buck pouts, staring at his hands. “My fingers are too big.”

“Your fingers are perfect,” Eddie says, reaching out and patting one of Buck’s thick hands reverently. “I’ll embroider whatever you want.”

“You can embroider?” Buck asks, eyes wide in awe.

“I’ll learn,” Eddie assures him. “I’ll put my name on all your shirts.”

“Ok,” Buck says, nodding along happily, “that’s awesome.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, letting out a relaxed sigh as he leans back further into the couch, shifting over so that his shoulder is just barely brushing Buck’s.

“I think you meant emergency,” Buck says after a comfortable stretch of silence. “What if there’s an emergency.”

“Oh, right,” Eddie says, before shrugging. “It’s ok, we’re firefighters!”

“Yeah we are,” Buck says, bumping his shoulder into Eddie’s. “I love being a firefighter, Eds.”

“I know you do,” Eddie laughs, letting Buck wiggle down and rest his head on his shoulder.

There’s a movie from the 80’s on, some action thing that Eddie’s never seen, but he couldn’t give one single plot point if his life depended on it, too distracted by the heat of Buck’s skin pressed so close to his own.

“What’s it like to give a blowjob?” Eddie asks.

Later, he’ll blame the drinks and the weed for loosening his tongue and his filter, but for now he can’t stop himself from asking. To Buck’s credit, he just takes it in stride.

“It’s fun,” he shrugs. “Hurts a little sometimes if you do it too long. Get’s me crazy hard though.”

“Shit,” Eddie says, coughing as he chokes on air. “You been making the rounds since Tommy?” he asks.

“Jealous?” Buck teases, smirking over at him.

“No,” Eddie says, quietly. “Not in the way you’re thinking, at least.”

“So many guys would suck you off if you even suggested it to them,” Buck says earnestly. “You’re so pretty, Eds. I can bring you to the clubs if you want.”

“I don’t want to go to any clubs,” Eddie says, frowning. This conversation isn’t going the way he wants. “I don’t want some guy to suck my dick.”

“You should,” Buck says, nodding sagely. “Some of them are really good at it. Like, really really good.”

“I think I might be gay,” Eddie says in a rush, a flash of terror going through him at the words.

“Fuck, yeah!” Buck says, reaching out a fist for Eddie to bump. “Welcome to the not-straight club!”

“Thanks,” Eddie says dryly. He’s not sure why he was even worried, Buck is incapable of being anything but a million percent supportive, bless his golden retriever heart.

“Wait,” Buck says, brain catching up. “If you’re gay, why don’t you want a guy to suck your dick? Are you asexual?”

“No, Buck,” Eddie says, laughing softly. “Definitely not asexual.”

“You can be gay and asexual if you want!” Buck says, grinning dopily at him. “We’re none of us just one thing.”

“You sound like a fortune cookie,” Eddie teases him, biting at Buck’s hand when he moves it to swat him on the face.

Buck pulls his hand back and offers Eddie a toothy grin.

“Oh, I get it,” he says, and Eddie very much doubts that. “You want to be the one to give the blowjob!”

And well, Eddie supposes he’s half-right at least.

“We can definitely find you a guy that wants that,” Buck says. “Pretty much any of them, really.”

“Cuz I’m pretty?” Eddie can’t help but tease.

“So pretty,” Buck says, giving him a solemn look. “It makes me want to cry sometimes.”

“You’re an idiot,” Eddie says, laughing. “No crying over me allowed.”

“No promises,” Buck replies in a sing-song voice, and Eddie loves him so much that he thinks he might dissolve into dust from the pressure of it on his soul.

“Would you?” Eddie asks, staring at Buck’s lips because he can’t bear to see the look in his eyes when he rejects him. “Let me suck you off, I mean.”

“Eddie,” Buck says, shocked. “You don’t mean that. We’re just high and horny.”

