#will make this my pinned next week probs

[ladytauria]

been sitting on this one for a bit, because i felt like it wasn’t finished, but i re-read it today &? it is. so enjoy this tiny bit of domesticity based around a headcanon i have~

under a cut even though it’s really short~

AO3

Tim doesn't cook much. It isn't that he *can't*—he’s more than capable of following a recipe. He used to do it all the time when he was younger, and burned through the meals Mrs. Mac brought. Now he just doesn't see the point. Why bother standing over a stove, prepping a meal for one, when he could spend his time better elsewhere?

Tonight, though... tonight is special.

Well—not really. It's just a Thursday. No significant holidays or anniversaries Tim is aware of. Just—a normal, boring day. But that’s the point. Jason is coming over, like he does so often now, and Tim is making him dinner. Because he can, and he wants to, and Jason deserves it. He’s always shoving food at Tim—over half of it homemade—and Tim… Tim wants to return the favor. Wants to express his appreciation, his affection, in the language Jason knows best.

So, here he is, standing at a stove in an empty apartment. For once, though, he isn't thinking of cold, empty halls or broken promises. Instead, he's smiling, humming off-key to himself as he stirs a pot of noodles.

He’d opted for something fairly simple. He doesn’t cook much, after all, and his skills are a bit rusty. Pasta is easy. Throw in tomato sauce, spinach and mushroom, breaded chicken, and parmesan—perfect.

He did buy boxed pasta, he’ll admit. And already seasoned breadcrumbs. But he made the sauce, chopped the vegetables, and grated the parmesan himself.

He’s draining the pasta when the door opens, and shuts again. Jason. He’s a little early, but that’s alright. He can hear him walking; the thud of heavy boots on hardwood. He knows it’s on purpose. Jason can be deathly silent if he wants to be. It makes Tim smile a little wider, that he isn’t.

“Somethin’ smells good, babybird. What’d you—“

Tim doesn’t have to look over his shoulder to know Jason’s rounded the corner to stand near the island.

“You’re cooking,” he says. Tim can hear his surprise, and smiles to himself.

“I am,” he agrees, adding the pasta to the simmering sauce and stirring.

“Huh. Need a hand?”

“No. It’s just about done,” Tim says. He flicks off the burner, reaching for the plates he'd set out. He offers Jason one, and they serve themselves, one after the other. Tim pours sparkling juice. Wine would be better, but they have patrol soon, and it’s better not to risk it. Jason doesn’t waste time digging in, and he hums appreciatively around his first bite.

“Damn, Timmy. You’ve been holding out on us.”

Tim shrugs, feeling warm. “It’s— I’m not— It’s no big deal, really,” he says. He’s no chef, not really. He can get by in the kitchen well enough to make things taste good, which was really all he needed growing up.

Jason bumps shoulders with him. “Don’t. This— It’s nice, babybird. What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” Tim says, shaking his head. “I just—wanted to.”

Jason says nothing for several moments. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Tim sees him swallow. “…thanks,” he says, quietly.

“Anytime,” Tim says softly, sincerely.

[yae-energy]

pick up the phone !!!

synopsis: my take on whether they’re a caller or texter

cast: yuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, nobara kugisaki

cw: cursing, usage of the nword, kinda proofread

a/n: sorta just filler work, i was in the mood to write smth but didn’t want to do too much. might make a part 2 with the second years

megumi - texter

do not expect this dude to answer ANY calls LOL

calling means you have to talk a whole bunch and he’d rather just…not

like it’s physically draining to him (same tho)

even so, bro is a dry ass texter, like he’s one of those people where you have to read it in his voice for it to not sound so dead

you could prob send him smth earth shatteringly hilarious and bro will respond to it like

“lmaoo” or “im dead”

like damn nigga put some enthusiasm into it 😭

his read receipts are off cause he has a habit of looking at texts and forgetting to respond. he figured if he turned them off he wouldn’t hurt anyones feelings by accident

the dnd stays on!!

he sends voice messages if he doesn’t feel like typing a whole lot

he doesn’t have contact photos for anyone, everyone got that nasty default letter one

has gojo muted cause he’s always texting him about dumb shit 😭

no one in his pinned

will text you out of the blue and ask if you wanna hang out

could be 2am but that won’t stop him

“wanna run to the gas station?”

“my nigga it’s 1 in the morning 💀”

“not reading all that, you coming or not?”

—

nobara - caller (specifically facetime)

this bitch loves being on the phone !!! especially with people she’s real, real, close with

expects you to pick up EVERY SINGLE FACETIME CALL and if you don’t best believe she’s finna spam text you

“bitch ik you saw my call 🤨”

“answer your phone rn ik you not doing nothing with your lonely ass”

she’ll eat you up fr if you don’t answer 😭

facetimes with her are lit thooo, like she always has a story to tell

“and then guess what happened!!!”

is a bad texter tho

like really bad

she’ll either answer in 3 seconds or 3 weeks, you’ll never know !!

has certain people muted if she doesn’t like them

only has 3 convos in her pinned and one is a gc with her, yuji, and megumi

gojo is blocked LOL

she blocked yuji once too and forgot to unblock him (he kept sending her those wolf memes)

—

yuji - both, but more of a caller

he loves phone calls !!! especially facetimes

he likes being able to see and hear the people he’s talking to

takes screenshots

he usually facetimes when he has like,,, chores to do? like if he’s gotta clean his room or something he’ll call so that way he can stay focused

likes when you talk about your day or if you have a story to share, he gets INVESTED

“what??? that’s kinda fucked up… what’d she do next???”

is lowkey an instigator

“me personally…. i wouldn’t let him talk to me like that”

eats on the phone!

bro has a whole mukbang set up don’t play with him!

he’s also a very engaging texter

has a perfect reaction photo for any situation

sends lots of tiktoks

i feel like when he’s expressing laughter he does the keyboard smash thing

or he’ll go like

“BYEEEE LMAOOO 😭😭”

everyone has a special name and contact photo

[coffee-writesthings]

I may or may not have been feeling inspired-- might try to expand it into a proper fic later but this is more of a refined-ish idea dump. A fic of a fic (Taking Running Blind by @thetriggeredhappy and having a similar plot with different main characters. Congrats, your peer pressure worked! :))

Summary: Spy is blinded, and after an earnest attempt to hide it, Engineer and Sniper notice (not crossteam btw, tho that would be another cool angle). They try to help him as best they can. (It's those 3 being shipped together, since I have trio relationships on my mind lately cus i read this rly good book with one in it it's called Iron Widow you should go read it rn)

At the moment it's more like an organized-ish infodump that I might turn into a proper fic at some point

Okay so Spy going blind, I think he would still be able to see light but nothing else. It'd happen because of some sort of injury that Respawn couldn't cover for some reason and that leads to Medic and Engineer getting anxious as all hell about Respawn. Medic would make Engineer take breaks, and it's during these breaks that he is trying to help Spy deal with day-to-day stuff.

I think the first to notice would've been Sniper, honestly. Looking through a scope it's not hard to assume that his sorta-friend is struggling with backstabs for a reason he can't place. What's going on with the Spook?

It gets even more obvious when Spy's knife lands, not into someone's spine, but their shoulder. it still does damage, but it's not a backstab. he's killed immediately by Pyro who was nearby and he's still blind. He thought maybe respawn would fix it but no nothing was fixed. Fuck.

Since he can only perceive light, he has to hide out for the rest of the match, using his Cloak and Dagger to remain alive and make an excuse as to why he wasn't seen on the field. I think he would hide out with Sniper, trying his damndest to not give the game away.

It's in this next half-hour that he starts getting used to how loud everything else is, without the visual clutter to distract him. For some reason he hears the other team's Heavy nearby, and it tips him off that that's actually the other Spy, using a new tactic.

The knife sinks into Sniper's back easily, but he never expected the second spy (our pov spy) to pin him down and start stabbing wildly, finishing him off with a carefully aimed gunshot before returning to the shadows.

Once the match is over, he makes his way back to the base, using the light and large colored arrows he can process as a guide. All of this is under the guise of his cloak, so nobody notices.

Or, at least that was the plan. He manages to fall into the Engineer, knocking both of them over.

"Spy what the hell are you trying to pull?"

"That's not your business." is the lousy attempt at a coverup he gives. If he knew the only way he could tell who he was talking to was by the sound of his voice... that would be bad for him.

"Then get off me, will ya?"

He does so without making eye contact, he couldn't imagine what his eyes looked like at the moment but it couldn't be good (they probs look normal, if the research i've done is correct)

There isn't another battle for two weeks, so during that time he rests up and figures out some very basic echolocation so he can make his way around the base. it's better, in his mind, to look competent than it is to be hidden. So long as nobody can tell he has a problem, that's fine by him.

~~~

Engineer and Sniper get to talking, and find they both think something's up.

"You think his sight's gotten worse?"

"I can only tell ya what I saw mate, and I saw him swinging blindly. You've seen how his stabs usually are, they're point-perfect on that specific spot on everybody's spines! Just doesn't make any sense."

"He did trip over me... Kinda thought it was some short joke but, now that'cha bring it up, it's kinda suspicious."

"He'd never want us to notice."

Engie snorts, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure he'd rather die than admit he needs help."

"What do we do then?"

"We help him, whether he admits he needs it or not."

~~~

The first way they try to help him is subtle, reaaaaal subtle. Sniper asks to take him on a walk, holds his hand and tries to talk to him about that day's battle-- he's a bit blunt but he's got the spirit. Spy complains some, but doesn't really say anything substantial. He's actually surprisingly good at not getting off-track (i've been doing things with my eyes closed as an experiment and your steps can legit get wobbly), using sniper's voice as an anchor of sorts

~~~

Engineer takes the next attempt at getting him to open up, just sort of chilling together though. It's a normal thing they do every couple of weeks to de-stress after battles. Today he thought that it would be nice to watch a tv show together, and it's some history thing idk. He describes some of the images to him, which makes Spy feel a mix of thankful and scared about-- Did he notice something? And he confronts Engie on it, asking what's going on?

"It's been both you and Sniper, what do you think happened?"

"There's no think to it. He pointed it out to me-- you botched a buncha backstabs and it looked like somethin' happened.

"This stays between the two of you and me..." he proceeds to explain what he knows about what happened. He does admit that he is, in fact, blind. He explains that he can perceive changes in light but nothing else. "It's... something like closing your eyes, permanently."

Engie is conflicted, having very little of an idea how to care for someone having vision in a state like that. He's especially not sure what to do in terms of telling Medic for instance (since respawn didn't fix it like expected)

~~~

Still though, he tells Sniper about it after staying up all night doing research on like a million specifics about vision loss (causes, treatment, what to do if it can't be fixed, etc etc)

"Huh, so what can we do right now?"

"He's gonna be real concerned about visibility, so honestly our best bet might be teaching him echolocation."

"You're kidding me!" he lets out a wheeze of a laugh, "Spy, echolocating? Yeah right. By the way when was the last time you slept?"

Engineer responds, "uh, yesterday."

Sniper proceeds to herd him into bed like a border collie, doing everything up to and including a brief attempt to pick him up over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Engineer blushes, maybe makes some joke about being a princess

~~~

So anyway they teach Spy how to echolocate (Sniper does, specifically, since he just forced Engineer to get some sleep).

Spy: 'this is a joke, right?"

Sniper: "do you want to do this without help or not? I don't see you being willing to get a white cane" (note: it's super good actually for figuring out ur surroundings and materials, i didn't think it would be as good as it looks but the way it works sounds really damn useful)

Over the next hour or so they do echolocation together, starting with simpler sets of noises (snapping, clicking of tongue, things like that) and then just walking and talking around the base. After a little bit, Spy is able to get a general idea (hehe i misstyped that at first to be gender. Spy is certainly able to get a gender alright) a general idea of the layout of the base. He can't really figure out the rooms without touch and counting the individual doors, and stairs are his worst enemy, but he can do the base mostly.

