#it keeps pausing and buffering and IDK WHY

[attroxx]

i'm 5 seconds away from taking my laptop and throwing it out the window

[angelsswirl]

Icarus

Summary: You were never supposed to fall in love with your best friend.

Or

If you should fall

From your pink sky

Just know you'll fall into my arms, every single night

Icarus babe

Requested: Yes

Word Count: idk, a decent amount?

Title Song: Icarus by Max Lawrence

Rating: Mature, but the smut wont be graphic because I don't think that fits what I've written here. It's more implied than anything

Notes: I hope you enjoy it!

...................

You were never supposed to fall in love with your best friend. You weren't. You knew this as fact.

And that isn't to say, it never happened for other people. That it never worked out. No. You just knew that it wouldn't work out for you. Things like that rarely did.

You had prayed, and wished, and hoped that this would all work out. But all of your pleas had fallen on deaf ears. And you couldn't say you were surprised.

Park Chaeyoung was your best friend.

She knew that. You didn't have to tell her.

She was the person you told everything to. The person you did everything with. The person you lived for.

Park Chaeyoung was the love of your life.

She did not know that. You weren't going to tell her.

She was the person you dreamed about at night. She was the person you fantasized about in the day. She was the person you breathed for.

But.

She would never know. Because you would never tell her. Living in your truth by yourself seemed a much better option then speaking your truth and being denied of it.

You're not afraid to admit you're not very strong when it comes to love. But you are afraid to admit that for her, you would try to be.

~•~

"Watching you two together makes me sad." Jennie said out of nowhere.

You frowned at her. Rosé had run off to God knows where minutes prior, leaving just you and Jennie standing in the corner of someone else's livingroom during a house party.

It gross and sticky and hot and most definitely not your scene, but Rosé had practically begged you to come along, and return you had practically begged Jennie to be your buffer. And maybe even your sober coach as well.

You didn't trust yourself, alone with Rosé and alcohol in your system.

"What are you talking about?" You and Jennie are standing close enough to each other that you don't have to shout of the pumping bass of som Top 40 song, but you definitely can't whisper either.

Jennie rolled her eyes. She was bored. She really only tagged along to be a good friend. This wasn't her scene either. That was one of the reasons you two got along so well. You both hated and loved the same things.

Sometimes, you think if maybe Jennie wasn't straighter than a steel beam, then maybe she'd be the best friend that you'd have fallen in love with.

But that wasn't what the cards said for you.

"You and Chae. It's like watching those 'arms of the angels' or whatever commercials. You know with the hurt, homeless puppies?"

It was your turn to roll your eyes, "Well, I'm sorry I can't serve to be your entertainment 24/7."

"Oh, I didn't say this wasn't entertaining. It's just also sad. Like, what's the hold up, just grab her face and kiss her."

"I'm sure to her it would be like if I just grabbed your face and kissed you."

"No, that would imply she's straight and not head over ass in love with you. Both of which, I know not to he true for her in the slightest."

"She's not in love with me, Jennie."

"And I'm not sweating through my clothes right now." She replied sarcastically.

You only shook your head and took another sip of your lukewarm beer.

"Riddle me this, Y/N. If Chaeyoung isn't in love with you then why does she look at you like she would stop breathing if you were ever out of her sight? If Chaeyoung isn't in love with you then why does she treat you like you'll melt away? If Chaeyoung isn't love with you then why are you the only thing she talks about when you're not around?"

You shook your head profusely, "Chaeyoung is like that with everyone. She's sweet and nice and flirty with everyone. And that's exactly why it's time for me to finally get over her."

Jennie nodded along silently. You got the feeling she was only pretending to agree with you.

"Ok, well then, you know what the first step to getting over someone is. Get under someone else. How about the girl over there? She's been staring at you since we got here." Jennie pointed to a tall, admittedly beautiful woman across the room from you. She wasn't looking at you at the moment, but you had noticed her staring earlier as well.

Despite all of what you just said, you'd sooner rather die than get over Rosé but you were stubborn and needed to prove a point to Jennie.

"Hold my beer." Jennie did so with a curious smirk on her face.

You walked your way over to the woman, dodging elbows and sloshing drinks. She saw you coming, a soft smile engulfing her lips.

"Hi." She said some what softly.

"Hey."

"Not to be creepy or anything, but I noticed you when you walked in, and I sort of couldn't help myself but to stare at you all night. You're beautiful, "She paused, "My name is Lisa, by the way."

"I-it's not creepy. I'm Y/N....want to dance?"

"I loved to."

You grabbed Lisa's hand and all but dragged her onto the dancefloor. This must have been where the drunkenness set in. You turn around on your own accord, pressing your back into Lisa's front. Swaying your hips to the pounding in your ears, because you definitely cannot hear the music anymore.

~•~

"Where's, Y/N?" Rosé asked Jennie as she met her. She handed her the water she had picked up for the three of them.

Jennie pointed in your direction with a hum.

Rosè watched silently as you grinded on the stranger.

"I was gone for 5 minutes..."

"You snooze, you lose, I guess." Jennie felt bad for acting so cavalier, but at this point, the only way to get you what you wanted was to be completely honest.

Rosé didn't exactly know what to think of that. Or rather it was hard for her to think anything when you were dancing seductively with someone pointedly not her.

The emotions that come with it are hard to pick through as well. Hurt, anger, jealousy, and maybe she's even a bit turned on because she finds you immensely sexy.

Whatever the case may be, she decided that she can't sit around and just watch. No that would hurt too much. She's gotta stop this. She's gotta fix this.

~•~

Chaeyoung was never supposed to fall in love with her best friend. At least she doesn't think she was supposed to. There's no real way to be sure.

And that isn't to say that she's not sure if she loves you. She's 100% sure about that. It's to say that, how is she supposed to know if you love her back.

She had prayed and wished and hoped that you would see the signs that absolutely poured out of her whenever you were near. But, all of her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. And she couldn't say she was surprised.

You were her best friend.

You knew that. She didn't have to tell you.

You were the person she confided in. The person who knew her deepest, darkest secrets. The person she breathed every breath for.

You were the love of her life.

You didn't know that. She had been trying to tell you.

You were the person she gave herself pep talks in the mirror for. The person she put on her most expensive outfits for. The person she would live a thousand lives for.

But.

You were oblivious. Sometimes, it seemed like you didn't even want to know. Chaeyoung didn't want to live in her truth by herself. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops. But keeping that to herself seemed a much better option than making you uncomfortable and losing you as a friend.

She's not afraid to admit she's in love with the very fiber of your being. But she is afraid to admit that, even if she wasn't, you'd still have her wrapped around your finger.

~•~

"Get away from her." It's harsher than she intended and it definitely startled you, but it got the point across.

"Chae?" You questioned as you were practically yanked to Rosé's side.

"Don't grab her like that." Lisa said with a frown.

Rosé's resolve slipped for a second. Maybe she shouldn't have grabbed you but that was besides the point now.

"I said stay away from her."

Lisa put her hands up in mock surrender, "Look. Sorry. Didn't know she had a girlfriend."

"She's no-" Lisa walked deeper into the throng of people before you could finish your sentence.

You turned back to Chaeyoung with a frown.

"What the hell was that, Chae?"

That was a good question. One that she didn't exactly have an answer to. She glanced down to where her hand was still gripping your forearm. She let go silently.

"I-um...."

With a roll of your eyes you pulled Rosé through the crowd. You searched for an empty room, quickly finding an unoccupied bedroom.

You close the door behind you two. Finally, some peace and quiet.

You crossed your arms and looked on expectantly.

"Well?"

Chaeyoung's face scrunched up, like she was losing a hard fought battle with herself, "You don't get it do you?

"Get what? Why you pulled me away from Lisa? No. I don't."

Rosé wiped her hands over her face roughly, "I did that be-because....your mine. Or at least, I want you to be."

Your arms fell to your sides, and your face softened into confusion.

"Huh?"

"God. I thought I was being obvious. I thought I was being so obvious." Chaeyoung shook her hand before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"But, you're flirty with everyone?"

"There's a difference between being nice to someone and being irrevocably in love with you."

You scrambled for any words, any explanation that could help you describe your confusion, and quite frankly you're embarrassment. It seemed as though you had put her in the same position you had thought she put you in.

"I-"

"It's okay if you don't feel the same way. As long as we can still be friends. I just had to finally tell you with words. We can still be friends right?" She doesn't look at you as she speaks. Her eyes casted down onto her wringing hands in her lap.

You move slowly towards her, grabbing her hands in her lap, "I love you too. I'm sorry I didn't say anything before-I thought...I thought...well it doesn't matter what I thought. I just-I love you too. A lot."

Chaeyoung looked up at you, a stray tear falling from her eye, "You do?"