“It’s fine if you don’t want me,” Eddie says, looking up into Buck’s surprised eyes for a moment. “But I’ve been dreaming about you for months, stone sober.”

“Hold on,” Buck says, eyes wide. “Months?”

“Ever since I walked in on you by accident,” Eddie confirms, watching the way Buck’s throat bobs as he roughly swallows.

“Yeah?” Buck asks, and he suddenly looks a lot less hesitant than he had.

“Yeah,” Eddie confirms. “Can I?” he asks. “Can I try?”

“Only if you kiss me first,” Buck says, and then he’s gripping Eddie by the front of his black tank top and pulling him into a heated kiss.

Eddie wraps himself around Buck as best he can without climbing into his lap and lets Buck lead the kiss. He’s more eager than his dream counterpart, and not as suave, but Eddie is immediately sure that his dreams will never be able to compare to this. His dreams didn’t know how the scratch of Buck’s stubble would feel against his own, or how his hot hands would feel like they’re branding Eddie’s ribs where they’re tucked into the low cut of his shirt against his skin. His dreams couldn’t smell the citrus and clean sweat of Buck’s skin, or feel his pulse quickening under Eddie’s own hands.

“You’ll have to tell me if I fuck it up,” Eddie says when he finally pulls away. He settles himself on the floor in front of Buck, right between his spread legs, and runs his hands up both of Buck’s thighs, fingers slipping under the ratty basketball shorts he wears at home.

“I’m gonna come if you just look at me long enough,” Buck says, “you literally could not make this bad.”

Eddie shrugs and takes his word for hit, reaching up to help Buck pull the shorts down and off, taking his boxers off at the same time. Buck pulls off his shirt and mumbles something about not wanting to be Donald Duck, but Eddie is too focused on his dick to pay attention to words.

“It’s so pink,” Eddie says, licking his lips and watching Buck’s cock twitch in response. “just like your lips.”

“Eddie,” Buck whines. “If you want me to last at all, you need to hurry up.”

Eddie moves in then, gripping Buck with one hand, trying to get used to the odd angle, and looks up at him as he leans down.

“Do I just?” he asks, and then licks across the head where pre-cum is beading before Buck can answer.

“Not too bad,” he decides, moving back to do it again, laving the head and frenulum before deciding to just go for it and all but shoving his head down onto Buck’s cock.

He manages not to cough, but just barely. Unlike the dream version of himself, he very much does have a gag reflex that makes itself known when he tries to get the bottom half of Buck’s dick in his mouth. He’s not expecting the choking to make his own dick throb in response, but that revelation is going to have to wait.

“That’s good,” Buck says, one hand clutching the couch cushion and the other gripping at Eddie’s shoulder so that he doesn’t grab at his hair. “Fuck, yeah, that’s so good Eds, just like that.”

Eddie slows his pace, trying to work out a technique, and tucks his lips over his teeth as he hollows out his cheeks, trying to give Buck every good thing he’s ever felt, his hand moving along the part his mouth can’t reach, stopping to roll Buck’s balls to gauge his interest.

“Yeah,” Buck says, nodding rapidly, “tug ‘em. Hard. I like it.”

Eddie does, swallowing Buck back down as far as he can while tugging him roughly, nearly choking again when Buck keens, back arching with it. Eddie does it again, breathing in through his nose and letting his mouth fill with saliva until he’s practically spilling it as he sloppily sucks Buck again and again until he’s shaking with sensation.

“I’m gonna come,” Buck warns him, “you don’t wanna swallow your first time, you gotta move, baby.”

Eddie glares at him and stays put.

“How are you even real?” Buck asks, fucking up shallowly as Eddie moves around him.

Eddie just manages to get the crown of Buck’s cock into his throat and swallow once before Buck is coming in hot spurts down his throat, shaking with the exertion and relief. Eddie swallows it all, licking his lips while they’re still around Buck’s cock to make sure he gets it all, and when he finally pulls off of Buck and back up onto his knees, Buck looks at him like he can’t quite believe that all just happened.