~~~

The next day is a CTF battle (completely spontaneous for some unknown reason) and Spy hangs out with the intel with Engineer (yknow what fuck it i'm being fancy this isn't 2fort it's Landfall, the foresty one), hoping that the administrator will just think he's having a bad day. They chat while Engie builds and tinkers, about all manner of things. Probably more about what Engie found and remembered in his research.

~~~

Anyway I've been sitting on this a few days, felt like sharing a collection of vibes which may someday be expanded. Btw writing this actually inspired me to take a different direction in an original work lol, I might try to share some of that in the future when I have proper snippets to share

[somewhereinthepines]

With Valentines day around the corner, what do you think Chris and Ryan might do (GP and ASB) if they could spend the day together? Not both versions spending the day together, but individually. So how GP might spend it and how ASB might. It would be outside of camp time, so ig Ryan might be visiting Chris or something depending on how things are. There wouldn't be any campers or anyone at camp, so I'm assuming they'd basically have the place to themselves? They'd have some privacy, enough of it to spend the day together as they'd like. So, I got to wondering about what they might do, both their GP versions and ASB versions. It can be as simple or a bit fluffy, smutty or mundane as whatever, I'm just curious how it'd go. I was thinking maybe both vers might do something smutty, more so GP vers than ASB.

Speaking of GP, not to rush or preassure you, but how's it going with it? I think I have an idea of what Ryan might do next, I had something of a light bulb moment, haha.

it’s a fun question! esp bc usually i don’t tend to think about my ships doing stuff for ‘special’ days or having a domesticated routine. with this being said, i’ll try to reply to the best of my ability, but it might read idk maybe weird? if so, i do apologise! usually, most of set-ups for ships that i have are kinda idk, just not super normal or smth somewhat normal happens within the universe, that isn’t. anyhow……

but let’s see, let’s see….

in ASB setting, ryan is more active one. and while he technically won’t care about vd, he might think that it’s a good opportunity to kinda trick chris into doing smth ‘romantic’ for that evening. even if bc he’s kinda pinning so hard, that he would cling even to symbolic stuff, despite it holding no significance for him on its own. i feel like chris would be slightly confused why ryan wants to go into town and hang out, and not idk, do what they do everyday. i picture, that ryan won’t be able to stick around for longer, than a week, and he prob used some lame excuse as to why he’s there at all. chris didn’t pry, but it was clear, that ryan most likely wanted to be away from home, esp if it happens during the time, when he and his lil sister still live with their mother. anyhow, i don’t think that they would do smth crazy that day, ryan would just try to score those points, without chris realising what’s going on. they prob would end their ‘secret date’ in a movie theatre. and like ryan would pick the last seats, and chris be there sweating, bc it’s around time, when he understand why ryan insisted on them ‘going out’ lol. i imagine, ryan prob would also do smth cheeky as getting one of those candies with words like ‘you’re the one’ or smth. after all ASB was all about romance being there in the air, but nearly gentle-like, bc chris is so afraid to spoil one of the few good things, that he has. but like ASB ryan does sorta enjoy that he can make chris squirm like this. there is smth funny about 20 smth guy relentlessly teasing a middle aged man in such a form. like where he’s aware, that chris is attracted to him, but clearly he needs more time or whatever. like, ryan won’t just give up lol. and i think, that one of the most hilarious parts of this whole thing is that kaylee would tease chris about finally going on a date for the first time in ages. so it’s basically ‘everyone know what it is, but you’re playing’ moment. if only ASB chris was as weak willed as uh, little hope’s john, things might have progressed way faster. but i feel like him and ryan just having that nice, isolated memory, that is pretty calm and seemingly ‘small’ is part of what made their relationships in ASB feel so….uh centred? even partly bc chris wasn’t dating anyone for years, and ryan prob never went on real dates with anyone before, bc he thought that it’s boring. but it’s not boring with chris. 

GP is a different kind of beast tho. also god forbid there be a full moon on that day, like dang. in general, i feel like ryan being alone with that type of chris in isolated camp ground would have a bit more tense feeling to it. there is just smth kinda so off about mister H sometimes, y’know? ryan not scared or anything, but he does feel how chris just kinda ‘shifts’, when he realises that they’re miles away from anyone else, and there is like just two of them and forest. nothing else. GP chris is kinda….well, low-key creepy like that, he might decide to ask ryan if he wants to go hunting with him that day. and ryan be like ‘you do hunt’, bc he didn’t peg chris as someone, who shoots things for sport, but chris seems to be tense, insisting that they’d do smth like that. so yeah, whatever, he guess? ryan naturally has no idea, that chris like really wrestling with his predatory instincts at that moment, he just needs to redirect it all somewhere. ryan does notice a lot of strange things about chris during that time, esp how he seems to just sorta know, where to seek a deer or how he can orient in the forest so oddly well and move without much of a sound. and i guess, in reverse to ASB, they find a deer and chris grips ryan’s hand before he can pull it away from the trigger, so they kill it together. ryan won’t sure how to feel, bc he didn’t want it to die. and he even less sure, when chris offers him to show how to separate fur from meat and all that stuff. for chris, it’s basic knowledge, he doesn’t treat it as smth big, but for city boy like ryan, it’s….odd. but he agrees, bc he doesn’t wanna look like a lil bitch, i guess lol. they spend that evening in blood and ryan is very dizzy and nauseous, when it ends. he was very close to chris during that time tho. they had their hands in animal’s organs together, feels kinda intimate, even if the situation itself is pretty iffy. in the end, chris tells ryan, that since he was the one, who killed it (not really lol), they should put that buck’s horns on some good display. so they do put it inside chris’s office, ryan even helps to pick a place for it. he isn’t sure why, but chris seems pleased and all that he can think of, despite that he kinda wants to shower and stinks like blood still (even if he’s in different clothes), is ‘wow our arms were next to one another, side by side, chris’s hand enveloped mine a few times to help me to move the knife’. If one would picture it in GP’s timeline, esp down the line, it would have made sense, i promise. like how strangely dark and gritty it is. love is a hunt, isn’t it? 

either way, this what i meant, that my answer might be strange. i wouldn’t connect them banging to idk some specific date or day or them being more active in that specific area just bc it’s vd. if anything, vd can be a bit symbolic in another sense. it is a day of lovers after all, but ASB and GP address a different side of chris and ryan’s love in itself. it can be somewhat healing and actually good, even if it won’t solve all of chris’s problems, or will automatically make ryan aware about everything like in ASB. but it can also be intense and a tad destructive like in GP. so it’s not about sex at all, i suppose. or more so, i don’t think that they will bang too differently in both setups tbh lol. chris still has a wolf in him either way, and ryan is still like hella horny in both stories as well lol. in ASB ryan tricking chris into doing smth on that specific day is kinda still light and pinning, and more of like extra point. just gives them a bit more context of how they kinda always been together like that, it seems. in GP, i bet that neither chris or ryan are aware, that it’s vd, and it’s smth that ryan learns later on, and be like, ‘oh we did it on that day, huh’. and then be a bit of high school gal about it, haha. 

ah, tbh i didn’t touch it at all. i have different hypefixation atm, and most of my freetime pours into doing stuff for my current ship / fav thing. i haven't brushed any of my supermassive wips. i know, it’s not fun to hear, but it is how it is atm. it’s hard to tell, when i will be interested in them again. like in ways, where i would want to rewatch stuff for the game or dwell back into my narratives for their pair. i’d be curious to hear what you think ryan might do tho. this version of him is sure daring and kinda short-sighted lol.

[megan-loves-surveys]

Yo.

Do you know anybody who is ambidextrous? Not that I know of.

Have you ever been 4-wheeling? No.

What’s the weather been like today? So far, it's a mixed bag - it's rained, but it's also been sunny. I'm hoping that rains goes away altogether before I have to go out.

What was the last exam you sat for? One for uni.

Will you be attending any weddings in the near future? Not that I'm aware of.

Do you currently have any unread text messages, and who from? No.

Speaking of text messages, what colour is your cell phone? Red.

Do you live anywhere near the woods? We don't really have 'woods' so to speak.

Would you ever consider a career in the tourism industry? Maybe? I did take Tourism at school haha.

Do you have any important anniversaries you celebrate? Oh yeah. My boyfriend and I's anniversary is in June, and I always celebrate Shield related anniversaries - like their debut and when Seth turned on them etc.

When was the last time you used q-tips? Dunno.

How does your hair react to humid weather or rain? It goes all weird and big haha.

What’s your favourite flavour of iced tea? Don't drink it.

Do you understand music theory? No.

How many hours of sleep did you get last night? 6 hours and 40 mins according to my FitBit.

Are you expected to act professionally at your job? Yes, cos I work in an office. But we're more casual with the clients we deal with a lot.

Infomercials: entertaining or stupid? Stupid.

What’s your favourite brand of energy drink? Red Bull and V are both good.

Do you have (or have you ever had) acne? Oh yeah.

When was the last time you got pins-and-needles? The other day.

Why did you click to take this survey? Cos I miss Bzoink and I just like taking them.

If you have glasses, have you ever smashed them? No, thank god lol.

How do you get new music? Buy or download or what? I use Spotify.

Have you ever sent someone an abusive text message? No?

Do you require a lot of time to do things or are you quick? Depends what it is. If it's typing or something like that, I'm super fast.

What will be the next concert you attend? I'm seeing Five tonight!!!!! <3

Turn the nearest television on, what’s on? I don't want to turn it on cos my Mum's still in bed.

How often do you “wake up on the wrong side of the bed”? Not that often, I'm usually fine once I actually get up and get moving.

Can you rap? No xD

What do you usually order when you’re at McDonald’s? Chicken nuggets, I don't like their burgers cos they cook onions in the patties now. Blegh.

Are there any textbooks near where you are right now? No.

What’s the time? 11:19am.

Do you know how to use a DSLR camera? No.

How’s your body temperature right now? My FitBit says my body temp was down 1C last night, so that's good.

Do you use Celsius or Fahrenheit? Celsius.

What was the last thing you got a really good deal on? Converse, pair was worth $160, I got them for 100.

Have you ever studied any ancient societies? No.

Do you like to wear long, dangling earrings? My ears aren't even pierced, lol.

What was the last reason you took medicine? Migraine.

Do you exercise regularly? Yep, I go to the gym 3 times a week and walk a lot in general.

What is your coffee of choice? (flat white, cappuccino, etc.) Mocha.

Do you pay any attention to your country’s politics? I keep a general eye on it, but I don't really like talking about it.

Are you feeling worried about anything right now? Not really.

Are you a gossipy type of person? I like to read gossip xD

When will your next meal be, and do you know what it will consist of? Lunch, prob a sandwich or crackers.

Tell me about the sickest you’ve ever felt. 2019 - it was the flu and it was so awful.

What’s your opinion on your in-laws, if you have any? Both of my boyfriend's parents have passed away, so that isn't a thing I have to deal with.

Do you make excuses often, or do you just get things done? Depends.

Have you seen your best friend today? No, I'll see her on Thursday at the gym probably.

What can you smell right now? Nothing in particular.

Any important birthdays coming up? Not really soon, but my boyfriend's is the next one.

Fireworks: yay or nay? Yay for proper organized displays, nay for personal use, waste of money.

Do you have any plans for the rest of the day? Yep, going to a concert tonight and meeting the band too <3

How about tomorrow? Any plans? I'm working. Yay...

Do you know how to do your own laundry or does someone else do it? My Mum does it, but I can do it too.

If you could eat or drink anything right now, what would it be? I'm fine for now, lunch is in about an hour.

What colour are your headphones? White, cos I have Airpods.

Think of the last long car trip you had, where did you go? Hmm... Helensville for the APW show? We left Auckland, it was that far away.

Do you have a Twitter account that you use regularly? I have one, but I haven't tweeted since 2022 lol.

Have you ever seen a horseshoe crab? They’re scary, right?! No.

What was the last movie you saw at the theatres? Bob's Burgers Movie lol, in 2022.

Are there any new movies that you’d really like to see? No.

If you could play one instrument flawlessly, what would it be? Guitar.

Do you overthink a lot of things? I can do.

Is there anybody you miss but can’t see again? Yes.

When was the last time you had a hangover? I don't really get hungover.

Do you remember much from high school? Loads.

Where would you go for the ultimate honeymoon? I don't want to get married, but if I did... I'd love to go to Japan or the USA.

Can you access the roof of the building you live in? No.

Do you know anyone who has a strong accent that is hard to understand? Not personally, but I do deal with people with thick accents at work on occasion. The best was this guy with a super strong Scottish accent, I could barely understand him but he sounded so nice haha.

If you had to get a tattoo tomorrow, what would you get? Mox's logo.