You nod, "I do." You leaned in towards her, taking her bottom lip softly between yours. And she kisses you back, it isn't hungry, but it passionate, and somehow that serves to turn you on more.

You pushed her back slightly and straddled her lap.

Chaeyoung seemed to not know what to do with this turn of events, so you helped her along. Grabbing her hands and placing them on your ass.

"Oh."

You breathed out a chuckle into her mouth, "Yeah. Oh."

Chaeyoung let herself be pushed backwards onto the bed. She grabbed at the zipper to your dress. Fumbling with it until it finally did what she had been willing it today.

She pulled the dress delicately over your head, pushing it onto the floor beneath your feet, "You're beautiful." She whispered into your neck.

You tried to hide your blush by turning your head as much as you could away from her.

"Don't hide from me. Not anymore."

You turned back to her. Your blush covering your face in full force. Chaeyoung leaned in and kissed you again.

You fumbled with her clothing just as she did with yours. A sense of urgency encompassing the both of you. Like you only had so little time to make up for the time you lost.

You're not even sure how you ended up on your back and further up the bed, but you are sure that Rosé touching you, on the outside and inside feels like being thrown head first into a volcano. And you finally come undone it's just like an eruption that you can't (nor want) to stop.

The same goes for Rosé. Having you taste her feels like she's drowning in the world's shallowest pool. It's like swimming in a puddle. Impossible, yet satisfying beyond belief. And when she finally comes undone it's just being evaporated into the summer sun.

When it's all over and you're laying on top, amd underneath, and through each other, Rosé speaks up, "I love you."

"I know." And you did.

Because,

You and Chaeyoung were best friends, and you were always meant to fall in love.

You knew that, like you knew the back of Chaeyoung's hand.

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Falling Ch. 2

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin​

Pairing: Bucky X Reader [and a few more to come]

Summary: For a moment you had something good, something wonderful. But moments pass. Now, left with nothing but the ashes of a life and a love you fought so hard for, you find yourself in a free fall. Who will you be once you hit the bottom? [Sequel to Only For A Moment but can be read independently.]

Warnings: Loss, grief

A/N: Honestly, idk what to say. I 100% made myself cry with this one. So there’s that. Also, I love Steve Rogers. 

Hope y’all don’t hate me too much. 

TAGS ARE OPEN

It feels like falling. You wonder if the very ground beneath you is crumbling as he did. When your knees crash into the solid earth you realize that isn’t the case. 

Still, the feeling persists. 

Plummeting. Untethered. A free fall you can’t stop. 

Until Okoye’s cry cuts through your consciousness like a knife. 

Sucking in a breath you return to yourself. But… Everything feels wrong. 

The pain that had burned through your body and mind has faded to a low hum replaced with the distinct feeling of drowning as you become acutely aware of everything around you.  

It feels like your perception is being pulled in a billion directions. Your power had gotten out of hand before - causing you to be hyper aware of even the salt in your own sweat - but this… It was as though you could feel the composition of creation. 

Shuri told you, after studying your ability, that your brain erected subconscious buffers to regulate your ability, preventing you from going too far. It explained the headaches that plagued you when you used too much of your power and, you supposed, your newly hemorrhaging eyes. Just your body doing all it could to force you to self preserve. 

Clearly, those barriers had been blown to hell. 

You don’t speak - the way sound shakes the air, the particles undulating like ripples on water, was honestly unbearable - but on shaky legs you rise to find Okoye.  

Gently you lay a hand on her trembling shoulder, trying not to feel the rush of blood through her body or the tiny innumerable particles that made her. Just like you felt Bucky before- 

She rounds to look at you and that falling feeling returns, pulling you from those dangerous thoughts. The shocked, horrified woman before you isn’t the Okoye you know, something has broken inside her, a thought you cannot bear. 

“The king,” her voice, barely a whisper, still makes you flinch. Her eyes begin to search behind you, a bit frantic before returning to meet your gaze. “Buck-” You cut her off by shaking your head. 

She doesn’t move to embrace you, doesn’t try to offer comfort, and you couldn’t love her more for it. All you’re both able to do is stare, immobile, for several beats as the weight of what has happened settles over you. 

“Shuri,” she hisses.

Immediately you both bolt, sprinting full speed for the lab. 

You chose to ignore how far behind you Okoye is, or how your feet are hardly touching the ground. Just as you choose to ignore the sounds arising from the battlefield, or the tangible feel of ashes on the air - of ashes in your still clenched right hand. 

There’s only room for one thought. Shuri. 

The madness on the landing deck is the only thing that draws you up short. Running feet stir piles of ash, sending the fine substance up in plumes that make it look as though a low fog has settled in. Making it worse, shouts and cries roll through the air like thunder. You never knew sound could be so heavy. 

You feel Okoye run up behind you, somehow recognizing the space she occupies almost on instinct. It makes you think of the void that remained after-

“Bast,” she says in a voice dripping with horror. A glimmer of the Okoye you know shows as she squares her shoulders marching forward into the chaos. Determined to not leave her side you follow, focusing on planting your feet one before the other lest you be swept away, lost in the feeling of the world around you. 

Stepping into the seating area outside the lab brings back the falling sensation. 

Maybe if you’d tried harder, demanded that he say back, refused to let him fight. Maybe-

A cry so heart-rending and feral blots out any other thought. It’s the kind of sound that could only come from a mother.

“No,” Okoye breathes. 

A mournful King’s Guard stands by a pile of ash. Ramonda’s hands search through it as though she could pull her daughter from the grey substance. Her cries fill the space, thick and haunting. 

“Queen Mother,” Okoye whispers, falling to one knee behind Ramonda. 

“General, where is he?” Ramonda turns, her hands covered in ash, eyes wild and desperate. 

“I’m so sorry,” Okoye’s voice breaks. “I… I couldn’t…” 

You expect Ramonda to scream, rage, anything. Her children were gone, she could scream until the end of time and be justified. Instead, she sits back on her heels, eyes on the ceiling. Some pain is so great there is no way to express it. 

After a moment her gaze falls to you, still standing frozen in the entrance. 

“Sergeant Barnes?” She asks. They’d been close, sharing many afternoons together over coffee or tea talking about everything and nothing. 

You want to honor her with the dignity of an answer. Truly you do. But something churns in your chest, trapping the words. All you can do is shake your head. 

“Bast, save us.” She pulls Okoye to her, holding tight as the tears come. Ramonda extends a hand out to you but... you just can’t. 

In a daze, you turn, walking away from the lab unsure where your feet are taking you until you stand before the door to the ready-room you and Bucky had prepared for the battle in. 

Almost. You almost make it inside. Instead, you walk past a few doors before stepping into another ready-room. With a whoosh, the door slides open and then closes behind you leaving you in blessed silence. 

Why were you here? What good was being in here? What could you possibly… Your right-hand rises, still clenched in a tight fist, holding…

Anything not nailed down begins to tremble in the small room. The mirror above the sink makes almost imperceptible creaking sounds as it splinters. A book hurtles from somewhere unseen and slams into the wall with enough force to break the binding sending pages fluttering. Then it stops. 

A page flutters up and over to you, even though the thought of grabbing one was barely half-formed in your mind. You don’t care what the page says, you just hold it with your left hand while you ever so slowly convince your right to open. 

You can feel your power buzzing around your hand, plucking away every last speck of ash from your skin, not letting one small piece fall away. With the utmost care, you guide the small grey mass to the paper and set it down. 

It strikes you that it’s such a small amount, barely a handful, and yet to you it is the most precious substance in existence. It’s him. It’s all you have-

The room begins to shake once more and you cut off your thoughts. Carefully, you fold the paper around the ashes and tuck the makeshift packet into a pocket sewn into the lining of the vest you wore. 

Unsure of what else to do you make your way back to the chaos of the landing deck. Warriors from the field had begun to return, shellshocked or enraged. 

You see M’Baku towering above a small cluster. When his eyes fall on you he scowls before looking away. 

For a moment you simply allow the chaos to overwhelm you. Each sound rattling in your bones. The feeling of that hunger you’d felt after the stones beginning to ache. You almost hope it will all drive you mad. Madness was prefferable to mourning. 

Someone grabs your arm, pulling your focus to them. Ayo. 

“There were several crashes in the city, we could use your help,” she says, voice oddly calm. You just nod and follow her, grateful for any distraction. 

-

This feeling wasn’t a new one to Steve. He knew far too well what it was to fall so deep into himself that the world around him became an echo. It was the only way he’d made it through the first leg of his life - through the sounds of his parent’s fights, the constant street scrapes, the anger in him that always threatened to crest into something as ugly and violent as his father. 

And he felt it the last time he watched James Barnes die. 

Sam would say it wasn’t healthy, that he needed to process the situation. But Sam wasn’t here, and honestly, over the last 60 or so hours he’d been deeply grateful for the feeling. 