“You uh,” Buck says, breathing heavily. “You really liked that, huh?”

“Guess so,” Eddie says, eyes widening when he hears his own fucked-out voice.

“NO,” Buck whines at him. “You’re not allowed to sound even sexier. It’s not fair.”

“Sorry?” Eddie asks, laughing.

“Lies,” Buck says. “Now come back up here so I can jerk you off.”

Eddie scrambles to do so, ignoring the creak in his knees in favor of finally climbing into Buck’s lap like he’s been craving.

“This damn slutty tank top should be illegal,” Buck says appreciatively “Every time you wear it I wanna bite you up until everyone can see you’re mine.”

“I’m yours now?” Eddie asks, as Buck wastes no time licking his hand messily before shoving it into Eddie’s pants, jerking him off with finesse.

“You’ve been mine for years in my fantasies,” Buck admits, smirking with Eddie jerks in his grasp. “Feels like you maybe don’t mind.”

“Not even a little bit,” Eddie agrees, “Jesus fuck, you’re good at that.”

“I’ll get my mouth on you next time,” Buck promises.

“Can’t wait to be on your knees for me, can you?” Eddie asks, breath hitching at heated look Buck gives him as he nods.

“Can’t wait to do everything,” Buck says, and then Eddie is coming, slumping over against Buck’s shoulder as he works him through it.

“Sounds like you meant more than just the sex stuff,” Eddie says, once they’re haphazardly cleaned and tucked up together under a throw blanket on the couch.

“Hmm?” Buck asks, sleepily nosing Eddie’s hair and breathing him in.

“You said you can’t wait to do everything,” Eddie says. “And maybe I’m wrong, but it sounded like you meant more than just sex.”

“Everything,” Buck confirms.

And well. Eddie can work with everything.

The end.

[lovelyrots]

Second Chances at Life

Dad!Dabi/Touya x daughter-reader + Todoroki Family

Content Warnings - Angst, some sweet fluff here and there, Dabi/Touya lives here so canon doesn’t exist here (just in case)

You hum and swing your legs back and forth as you wait for your aunt to finally come pick you up. All the other kids had left already, most walking home together, but you were always told by Grandpa and your uncles to wait for someone to pick you up.

Grandpa said it was to keep you safe, but uncle Shoto said it was to make sure you wouldn’t accidentally light something on fire if you got scared or surprised.

Which is totally unfair! You only lit something on fire once when a dog barked at you, and uncle Shoto took care of it before anything happened.

Still, you didn’t want your family to worry over you any more than they already did. So you listened to them and wait on the playground of your school under the watchful eyes of the teachers in charge of pick ups and drop offs.

You perk up when you spot a familiar figure running out of the adjoined school, her bag flying behind her as she hurries over the grass and concrete. “Sorry I’m late!” She bends over as she gets closer and huffs for air, planting her hands on her skirt covered knees while you stand from the swing and pick up your backpack.

“It’s alright aunt Yumi! I played with some of my friends before they had to leave so I wasn’t waiting long!” You beam and wait for her to catch her breath before the two of you start walking to her car, you humming and skipping while she chatters on about needing to stop at the grocery store for some last minute items.

“Can we get some flowers for Dad?” You innocently ask, your mind already on tomorrow’s visit. She stops and stutters before sighing and giving you a shrug, “Sure, we can look at some for him, but we’ll need to ask uncle Natsu if flowers are allowed first.” You pout and hold back a groan as you climb into the back seat of her car. “Well then can we bring him some cake? Oh! How about some candy?” You offer idea after idea to her, hoping something will be an automatic ‘yes’.

“Sweetie, you know we can’t take food in. How about you ask Uncle Natsu what’s allowed at dinner and the two of you can stop in the morning to get something?” You huff and cross your arms while watching the streets pass the two of you by until the supermarket comes into view.