What was the last podcast you listened to? Do you listen to it regularly? I don't listen to them.

Are you more of an optimist or a pessimist, and why do you think this is? Optimist.

When was the last time you moved houses? 2016.

Have you ever held a gun? Did you fire it? No.

Do you like simple questions or deep questions that make you think? Depends.

How long have you been using Bzoink? I had it since 2009. Shame it's gone :(

When was the last time you threw up? Why were you sick? Dunno tbh.

Are you on a first-name basis with your boss? (or last boss if unemployed) I call him by his last name at work, but on the occasion we've all gone out for a drink, I call him Oliver xD

What brand is your laptop or computer? MSI.

Would you ever wear a bright orange shirt? Maybe. Would clash horribly with my hair though xD

What was the last thing you wrote in a word document? Something at work yesterday.

Who do you miss and what do you miss about them? Hmm.

What were the best and worst costumes you’ve ever worn? I don't really do costumes, but for Halloween last year my boyfriend and I went to his work Halloween party, the theme was uniforms xD I dressed as a schoolgirl haha.

Do you know anybody who is gay and married? Not personally.

What did you last take painkillers for? Migraine.

Are there any hobbies you want to get back into? Hmm, not really.

Have you ever shared a home with a friend? No.

What’s the craziest or weirdest place you’ve ever slept? A kitchen floor of a scout hall after a 21st birthday party LOL.

What did you have for lunch today and who made it? I haven't had lunch yet.

Do you believe in anything supernatural like ghosts or ghouls? Nah.

How many hours of sleep did you get last night? 6 hours and 40 mins.

Are you allergic to anything? How did you find out? Yep - some antibiotics, parmesan cheese, plums, all berries except strawberries and nickel.

What’s your favourite Thai dish? Dunno.

Do you have any alarms set? What time and what for? Not today, but I will have one set for tomorrow cos I'm working.

What are you going to do when this survey is over? Do another one.

Have you ever been on a date with someone you met online? How was it? Yes, it was fine, we went out for a few months.

What colour is the rug in your living area? We don't have one.

Do you call it a couch, sofa, lounge or something else entirely? Couch.

Who is your favourite character on Friends? Always and forever will be Chandler. RIP Matthew Perry. Runner up is Rachel.

When was the last time you used a pair of headphones and what for? I used my Airpods yesterday on my commute to work.

Describe the temperature of the area you’re in right now. It's actually a bit chilly, it's 18C, when it's usually in the mid 20s by now.

Who was the last very physically attractive person you saw? Jon Moxley, in a photo xD In person, my boyfriend <3

Have you ever had teppanyaki? Dunno.

How long does it take you to get ready before you go somewhere? Usually around 15 mins or so.

Do you find it difficult to get rid of material possessions? Yes.

What sort of games do you like to play? Pokemon, adventure games, strategy games, visual novels etc.

What was the last candy you ate? Good question tbh.

Have you ever been hit in the face? What’s the story? No.

Do you know anyone who is deaf? Yep.

Name one thing on your bucket list. Attend a Royal Rumble.

1 - When was the last time it snowed where you live? Do you like snowy weather or is it just a pain? It doesn't snow in my city, it's far too warm.

2 - Are you expecting any parcels in the mail right now? Not at the moment, surprisingly xD

3 - How long is it until your birthday? Do you have any plans for the day? It's not for almost five months (thank god).

4 - What was the last thing you had to drink? Water.

5 - Do you need to do any laundry right now? No, we did laundry yesterday.

6 - Who was the last person you got a notification from on social media? Is this person a close friend of yours? Lynnette, and she's my stepmum!

7 - Do you regularly buy things on credit? If so, how much do you owe on credit cards right now? I don't have a credit card, only a debit card.

8 - When was the last time you got a call from an unknown number? Did you answer or call them back? I don't answer unknown numbers. You want me to talk to you, reveal your number lol.

9 - When was the last time you got off work early? What was the reason and did you do anything fun with your extra free time? Last week when I was on data entry and finished up everything on my list, my boss told me I could leave an hour early, which ruled. I went to the gym and got it done earlier than normal.

10 - What do you typically eat for Christmas Dinner? Are you the one who cooks or does a family member do the cooking? My Mum cooks, and we usually have ham, chicken, roast potatoes, salad, cheese, pineapple, eggs and bread rolls, then for dessert a cheesecake or pie.

11 - What time did you wake up this morning? Did you get out of bed right away? 9am or so, and I got up to pee lol then went back to bed for a bit.

12 - Do you have any plans for the weekend? Are these plans typical for a weekend or are you doing something different? I'm going to a wrestling show with a bunch of people. I go to shows quite frequently, so this is normal lol.

13 - Would you like to work a job that involves going in and out of other people’s homes all day? (Like care work, painter, decorated etc.) No thanks. The office is fine lol.

.14 - When was the last time you had an injury? Was it a minor cut/scrape or something more serious? What happened? I hurt my hip last year while working out, I had to cut back on my workouts for a few weeks to let it heal.

15 - Do you ever watch movies or TV shows that require you to read subtitles? Oh yeah.

16 - What accents are your favourite? Scottish is the best!!! Also Irish is nice too.

17 - How many people have you texted today? Are these people friends, family members or something else? Just my boyfriend so far.

18 - Are you any good at DIY? What was the last DIY project you finished? Not my thing.

19 - When was the last time you had a haircut? When was the last time you dyed your hair (if you ever have)? I don't cut my hair lol. I dye it loads though - last time was in December cos it's expensive and lasts ages.

20 - Do you prefer wearing tight-fitting or loose-fitting clothes? I don't like baggy clothes, so tight please!

21 - Are you currently warm, cold or just right? Is the heating or air conditioning on to contribute to that feeling? I'm a tad cold, but it's not too bad.

22 - What was the last piece of good news you received? Was it expected? I got my VIP details for the Five concert tonight, I was getting worried it wouldn't show up cos other people said they got theirs.

23 - What colour socks are you wearing right now? None.

24 - Do you prefer hot coffee or iced coffee? What about hot tea or iced tea? I don't drink tea, and hot coffee.

25 - What are some of your favourite Christmas songs? What time of year do you start listening to Christmas music? Girls Aloud's Christmas EP is my favourite, it's half original tracks half covers. I start at the end of November or so.

26 - If you see cats wandering about in the street, do you stop and fuss them? Definitely! I love talking to cats xD

27 - Speaking of cats, do you own a cat? Are they a particular breed or just a moggie? Would you ever want a specific breed of cat at all? I wish.

28 - When was the last time you moved furniture around to clean behind or underneath it? Do you need someone’s help in order to do that? Hmm.

29 - Do you have any medications that you need to take daily? Is this something you’re going to have to do for the rest of your life? Not daily.

30 - Do you know how to start an open fire and keep it burning without using loads of wood? Is this a skill you use on a regular basis at all? No, never had to even think about that.

[500tabsopenatonce-500tabso-pen]

Happy Birthday to @sallietherpgnerd !!!💖💖💖

This drawing may be subpar, but the friendship we’ve cultivated over the past week is of the highest caliber. 💖💫❤️❤️🌷🌸💐🌼🌻🍀🌈🌈🌈🌟⭐️✨🍰🍨🎂🍫🍿🍩🍬💎💎💎🔮🧸🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎁🎁🎁🎉🎉🎉

[oysterie]

I understand why nintendo added the ability for cyrus to change color of the nmt furniture but as someone w the pink drink machine that ppl would regularly give me 20 nmts for when I set it to "name your price" it saddens me sm

[atsumnu]

⋆ ｡*✲ﾟ｡* 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒛𝒖𝒎𝒊 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 *｡✲ﾟ*｡ ⋆

✰ character — iwaizumi hajime

✰ request? — nope!!!

✰ warnings — none!

✰ a/n — this will be the first of my haikyuu boys headcanons series :◅) i plan to do everyone, so request who you guys want next here!!!

iwa's music taste makes him want to riot

he listens to rock music, i take no criticism there. good ol' three days grace, shinedown, linkin park, ffdp, you name it.

why he always looks so grumpy when he has his headphones in

he's just pumping his veins full of the angry™

leans on that shit when he's feeling down for sure

it's canon that he's not good a drawing

but since he finds so much comfort in the rock music he listens to, he puts in effort to at least kind of learn how to play guitar

electric, none of that pussy acoustic shit

he's good with his hands, what can i say

he always drives with his windows all the way down

sunroof is open too

could be 100 degrees or 0, they're still down

doesn't have bt in his car, so he keeps a bt speaker on his dash to play his own stuff

it falls off when he makes too sharp a turn so the music just comes from under the passenger seat smh

always reminds himself to get duct tape

never gets duct tape

sometimes he'll get fed up + listen to the rock station instead, def knows every song

mattsun, makki, and oikawa make fun of him for the speaker

he refuses to drive them around anymore

a TOTAL CAR GUY

prob drives an old mustang, you know the type

isn't super annoying abt it though

when he's older, he definitely gets tattoos

none on his arms because of work, but his torso and legs are COVERED

has ONE ear pierced, usually wear a black stud or cross

once oikawa replaced it with a safety pin while he was asleep

at first iwa was pissed but realized it was actually kinda cool + kept it for a while

HEAVY SLEEPER, LIKE A CORPSE

def has a thing for an s/o that's shorter than he is

insecure about his height

he's the shortest third year, it makes him all bubbly when his s/o comments on how tall he is

CAN'T DANCE

can hold his liquor really well, like it's actually scary how much he can drink

joins a frat in college

claims he does it for his resume

wants to be a player, but ends up catching feelings for his one night stands i—

loves tofu, so he thought he could go vegan for a while

it lasted at max like a week

[schnitzelbutterfingers]

"Come here, i need to hug you" for ethan x abby?

Here!

Mirani’s Confession

Book: Open Heart Book 3  Pairing(s): Dr. Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Dr. Abigail “Abby Chacko) || Past Dr. Zaid Mirani x Dr. Ines Delarosa) Word Count: 1400 Warning(s): tons of angst in the beginning, a bit of fluff in the end. Premise: Ines’s wedding reception , featuring Zaid’s emotions and lost love, Abby’s advice and Ethan’s promise.

Prompt(s): 

#17 from fluff: “Come here, I need to hug you.

Zaid’s POV

He stays seated, watching the reception sail away. It’s probably the first time a wooden chair is comfy to him. Well, it is white cushioned.

Everyone is grinning. Everyone is chortling. His twin brother, Baz, just fell down in his butt.

But he can’t bring himself to array any emotion. He is numb.

Zaid knows his heart is supposed to be full of life. Of joy. That his best friend is finally married. Ines Delarosa.

He won’t show it. Everyone understands how he shows delight through his moody behavior. It is very rare to see him smiling, even more rare than Ethan. Yet, he can’t move. If she’s happy, then he’s happy. That’s what he is supposed to do if he is Ines’s friend.

Friend.

“Zaid? Hello?”

A familiar voice interrupts his train of thoughts. At this moment, he effortlessly sports a scowl. Looking up at the voice, he realizes that it’s Dr. Abigail Chacko.

She’s beaming goofily. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Zaid.”

He softens his scowl and puts on more of a stoic face, looking at her straight through the eye. Dr. Abigail Chacko.

‘What is it?”

“You look grumpy.”

He sighs. “I always am.”

She sits next to him. “Fine. You look more grumpy. More than Ramsey.”

“Well, Ethan has been jolly-looking lately.”

She grins, most likely in acceptance, and a snug quiet overtakes them as they see Tobias and Harper walking into the photo booth. In the corner of his eye, he can see Ethan gazing at Abigail. Once she notices, she offers him a genuine-looking beam, to which he returns.

Zaid won’t admit it, but he wishes he had the same relationship as them with a special someone.

Ines.

Who is now enjoying her new beginning with her wife. She deserves it. She deserves everything.

Abigail furrows her eyebrows. “Alright, what’s wrong, Zaid? You know you can always talk to me...”

“Why would I want to tell you anything?” he snipes back.

“Because I care about you, believe it or not.”

They both have a mini staring contest. Abigail doesn’t give up, and he finally blinks once the wind starts blowing in his direction.

He sighs dreadfully. “Fine. Have you ever had this feeling where you fall in love with someone but that person marries someone else? And they’re happy with it?”

She appears to be demented. He doesn’t blame her.

“What are you talking about? I don’t...”

“Oh my-”

Instantly, her eyes showcase a light bulb turning on.

“You... you’re in love with Ines?”

Zaid suspires and reluctantly nods his head.

“Yes.”

A tense still overtakes their surroundings, with Abigail looking at him in a new light. He starts to regret everything he said.

“Look, don’t spread this around like wildfire. The hospital has enough rumors to destroy a doctor’s reputation, and I don’t-”

“Why didn’t you tell her you have feelings for her before?”

“...We dated for a while.”

Pin-drop silence between him and Abigail, other than the raucousness from the reception.

“And... I take it that it didn’t go well.”

“Well, you’re right about that.”

He sighs as his memory wanders to that unfortunate night in his townhome.

Flashback

“Zaid, I don’t understand. One day you want me in your apartment, and the next day you don’t!”

He has heard that the worst day of the week is Monday. While everyday is dreadful for him, Ines had made it more superior for him.

However today, it’s even worse. It actually fits with the rain pounding on his windows.

Zaid takes deep ragged breaths as she has tears clouding her eyes. He can see her trying to hide it.