Just like it always did, it protected him, allowed him to get back up. Or in this case allowed him to let Natasha and Rhodey take the jet to go find Clint and Pepper, let him be of some use here in Wakanda while he waited for them to return. It let him do what he needed to - eat, drink, sleep, keep moving - in order to make them all think he was ok, that he had a plan, that he could still be what they needed. 

He’d been grateful. Until he saw you on a stretcher, blood staining the side of your face. 

Maybe if he’d been present, he would have noticed that you hadn’t stopped since the battle. Maybe he would have realized that you hadn’t slept or eaten or-

“I don’t think she’s said a word since he died…” Okoye says in a small voice. Her eyes glued to her clasped hands, leg bouncing in anxiety. 

He wouldn’t know. He wouldn’t know because the couple of times he saw you it seemed you were on a mission, moving with intent, doing what needed to be done just as he was. But he should have known. 

You were his friend. You were his family. Bucky’s gal… How many times could he fail Bucky Barnes?

His chest constricts. Absently he rubs at the ache, trying to think of something useful to say. He opens his mouth to offer some banal platitude but Mosi - the medic seeing to you - saves both him and Okoye from the embarrassment. 

“She’ll be alright I think,” he says with a tired voice. “Dehydrated, so we got her on a drip. She’s still unconscious but that may be for the best right now. Her scans are… different from the last ones Shuri-” He pauses, his throat bobbing as he swallows his emotions. “The last ones Shuri did. It could be due to the head wound but it’s hard to tell.”

“What do you mean different?” Okoye asks. The tone in her voice makes Steve shift uncomfortably. 

“I…” Mosi pauses. “Honestly, I’m trying to quantify it. None of us were actively involved in the assessment of the Barnes’ enhancements, we only assisted when requested.” He sighs, his exhaustion evident. “There doesn’t seem to be damage per se but the readings are erratic. There are parts of her brain that seem to be activating her power that never showed on past scans and…” 

“And what?” Steve asks, his anxiety mounting. 

“None of Shuri’s research shows Y/N’s power remaining active in a truly unconscious state. They tried it under sedation and it was completely dormant.” He sits heavily in one of the chairs. “Right now, there is a constant flow of energy, like someone just left the tap on.” 

“Dammit, Y/N,” Okoye grumbles. Steve looks at her confused. “She pushed herself too far. You saw her eyes during the battle right?! They were bleeding.”

“Ah,” Mosi sighs, “that explains the ruptured blood vessels. If she did over use her power it’s possible that she just needs rest - like any overworked muscle.” 

Steve nods, rubbing his temples as he leans back in the chair.  

“We’ll closely monitor-” A distinct tremble pulses through the building cutting him off. No sooner does it pass than another, stronger, shake comes. 

“Earthquake?” Steve asks, getting to his feet. 

Okoye shakes her head as she stands, “No, the building’s frame is vibranium it shouldn’t-” The next tremor almost knocks them all down and sends the monitors in your room screaming in alarm. 

Whatever Steve expected to see when he rushed into your room it was not what awaited him. 

The door slides open as the thick glass shatters outward with a deafening crash. Just outside, your body floats, head lolling to the side, pieces of glass continuing to shatter about you sparkling like glitter in the twilight. He calls out to you but is helpless as you float out into the growing darkness. 

Okoye stands just behind him, eyes wide with fear and worry. 

“Keep an eye on her as long as you can and update me on where she may be heading.” Okoye nods in acknowledgment as he sprints from the room. 

Steve’s chest burns like his lungs just can’t bring in enough oxygen. Suddenly he’s a kid again, gasping for air, praying that this won’t be the time his body chooses to quit on him. 

Doubling over, once he reaches the landing deck, he rests his hands on his knees, trying to count his breaths, trying to center himself. There wasn’t time for him to fall apart. Not now. 

“Steve?” Thor asks from his perch on one of the hovercrafts. The raccoon - Rocket - sits beside him. 

“What’s wrong?” Thor’s hand rests heavily on his shoulder. It’s too much like a gesture Bucky would often make. He pulls away. 

“Y/N,” he pants, still trying to force his lungs to work. “Something’s wrong, she-” Okoye’s voice in his ear interrupts him.

“Steve, I… I think she’s heading to where… it happened.” 

There was no need to explain what it was. 

“Copy,” he answers.

“I’m on my way down,” Okoye says. 

“No, I can-”

“I’m coming.” Her tone brooches no argument. 

“We’ll come too,” Thor says, getting on the craft. Rocket just shrugs. 

When the four of them arrive at the edge of the woods it’s eerily quiet. 

“There’s no breeze,” Thor comments quietly. He was right. A slight wind had been blowing on the landing deck but here, everything was unnaturally still. “Her power…” 

Steve doesn’t like the awe in Thor’s voice. You were gifted, of that there was no question. But you’d been clear enough that there were limits to what you could do and how long you could use your abilities. 

With a pang, he remembers Wanda teasing you about it over dinner more than once. 

“There,” Okoye whispers. 

He sees you and feels a pain shoot through his heart. 

You’re standing just as you had days ago, in the same place, but your hands - palms out - are pressed to nothing but empty air. Around your feet dust swirls in a slow circle, the only movement to be seen. From here, he can’t see your face, but your head is cocked to the side, almost as if you’re listening to something in the distance. 

Part of him wants to run. Just leave you to your sorrow because he can’t bear it. Because this, this brings to gut-wrenching clarity a thought he’d been avoiding for days. 

You had tried to use your power to save Bucky. 

He can’t begin to comprehend what that must have been like. What must you have felt as your husband died…

The snapping of a stick beneath Thor’s foot causes your head to twitch in their direction though you don’t move otherwise. 

“Y/N?” Okoye calls softy. “Sister, why don’t you come with us?” She extends her hand, “I’ll take you home.”

Steve wishes it was just his imagination making him feel the tremor move from your body into the ground. But the shaking of the leaves above them in response to Okoye’s last word tells him it was real. 

He looks to the others, seeing tense faces stare back at him. Rocket’s ears twitch wildly. 

“We need to back up. Now.” Immediately he begins to put more space between himself and you. Thor nods, following his lead. Okoye looks from them to you and back, unsure. 

No. He’d failed you, failed Bucky, and Sam, and Wanda, and everyone. He couldn’t turn away from you now. 

Slowly, he makes his way to your side, his body tingling with an entirely foreign sensation. 

“Y/N,” his voice almost a whisper. “Come on, let’s-” As soon as his hand touches your shoulder he’s flung back. Thor catches him, pulling him away from you and settling him on the ground. 

Gobsmacked Steve stares, hardly able to breathe or think, only capable of gaping slack-jawed as the dust at your feet begins to spin faster and faster. 

Slowly, the air around you begins to swirl with debris from the ground. A foot, two three, the radius grows until there’s a five-foot minimum of dirt, dust, stones, and other forest refuse filling the space, up and up past the tops of the trees.  

Even so, it remains strangely quiet save for the rustling of the foliage. It could almost be peaceful. Until your scream shatters the illusion. 

He’d heard this scream before. It was the scream that rang through bombed cities in the war, through New York when the Citauri attacked, and Sokovia as buildings crumbled burying families inside. It was the sound of loss so profound that it reduced someone to their basest animal nature. 

It seems to pull every ounce of pain he’d tried to run from to the surface. Desperately, he tries to tamp it down, gritting his teeth as tears slide unbidden from his eyes. 

Thor hits his knees beside Steve, coving his face. Rocket looks away. Okoye stares, tears silently carving paths down her cheeks. 

What could any of them do? What comfort could they give?

Your cries shake the ground, cause the trees to groan, small thunder-like rumbles rise and fall as though you were ripping the particles in the air apart like lightning. Maybe you were… 

All he knew was that at this moment your pain was the pain of a universe in mourning. You expressed what they all felt but did not have the capability to release. 

A strange creaking groan slowly gets louder as the earth shakes. 

Tear it all down, Y/N, he thinks. I’m too tired to save it anymore.

His sight is blurred with tears he can’t seem to let fall so he thinks he imagines the woman stepping past them, moving serenely toward your maelstrom, her white hair tumbling down her back. 

“Queen Mother, don’t!” Okoye cries, shaken from her stupor. She grabs the woman's arm. Ramonda turns to her, a sad smile on her face.

“Let go of me, General.” Okoye doesn’t move. “Oko,” Ramonda coos, cupping her face with a hand. “It will be alright. She’s just hurting.” 

Okoye takes a halting step away from the Queen before collapsing back to the ground. 

Steve holds his breath as he watches Ramonda enter the cyclone of debris surrounding you - so sure that a rogue branch or rock would strike her down. You’d never forgive yourself if-

He shoots to his feet, ready to rush after Ramonda, pull her to safety for all your sakes but he freezes. 