“Don’t pout, sweetie. I’m just not sure what’s allowed so I don’t want you to get your hopes up just yet.” She consoles you as she parks as close to the front doors as possible. “But I want to celebrate with Dad. We can’t have cake for his birthday or mine, I can’t show him how much better I’ve gotten at controlling my quirks, we can’t do anything! It’s not fair!” You shout and clench your fists, upset that everything limits what you can do with your dad.

Before, you two would go out at all hours of the night to get ice cream or practice using your quirks by playing a game. Now though, you can’t even see your dad without your uncle Natsuo taking you to see him and any attempts at bringing him food end up in the trash and you banned from seeing him for a couple weeks.

That’s how it’s been for the past five years, limited time with your dad and constant supervision from the family you didn’t know a thing about five years ago.

“Sweetie, I know it’s not fair but that’s just how things are sometimes. Your dad did some…bad things, but he’s being given a chance to get better. If you can be just a little more patient, he’ll be able to come home too and then you two can eat all the cake you want.” You look away from her and her easy lies.

You’ve asked when your dad would be coming home, but you always get told ‘some day’ and sent off. You’re sick of being told the same lies! Maybe your dad wasn’t the nicest person but he was always the best dad you could ask for, so why can’t you two go back to how it was before?

Go back to staying up and watching movies with aunt Himi and uncle Shu, bugging Tomura with your dad and aunt Himi, putting on magic shows with Hiro, and just having fun with your dad. Why can’t you go back to all that?

“Sure.” You won’t argue with her, but you know your dad won’t be home anytime soon.

You keep quiet as the two of you wonder through the store, giving halfhearted nods when aunt Yumi asks if you want something or if she should get something. Soon enough you’re both finished and loading the car up, or your aunt is while she all but forced you back into the car.

“Alright! Now we can head home, unless you want to stop anywhere?” She turns to look at you while the car starts heating up, the small change in temperature warming your face. “No.” You pout and lean your head against the window. You hear her sigh but the car soon starts moving again, shops and winter displays blurring together until they’re taken over by houses that become more spaced out with each street that you turn onto.

You sit up as you recognize the house you’re stopped at isn’t yours, but instead the one your grandma and Uncle Shoto share. “Don’t worry, we’re just picking Grandma up. Stay in the car while I go get her, we won’t take long.” She flashes you a smile before climbing out while looking at you over her shoulder as she walks up to the front door and disappearing inside.

You sigh and throw your head back then look towards the front door just as you tug your bracelet off. “If it’s just a finger then no one will know a thing.” You whisper, as if speaking any louder will make your grandpa or uncles magically appear and scold you. Shifting to sit up a little more, you stare at your thumb until you see the tiniest flame start to burn on the tip of your thumb.

Taking a deep breath, you let it grow larger until your whole thumb is encased in bright golden flames. With a grin you will the flames to grow smaller until your stinging thumb was fire-free. “I told you we wouldn’t take long!” You jump and look up as your aunt and grandma open their doors.

“Sorry you had to wait by yourself peanut, there are a few things you can’t see just yet.” Your grandma turns to give you a smile, though half of it is obscured by the curtain of white hair falling in front of it. “It’s alright grandma, I didn’t mind.” You tell her as you try to sneak your bracelet back on.

After a few more streets in the car, with your grandma’s humming filling the silence instead of the pop music your aunt had been playing before, you see the gates to your house start to come into view. “Your father still hasn’t gotten that maple tree trimmed I see. He’s only had since last December to have it done.” You ignore your family in the front seat talking about what your grandpa has or hasn’t done since last winter to instead to pull your gloves from your backpack to cover your hands - you just need to hide your thumb for a few more minutes so no one will suspect a thing.

“Peanut?” You look up at the call of your grandma’s nickname for you, only to find her and your aunt looking at you. “Were you listening? I asked what you’d like for Christmas. Whatever it is, I’ll make sure you get it.” She smiles but you can’t help but gnaw at your bottom lip.