Trying to mask her pain.

“Why do you push me away every time? It’s me! Ines Delarosa! Just let me in!”

“It’s because I DON’T WANT TO LET YOU IN!” he roars back.

Huge mistake.

His eyes widen.

Zaid tries to undo it. Every time he opens his mouth, however, no word comes out. He is shocked into silence. His feet is firmly rooted to the ground and makes no plans to move towards her and bundle her in her arms.

Ines stares at him blankly. No emotions splits across her face. 

Except her eyes. They turn light pink, misty, and a teardrop fails to hold on. 

It’s when she starts moving towards the door that he is fully conscious. He scrambles to hold on to her hand, not letting her go.

“Ines, I am so sorry...”

The latter takes in a shaky breath. “It’s okay. I... understand. But our relationship is not.”

His eyes widen. ‘What are you saying?”

Her eyes are filled to the brim with tears. “I am so sorry... but we’re over.”

And it’s then when his whole world begins to crash down.

Flashback ends

As the not-so-exciting story ends, Zaid has sentiment written across his face. And when he turns to look at his unexpected companion, so does she. Abigail clears her throat and finally speaks.

“And... how did you both move past it?”

“We didn’t talk for about a month. Obviously, we both needed space. We decided to stay friends, bust the best of it. We always hang out, always talk to each other. Hell, I was there when she came out as bisexual to her parents and friends.”

A puff of air sticks in his throat. “I was there when she told me that she finally found the love of her life. And I was, no, am so happy for her. Even if I’m not happy in the end, she’s happy. That’s all I really cared about. I love her, always have and always will. Nothing can ever stop me from doing that.”

“Is that why you were crying while you were reading your speech?”

“I was not-”

She gives him a look that silences him.

“...I was emotional. There.”

Abigail wipes her eyes at the drops that fell onto her cheek earlier. She then smiles.

“You know, you remind me of Ethan.”

His eyes broaden. “Really?”

“Yes, really. He has the same trouble opening up towards everyone. Ever since we started dating, he’s beginning to work on it.”

She sighs and turns to Zaid. “I know it is hard to believe, but somewhere in this world, a person is looking out for you. Your soulmate. Jest let them in. Open up. It’ll do you wonders, even if it’s hard to believe.”

“Alright... Thank you, Abby,” he gives her a nod and a heartfelt smile.

“No prob- wait. Did you just call me by my nickname?”

“Oh, for the love of-”

“Okay, okay! I’m leaving!” she chortles as she walks away from him, leaving him alone.

“Oh, and Abigail?”

She stops walking at his calling, turning her head around.

“Yes?” she asks.

“You and Ethan have a very unique and, dare I say, beautiful relationship.

And for the first time, he believes Abigail’s words.

Abby’s POV

Her mind is on Ethan and Ethan only.  The story left her reeling behind the remnants of heartbreak, and she does not want that to happen to her and Ethan.

She bumps into people and apologizes profusely, the piercing noise of music blaring through her ears. Finally, she sees him.

“Ethan!”

She doesn’t know how heard through the crowd, but he turns around and, giving her his signature smile, walks towards her.

“Abby. Finally,” he sighs in relief. 

Without responding, she drags his hand and follows her out of the party and into the hallway. His questions of confusion are ignored as she takes the elevator up one floor. Taking her key card, she opens the door to her lavish suite.

“Abby? What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

“Come here, I need to hug you.”

Instantly, he does. She is burrowed into his secure arms as she wraps her own around his waist. He kisses the top of her forehead and gently grabs her head, bringing it to his eyes.

Her own is full of turmoil.

“What happened?” he questions in concern.

“Nothing! I love you but...”

Quickly, Abby grabs his hand and brings it to her head, placing it there. 

“Swear on my head that you won’t carry anything on your own, that you will let me in no matter what. Swear,” she requests with passion.

Ethan wraps one arm around her waist and brings her to him. “I swear that I won’t carry anything on my own, and that I will let you in no matter what.”

His reiteration of his words are enough. Slowly she brings his head down to hers, kissing his lips slowly, but surely.

As he reciprocates the motion on his own, but with fiery passion, she feels trusted and coveted. She feels needed. Loved.

And she knows that her love story will be everlasting, unlike the heartbreaking ending of Zaid’s and Ines’s.

Under the moonlight, she knows it’s true.

Author’s note: This is probably not what you wanted oop- At least it has fluff in the end

Author’s note: Aight, that took a different route but I loved the heartbreak couldn’t help myself. Hope I did this justice, and I’m sorry if this wasn’t what you wanted :(

Tags:

Perma: @potionsprefect​ @gryffindordaughterofathena​ @maurine07​ @missmiimiie​ @mom2000aggie​ @natureblooms24​ @parkdoesthings​ @parkbarks​

Ethan x MC: @rookie-ramsey​ @starrystarrytrouble​ @sophxwithers​ @lucy-268​ @udishaman​ @ohchoices​ @ariandrine​ @mayatrueman​ @takemyopenheart​ @obsessedrookie​ @estellaelysian @sunsetsparade @xxtraord1nary @aleynareads

@openheartfanfics​ @choicesficwriterscreations

[elriel-oblivion]

So I started this in the last week of 2020, and I'm ready to post it 😊 I've still got a couple other wips I'd started before this one but I haven't been bothered to finish those lol so I'm putting this one out first. Anyway, this'll be 6 parts long; I'll prob put up the next part in three or four days.

I'll put word counts so you can gauge how long each part is and if you wanna read it 😅 Also lemme know if you'd like to be tagged

Word count: 2.2K

AO3

Ashes from the Deep

Part I

__

The shadows were colder than usual tonight. On better days, their chill wrapped Azriel's bones in an icy embrace, a comforting freeze numbing any semblance of feeling in his wasted heart.

But this miserable night, they were searing cold, the kind of cold piercing the highest of mountain peaks; the kind of cold that penetrated the brain itself. He shivered as he travelled through those shadows, dark mists and wisps coiling like vines about his head.

Maybe he was deliberately searching for the coldest areas. Maybe he wanted a complete absence of feeling: physical, emotional, spiritual. It would certainly be easier to feel nothing than trying to quell the frigid rage inside. How could an avalanche be stopped once it started?

Further and further he moved through his shadows, dawn chasing him from a few hours away. Mountains and villages surged past through those charcoal mists, making way to depthless forests and ravines. He clenched his jaw tight against the cold, memory guiding him home.

But the fresh blood he'd seen earlier, and the mutilated remains of that little girl, one wing torn off and lying bent at the edge of the dirt path ... Her unseeing eyes were glazed, that shine as bright and true on his mind as the glint of moonlight on the blade of Death. And her scream. Cauldron, it curdled his own blood.

He'd been but a minute late. A matter of seconds were all that stood between him and the sadistic bastard who'd brutalised that child. Barely a heartbeat in his lifetime.

He blinked once to rid himself of her stare. Twice.

The image remained, muddying with his path home. His hands clenched and unclenched, nails biting into his skin, but the girl's hazel eyes and her ashen skin and the fingers outstretched for that severed wing remained an imprint on his vision.

Why was this affecting him so much? It wasn't the first time he'd seen horrors like this. But if Azriel wanted to be honest with himself, some days were harder than others simply because they were. Some days, the despair rattled his core and tossed him far out - because he was a person and emotions, feelings, these things were too abstract to be boxed in.

Everything had a limit. Had Azriel ever truly reached his?

Sometimes Azriel himself didn't understand how he kept it all in. How he didn't react or display any sign of having seen or heard the things he did. Sometimes he was repulsed by himself because of it. At least Cassian and his rare vomiting showed some of the humanity inside.

Azriel gave away nothing. Was there even humanity in himself? Everyone but his family looked at him like he was an unhinged monster imprisoned by his Illyrian skin. Like he was moments from escape and they would be his first victims.

Or - not just his family. Her. Elain. Did he consider he family? Perhaps it was too early, or even too inappropriate to do so.

Either way, how could he stain the sudden image of her with himself, with the horrors he'd just seen, had always had the displeasure of seeing? She was lovely and warm and beautiful and he was dark and cold and hideous.

Elain. Something inexplicable stirred in him at the thought of her.

He tried to calm it, this heat, this single star in his midnight sky. But it remained. And it grew.

And he was disgusted. Ashamed. He was not worthy of her.

And it ached. Another unrequited love.

That word snapped something in him. Mocked him.

Love.

A choking sound ripped from his throat and he welcomed it, let it mount into a scream, let it tear through his body and soul. Like that monster was finally breaking free. It was invigorating yet scorching. It burned him from the inside out but the cold of those shadows permeated his mind so heavily, he forgot the essence of corporeality and only his soul seemed to drift.

His ragged breathing sounded, throat parched. Where was he? Through the shadows, all around him, there seemed only darkness. Was he flying? No, the shadows sang their usual baritone thrum as opposed to the high harmony of the wind.

Above, no stars glistened. His eyes strained but nothing peeked through. It wasn't often that his shadows became this thick; usually thin and wispy, they now shrouded his being, coalescing over, in him. He became the cold, a shadow, darkness itself, floating through the ether, higher and higher like ashes on the wind.

But even ashes settled down at some point.

Unless his soul truly were ascending, unless this truly were death. It almost seemed too easy. All the battles, those two great wars, the poison that shot through his veins and stole his breath as per Hybern's whim. Poison that sometimes woke him up in cold sweats, a phantom memory of its iciness picking through his body as though he were being cut up by the sharpest blade ...

Sometimes it even felt like his own blade.

No, this couldn't be death. A mere scream, the image of lives lost, a bloody fight - he hated to admit that these were commonplace among his memories, his life. But in doing so, he knew death was too easy an aftermath for what had happened tonight.

Death, an ascent. But he was sure when his time came, his stained soul would descend like the demon he was.

So he grounded, drifting down weightlessly until the solidity of rock steadied him. He would not go to that darkest of places yet. But he was still exhausted. So damn tired of everything. He feared that if he dropped into a slumber right now, he'd not get up for a lifetime. As it was, his legs almost gave out, but he forced some remaining strength back into them. All he had to do was get home now.

He stepped out of his shadows; Devlon's camp was quiet around him. A fire to his far right sputtered in the harsh winds and Azriel swept himself back into his shadows.

This time he travelled faster, composing himself, locking his muscles and bones up, clenching his jaw. He let that familiar cool comfort drain his rage, cleaning it through his veins before it settled in the frozen lake of his heart where the rest of his darkness lay, inescapable through the impenetrable foot of icy wrath and sorrow. He savoured his shadows, a confidant in their own right, thanked them for their understanding and the escape he found within them.

But they were growing warmer now. Azriel squinted through them as they shifted him across land and water - the scape of Velaris and its brilliant lights greeted him. Closer to home now, he could breathe with a looser chest but this was still unusual; his shadows shouldn't be warmer, they should be cool and refreshing, like the autumn night breeze beyond.

His wings rustled, body reacting to his shadows' autonomy before his thawing mind caught up. 'Where are you taking me?' he murmured.

Mist swirled about him and the shadows deposited him at the far edge of the dimly lit back garden at his High Lord and Lady's riverfront estate. Why would they bring him here? Rhysand and Feyre were at the mountain cabin, Cassian and Nesta were together in Illyria and Mor was at the Winter Court. As far as he knew, Amren was at her own apartment so the only person left was -

'Azriel!' came Elain's voice. It was distant in a way it shouldn't be.

Azriel leaned against a tree, pretending to fiddle with the Siphon atop his left hand. Breathing was difficult but he swallowed and exhaled in a shudder.

He needed to fully compose himself before anyone saw him like this. If only his damn shadows hadn't taken control for those last few moments, he'd be in his own home and lying in that swirling darkness in peace. Though, he supposed, it was his own fatigue that had yielded that control.

'Azriel!' Elain cried, stopping in front of him. Her face was caught between a frown and a wince and her arm was raised slightly. 'You don't look okay.'

As always, he was momentarily stunned by how unafraid this small female was of him. Here he was in his full armour, every bit the monstrous warrior that sent his people scurrying into their homes and locking their doors, and yet Elain stood strong before him. Like she saw not a killing machine but a person.

She never even commented on how his shadows made to disappear around her. Perhaps she hadn't noticed.

He swallowed before he let out what he thought was a light laugh. 'I'm fine, don't worry.' But he could hear the hoarseness of his voice, now facing the consequences of that scathing scream. And his limbs felt even heavier than before, like someone had injected liquid lead into them.

'You don't have to pretend with me, Azriel,' she whispered, lowering both her gaze and arm.

He paused, trying to catch her gaze. The constant light in her eyes whenever she looked at him was a balm to his soul. He could use some of that right now.

He reached out an arm, so impossibly leaden right now - if he could just get to sit down -

'Can I wash your hair, please?'

He started. 'You want to wash my hair?'

Elain's eyes flicked back up to skirt over his, up to his hair, where they stayed pinned. 'I'm positive that's mud and you shouldn't sleep with that in your hair. It'll only take a few minutes.'