Incredibly she’s made it to you unscathed. Through the haze of dust, he sees her arms wrap around you, your body still shaking with screams, and pull your back against her chest. 

Relief only has the briefest moment to touch him before, with one final groan, the ground around you gives way. 

-

Falling. 

You’re falling and you don’t want it to stop. 

The further you fall the better, the further you fall the more likely this pain will end when you reach the bottom. And that’s all you want right now. Just for the pain to end and to take this insidious hunger along with it.  

“I know child, I know it hurts,” a voice, thick with tears whispers in your ear. “I know.”

The sound cuts your scream off at the root leaving you gasping and bringing the ground up to meet you. 

It was not far enough. 

Though both of you are sent to your knees the arms around your chest do not release you. They only hold tighter. 

“Let it out.” The voice whispers. Only then do you realize your scream had morphed into a guttural sob. 

It hurt.

The salt in your tears stings your eyes so badly it feels like someone is grinding sand in them and your throat is so raw you’d think you swallowed fire. Your body feels like it was hit by a bus, muscles throbbing, a bone-deep ache permeating your whole being, and that strange hunger grinding somewhere deep within you. But you can’t stop. The tears just keep flowing. 

Gone. He was gone. And you failed to save him.

This was worse than the loss of your chosen family. Then, you were trapped, held prisoner, unable to get to them fast enough. Now…

You had him in your hands. You had power beyond comprehension at your literal fingertips. And still, it wasn’t enough. Still, you felt him leave you bit by bit. 

“Bucky!” His name trips over your lips, a desperate plea, a prayer. Again and again, you call for him knowing he will not answer you. 

Eventually, you run out of tears and slump into the arms holding you, your head on their shoulder. Forcing your eyes open you look up at Ramonda’s tearstained but serene face. A mother’s face. 

Gently she brushes the hair from your damp cheeks before pressing her lips to your forehead. If you had the ability to shed one more tear you would have. Your own mother had feared you, maybe even hated you, so this kind of care was foreign but god, you never wanted her to let go. 

Your eyes slide shut as she starts humming a low song. It isn’t something you know but the cadence of the notes sound like a lullaby. 

The presence of others presses into your awareness. She doesn’t react so you feel no need to either. 

One of her arms releases you to draw another person near. A person you know. Okoye. 

Opening your eyes the best you can you reach for her, the warm feeling of her palm in yours feels good. 

A small hand rests on your thigh. The feeling is an odd one and you look down. Rocket, the one who tried to buy Bucky’s arm, gazes at you with wide shimmering eyes - pain clear on his features. With your free hand, you cover his and he leans into you.  

With eyes half-mast you barely see Thor draw close. Ramonda reaches her other hand to him and he takes it. A soft cry comes from him. 

“I know,” Ramonda pauses her song to whisper. “Captain?” 

Steve is before you all, standing, looking away. When Ramonda calls to him he closes the small distance and kneels before you. His eyes look red from tears but he seems so solid otherwise. 

With a knuckle, he brushes your cheek, it comes away pink. Your eyes must have bled again… You must have-

It’s then that you look just over Steve’s shoulder and realize… You are all huddled in a fucking crater. 

Falling. You had felt like you were falling. You had thought about the ground crumbling when Bucky had and… You pull away from the others, pushing past Steve to the other side of the crater. 

You press your hands to the wall, about six feet high, and they come away black with fresh earth. Slowly you turn, taking in the size of the thing.

When your gaze settles on the group, most still leaning on one another, they look concerned.  

“Y/N?” Steve’s tone is cautious. 

“I did this,” you breathe in realization, voice hoarse. 

“It’s ok, Y/N. No one was-”

“No!” You snap. “It isn’t ok. I can’t do this! I shouldn’t… I can’t-” Breathe. You cannot breathe. 

Grasping your chest you heave, feeling like your heart may burst. Panic overwhelms you. 

“You just need to rest,” Okoye’s voice this time. “You haven’t stopped since-”

“No,” you rasp, shaking your head frantically. You begin to pace. “No. You don’t understand.” You lean against the wall and sink down, hiding your face in your knees as you begin to shake all over. 

Your mind buzzes trying to sort all the things it’s sensing, like trying to pick out each individual voice in a crowd of thousands. Beneath the chaos is the low rumble you remembered from before, that hunger. Your fingers run through your hair, grasping your skull. 

“Something is wrong. Wrong with me. I can’t… I can’t…”

“What can’t you do, Y/N?” Steve asks. 

“Control it!” You shout looking up at them. The soft earth beneath you shifts and you gasp covering your mouth, scared you’ll just start screaming again. The tension hangs heavy in the air. 

“It’s alright,” Ramonda says moving closer. “We are all struggling to control this grief. It must make it harder to harness these gifts.” Her soft smile makes you wish she was right, makes you want to let her mother you and tell you it will all be fine and believe her. 

But she’s wrong. You shake your head. 

“That isn’t it. I-” Your voice cracks. “Something is wrong.” You’re too tired to think but you have to say it because you know it must be the cause. 

“I touched them,” you manage. 

“Touched what?” Okoye asks. 

“The stones,” Thor whispers. “You touched the stones with your power.” You meet his mismatched eyes and nod. 

“Christ,” Steve hisses, pacing away. 

“You’re lucky you’re even alive,” Rocket says. “That’s cosmic, concentrated energy you tapped into, you should be-”

You can’t help the bitter laugh that pours from you. 

“Lucky,” you growl. “Lucky. That’s me, so fucking lucky!” You push yourself quickly to your feet. 

The world tips sideways and everything goes dark. 

When your eyes flutter open again you’re on a hovercraft, Steve’s arms cradling you tight to his chest. 

Shame thrums through you. 

“I’m ok, Steve,” you say. “You can put me down.”

“It’s fine,” his tone is hard edged, cold. 

“Really, I-” His arms flex, holding you tighter. When you get to the landing deck you pry yourself from his grasp with your power, landing softly on your feet. He tosses a look that isn’t quite a glare at you but says nothing. 

Instead of going back to the lab, you all follow Ramonda as if on instinct, to the royal residences. A line of wayward children. 

Being in Ramonda’s welcoming home threatens to send a tremor through you - and everything around you. Too many afternoons you’d come here after training to see Bucky sitting on the balcony, lit golden in the sunset, drinking tea… The thought of his smile makes some deep place in you ache. 

Thor collapses into one of the couches, looking like a husk of a man. You had seen him earlier that day but perhaps he too was reaching his breaking point. It looks like Rocket will join him for a beat but he heads to the balcony, his eyes fixed on the sky as though looking for something. 

You stand, unsure what to do. 

“Sit,” Ramonda insists. You do as she says, avoiding the large chair you usually shared with Bucky, opting for a pile of floor pillows instead. 

When Steve, Okoye, and Ramonda return with food and tea you realize, guiltily, that you hadn’t noticed their absence or even really registered time passing. No one moves for the food, lost in their own misery. 

“Eat, all of you,” Ramonda says in a maternal voice. 

She needs to care for someone, you think. 

Not wanting to disappoint her you force yourself to take some tea and nibble on a piece of flatbread. It all tastes like dust. 

At some point you lost the thread of the conversation. Mainly Okoye filling the silence with plans, Ramonda saying something about the elder council meeting. 

You kept playing the events of earlier through your head - hating that you had broken like that, hating how you likely terrified them all - when Okoye coughed. It wasn’t subtle. Neither was the pointed glance she and Steve exchanged. 

You bristle. 

“Come on,” Steve stands, extending a hand to you. Choosing to not take it you rise fluidly to your feet, your power, rather than your tired muscles propelling you. 

Ramonda cups your face in her hands before kissing both your cheeks. She doesn’t say a word, just presses her forehead to yours before releasing you. 

With no explanation from him, he leads you to the apartment he uses when he visits. You manage to hold your tongue until the door closes behind you both. 

“Were you assigned to babysit?” At any other time, the venom in his glare would have stung. “I can-”

“Don’t,” his voice is low. He turns and rummages through a drawer, pulling out a plain black tee and boxers. “Here. Go shower.” 

There’s something barely contained in his actions, a tension begging to be released. You feel guilty for your quip but don’t think an apology will be welcome. Plus, you can feel every grain of sand, every bit of dirt, the salt from your sweat all clinging to your skin, it’s unbearable.

The shower doesn’t help. All you can think of as the hot water hits your skin is that you should have showered with Bucky this morning… Two mornings ago? Three? Honestly, you didn’t know how much time had passed. 

You finish quickly. Looking in the mirror you notice the swath of scalp showing where they shaved your head around a wound. 

Vaguely you remember helping to clear the alien debris that had been left behind. Someone slipped and got pinned, you’d easily freed them but lost focus and your grip on the metal. 