What you want, you know she, or anyone for that matter, can’t get.

“Mom, maybe we can put this on hold? Until we get inside at least?” Aunt Yumi tries to usher everyone out but your grandma stays put, her steely grey eyes looking at you for some answer.

“I want my dad.” You let slip in a tiny whisper, any thought of lying or saying the first thing to come to mind lost under the one thing you want more than anything. That gentle smile that had been on your grandma’s face falls just the slightest bit and your aunt’s urging to talk inside stops.

“I’m sorry, Peanut, but that’s not my call to make.” She tries to reach out to you but you shrink away and hurry out of the car. You rush through the heavy front door and down the hall to your room, intent on burying yourself in your bed until tomorrow. “It’s not fair!” You throw your gloves and jacket off as soon as you toss your backpack aside.

You can’t help the heavy hot tears from falling down your face. You furiously wipe them away but more keep coming, even as you throw yourself down onto your bed and under the large quilt that sits on top. Your hands blindly search for the one thing you need and can have, and after some trouble your hand lands on the rough old stuffed rabbit. The same one you’ve had all your life, one of the few things your dad had given you that you could keep.

Curling into a ball, you pull your old friend close to you and give up on wiping your tears away. You hiccup and burrow under the quilt more as you hear someone tentatively knock on your door. “G-go away!” You yell and clench your eyes shut as you hear the door slide open before your bed dips and a warm—really warm— hand starts awkwardly rubbing your back.

“Fuyumi told me what happened.” Your grandpa’s voice reaches you in your quilted safe haven, but you keep yourself buried. “Touya isn’t…healthy enough to be home yet. When he is, you’ll be the first to know.” You sniffle and stifle another hiccup as your grandpa sighs. “He was before! We were both just fine before! So stop lying to me! That’s all you people do, lie to me and lie about dad.”

You hear him sigh again and stand from your bed just before you’re picked up, blanket and all, and carried down different halls. “Where are we going?” You question him as you poke your head out of your bundle. “To my office, I need to show you something.”

You keep quiet as you pass different doors until you come across one set of doors, the ones you’ve always been told to stay away from, and he manages to open them while carrying you in and setting you down as he turns to shut the doors. “Come over here.” He gently guides you with a giant hand on your back towards his paper covered desk.

“I need you to keep this quiet, a secret between just you and me. Okay?” He asks you as he pulls you up into his lap. You turn to look up at him for a minute before nodding and turning back to the desk as he shuffles different papers around, looking for something in the mess.

“Ah, look here. Can you read what it says?” You lean forward as he brings a folder full of different papers towards you.

- Following the most recent hearing, we at the Hero Public Safety Commission have granted Touya ‘Dabi’ Todoroki a temporary release into the custody of former hero Endeavor or other family members recommended by said former hero. If in the probationary two weeks Todoroki is found associating with or engaging in illicit activities such as his former activities, then he is to be incarcerated indefinitely. -

Most of it you could make out what the first page was talking about, but you couldn’t believe it. You look up at your grandpa just to see him nodding. “I was going to wait until it was closer to Christmas to tell you, but now you know.” “When can he come home?” You whisper as he grabs a tissue and wipes your tears and snot away. “In another week, he’s still healing up from his most recent surgery so you’ll have to wait another week. You can make it, can’t you?” You nod and turn around to wrap your little arms around his neck, or as best you can anyway, while trying not to cry again.

“How about we skip dinner and have some ice cream in here? What do you think?” You nod and smile while he shifts you aside for a moment to grab his phone from his pocket and starts texting someone. “What flavor, or should I ask Fuyumi to bring every flavor we have?” You let out a small giggle and lean against him as you think before turning back to him. “Rocky road, please!” You see the smallest hint of a smile of his scarred face before he turns his attention to the phone in his hand while carefully typing out his message to your aunt.