Shit. He hadn't even thought of his appearance after that bloody fight earlier. How that had slipped his mind? He ran a hand through his hair, and surely enough, crumbs of dirt rained down.

Although, he really hadn't expected to turn up here of all places. In the privacy of his own home, he wouldn't have cared if he were missing a whole damn limb, if only it meant he could sleep like the dead.

Not to mention that sleeping with a little mud was the least an Illyrian warrior's problems. But Elain's care was something of a punch to his gut. When was the last time someone had truly tended to him for reasons that weren't battle or holiday related?

'You've managed to get some on your face, too,' she said, brow furrowed as she stared at his cheek.

Her eyes were so deep and focused, he wished they would just meet his once. But of course, that level of scrutiny he'd come to learn from Elain meant shyness. Just shyness. She was so endearing, he could've laughed with such fondness if he weren't so damn tired. He wished this whole damn night would be over already.

His leg faltered slightly and he stumbled forward.

'I'm washing your hair. It'll help relax you into falling asleep.'

He raised his brows at her, but she simply took his arm and began leading him towards the house. She looked so small before him but didn't slow despite dragging his bulk behind her.

Halfway across the garden, he pulled her to him with his free arm, his shadows saving the both of them the energy of walking through that mansion of a home.

'My bathroom,' she murmured. Elain didn't balk through the five seconds of that darkness, didn't even look surprised. She showed no sign of hearing the spike in his pulse either. Thank the Mother.

He set them in her bathroom, and she didn't look at him once as she flitted around the chamber, pulling a chair from her bedroom to the sink and grabbing a towel, soap and a jug from the cupboard. Standing there, his breathing began to smooth out.

The window was open, a chill breeze sweeping in. The faelights were dim and their placid light sent a dusky illumination over Elain's features. Some bottles of oils and herbs sat on the edge of the bathtub. Azriel had heard of people using oils for bathing, but herbs? Perhaps they were like flower petals, used for their scent.

Towel in hand, Elain waited at the sink, placing the soap and jug down. 'I think you'll have to collapse your armour for this.'

Azriel nodded, tapping his Siphon. Within seconds, that second skin of cold scales and gleaming wrath was safely stored away. Just his plain black trousers and tunic were left.

Elain's eyes caught every moment of the transformation. 'It's beautiful, all of it.'

He didn't even know if she was speaking of his armour or the basic clothes underneath or what, but his face warmed slightly, wings rustling.

'Please sit,' she said, gesturing to the chair. As he did, she wrapped the towel around his shoulders, fingers hovering above his forehead for a few seconds.

Those seconds felt perennial. He almost shuddered as her fingers made contact with his skin. Her hands were so gentle as they pushed his head back, and he shifted in the seat. He lowered his wings, and she stepped into the space he provided. She was still as he got comfortable, only turning the tap once he was settled. There was a slight crease between her brows, and he clenched his fists to keep from smoothing it out.

Sounding so much like his own mother that his throat tightened, she whispered, 'You can close your eyes.'

So he did.

__

Feedback is welcomed, thanks for reading 😊

[funkin-news]

ninjamuffin ama summary - 9/28/2021

you know the drill, purple text is me paraphrasing, everything else is direct (or almost direct) quote, FNF-related stuff only

Q: What is one common misconception about FNF or its development that you wanna clear up?

A: im not the sole creator, im not some sole director. Each of the boys have very important roles with the game. This isn't just 1 dude having tunnel vision about a game, its generally all us coming to similar conclusions on where we want to take the game and what we wanna do wit it

Q: why

A: because I love video games and I love newgrounds

Q: Do you or the team plan to go back and make the older weeks higher quality?

A: that will definitely happen. both for general polish, and things leading up into future weeks / story or whatever

Q: Why did everyone think Week 8 was gonna come out on the 22nd?

A: accidental "teases" (Dave's MC-related doodle), madness day, general anxiousness bc the devs haven't been sharing much

Q: What kind of QOL changes are being added in the future?

A: charting editor improvements is one

Q: What is the most insane, most likely impossible to happen person you would like to collaborate with, could be Funkin related, could be just a personal project

A: the girl reading this

Q: Is Cassette Girl week 8?

A: no

Q: Is there concept art for the characters, or did they look the same during development?

A: GF looks exactly the same as the first ever drawing PhantomArcade did. There's a few small lil variations for a good chunk the other MAIN characters, one day u will see all them

R: can you explain the old bf icon? or is it just a dumb placeholder?

A: just a cool ass lil icon evilsk8r did during the game jam weekend

Q: Are you letting yourself getting inspired by more different genres of music for future weeks?

A: i think that more a Q for kawaisprite, but that man loves music, and can and does get inspired by anything he listens to in regards to music

Q: Why has the team been so silent about update progress?

A: They do better working in silence than hyping things up; when Week 6 was teased working on it became really stressful for them. Also, element of surprise

R: but youve been silent abt week7 on desktop for months, half a year. & week 8 is like….. nonexistant

A: week 8 isnt nonexistant, we just absolutely do not want to talk about it whatsoever. i said all the week 7 stuff will come with week 8 update

Q: what do you genuinely think about the people thinking you guys scammed people out of $2 million? just curious is all, i’ve seen lots of people talking about it rn

A: i think people are a bit wary about kickstarter, and makes sense when people's coin is on the line. if u want a breakdown of what we used KS coin so far, we spent maybe 2K of it on some development stuff we needed, most other expenses been paid from our savings / donations, etc.

Q: When does the OST come to the backers?

A: Kickstarter vinyl OSTs still need to be manufactured, which would take at least 6 months because of a global PVC shortage, completely out of our control. what is in our control is that we also still need to finish up and finalize artwork for it, the boys wanna make it all perfect. Same goes for CDs, but those should be done way sooner

Q: You got a date range of when Tshirt / Poster / or Pin surveys will be out by any chance? 👀

A: kickstarter tshirts / poster / pin stuff have been coming along nicely and hopefully those surveys should be coming soon, prob next few weeks

Q: Do you guys think you'll experiment with other artstyles in future weeks?

A: yes, cuz we've already done that (week 6) theres a lot more where that came from

Q: if you could isolate one part of the game and say it’s your favorite what would it be

A: the fact that FNF is our pure creative vision, with absolutely nothing getting in the way of that. Open source free Newgrounds rhythm game with crazy zany kawaisprite music, and stylish and charismatic animation and art style. and game been successful because of all of that.

Q: what do you think about people compiling the full ass game and playing it without paying anything

A: that makes me happy

Q: what do you think of all the mods and stuff people has made about your game

A: mods make me happy

Q: any inspiration from doki doki literature club for the weird stuff in week 6?

A: no, but some of the cool lil programming things DDLC did do interest me

Q: How do we know you're working on the game

A: you don't, and really it doesnt matter all too much. we being productive and things are moving forward, and people not believing that doesnt change that

And now, a speech:

i think trying to focus on keeping hype and keeping game popular can very easily be hollow. We have no worry about trying to keep hype or relevancy or anything like that. If FNF popularity shrunk to 0.1% of it's size, we'd be content, cuz that's still like 1000% more than before

"before" referring to anything we did before FNF.

you can lose success just as easily as you got it, and for FNF, it got successful INCREDIBLEY fast. With that in mind, it's just the nature of things if it all loses relevancy.

So far FNF doing good through the year, but if it wasn't, it's no real sweat off our back.

Although it's uhhh easy to look at it that way from our perspective. Get back to me and see if my thoughts on this has changed if FNF is forgotten from all memory.

Q: will there be a sequel to the full ass game? Like 'the full a2s game' or something clever like fast & furious movies do

A: friday night funkin: tokyo drift

[punz4lyfe]

Pokemon Journeys Episode 86 Review

Pokemon Journeys Episode 86. Let’s review:

This episode was pretty alright. Could’ve been just a tiiiiiiiiny bit better, but still alright.

Going by things one-by-one, not only Bea should’ve had a reaction to the newly evolved Sirfetch’d (calling back to her first battle with Ash), but Sirfetch’d REALLY should’ve been the one to take down Hawlucha. The dude was able to find an opening in Machamp’s Bullet Punch barrage and utilize Brutal Swing by throwing his shield like a boomerang and he just gets taken down by a single Sky Attack, even though he was more than capable of taking down a Gallade? Fucking hell. While Pikachu’s strategy of pinning himself to the ground with Iron Tail before using Quick Attack’s vibrations was cool, it would’ve been even more satisfying for Sirfetch’d to get some of his redemption too, especially since Ash more than likely won’t battle Bea again after this episode.

Thankfully, Lucario was able to get his own revenge against Grapploct. I would’ve complained about Pikachu not utilizing Static to paralyze with Grapploct or Machamp, potentially activating Guts for the latter to make Lucario’s final fight more intense, but let’s be honest, that ability has been retconned away since Best Wishes. Welp.

Mega Lucario vs. Gigantamax Machamp was cool, albeit, a bit slow as well. Some of Machamp’s hits didn’t feel like they had the right amount of impact they should’ve had and it was a bit jarring to see him do better in its base form. His attacks should’ve been super heavy and devastating, forcing Lucario to rely on more nimble strategies his own agility and Double Team to avoid taking heavy damage. Things would’ve been cooler if Lucario used his smaller size to sneak up from behind Machamp with Double Team or make him hit himself my running and jumping all over him. Despite that, it was cool seeing Ash and Lucario’s auras resonate with each other throughout the match, a callback to Lucario’s debut episode in Journeys as a Riolu. Initially, I would’ve been a problem for Ash and Lucario to just suddenly be masters of Mega Evolution without any prior training, perhaps with Lucario becoming mad like Korrina’s in XYZ, but since it was established several times that Ash and Lucario’s bond was incredibly strong (possibly to their connection to aura), even described like that by Korrina herself, I guess it’s excusable. And Steel Beam’s okay; gives more attack rep for Gen. 8 and could work great with Reversal. Just wish his moveset was just a little more versatile than that.

And this is why the 4-move limit present in Pokemon media since Gen. 1 is fucking stupid and needs to die. I am not fucking kidding. Expand it to something more fun and versatile like 6 moves at least! Seriously, how is this the one thing over ALL the generations of games that has not been tweaked for the better once?

With that said, I am glad Bea will likely not have any notable appearances after this. She’d probs just make mere rooting cameos from here on out at best, but I seriously cannot take anyone who focuses on one fucking type seriously as a rival. And looking back at this episode’s ending and the one with Volkner, yeah, Ash is definitely gonna battle his way up to Leon while taking down folks like Lance and Cynthia along the way. So yeah, cool.

Also, can the whole tease for the Lucario and Cinderace rivalry shown in the opening just fucking die now? I think we’ve pretty much established at this point that Cinderace stands no fucking chance against Lucario, even if he were to get Gigantamaxed. Yeah, try to prove Cinderace can beat Lucario, I fucking dare.

But anyways, 9/10 for me. Next week’s episode’s looking to be a bit cool, pun intended. Kinda wished for May to be the one to show her Glaceon to Eevee, but eh, oh well.

[halpertstuna]

red cheeks - jj maybank

A/N: this was supposed to be a short blurb but you know me, i always have to add way too much details. so let’s just pretend it is. don’t know how i feel about this but i hope you guys enjoy(:

quick reminder, REQUESTS ARE OPEN<3

-> prompt list <-

pairing: jj maybank x reader

word count: 2,171

summary: jj knows you always have something to say and gets suspicious when all of the sudden you stop talking back.

warnings: maybe like one mention of smoking, cursing, probs typos and i think that’s it really, if you notice something else lmk

-> masterlist <-

(gif credit: @anakin-skywalker )

—

Ever since the day JJ first met you, he’s been nothing but a flirt, and you always had something to say about it. Whether it was a sly comeback, a witty comment or a mean burn. From eye rolling to flipping off, you never let him forget he’s got absolutely no chance.

But lately, you’ve been awfully quiet around him, as if your hard exterior all of the sudden became much softer.

And he noticed.

The first time he became aware something changed, was one Thursday afternoon. You parked your car in front of the chateau, exiting it, then made your way towards five folding lawn chairs, two of which were occupied by Pope and Kie’s butts.

“Hey! We haven’t seen you all week! I guess you got John B’s text” Kie greeted you with a warm smile.

You plopped down on an empty chair beside her, filling it with your presence. “Yeah, I’ve been busy,” you stated as you looked around, followed by the question “where is the idiot anyway?”

“i’m right here!”

JJ said like a frisky pup, exiting the chateau as he took a swing of his almost empty beer bottle.

“surprisingly enough, i’m not talking about you this time” you retorted, smiling at him sarcastically.

“He ran out of liquor and chips, so he went to the grocery store to get some more” Pope answered your already forgotten question as JJ’s essence filled the air.