You press a finger to the skin, soft and beginning to bruise but sealed with Wakandan perfection. Staring listlessly at your reflection you press harder, the pain making you feel present, reminding you this was real. 

This woman in the mirror… you don’t know her. Your fingers rub around the wound and slip into your hair pulling it tight. If you pulled hard enough… On the open shelves by the sink, you spot the clippers. That would be faster. 

The buzzing noise is almost unbearable as is the sensation of all the little whirring parts. But you push past it. 

Bit by bit your hair - grown long and thick over these past few years of love, of hope, of rebirth and rebuilding yourself from what Hydra made of you - falls to the floor. 

When you finish you look back in the mirror. You know this ghost. 

It isn’t a comfort. 

Your chest seizes. Gripping the edge of the counter you fold forward. One question screams in your head over and over. 

Shaking your head you try to clear it, feeling strands of hair slip from your shoulders. Frantically you reach for the t-shirt and pull it on before flinging the door open. 

Steve sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head hanging. 

“Steve?” You ask in a tremulous voice. He looks up, his face a map of pain. “What do we do? What… What do we do…” Without Bucky. That was what you really meant. Without Bucky what were you supposed to do?

“I-” His voice cracks. “I don’t know.” He shakes his head, “God help me but… I don’t… I don’t know.” When the sob breaks free he almost looks startled by it, his hand flying to his mouth, eyes wide with fear. 

He keeps shaking his head, “Y/N, I don’t know… I’m sorry I-” That’s it. That’s all he has left. 

Here, away from the world, Steve Rogers breaks. 

For a beat you’re unsure what to do. You’d never seen him cry, never seen him fully lose his grip on that invisible shield he never put down. 

There is so little you can give him. Still, you go to him, pulling him to you, holding tight. It isn’t much but this is all you have.

His face presses against your abdomen, his tears soaking through the shirt fabric. Even though you thought you’d cried all you could, you feel the tears come, rolling quietly down your cheeks and landing in his golden hair as you run your fingers through it.

When your tired legs will no longer hold you up you crawl into the bed. Neither of you speak but you hold on for dear life until oblivion offers relief from this consuming grief.

TAGS

@bluegirlusa1​  @l0kisbitch​  @tazzi-baby​  @disagreetoagree​  @woodyandbuzz20-01​  @mooniightbucky​   @saundrasays​  @breezy1415​  @alyssaj23​  @mywinterwolf​  @wonderlandmind4​    @anamcg317​  @buckaroo-barnes​  @jazztherebel​  @peachthatdrinkslemonade​  @regulusirius​   @auskitty​  @babyimp1967​  @katecolleen​  @handplucked​  @stevehesaidabadlanguageword  @darkdragonphoenix​  @issanitydead​  @thestorydetective​  @buckysstar​    @greyeyedsmile14​  @watchoutforfrostbite​  @for-the-love-of-the-fandom​  @jewelofwinter​  @siriuslycloudy2​   @jdoenson​  @gamorazenn​  @wildmoonflower​  @cutie1365​  @demonlover87​  @winterboobearsworld​  @this-kitten-is-smitten​  @amorluzymelodia​  @nutellakirb​  @nighttwingg​ @coffeebeforewater​ @shesalatesh​

[skruttet]

alright it’s playing wooooo

started trying to get this mumenvággi episode to play at around 10am this morning and it’s now 1am the next morning and it hasn’t played all day 😂😂😂😂

[monarchofsnails]

By Fires Light

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith

Tags: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Campfireside Blowjobs, and handjobs, Reunion Sex, kind of, its only been a few days, Teasing, does this count as semi-public sex, idk maybe, Semi-Public Sex, tagging it cause why not, two idiots in love, No Plot/Plotless, Making Out, look it's just soft good things okay, Outdoor Sex, y'all I don't know what happened but it got so s o f t

Edit: made a few little changes and corrected some spelling fuck ups and continuity errors that were bugging me because I can't leave that shit alone.

( Read on Ao3 )

Arthur makes it back to camp just as the sun finishes setting, the dying rays lingering for a moment warm and dappled on his back as he makes his way through the trees. He’s been gone for nearly five days, both his obligations and the running tension that permeates the once tranquil clearing by the water keeping him from returning sooner. It’s going to come to a head soon he can feel it but he’s content to let things lie for the moment and it seems that right now the camp is actually coming along just fine. The only real issue he can see or more accurately hear as he hitches Brighid by his wagon and tends to her is the heated argument that Molly and Dutch are having.

He bites back a sigh, already weary of this despite only just returning. Molly’s a good lass, a little stuck up sometimes maybe but good nonetheless, loyal too. Not for the first time he thinks Dutch a fool for treating her the way he does. At least she has Hosea to lean on and he supposes that’ll have to be enough for now.

Their incessant rowing washes over him as they seem to get closer and he knows this situation well enough to know he’ll be dragged into it somehow as a buffer between the two if he doesn’t move, so with a final soft pat against Brig’s neck he turns and slinks away, because even though he is weary down to his bones he refuses to sleep until he’s found the real reason he finally came back home. He makes his way up the hill to one of the outlying watch campfires on the edge of camp, hidden from the main area by a generous outcropping of trees and affording a fair amount of privacy, but also an excellent vantage point.

Had anyone been watching him, they’d have seen the almost unconscious and entirely immediate slouch of relief in Arthur’s shoulders and the soft smile tugging at his lips as he sets eyes on the familiar form settled by the merrily crackling fire. Charles often liked to take watch up here at night to get away from the evening tensions in camp and Arthur can certainly relate to that. Making as little noise as he can but fully aware that Charles’ probably heard him coming the second his boots hit the incline he makes his way over to the other man.

“Hiya stranger” he hums as he comes to settle behind Charles his limbs aching in protest as he arranges himself, his legs pressed against the small of Charles’ back and his thigh respectively. 

There is a deep chuckle that reverberates through him pleasantly as his companion leans back into him and sighs “Hiya back” the amount of affection in his tone warms Arthur’s insides and he responds with a chuckle of his own, studying Charles’ side profile now that he’s reclined against him. He’s watching him out of the corner of his eye his expression open with a tiny little smile quirking up the sides of his lips and christ, Arthur thinks, if I’m not the luckiest son of a bitch alive to have this beautiful man look at me like that.

“So what’ve you been up to out there, Cowboy?” Charles hums the question, Arthur lets his forehead rest against the other man’s temple with a soft sigh.

“Been runnin’ a few errands, nothin’ all that interestin’ but it had t’ be done. Took longer than I wanted it to” he pauses, breathing in the scent that clings to Charles; leather and wood smoke and something sweet he can never quite put his finger on but inherently reminds him of home now “Missed you. A heck of a lot.”

“Oh did you now?” Charles questions with a rumbling chuckle and a spark of anticipation lights in Arthur’s gut as he shifts against him again, tilting his head fully so he can catch Arthur's eagerly awaiting lips in a tender kiss. And just like that what little restraint he had been holding onto is gone and he's clutching tightly at Charles’ sleeves with a quiet kind of desperation that makes it evident just how much he needs this.

Charles for his part is just as insistent, turning fully in Arthur's arms so he can change the angle of the kiss. It's soft and demanding all at once in a way that makes Arthur chuckle against him,

“Someone's eager” he teases breathlessly, his low laugh choking off into a moan as Charles nips his bottom lip and gives him a pointed look.

“You're one to talk” he grumbles and Arthur gives a soft hiss of appreciation as Charles’ hand presses with purpose against the crotch of Arthur’s well worn jeans. The amused chuckle Charles gives in response makes Arthur's entire body shudder with anticipation.

“Fuck - ha, ya got me” he pants, lifting his head a little to throw Charles a lopsided grin to which he is rewarded with another searing kiss

“C’mon Cowboy, show me just how much you missed me” he murmurs and Arthur does not need to be told twice, with a soft snort of amusement he lays back, pulling Charles with him so his lover is hovering over him and supporting himself with his hands either side of Arthur's head.

The grin he gives him could only be described as devilish as he shifts, pushing one of his thighs up between Arthur's legs to provide just a little taste of the friction he was desperate for.  

“Tease” he growls playfully, dragging him down into a heated kiss and canting his hips up in a bid to chase the feeling.

“Gotta keep quiet hmm? Camp’s still winding down” Charles snickers and grins when Arthur shoots him a dark look “As if I don’t know that you-” he cuts himself off with a hiss, biting his lip as one of Charles’ hands begins to roam down his chest with purpose until he reaches his belt and makes quick work of the buckle with a practised hand. Arthur's not quite lost enough in this teasing dance yet that he doesn’t move to return the favour, his calloused fingers sliding under Charles’ shirt to ghost along the coarse trail of hair that leads downwards. The man above him jerks a little at the sensation and he grins

“Now who’s the tease?” Charles admonishes, but there’s laughter in his tone as he leans down to press kisses to Arthur’s stubbled jaw.