“Of course you’d want that one too.” “Hm?” He lets a coarse chuckle out and instead pulls a drawer open to bring a tablet out and places it in your hands. “Nothing. Since I have you here though, let’s talk about your quirk while you help me pick out gifts.” You start to nervously pick at your bracelet as he opens a shopping site on the tablet. “How are you doing, controlling it, I mean.” You hum and think back to earlier today when you tried to sneak a little practice in the car. “Pretty good, I guess.” You shrug and add a cookbook centered on soba to the cart.

“Good enough that you could start training?” You look up at him, narrowly missing him adding a plushie of your uncle to the cart. “Can I? When?!” You start to grin and fiddle even more with your bracelet as he starts laughing, shaking you with each rumble from his laughter. “You’d have to talk with Shoto about that. My days of training are over.” You pout and turn back to the tablet, adding things you think your family would like while your grandpa goes quiet as he holds you.

A knock on the door to the study breaks your concentration on whether the engraved medical bag would be a good gift for your Uncle Natsu or not, and your aunt’s head pokes in. “Hey you two, I’ve got your bowls of ice cream ready. Though, mom isn’t happy you’re letting her eat dessert before dinner.” Your grandpa grunts and moves you slightly as you start to reach for the extended bowl of cold sugar. “She’s under my roof, that means I can let her have dessert whenever she needs some. Will Shoto be joining us all for dinner?”

You tuck into your frozen treat while the two continue to talk, your mind occupied with eating the chocolatey goodness and picking out a plethora of gifts. “He’s on his way already and Natsuo said he’d be running a little late but will be here. Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes, is there anything else you need?” “No, thank you Fuyumi.” You glance up at your aunt, catching the giant smile on her face before she leaves, and look up at your grandpa.

“So since I can have dessert whenever, does that mean I can just have ice cream for dinner?” Your answer comes in the form of his hand ruffling your hair and a short chuff of a chuckle. “If you want to start training then you need proper nutrients, something sugary desserts don’t have.” You sigh and hum, content to leave it at that.

-~-~-~-~

An irritated sigh leaves chapped lips while bandaged hands try to gently tug on a fresh pair of socks before his special guest arrives. “One more week, it’s just one more week.” Dabi tells himself, the news of finally being able to leave keeping him in better spirits (or at least keep him from lashing out).

The quick knocks against his door send his heart racing and he starts to stand before the door opens and he all but falls back onto the bed. “Fuck’s sake.” Natsuo blinks owlishly as he steps inside, a question already forming before he shakes his head. “Don’t worry, she’s on her way. She just needed to use the restroom first.” Dabi lets out a breath of relief, refusing to voice the doubt that his own daughter would want to see him.

“I wasn’t worried. I haven’t been worried since she had a cold when she was two.” Natsuo shakes his head and pulls a chair up, a smile tugging at his lips. “Then you won’t be worried when she tells you she’s going to start training? Before you say anything, it’s with Shoto not dad.” He hurries to tack that on, watching Dabi jolt up. “No, I’ll train her. She got my damn quirk, so I’ll train her.”

Now it was Natsuo’s turn to sigh. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but she’ll be safer with Shoto. He’s already been helping her with controlling her quirk, and putting out any fires she’s accidentally caused.” The two sit in silence as they wait for you, the two stewing in their own emotions and memories. “How’s she been? Last time she was upset about having to leave.” A dry chuckle leaves his lips as he avoids looking at Natsuo.

“She’s…she misses you, Touya. Just yesterday she apparently ran from mom and Fuyumi when they said they couldn’t bring you home for her. The old man was able to cheer her up somehow though.” Dabi clenches his fists and looks up, about to yell at his brother to keep you away from that bastard, when you excitedly burst through the door with a mega watt grin on your face.

“Hi dad!” You rushed to his side while carefully carrying your backpack in your arms. “Hey squirt, what took you so long? I was almost crying from boredom.” Dabi helps you sit up on the bed, even though you didn’t need it, and leans forward as you dig through your bag.