“What do you need him for anyway?” Kie questioned, “I need to talk to him about something”

“You can always talk to me princess” JJ said through a smirk as he sat on the armrest of your chair, then brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, expecting an elbow in his ribs. But nothing followed his action. That’s when he perceived the faintest of flushes creeping up your cheeks.

At the beginning he thought nothing of it, but the way you practically flew out of your lawn chair with John B.’s arrival, made him a bit skeptical.

When John B. parked the Twinkie you offered to help him put away the groceries, and walked him inside with bags of food, snacks and beers in your hands.

As you assisted in unloading the contents of the bags to the fridge and cabinets, he trailed off “So...did you tell him?”

“Shhhh!” He cackled at your reddening face “keep it down Rutledge! Or I swear to god I’ll sew your mouth shut, you indiscreet meatloaf.”

John B. was your best friend far before the other pogues came along, he knew you like the palm of his hand. He always suggested you had a thing for JJ and that you rather enjoyed the attention he gave you, yet you always revoked his claims, stating he was nothing but annoying.

Until you realised John B. might have been right all along.

It happened last Friday. You guys threw a kegger at the boneyard and for the first time, you actually took notice of how JJ gave all of his undivided attention to some touron.

As you stared at the tan boy, you found yourself wishing it were your hip he was caressing.

Suddenly he paid no heed to your existence and that’s when you realised all of your feelings and responses to his so called annoying actions, were you denying yourself to him. And as he talked her up through his enchanting smile, you realised you didn’t want him to give that teasingly, flirty care towards anyone but you, and for a brief moment you found yourself actually missing his antics.

Luckily, you were quite gifted with the ability to hide your feelings, almost no one could see through you. Just almost. Of course you couldn’t hide anything from John B., just by the way your eyes flickered past JJ as he led the touron to the spare room, he noticed something was wrong. Different.

Later that night he nudged you until you broke, admitting your feelings for JJ were true, and during that week, he kept trying to convince you to tell him how you feel. With no luck, you hadn’t said a word. Instead, you had been trying to avoid JJ by avoiding the rest of the pogues.

“Well, did you?”

“No you melon, if I had I would’ve told you, obviously”

“Okay Juliet” he teased and you poked his side making him flinch then chuckle.

“No but seriously, you should do something about it”

“Do something about what?”

JJ chimed in, walking towards the two of your figures that were sat on the kitchen counter.

“Nothing” you said simultaneously. You started feeling nervous and decided to jump off and walk out, leaving the two alone inside.

JJ had a bewildered expression on his face, he was expecting a ‘keep your nose out of my business’, yet instead you just walked passed him avoiding eye contact, which was very uncharacteristic of you.

“What’s up with her today?”

JJ asked as he hopped on the counter, taking over your former spot next to his best friend.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on, you couldn’t have possibly missed that. She is way nicer to me than usual”

John B. shrugged his shoulders, as if he didn’t know what he were talking about.

Curious, JJ couldn’t help himself, “So... did she ask about me?”

John B. rolled his eyes at the question, he was fully aware that all of JJ’s courtship wasn’t completely an act, he knew JJ was fairly infatuated with you, yet he felt it wasn’t really his place to interfere, knowing you have the right to tell him when you’re ready. And even though he did try to push you to do it, he still knew where to draw the line, not selling off either of his best friends to the other.

“Yes”

JJ looked at John B. wide eyed waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t he impatiently blurted “well!? What did she say!?”

“I believe her exact words were ‘what can I do to get that nitwit to leave me alone’”

JJ jabbed his side and in reply, John B. smacked the back of his head gently, saying “what is with you guys and my ribs today? Leave them at peace you feisty goon”

“She didn’t actually say that right?” JJ tried to play it cool, pretending it didn’t really bother him but it was apparent to John B. he somewhat cared.

“I’m just joking dude, ask her yourself if you want to know so badly” He replied as he too, hopped off the counter joining the rest outside.

At the beginning, JJ was only inquisitive by your behavior, but with time he got suspicious.

You didn’t only stop talking back but stopped being around him as well, like two days later, it was the moment he stepped foot in the chateau that you were all of the sudden in a hurry to leave although only seconds before you were talking about how comfortable the couch was and how you never wanted to get up. Every time he was around, you avoided his eyes, touch and tried to ignore his overall presence, you talked to everyone regularly but whensoever he’d tempt start a conversation, you’d shy away.

He didn’t understand what happened, he even contemplated the possibility you were mad, yet it made no sense, for he couldn’t recollect a reason to why you would be.

He couldn’t recall saying or doing something that could hurt you either, so the only alternative left to think of, was that you actually began hating him.

Unbeknownst to him that your attempts at avoiding him were for the exact opposite reason.

You were petrified that if you told him and he didn’t feel the same way, it would ruin everything.

Sure, he always pinned after you, constantly reminding you how much he did want you, but that was just JJ. He hit on every girl with a heartbeat, you never thought of his gestures as anything more than his sheer nature. So you never even considered to confess your feelings for him.

Two weeks have passes by since you guys all sat together at John B.’s, two weeks since JJ developed his suspension.

You were doing a history assignment when your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up then reflecting on the glass of the framed picture of you and the pogues that was sitting on your nightstand. You decided to ignore it in favour of the unfinished essay, knowing if you checked it now you’d be stuck on your phone for ages.

A couple of hours passed by and you completed all of your work.

You rushed to pick up your phone, practically collapsing onto your bed, ecstatic that you finished and can finally rest. You unlocked it only to find out your very much needed break was over. You had a text from John B. asking you to come over to the chateau asap.

You reluctantly got up and drove to the chateau, wondering what could possibly be so urgent - but not urgent enough to call.

As soon as you got there, you noticed a mop of blond locks peaking out of the hammock, you immediately recognised them as JJ’s.

You tried walking passed him but his words halted you in your tracks.

“He’s not in there,” you turned around to meet his drowsy figure laying on the hammock with a lit joint resting in between his lips.

“And hello to you too” he added, knowing you saw him.

“Hi” you walked closer to him, lips curving into a faint smile.

He diverted his gaze upwards, it was quite for a few moments, then he asked “Are lobsters mermaids to scorpions?” mesmerised by his own question he narrowed his eyes, making you giggle and roll your own.

“JJ, how high are you?”

“Six foot, why?”

You scrunched your nose at his answer, face palming at his stupidity.

“Well i should probably go look for John B.,” you declared beginning to make your way towards your car when he admitted, “I actually sent you that text”.

You turned around with furrowed eyebrows to meet his guilty eyes.

“I’m going home JJ”

“Wait! Please, stay” he plead. “I wanted to talk to you, and I wanted it to be face to face but I knew if the text was sent from my phone you wouldn’t be here right now”.

It took you a moment to comprehend his words, his actions, eventually realising it was true, you gave in. You approached the hammock signaling him to move and he obeyed, you got in and laid beside him, hands on your stomach as an awkward silence filled the air.

“Well, did you swallow your tongue or something?”

He was actually thinking about a way to ask his question in a gradual manner.

“how come you’ve been abnormally nice to me lately?”

But failed.

“what do you mean?”

“oh come on, you‘re nicer than usual”

“i mean, i’ll punch you in the face if you want” you asserted confidentiality as if you didn’t understand what he was talking about.

“I’m serious! First you started ignoring my comments which is very unlike you, since you always talk back. But then you started ignoring me in general. It’s like you always seem to be away when I’m around or at a distance when I try to engage conversation. What’s up with that? Are you mad at me, did i do something?”

“What? No JJ, you didn’t do anything”

“Then why?”

You stayed silent, not wanting to admit you had feelings for him. He continue throwing possibilities, trying to justify your actions, going crazy but knowing you probably won’t tell him what’s going on. And you only grew redder by the minute.

“I mean it’s either I did something to upset you, or- Wait a minute-“

He turned to look at you, a mischievous smile of realisation painted across his face, “you like me”

Your eyes widened, mouth slightly agape as you didn’t know what to say yet still tried to stall “I will squeeze your kneecaps”

“You didn’t say no!”

“Why did you get high anyway?”

“It took you two hours to get here, I thought you weren’t coming- Ah! You’re trying to change the subject! you didn’t say no!”

“Just shut up and kiss me you dill hole”

With no hesitation he launched his entire body to his left in an attempt to hover over you and do as told, but instead, he ended up flipping the hammock upside down, hurling both of you onto the solid ground.

You were out of breath as you guffawed, the sound of your heavy laughs mingled filling the air, when his hand found its way to your hair, pulling out a leaf that was tangled in it.

He brushed the loose locks behind your ear, his eyes holding nothing but utter adoration towards the girl beside him, since he now knows, he will never cease to make you blush.

—

taglist:

@infinitelycharmed23 @queenofthepouges @bibliophilewednesday @bijleegiregi @princessnnylzays

feel free to add yourself to my taglist!

[carnationcreation]

can you do 15 with reggie peters pls❤️

TITLE: 3 Simple Rules (Reggie Peters x reader) [MUSICAL THEATER AU]

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Please check bio to see if requests are open before sending any in! 

Request: can you do 15 with reggie peters pls❤️

Prompt/summary:  [Musical Theater AU] Reader has to explain the three simple rules of the theater to Reggie. (And also help him out of trouble)

Word Count: 1,411

Authors note: From my AU prompt list on Tumblr!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were three rules that came with being in the theater department at Los Feliz High School.

Rule One: No talking in the wings.

From the moment I met my co-star Reggie Peters at auditions, I knew he was going to be a pain to work with.

For example, he did not prepare an audition song. Instead, he broke out a guitar and took a request from Mrs. Harrison and wowed with his impressive vocals instead. His lines were half memorized and his wardrobe was not fit for the dance portion of the audition.

For Christs sake we’re doing NEWSIES!

The rehearsal period was over a month long and every week about thirty students crammed into the auditorium to relentlessly rehearse and prepare for opening night. 

My character, Katherine, didn’t dance much other than in King of New York. The big tap dance number I had to master next week.

A lot of my time was spent waiting in the wings for my next cue. Unfortunately, so was Reggie’s. 

“Wait was that my cue?”

“SHHHHH!” I said, looking anxiously to see if the stage manager on the other side of the stage heard us.

“Oh come on,” he said, “they can’t hear me over the music.”

I rolled my eyes before grabbing his hand and dragging him to the hallway of dressing rooms right behind the stage. 

“Do you seriously not know anything?”

He looked at me confused.

“The rules of being in theater?” I said, when he shrugged I continued, “One, no talking in the wings. Two, no eating or smoking in costume. And three, always show up early or else you’re late.”

“I didn’t think this was that serious.”

I scoffed, “Why did you even sign up for this?”

He shrugged, “Mrs. Harrison cornered me in English and said she needed someone who could actually sing for Jack Kelly.”

I rolled my eyes, “You better keep your mouth clean. I don’t want to have to kiss someone who’s breath stinks every weekend.”

Suddenly, the door we just came out popped open.

“(Y/N)! It’s almost your cue! Reggie, what are you doing out here?” Julie whispered.

“Nothing. Let’s go Reginald.”

“It’s Reggie!”

Rule 2: No eating in costume

The snack table near the dressing room was kept stocked with lots of different things, and it was meant for those out of costume or stagehands since we didn’t get to eat dinner until afterwards on show nights. 

I’d never been a stickler about eating in costume considering I’ve done it myself numerous times. At least I was always careful about it though, putting on a jacket or blanket over me to keep stains from getting on the meticulous costumes our school would make.

“What are you doing?” 

I tried to keep my voice low, but the shock and panic that went through me when I saw orange smears on Reggie’s vest from the pack of Cheetos in his hand made it come out in a squeek.

He looked up at me frantically, “I forgot!”

I huffed in frustration before running into the womens dressing room to grab paper towels.

Reggie tried to take them from me when I came out but I slapped his hand away.

“You’ll try to rub it, you need to pat the stain out.”

The wet paper towel made the brown vest look darker, but at least I got the orange out.

I grabbed his hand and dragged him back into the dressing room, “Stand there.”

He stood where I pointed right beside the electrical outlet and watched me silently as I plugged in the hair dryer and set it to the cool setting. I put it on it’s lowest setting so I could carefully listen so we wouldn’t be late for our cues. Luckily it was Pulitzer’s solo so we should have enough time.

I looked up and noticed his cheeks were red, “What? It isn’t too hot is it?”

“Uh- no I just- we’re in the dressing room alone-”