“Still you darlin, I’m just returnin’ the favour” he goads only for his breath to hitch as Charles seemingly loses patience with his jeans and simply yanks them open enough to expose him. He can’t help but laugh even as Charles takes him in hand, giving him a couple of firm strokes to test the waters before he gets to work, leaning down to nip at Arthur’s jaw and revel in the soft whimpers and moans he is drawing from him. Desperate to silence himself Arthur uses his free hand to thread into Charles’ hair and tug him down into a heated open mouthed kiss, the other man only too obligingly swallowing the sounds he’s making.

His hips buck and stutter helplessly along with Charles’ unpredictable strokes. The other man speaks to him softly, sweet encouragements and praise and Arthur practically sobs his name when Charles runs the calloused pad of his thumb over the weeping head of Arthur’s cock, pressing into the slit slightly and smearing the precum down to offer a little more leverage. Arthur is panting hard, whimpering against Charles’ smiling lips as he kisses him desperately again, worrying at the other man's bottom lip with his teeth and dragging a groan from him in response. He picks up the pace of his movements after this, revelling in how Arthur is falling apart beneath him, so wholly responsive and yearning for his touch that it makes Charles ache.

“That’s it sweetheart, come for me” he hums against the shell of Arthur’s ear and really that’s all it takes to push him over the edge, coming with a soft pitched cry quickly stifled as he buries his face into the crook of Charles’ neck. It takes him a long few moments to recover, Charles’ gentle coaxing strokes through the aftershocks borders on over-stimulation and his leg twitches as he gives a breathless laugh and swats his hand away, paying no mind to the mess that’s been made as he tugs on the other man’s hair and demands more kisses, much to Charles’ amusement. He takes a moment to slide Arthur back into his pants whilst the other man is gathering his bearings.

“I thought I was supposed to be takin’ care of you?” Arthur nudges his companion, looking up at him with bright cerulean eyes that sparkle with a depthless affection that momentarily steals Charles’ breath.

“What can I say, I’ve been waiting to do that for days” the response makes Arthur chuckle, he’s certainly not complaining, but he certainly is looking to return the favour. Carefully, given that he is still shaky from the post orgasm high, he draws Charles to him in an intimate embrace and then proceeds to reverse their positions in a single roll. The surprised grunt Charles lets out pulls a chuckle from him as he presses kisses along his partners jaw.

“S’my turn right? Lemme take care o’ you Charles” he murmurs softly. Charles gives an approving hum, offering a soft little smirk that makes Arthur’s belly flip flop pleasantly. With a roguish grin he shuffles back so he’s on his knees, Charles’ thighs dropped open before him. He runs his hands along them reverently, enjoying the shudder of anticipation it elicits as he ducks down to give the weeping head of Charles’ cock a delicate lick.

The reaction is instantaneous, a stuttered curse and a narrowing of Charles’ eyes at him have Arthur grinning cheekily and offering an unrepentant wink before swallowing Charles down with practised ease, his sheer size makes it a little tricky but he’s long since perfected his technique. He grins when Charles curses again, fingers reaching out to thread through Arthur’s hair and tug on it sharply. The action elicits a soft moan from Arthur in response and he hums in retaliation which only serves to make the tugging at his hair all the more insistent. Arthur rolls with the movement, allowing Charles’ hips some leverage as they rise and fall in time with his the rhythm they set. He looks up at his lover through half lidded eyes something tight twisting in his gut when he finds Charles watching him, eyes dark and pupils blown wide with desire set in an expression that could only be described as adoration, as love. It’s damn near palpable.

It steals his breath for a moment, that look. He knows it’s one he shares, their love is quiet and steady and constant and it always will be of that Arthur has no doubt, but in these moments when it really shines he struggles to do anything but be in awe of this man and the fact that he’s chosen this, chosen him. A smile curves at the edges of his mouth as he lifts his head up, enjoying the whine of protest the absence of his mouth elicits before it is choked off as he licks a slow stripe from base to tip then lets his tongue curl circles around the sensitive head. He hums softly again, grinning now “Enjoyin’ yourself sugar?” he asks, tone hushed because really they are still trying to avoid detection after all. Charles shoots him a dirty look and his laughter is silent at the other man tugs at his hair with clear intent “You’re a menace” he whispers, his voice a little cracked sounding and Arthur can’t stop the little swell of pride there because he was the reason for that.

“Takes one t’ know one, love” he winks then dips his head and takes Charles into his mouth again cheeks hollowing as he resumes his previous pace with renewed vigor. A strangled and quickly muffled cry is his reward and he revels in it as he pushes his lover over to the edge. Arthur tilts his head just so, allowing Charles cock to slide against the back of his throat a few times and Charles’ hips jerk and spasm abruptly, enough so that Arthur has to move back a little to avoid choking as he swallows Charles’ release without complaint, looking extremely pleased with himself.

He eases back and presses a final gentle kiss to Charles rapidly softening length before he tucks him neatly back into his britches. The hand in his hair has not left it but it is no longer tight, instead there is a very gently push against the back of his head and he looks up to see Charles watching him expectantly. With a soft laugh he allows himself to be guided up and into a slow, tender kiss as Charles rides out the lingering aftershocks of his orgasm and Arthur simply revels in their reunion. He knows that another errand will take him away from camp again soon but for now, for at least a few days, he’s planning to stay and spend as much of that time with Charles as he can. It settles the tangled web his mind has become in recent days, Charles’ presence brings a clarity with it Arthur honestly didn’t know he could have.

They break the kiss on a sigh and Arthur rolls away so he’s laying beside Charles and staring up at the sky “Well” he murmurs, the post orgasmic haze starting to wear off now and the tell tale stickiness on his belly is starting to become uncomfortable “That was one hell of a welcome home” there is a huff of laughter beside him and he turns his head to grin at the other man as Charles rolls his eyes and reaches out to shove at him gently.

“Idiot” it is spoken with such naked affection that no one could ever mistake it for an insult between them and Arthur grins wider, rolling so he’s on his side and can watch Charles try and fix himself up to be at least a little bit presentable “Your idiot” he insists and Charles snorts but doesn’t contest.

They fall into a routine after that, Charles quietly helps Arthur clean himself up using water from his canteen and a handkerchief Arthur had stuffed in his back pocket before they set about making themselves comfortable again by the fire, no one else any the wiser to their private moment together.

It turns out to be good timing on their part as Sean turns up not much later, looking mightily irked by something but it quickly morphs into a beaming smile when he catches sight of them both settled by the campfire, Arthur’s arm slung lazily over Charles’ shoulder and Charles leaning into Arthur like he belongs in his space. They don’t break apart at his sudden appearance and it makes his heart melt a little, that they trust him enough to be open with their obvious affection for one another around him.

“Thought I saw you sneakin’ off earlier Morgan, not gonna say hello to the rest’ve us?” he greets jovially as he moves over to sit to their left beside the campfire, offering Charles the bottle of whiskey he has carried up here in the hopes of sharing with the two, though he’d never admit that.

“Nah, wasn’t feelin like dealin’ with yer yappin, Sean” Arthur jabs back playfully, the smile on his face making it very clear he is teasing and Sean laughs “Really feelin’ the love here Arthur” he grins when Charles rolls his eyes and takes the bottle Sean is still holding out to him.

“Good thing I know this is how you show affection” he pauses, then grins wickedly “Well, unless it’s Charles ey?” the canteen that is thrown at his head is so absolutely worth it as he cackles loudly and scrambles away from the half hearted kick Arthur sends his way. He watches as Charles wordlessly hands the bottle of whiskey to Arthur and the man takes a sip before giving Sean a glare.

“Fuck off MacGuire” there’s no heat in the words as Arthur says them, trying to look annoyed but mostly just fighting the smile on his face, it honestly warms Sean's heart to see him this happy, it feels like an eternity since he’s seen the other man smile so genuinely.

“Nah, think I’ll stay if it’s all the same to yas” he grins “Besides, it’s nearly time fer a shift change anyway. Was comin’ t’ relieve Charles o’ his duty. Though I’m sure you did that just fine on yer own” he leers at them jokingly and gets flipped off by both in quick succession, making him laugh.

“He’s right though, my shift should’ve been over a half hour ago” Charles hums, voice a little sleep slurred and Sean sees Arthur’s playfulness instantly replaced with something exponentially softer, it’s so intimate he almost has to look away, feeling like he’s intruding on their privacy.

“Hmm, ‘spose you’re right. Thanks then, Sean. Good to know you’ve got our backs” Arthur hums, shooting the redhead a meaningful look that has Sean smiling, more sedate than usual but no less genuine.