“What’s in the bag? A magic key to get me out?” He jokes and you poke your tongue at him before pulling out a carefully wrapped bouquet of glass flowers. “I wanted to bring you cake or some flowers but uncle Natsuo said that you had another surgery so you weren’t allowed flowers so uncle Shoto helped me find these.” A smile tugs at his freshly crafted face, recalling all the times you two would stop on your walks home because you wanted to pick wild flowers for him.

“Thanks squirt. You been good for Uncle Natsuo there?” He nods towards his brother, whose been silent and pretending to give you two space, and you nod before leaning over the bed to gently set the glass flowers down on the bedside table. “Yeah, when he’s home. Oh! Uncle Natsuo, can I show him?” You snap your head to see your uncle as he mumbles different things before he looks between you and your dad. “You’re sure you can control it?” You frantically nod and he sighs. “Alright, just don’t set the smoke detector off or we’ll all be in trouble.”

You grin and pull your bracelet off, rubbing the freed skin before taking a deep breath and clenching your fists. Slowly you start to feel your hands warm up like you’re holding them in front of a heater before they become engulfed in bright yellow flames with a tinge of red. Letting out a deep breath you picture the flames dying down and watch as they start getting smaller and smaller before extinguishing completely and leaving your hands warm and slightly stinging.

Your uncle is quick to inspect your hands for any damage while your dad has a smile on his face. “Good job, squirt. Your hands hurt?” “Just a little, but it’s not like I ever get a burn. Just ask Aunt Yumi.” Your dad raises a brow before looking to your uncle.

“Don’t ask, a certain someone wanted to help make dinner and wasn’t paying attention to where her hand was. Fuyumi nearly had a heart attack when she noticed her hand literally on the burner.” Your dad busts into laughter while tugging you close. “Little shit, you can’t mess with them like that.” He tries to reprimand you while shaking with laughter

“But it’s too easy. They always forget I can’t get burnt.” You whine while he relaxes with you in his arms. “It’s funny, I almost burn myself to a crisp with my quirk and my kid has a quirk that prevents her from being burnt at all.” “Evolution of genes.” Your uncle pipes up while your dad gently runs his hand through your hair, being careful with both not to mess with your hair too much. “I guess.”

“I miss you, dad.” You whisper and press your face against his chest. He tightens his hold on you and leans back, letting you rest on him much like when you were younger. “I miss you too.” He whispers back and moves his hand from your hair to your back and rubs it gently, not saying anything else and just focused on being there for you in this moment.

“I’ll be right back, mom’s calling me.” You hear your uncle say before the sound of the door opening and closing echoes in the quiet room. “Hey, look at me.” He shifts you around until he can look you in the eye and offers you a grin. “Once I get out of here, I’ll never leave you alone so enjoy the time away from me and I don’t care what your uncles say, the only one training you is gonna be me. Got it?” You giggle and nod up at him before laying back on him.

“Then can we get ice cream when you’re out? And go see movies together again?” “Of course. We’ll get our favorite-“ “Rocky Road!” He chuckles as you interrupt him before continuing. “Yeah, and then we can see all the movies you want. You’ll be sick of the movie theater and ice cream within a year.” You’re both silent after that, content to just enjoy the little time you two have before you’re torn apart again.

“Hey, if you ever feel scared or not safe then you know where to go, right?” You nod and clench his shirt in your hands. “Good girl, if your uncle Natsuo isn’t at home then I want you to run there as fast as you can.”

There’s a brief pause as the door opens and your uncle comes back in, whispering apologies to your dad the whole time. “Mom wanted to know if I’d be dropping Y/N off at her house or not after we leave.” “Thanks for running her everywhere Natsuo, remind me to take you out for drinks when I’m out.” Your dad and uncle share a laugh while you start to drift off to sleep, worn out now that your excitement has drained out of your body.