“And I’m getting the stain out of your shirt so Katie won’t go nuts when she sees your costume almost ruined. No one’s gonna say anything Reggie, especially not to me. This happens more than you think.”

He nodded and looked down at the vest. It was still slightly damp but not enough to be noticeable on stage.

“Thank you,” Reggie said as I pulled the door open.

“Next time put a jacket on before you eat. Three simple rules Peters. Remember them.”

Rule 3: Always show up early or you’re late

It was almost the end of our show run. The past few weeks had been amazing and it was saddening to think that tonight I would have to say goodbye to Katherine. 

As I sat in my dressing room I heard a knock at the door, Julie entered and stood behind me as I pinned my hair up for my wig.

“Have you seen Reggie? It’s almost 10 minutes till places.”

“No I haven’t, has he messaged Luke about being the understudy?”

She shook her head, “Katie said he hadn’t.”

I felt anxiety rise in my chest, hopefully we wouldn’t have to delay the show just to get someone in costume.

I peaked my head outside and just as I did Reggie Peters came sprinting down the hallway.

“Where have you been?”

“I got a flat on the way, how much time do I have?”

“10 minutes till places. If you hurry you might not be late.”

He nodded.

“Rule number 3 Peters!”

He shouted over his shoulder back at me, “I know!”

I rolled my eyes. Having pity for the boy, I decided to try and help.

I went and grabbed his mic from the stage manager and updated her on the situation. With it in hand I went back to his dressing room and knocked.

“Come in!”

Reggie stumbled around the room finding pieces of his costume to pull on. 

“Sit,” I said once he had the pants and shirt on.

I handed him the vest and tucked the mic pack into the back of his belt before letting him run the wire up through the shirt.

“Do your hair, I’ll get the makeup ready.”

He tousled his hair and I couldn’t help but stare. Him clearing his throat brought me back to reality and I began applying the foundation and powder to his face. The entire time I felt his eyes looking at me causing my face to become unexplainably hot.

Finally I pressed a cut up makeup sponge covered in black and gray eye shadow to give him the look of a dirty newsie. 

“All done,” I said. I tried to stand up quickly so I could go and get my face to not feel like it’s on fire.

He grabbed my wrist, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

He sighed, “You’re always helping me with something.”

“Well,” I smiled, “Hopefully you’d do the same for me if the situation was reversed. Besides theater geeks look out for each other.”

“I’m not a geek!”

I laughed, “It’s almost time for places. Let’s go Peters.”

The final curtain call had most of the cast in tears. This was the night we’d have to put all the props away and say goodbye to Newsies.

I neatly put my costume away before turning off my dressing room light for one last time.

I’ll admit. Working with Reggie wasn’t all that bad. At least he was a good kisser and took a mint before the finale each night. 

I pulled my duffle bag over my shoulder and walked towards the entrance of the school.

“(Y/n)!”

I looked behind me to see Reggie jogging to catch up with me.

“The rest of the crew is going to iHop, are you coming?”

“I dont know,” I said, “I’m kinda tired.”

“Come on,” he groaned.

“No Reginald I’m tired and sad the show ended.”

He smirked, “And going with the rest of the cast will make the grief a little less.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Please?” 

I walked off leaving him to trail behind me.

“Please (Y/n)!”

“Why do you want me to go that bad Reginald?”

“It’s Reggie,” he said, I smirked, “And... I don’t know anyone else that well.”

 I stopped and turned to him, he looked slightly embarrassed. 

“Please? I don’t wanna go by myself.”

I sighed, “Fine. But you’re buying me a milkshake.”

He smiled widely and before I could react pressed a kiss to my cheek.

As he pulled back he realized what he had done causing us both to blush.

“Is that against the rules?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[orionwhispers]

Feels Like Home // Bucky Barnes 🍂

(a/n- ok holy shit ive finally finished my first bucky oneshot. its long as fuck but im so so happy with it. pls let me know what you think. i have lots of requests and peaky stuff coming up as well. love you guys SO much) probs loads of mistakes but its 12k words and im exhausted lol. (also this is inspired by the song feels like home by bea miller and jessie reyez. highly recommend)

warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, HEAVILY implied smut, so much fluff your dentist will kill me, angst and canon level violence. 

Bucky Barnes had thought a lot about death.

He thought about it often during the war. Wondering if perhaps a bullet would pass through his gut as he ran through the trenches, or a bomb would explode under his feet as he walked across the battlefield. It was everywhere he looked, his fellow comrades bandaged and bloody, the nurses in the infirmary tent smelling of saline and strong, sweet, copper.

He thought about it more than anything with Hydra. Wishing that the torture would send him over the edge, pleading for the sweet release that death would give him. Thinking that what was waiting for him on the other side surely couldn’t be worse than what he was already dealing with.

Even when he moved into the tower, and into a routine with people who understood and trusted him, death had followed him for so long that it was like a friend.

He always thought his death would be something violent; something carnal and savage, almost poetic for him to die the same way that he had lived.

But who would have thought his demise would have been at the hands of the sleepy eyed, honey lipped, gentle girl that made him coffee and brought him raspberry donuts?

You turned his world upside down on a Thursday. He remembers it well, and thinks back to that autumn morning like it’s a picture he keeps in his wallet or a well thumbed book next to his bed. It doesn’t matter what the circumstances are - he could be in battle, bloody and bruised, or five thousand miles away from you on a mission in the depths of some town he doesn’t know the name of, feeling himself start to crumble - and the thought of you is enough to steady him, your light luring him back to rationality, his girl.

His sweet girl.

He owed it all to you, and the way you changed his life on that rainy, dreary day and made him realise that home wasn’t a place, it was a person.

The compound was quiet. The Avengers all in a state of limbo; exhausted from hours of travelling, the ghost of bruises and cuts on their knuckles and blood under their fingernails. But more powerful than anything: the red hot relief to finally be back in the tower after two weeks.

The rest of the group fell into their own routines, their own little grooves that they had mastered over the however many years they had been saving the world. The showers were turned onto the highest setting, the smell of Sam’s ridiculously expensive mango shower gel and Nat’s deep, woody body scrub lingering across the floor. Comfort food was made in the kitchen, the throaty sound of laughter and bare feet on the tiles as popcorn sizzled and snapped on the stove. Blankets were draped across the sofas, mugs of hot chocolate and cans of sweet, dry beer passed around and over tangled limbs.

It was something they needed - something they craved. That comforting, warm feeling of family, something so trivial and domestic that it was enough to dull whatever they had been faced with, that for the evening they could think of terrible rom coms and laughter and teasing, rather than civilians dying and the smell of blood and the sound of gunshots. For those stolen moments of happiness after days of heart ache and exhaustion - it was enough.

Well, it was enough for almost everyone.

Whilst the others were arguing over the remote and whether peanut M&Ms were better than chocolate, Bucky was in his room with the lock bolted, methodically cleaning his weapons with surgical precision. He had been at the compound for almost six months, and despite the amenities and luxuries that came with his new home, he felt anything but comfortable.

He liked the people he lived and worked with - and most of them liked him too, but that didn’t do anything to dull the ache in his skull and the uncertainty deep in his gut. After so many years of not being in control of his own mind and body, of having his thoughts and feelings altered by people who saw him as nothing more than a weapon, he was struggling to adjust to his new life.

Amongst all of the chaos though, he had Steve.

The familiar sunshine haired boy that helped ease the storm. His best friend, his brother. The once scrawny teenager that he would follow to the end of the world, all guns blazing, no questions asked. Deep down, he knew that the golden boy was perhaps the only reason he was still at the tower, blending in with all the rest of the wonderful, shining eyed superhero’s around him, making him stick out like a sore thumb.

He knew they thought he could change, but he wasn’t so sure. Sometimes - like the times when he found himself grinning at something Clint said in the back of the jet, or when Nat patted his shoulder in thanks when he covered her in battle, or when he sat on the roof with Steve, talking about faded memories of pin up girls and Coney Island, he felt like perhaps he could be the man Steve thought he was. But then he caught sight of himself in the reflected surfaces of his bathroom, or felt the ricochet of his gun against his shoulder or the blood coating his hands and dripping down into his boots - and he remembered that sometimes people just don’t change.

He listened to the rain as he folded away his weapons that day. Listened to the way the patter of the water muffled the noises of laughter and playfulness coming from the lounge and dissolved into silence. It was too early to retire into bed, and besides, after a mission like the one they had come from sleep wouldn’t be on his mind for a while, his body was still racing with adrenaline.

Then, amongst the patter of raindrops and mingle of voices, he heard something.

A commotion in the hall. His body was finely tuned to pick up anything out of the ordinary, and he could hear the magnetic whir and clang of the elevator as it reached their floor. Everybody was crowded in the living room, which meant it would be somebody from outside the inner circle, and usually that would send cold chills down to his spine, but for some reason this time it didn’t.

Ghosts. Premonitions. Fortune telling. All a load of horse shit to him. He might have been to space and been frozen in time and met some really, really, bizarre people - but there were some things he just didn’t believe in.

Until that rainy day.

It was like a magnetic pull inside of him, when he wanted to lock himself away and not speak to anyone, something inside of him made him want to get up and join the rest of the crew in meeting the stranger.

Even before he saw your face you had him, hook, line and sinker.

So he begrudgingly got to his feet and stood in the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the frame, metal arm out of sight. Steve glanced at him quickly with his eyebrows raised but he ignored him, focusing his eyes on the elevator as it slowly started to open.

Tony looked up suddenly as the doors opened , furrowing his brow at the semi circle of avengers watching him intently. Rather then question it he rolled his eyes, exhaling loudly and stepping forward, gesturing wildly with his arms. “Gather round, gather round, circus freaks. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Because Tony’s personality took up almost the entire room by himself, he had to step to the side for everyone to even get a glimpse of who he was talking about. They waited patiently, with crossed arms and gentle smiles as you stepped out of the shadows.

Bucky felt himself freeze.

You looked so... scared. Not in the traditional sense, not like you were terrified of them or fearing for your life, but the kind of alarm that always trudged through his blood, the feeling of unease and instability, as though you didn’t really belong.

Everybody fell into their roles the way he knew they would. You were young, probably not much older than the Parker kid, and that was why Nat and Steve stepped forward instantly, very protective of you before they even knew your name.

Your hair was mused and loose, eyes wide and lips puffy, as if you had just woken up. You were dressed all in black, baggy clothes and no makeup, your fingers interlocked, your rapid heartbeat pulsing in his ears.

And for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Everyone, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Tony said, one arm resting gently on your shoulders, pushing you forward.

Bucky had to stop himself from saying your name aloud, wondering why he wanted to taste it on his tongue.

As everybody spoke, introducing themselves with just enough reservation to make you feel comfortable, your eyes met, and his heart stopped. Your eyes were more white than not, a little glossy and swimming with uncertainty, and he felt the urge to do something, anything, to make you feel even a little bit calmer.

The feeling was so foreign that he stepped back, tearing his gaze away from you, suddenly unnerved. He didn’t miss the way you exhaled, and he pretended not to notice the way his body seemed to pine for the warmth he had felt when your eyes met.

Bucky heard him whisper to Nat, his usually sardonic voice dripping with genuine concern. “Keep an eye on her, for me, please.”

And although he knew Tony would never ask that of him, he knew that without a doubt, he would.

—————————————————————-

Those next few days, you stayed hidden in your room - which just so happened to be opposite his own.

Despite that, he never saw you. Not even once.

You weren’t at any team meetings or debriefings, you were never nestled in one of the chairs in the lounge, never sat on the balcony watching the sunrise or slicing up strawberries and grapes in the nook in the kitchen.If it wasn’t for the small, barely there noises you made every so often, he would have thought you had left.

Through the vents he could occasionally hear the whine of your door and the gentle sound of your footsteps at midnight darting to the kitchen. Sometimes he heard Wanda speaking softly to you, so kind and gentle that he could even hear the anxiety leave your voice for a little while. He’d hear Tony’s loud and obnoxious knock in the middle of the night, the two of you leaving for the lab under the cover of darkness.