“Ah don’t be goin soft on me now Morgan, I might have t’ come over there ‘n hug ya” he wiggles his eyebrows teasingly and the moment is broken by a roll of Arthur’s eyes and a barely suppressed smile. Arthur stands on slightly wobbly legs and Sean would make a comment but he sees Arthur wince and favour his left leg and thinks better of it, the man has been running himself ragged lately trying to do everything he can for the gang, Sean knows it’s no time for inappropriate jokes for once. He holds down a hand for Charles who gladly takes it and allows himself to be pulled up, swaying a little as he finally admits to himself quite how tired he is but Arthur is there with a hand to his chest to steady him.

They move around the fire and head towards the path down the hill back to camp, but not before Arthur sets the whiskey beside Sean and nudges him gently with his leg, offering him another sincere smile.

“Thanks Sean, ‘preciate it” he chuckles when the Irishman waves him away with a snort and a roll of his eyes

“Yeah yeah, just doin’ my part” he hums, turning back to the fire and leaving the two men to their own devices.

The short walk back to camp is a quiet one, broken only by the sound of their footsteps on the undergrowth, Arthur’s hand has slipped into Charles’ as naturally as breathing and neither of them are inclined to move apart as they make their way down the hill and back into camp proper. Most everyone is asleep at this point, the light from the lamp on Arthur’s wagon is dim but provides enough luminescence to guide their way to it, Brig’s bulky outline and soft snorts as she sleeps are also a fairly helpful indicator.

When they reach it Charles hesitates, like he isn’t entirely sure where to go or what to do with himself for a fraction of a second, should he move on to his own bedroll or assume an invitation. He doesn’t have to wonder for long as a split second later Arthur is pulling him gently into the nook and sitting him on the bed still silent as he reaches around and over to tug at something just out of view on the wagon and suddenly cloth is folding down around them and the little nook is fully concealed. He gives Arthur a look and Arthur hums, smiling sheepishly “I was gettin’ sick and tired of sleepin’ in the open, paid for this outta my own pocket” he answers Charles’ silent question then he grins and crooks a finger under Charles’ chin raising his head a little so he can duck down and seal their lips in a soft kiss “‘Sides, it has its perks” her rumbles, amusement clear in his tone.

Charles snorts and catches him in another kiss before pushing him away “I take it that’s my invitation to stay then?” he murmurs softly, not because he has to ask but because he enjoys watching Arthur huff and roll his eyes “Obviously, now c’mon, I don’t know about you but I’m bone tired” He makes a point of stepping forward into Charles’ space and the other man snickers softly, taking the hint and scooting back so he’s laying with his back pressed against the wagon as far as he can to give Arthur enough room.  

It’s a little bit of a tight squeeze, they’re both big men and they have to shift around a bit, tangle themselves together to fit comfortably but they manage it and Arthur sighs in contentment and rests his head on Charles’ chest letting the steady beating of his lovers heart lull him into a sleepy haze. Before he truly drops off though he musters up enough strength to turn his head and press a kiss over Charles’ heart “Love you… didn’t say it earlier. Meant to” Charles hums sleepily in response, the sound reverberating through both of them pleasantly

“Didn't need to, saw it easy enough” a kiss pressed to his hair has Arthur’s lips curling into a sleepy smile

“Still wanna say it. Wanna tell you every day, till the day I die. I love you”

There is a rumbling chuckle and Arthur nuzzles in close as the arms around him tighten a little “Go to sleep, Arthur” the brunette grunts softly in acceptance and begins to allow himself to do just that, though as he is drifting off he hears a soft shaky sigh,

“I love you too, idiot” despite his half asleep state he can hear the smile in Charles’ voice and the feeling of utter joy it brings is welcomed wholeheartedly as he slips off into a hopefully dreamless sleep.

[eorumverba]

had a weird fic idea, idk how it would work but: jongtae are each other's kryptonite in the literal sense. they fall in love nd when they kiss or whatever its painful and ye. :> Kryptonite! Au (you would do this way better justice than me)

“Taemin’s the person in my dream. My lover. Taemin.” Jonghyun repeats the name just because of how right it feels coming from his mouth.

When Jonghyun wakes up, he has no idea where he is.

He’s sore everywhere and he’s at least wearing clothes, and while they’re well-worn, they don’t feel like his. His head is pounding but still there’s a sense of relief and his blood is pounding in his veins; he’s never felt so alive as he stands on trembling legs.

It’s weird.

What’s weirder is that he can’t remember anything: all he knows is the name Kim Jonghyun from Seoul, South Korea - beyond that, nothing. The sun is beating down on his back, but Jonghyun doesn’t feel hot, just uneasy and not quite sleepy, just-

Dazed, he thinks, the word is dazed. He feels dazed.

With nothing but faded grass and clear skies spread out before him, Jonghyun picks a direction and begins to walk. He sings to himself to pass the time (he can vaguely remember that he used to enjoy singing - with someone, he thinks? He can remember full lips and dark hair, tan skin and gentle hands, but beyond that, nothing else about this mystery person that must have been his lover.)

Jonghyun reaches a small village close to nightfall; he’s informed that he’s miles and miles away from Seoul, but after agreeing to help out on the chores and farming, he’s got himself a ride to the city. He’s excited, nervous, tense - there’s some emotion curling low in his belly, one that’s telling him not to go,

And if anything, he knows that he needs to go.

They reach Seoul by nightfall the next day; Jonghyun’s driving the car while a Kim Jongdae naps in the passenger’s seat and when the sun begins to set, Jonghyun shakes Jongdae awake so they can switch seats. (“I have friends that live here, we can stay with them for the night and then we’ll help you find your friend,” Jongdae had said as he put on his seatbelt.)

Jongdae’s friends are named Minseok and Baekhyun, and they are more than happy to see Jongdae and his “cute friend”. They don’t end up going to sleep until near dawn, empty bottles of soju and boxes of takeout scattered about on the floor between the four of them.

(Jonghyun dreams of his mystery lover, dreams of lazy kisses on the sand, the sun hot on his skin, soda-sticky lips against his and ocean-soaked hair tickling his face.)

The next afternoon, they all pile into Baekhyun’s car to run errands and go to the mall, and maybe along the way, you’ll remember something, Minseok’s in the passenger seat and Baekhyun’s driving, Jongdae is pointing out little shops and well-known places, but none of it is familiar.

None of it except the mall.

Jonghyun stops dead when they round the corner and stop in front of a huge fountain, suddenly remembering tossing coins into the water because Jonghyunnie, you know if you throw a coin in and make a wish, it’ll come true? And Jonghyun had laughed and nodded indulgently and said I don’t think that’s how it works, but if you want to, we can-

“Taemin.”

Baekhyun is chattering with Jongdae up ahead, so Minseok is the only one that hears; he tilts his head and asks, “Taemin?”

“Taemin’s the person in my dream. My lover. Taemin.” Jonghyun repeats the name just because of how right it feels coming from his mouth.

There’s a curious expression on Minseok’s face, but when Jonghyun asks, he just shakes his head and tugs Jonghyun forwards to catch up to the others. There’s a lingering sense of missing something, but Jonghyun tries his best to ignore it, choosing instead to focus on the present: on Minseok’s hand in his, on the cold of the drink Baekhyun has shoved in his other hand, on the sound of Jongdae’s voice pointing out little facts and stories. Even if the memory of Taemin’s lips and eyes and skin and hair still lingers in his mind.

After they leave the mall, Minseok directs Baekhyun down a series of roads until they pull up at a house, open and airy and modern and small. It’s just Jonghyun’s style, and it feels strangely like his, but when they park, Jongdae asks, “Why are we at Jongin’s?”

Minseok doesn’t answer - instead, he slips out of the car and marches up to the door and rings the bell without pause. It takes a few moments, but there’s an answer: a man a few inches taller than Minseok answers and smiles when he sees them all. The joy slips from his face a little when his eyes land on Jonghyun, but Minseok says something that must change the man’s mind, because the smile comes back full force and he nods a little in greeting.

“Baekhyun, Jongdae, maybe try and come over a little more? You too, Minseok - and you’re…?”

“Jonghyun,” Jonghyun’s mouth opens, then closes - he has nothing else to say.

“Jongin, but everyone calls me Kai.”

“No one calls you Kai, stupid.” Baekhyun and Jongin dissolve into an argument that the rest of them seem well used to, because Minseok just sighs and slips from the couch to disappear into another room, and Jongdae just pulls out his phone and curls up in a ball on the couch, the picture of boredom.

But Jonghyun barely focuses on that, because there are picture frames scattered about on the walls, and in many of them is his Taemin, his lover, his only memory.

“Who’s that?” he asks, careful to keep his tone neutral.