“Hey Natsuo, can you make sure to keep her safe for me? I don’t trust that old man as far as I could throw him.” Natsuo sighs but ultimately nods, the two brothers sharing a look.

[morganee]

Byler Fic Rec Week - Day 6: Canon divergence

the taste of the color by waffles_isa (@waffles-isa) (699 words, complete)

It's a world where people are only able to see in black and white until they find their soulmate. Everyone's worried about it, but Mike is completely chill.

Static Re-connection by IllogicalFallacy (@illogical-fallacy) (62k, complete)

AND - H E R E - I - T H O U G H T - U ‘ D - F O R G E T - M E N E V E R N E V E R - E V E R - ? N E V E R - E V E R He thought about the way Will had looked at him all those years ago, lying in the hospital bed, eyes not his own. Even through the fog of possession, something behind Will’s gaze had clicked and recognized Mike for who he was. Even without anything else left, Will had still remembered the connection he had to his mom - and... to Mike. His trembling fingers hesitated for an infinite moment, before typing faster than his brain could hope to process, P R M S E - ? Y E S A miles-apart, oblivious mutual pining, emotional summer vacation disaster-fest starring Mike, Will, and one incredibly unreliable radio connection.

must be a devil between us by els bloody rollerskate (@super-nova5045) (37k, ongoing)

Don’t assume that because every gate was closed by your telekinetic girlfriend before the world split in two everything will be okay. Your best friend might become a new target of this monster four months later on summer camp and be in grave danger. Or do. He’ll have to die. Ever since November 1983, when Will Byers went missing, shit has just gone downhill for Hawkins, tragedy after tragedy afflicting a once peaceful town. For the first time ever, Mike Wheeler, is at peace – he’s going to Camp Hero in the summer of ’86, where the high-schoolers of Hawkins bond for a summer of “totally rad, epic fun”. The only thing that could possibly spoil it? His best friend, Will, happens to be attending camp too, as well as his girlfriend El – the two people Mike was trying to avoid; the sheer level of awkward tension between them driving him insane. Mike’s trying his best to ignore Will and even worse, ignore the feelings for Will he tried to repress, too. However, when his assumed-dead dungeon master, Eddie Munson, steps foot on Camp Hero on one midsummer night, Mike knows he must get over his tension with Will and El and reunite his friends to destroy Vecna, once and for all.

A Hope to Cling To by midnighteverlark (18k, complete)

While talking to Will in the shed, trying to break through the Mind Flayer's control, Mike starts thinking about what he would do if Will gave up, and completely unintentionally blurts, "I love you." Mike's existential crisis follows. Meanwhile, Will uses the words as his anchor, holding onto this glimmer of hope with all his might as he struggles to hang on against the Mind Flayer. Basically, a more Mike/Will-centric version of episodes 8 and 9 and the time beyond, with a good dose of of grit and Serious Stuff but also plenty of happiness and some fluff to come. (I mean, come on - Will is a gay kid in the 80s who just craves love and acceptance, and he deserves A Break. Mike is just realizing he's bisexual and he needs some love and acceptance and A Break too.)

king of my heart by bookinit (@bookinit02) (21k, complete)

Will finds himself wondering, sometimes, if his mark matches Mike’s. He thinks it must, really—he can’t imagine wanting to spend the rest of his life with anyone else. Mike’s cool and strong and brave and funny. His hair flops down over his forehead and his eyes bore into Will’s soul, always so steadily intense. He doesn’t cry when he scrapes his knee. Instead, he just gets back up. Will thinks that if Mike isn’t his soulmate, something is seriously wrong with the world.

truth serum side effects (may include: accidental gay confessions) by sterrenhemel (1k, complete)

"You okay?" Mike asks him. "Yeah, your hands are really soft." And— Jesus Christ, what was that? Sure, it wasn't a lie, but... what?! "Uh, thank you?" Mike replies awkwardly. Will wants to hit himself. Why would he say that?  "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that." Or the one in which Will is hit by a truth serum.