“Oh, that’s-” Jongin starts, but then someone comes in from the front door and he pauses, smiling warmly at them and beckoning them over, “this,” he starts again, “is Taemin. My boyfriend.”

The smile drops from Taemin’s lips as soon as he sees Jonghyun, but he quickly forces it back up and says, “Who’s this?”

And no, that’s not right. Jonghyun doesn’t process what Jongdae is saying - likely the story of how they’d met - because all he can do is stare at Taemin and wonder what happened to them. Because the Taemin he sees now is blonde and small and soft and pliant, not at all the dark-haired wild thing he remembers, and the curve of his lips is gentle and not mischievous, the gleam in his eye dim and not at all sharp and playful like it’s supposed to be.

Taemin catches Jonghyun staring and bites his lip, brow creasing before he smoothly detaches himself from Jongin’s side and beckons Jonghyun over. “I’m gonna show him around,” he says, more to himself than anything. No one bats an eye, and as if in a daze, Jonghyun follows Taemin through the open kitchen, out a sliding door and to the backyard. There’s a small garden and while Jonghyun is glad that at least that part of Taemin still remains, he doesn’t think on it too long because now Taemin is facing him, and he looks terrified.

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, what are you doing? We were - you were my everything, Tae.” Jonghyun reaches out, only to touch Taemin’s cheek, only to feel the soft of his skin again because he’s missed it and the sheer longing that has surged up inside him is practically tangible - but Taemin flinches away and backs up a pace, if only to ground himself.

“You can’t.”

“Why not? Why can’t I remember?”

At that, Taemin pauses, blinks. His mouth opens and closes several times and Jonghyun remembers the way Taemin would roll his eyes whenever Jonghyun said he was buffering whenever he did that.

“What do you remember then?”

“Nothing really. When I woke up yesterday, all I could remember was my name, that I live in Seoul, and…you.”

“So you tried to find me.”

“Are you going to tell me what we were now? Why you’re with-” Jonghyun waves a hand at the house, “because I - I remember your lips, and your hair, and your skin. I remember kissing you-”

“God, you still do that. You always sound like you’re coming up with new poems or song lyrics.”

“Is that bad?”

A pause. “It’s…endearing.”

“And you don’t want it to be.”

Taemin doesn’t answer that, but he does sit in the grass with a heavy sigh. Jonghyun immediately follows and when he’s settled, Taemin begins to speak. “There were more of us. Jinki and Kibum and Minho, do you remember them?”

“I-” it feels like he should, but he can’t, “no. Almost.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t know if there are more of us, and I don’t know what we really are, but. Just.” Taemin stops again, and Jonghyun bites back his smile - Taemin never was good at expressing himself in words, or explaining things…or anything that involved words, really.

“Just,” Taemin’s frowning, and he takes a breath, “just kiss me.”

Jonghyun doesn’t immediately, because Jongin, but then Taemin huffs and leans forwards and kisses Jonghyun, and for a moment it is everything Jonghyun remembered, but then it is not because it hurts, it hurts like he’s being burnt from the inside out and it hurts like he’s being torn apart and put together all the wrong ways and it hurts like-

Taemin pulls back, and it stops immediately.

And Jonghyun remembers this feeling, remembers that it’d started without warning one day, that it happened whenever they touched - him or Jinki or Minho or Kibum or Taemin - and that none of them knew why. Just that it did.

“Where’s everyone else?”

Taemin looks down, shrugs. “Everyone left. I haven’t heard anything from anyone. You know - we used to all be together. Until, well.”

There are so many questions that Jonghyun wants to ask, but before he can even open his mouth, the door opens and Jongin peeps out, calling out that everyone is ready to go. When Jonghyun turns back to Taemin, he looks conflicted - both relieved and reluctant to move.

Taemin stands first though, and then Jonghyun, but before either of them can move, Jonghyun blurts out, “Can I stay here? At least for a while? I want to remember everything. I want to remember us.”

“Jjong…” the name falls like a sigh from Taemin’s lips and for a moment, Jonghyun is lost in Taemin’s eyes and lips and voice, “we can’t…have what we used to.”

“How do you know if you won’t even try?”

“We can’t even touch each other! And - Jongin!”

“Then just…let me stay. Until I remember, until I can find somewhere else to live-”

“No, just. You can stay for as long as you need, I just…this is a lot. I thought you were dead,” Taemin takes a shaky breath and just before spinning around and going back to the house, he mumbles, “and…I missed you.”

And Jonghyun thinks that’s good enough for now.

[princetpenguin]

There’s a lot of complaints about Nintendo’s online service not having dedicated servers.  “Splatoon and Smash should have servers if we’re paying for it” I hear you say.

And i say, you are half right.  Splatoon would be so much better if it had dedicated servers.  Smash might only improve a tiny amount in 4-player games, and even then, nobody would probably even notice.

Let me tell you about netcode. A lot.

(somewhat oversimplified, but nothing that’s wrong changes the argument)

In your Halos and your Cods, you see very little of the playing field, so the game knowing exactly where everyone is isn’t really that important.  If you’re sniping, and somebody runs across a gap in a field that you see, it doesn’t matter exactly where and when you landed a headshot, just that you had the skill to land a headshot on your screen, given the enemy’s movement.  This is also why you sometimes die after you got behind cover.

Now, the game tries to keep everything up-to-the-moment accurate, but latency and network drops do, of course, happen.  This is why shooters have predictive movement; if there comes a half-second without seeing updates from somebody, the game just shows them moving in about the same way they last saw.

The timing and precision of the prediction can vary a lot between games (or in the case of games like TF2, you can customize them yourself).  The more loose the prediction, the less often enemies will freeze and teleport around, and vice versa.

Okay, but what about servers?  Well, with a dedicated server, each client sends and receives their updates to/from the same device.  If any one player has connection issues, their client will have to use the predictive movement for every other player, and when they reconnect, will have to “catch up” to where everyone actually is.

The server, on the other hand, only needs to predict one player’s actions, and when they reconnect, just teleport one person somewhere.  This way, every other player can continue to have a smooth game

Or, if the server itself has connection issues, each client has the tools to keep the game relatively smooth when they clear up.  This provides a good experience for everybody playing in your call of duty or whatever.  And this “or whatever” can and should include Splatoon.

In your Street Fighters and your Tekkens, unlike shooters, the games rely much more on precise character locations.  A single frame, a single pixel, can mean the difference between a punishable whiff and the start of a game-ending combo.  Unlike the sniping example, both players know exactly where everything in the game is located.

If a fighting game used predictive movement, how would it handle a desync?  Each player could take advantage of an opening the game erroneously showed them, and land a good deal of damage.  How could the game choose which series of inputs is the “true” sequence of events?  Or does it just combine both input sequences and see what happens?  How does the game show this to the player(s) who have fallen out of sync in a meaningful way?  If the game did show a replay of what “actually happened” wouldn’t it have to pause the other player’s game while they caught up?

While in the sniping example, landing that headshot, getting that kill, can change the course of the match, it won’t do so in as much of a time-sensitive manner.  The dead player says “that’s bullshit” and then waits out the respawn timer.  Or, the player who missed says “that’s bullshit” and then prepares for their attacker’s approach.  The pace of action in a shooter is much slower.  If a fighting game tried to use predictive movement in the case of a fritzing connection, it would change the entire gamestate for both players, in a much more immediate way (as in, within a fraction of a second)

Adding a server in between the players in Smash wouldn’t improve any of the latency issues; it would only add a third potential point of failure.  The players need to be kept in lock-step.  If one player’s connection drops for a moment, both player’s game needs to be paused until they reconnect.

Why did i say it might help 4-player games?  Well, if all four clients are sending information to eachother, there are a lot more potential drops; adding a dedicated server would help somewhat, each player sending/receiving data to/from a single place.  Of course, there’d still be twice the potential points of failure, so drops would continue to be more common then in 1-on-1 games. Also, they probably just make one person’s switch the “server” and everyone else communicates with just them.  (they would use the same for 1-on-1 games too)

This is why online has more input lag, to remove anyone’s potential server advantage.  Also (and tbh probably more importantly) it provides a small “buffer” of inputs the game can continue to display in the case of a tiny connection hiccup.

A tangent on Tetris 99: idk if they use dedicated servers for it (probably they do to help prevent cheating?) but come on: Tetris barely needs to send any information.  How often do you watch other player’s tiny screens?  Unless I lose in the top 5, I don’t.  A desync would hardly be noticeable.  The only super important information sent is when a player is targeted, and when garbage is sent/received.  If I’m being conservative, that info is easily represented in 50 bytes.  If you want to update all the screens, that’s maybe like 10 kilobytes.

In conclusion: Sploon needs dedicated servers, Smash doesn’t, and Tetris 99 is fun and you should at least try it