Bucky hardly slept. It had never come smoothly to him, slipped through his fingers too easily like grains of sand. He used to train to block out the noise, attacking a punching bag until all he could hear was the steady thump, thump, thump of his knuckles. Steve had taken him running whenever the nights got too long or too loud, sweating out the frustration he felt as they darted through the streets at midnight, but now he found another way to pass those hours in the dead of night.

There was something oddly comforting to him about laying upright in his bed, reading whatever novel somebody had leant him and told him was a classic, listening out for the shuffle of your footsteps from the other side of the hall. He remembered what it had been like for him when he first moved into the tower. He knew how hard it was, moving into a space that wasn’t your own.

So now he found solace under the breeze of his ceiling fan and the slow drip of that one leaky tap that he still hadn’t fixed and the low hum of whatever sitcom you were watching vibrating through the walls.

He liked to make sure that you were safe. You were obviously scared of something, or someone, and it made him feel better that he was keeping an ear out for anything out of the ordinary. He told himself that it was for the benefit of the whole tower, but that didn’t explain the ease he felt in his chest when he finally heard the quiet, even snores coming from your room, and the way that it made his own eyes start to close.

The next time he saw you in the flesh was almost a month after you had moved in.

He was in the lounge with the rest of the avengers that had slept most of the morning away, Sam nursing a cup of vanilla coffee and Steve watching the news as he made some kind of bizarre and disgusting protein shake. Bucky sat on the sofa with his back ramrod straight as he did the daily crossword, something about filling out the empty boxes comforting him.

It was a rare free day and he had slept in a little longer than usual, only falling asleep after he had heard the squeak of your bed frame and the whir of your fan flittering in his ears. When he had woken up your room was still, and he assumed you were still asleep as he headed out for his run, but by the sound of your voice in the stairwell you had obviously slipped out unnoticed, and he couldn’t help feeling impressed.

He perked up instantly when he heard you. He listened to the soft way you spoke against the sharp click of Pepper’s heels against the floor, his eyes darting to the doorway as he heard you approach. He saw the girls first, the three of them flanking you like a security detail. Wanda and Natasha at your sides, Pepper walking slightly ahead; gesturing with her jewellery clad hands as she spoke to you.

You faltered as you stepped forward, eyes widening like a deer in headlights as you noticed the boys watching you from the other side of the room. Sam awkwardly removed his hand from where he had shoved it down a cereal box, waving kindly with lucky charm marshmallows stuck to his fingers. Steve - ever the gentleman - gave you his classic golden retriever smile, greeting you as though you were an old friend.

You relaxed a little at that, and Bucky felt himself deflate. He would never be the most warm and welcoming person, not anymore, and he wondered why that bothered him so much when it came to you.

Pepper gently placed a hand on your shoulder, and you leaned into her touch like a cat. “Boys. You remember (Y/N).”

You looked up, waving a hand that was hidden by your oversized sweater sleeves. “Hello again.”

A shy smile. Big eyes. A voice like melted chocolate. Bucky felt fourteen again.

He wanted to say something to you, but he couldn’t get any words out. Pepper was on a mission though, perching her hand motherly on your shoulder and escorting you forward. “Right. The lab. This way!”

Bucky’s gaze followed you all the way down the hall, not stopping even when you faded into nothingness. He turned slowly, feeling Steve and Nat watching with matching smirks on their faces, their eyes flickering with childish glee.

He scoffed.

“Shut up.”

———————————————————

As the weeks passed, Bucky hardly caught a glimpse of you. He didn’t even realise he was searching for you, his eyes just flitting over the empty chair at meal times or trailing through the gym, wondering if he might make out the bounce of your hair or the curve of your lips.

Not that he had been thinking about your lips. He definitely hadn’t been thinking about your lips.

You had piqued his interest though. He thought of the way he had been when he first moved into the tower, and knew that the first few weeks were always the hardest. You spent the majority of the time in your room, occasionally leaving for Tony’s floor or the lab, but always hiding in the night and the shadows, falling just out of reach before he got lucky enough to see you.

Fortunately, there were enough recon missions to fill his days. He found distraction in snow capped mountains and dry, dusty deserts, searching for old HYDRA bases or intel that might have been missed. His mind was filled with coordinates and strategy plans, and that worked for a little while. Until the jet landed and he found himself wondering if you would be there with the rest of the team welcoming him back, and every time he was left feeling a quick, pang of disappointment when you weren’t.

Eventually though, things started to look up.

At three in the morning, like clockwork, he began hearing your door squeal as you opened it, and then the sound of sock clad feet padding through the hallways. The first time it happened his heart leapt and he jolted upright, convinced that something bad had happened. He didn’t relax until he heard Natasha speak, voice crystal clear despite the early hour.

“You ready?”

He soon discovered that Natasha had taken you under her wing, and was helping you spar at the times you felt the most comfortable - when the rest of the building was asleep. He knew he wasn’t the only person who was curious about you, wanting to know if you had any powers, and Nat had stopped Steve from asking a million different questions about you.

He didn’t want to make you retreat once again, so he left it alone.

Eventually, you started sleeping in, getting more comfortable and leaving your bed much later than before. The others still kept their distance, entering the gym just as you were leaving, drenched in sweat and smiling. The first time that Bucky saw you smile like that was after a run with Sam, and he swore his knees almost buckled at the sight of you, wide eyed and sparkling like a diamond, sucker punching the air right out of his gut.

It was just about dawn when he next saw you, the sun barely risen, the compound bathed in a golden, ethereal light. No matter how many early mornings they had had, the kitchen still smelt like triple shot espresso and cans of red bull every day, sleepy eyed avengers mumbling and grumbling as they fought over who got to use the coffee machine first. Bucky smiled smugly across his mug of instant grounds that Sam had so tastefully called, “disgusting cheap crap,” as his $3 coffee capsule got crushed once again.

Steve made some quick joke as he towelled off his hair from his shower, but his words crumbled into TV static when Bucky saw you coming off the elevator. You were limping, just a little, but enough to make his heart thunder in his chest. You were smiling though, wide and happily. As bright as the full sun, and Bucky wanted to stay in your warmth for a little bit longer. Natasha held onto you as though you weighed less than a newborn baby, and the two of you stumbled towards your room. Before you disappeared you shot a small and hesitant smile at the boys, one that pierced through Bucky like a steel bullet.

He wanted to keep quiet but he couldn’t. Not after he had seen you.

“You don’t think Natasha is being to hard on her?” He said finally, clearing his throat in an attempt to sound nonchalant.

“Why do you care?” Sam had asked, halfway through a breakfast burrito that was dropping more food on his shirt than into his mouth.

“Camaraderie.” He quipped.

“Camaraderie my ass. Remember that time I almost broke my leg sparring with you? You made me walk myself to the clinic.”

“That’s because you were being whiney and dramatic.”

“Oh? Well I’ll tell you what I think. I think that Mr Barnes here is - ”

“Alright. That’s enough.” Steve said finally, cutting the conversation short, knowing exactly where Sam was going with his thoughts and not wanting to put his best friend through any embarrassment about his... interest in you.

Sam gave him a glare that said that the conversation was definitely not over, but Bucky ignored him, his eyes trailing the hallway you had walked through, his belly aching and flipping from the way that you had looked at him, filling him with a warmth that didn’t dim even long after he had fallen asleep that night.

——————————————————————-

Things really started to change at midnight. When the sky went black and turned into a blanket of obsidian and twinkling stars, that was when both of you came alive.

The nightmares were back, and they were bad. Blood. Metal. Rust. The pain that felt as though his bones were snapping one by one. Gasping for air. Sweat. Fists. Gunshots. No longer could he stay asleep listening out for you, his body didn’t want him to feel comfortable, safe, whatever the way you made him feel. He wouldn’t allow himself the luxury of something as sweet as you. He was not a man that deserved good things, and he knew he certainly didn’t deserve you.

The compound was so big and he felt so small in his bed. Sometimes he swore he could feel the walls closing in, even though he knew his quarters were more than triple the size of some of the hellholes he had been trapped in. He needed space. He needed air. And that was what led him to wander the hallways like some kind of spectre as the city roared and thundered and thrived below him.

The rooftop had always been his favourite spot. Tony loved using it for parties, setting up a bar and filling the hot tub with champagne and hiring some idiot to blast stupid music that made Bucky want to smash his head against a brick wall. But it was often just used by the team, swimming laps in the pool and laughing under the summer sun, strawberries and wine in the spring and late night swims in the rain in the winter, making Clint jump in the frozen water naked after he lost a round of poker.

It was one of the rare places that Bucky felt truly safe. Out in the open air, watching the water sparkle teal under the stars, the city so big and beautiful, lights flickering and horns blaring. He came up when things went bad, losing himself in the noise and the ice cold air. He often pulled a chair out to the edge, drinking a beer that had no effect on him but somehow made him feel a little bit lighter, just watching the world go by.

He hadn’t been up there in a while. The nightmares had stopped for a while, incidentally the same time you arrived, but recently they had started to trickle back in, like rain at the end of summer.

He was in a pair of flannel pyjama pants and a henley with far too many holes in, cradling a mug of cocoa with a shot of dark rum as he stepped off the elevator, stopping suddenly when he noticed the outdoor lights shining brightly. He knew that everybody else was asleep, and his field instincts kicked in quickly, until he noticed the soft lilac hue of your satin pyjamas glistening under the moon.

Perhaps he should have left. He knew that you liked to keep your distance and God, did he understand that, but his feet seemed to stay cemented to the floor. You were luring him like a ship to a lighthouse, beckoning him to follow you, and who was he to resist?

You were bent over a row of plants and flowers, watering them from a buttercup yellow can, your fingers stained with mud. You moved gently, tentatively fondling the leaves and petals and clipping away any stray stems and weeds. He watched you with curious eyes, amazed at how something so simple could show so much about your character. After so long of not seeing you he felt lucky to catch a glimpse, and he didn’t want to do anything to scare you off.

That was, until his foot caught the edge of one of the sun loungers.

For a trained assassin, he could really be a dumbass sometimes.

You looked up quickly, eyes as wide as dinner plates, your face just starting to flush. He held up his free hand, all the air leaving his lungs like a balloon. He stepped back to leave you in peace, but then he heard you softly say:

“Wait.”

So he did.

You looked nervous but enchanting, with your mussed hair and fluffy slippers and long eyelashes. You smiled timidly, but warmly, and looked at him. Really looked at him. And something about that made him feel truly seen, for the first time in a long time.

“Bucky, right?” A pause lingered in the air, he was suddenly face to face with you and somehow all of his words dissolved into the night air. You mistook his turmoil for something else, and straightened up, the trowel in your hand spilling dirt onto the floor. “Oh I’m so sorry. Do you prefer James? Or...”

“Bucky!” He said, almost shouting, and then calmed himself down. He could feel a blush rising up his throat from his outburst, but if it meant you would look at him the way that you were, then he would happily embarrass himself forever.

A moment passed, the stars overhead round and full despite all of the pollution in the city air, and for once Bucky didn’t find them the most beautiful thing he had seen.

“What are you doing?” He asked before he could stop himself.

“Oh, um.” You were a little flustered, the apples of your cheeks rounding and your lips twitching up, like you were laughing at a joke he so desperately wanted to be a part of. It was infectious. You were infectious, and the ice cold assassin felt the frost around his heart start to thaw.

“Tony got them for me.” You said, barely meeting his gaze. “After everything.” You stopped awkwardly and cleared your throat. His interest was piqued but he knew better than to probe you, instead letting you ramble. “He thought it would be good for me to have something to take care of. Something to look after, you know?”

He nodded.

“It’s not much, but sometimes coming up here and watering them just takes my mind off of things, you know?” You said, somewhat absentmindedly. He watched as you stroked the petals, pushing your finger into a droplet of water on the leaves. He wasn’t much of a gardener but he recognised a few of the potted plants. Forget me nots, African violets, buttery yellow primrose and icy purple orchids. You had other things too, sweet mint and thyme and rosemary, and budding stems of strawberries and blackberries and tomatoes.

It was amazing how much life you had grown along the usually industrial looking balcony. It was rare to see something thrive amongst the smoke of the city,

“I like it up here too, it’s peaceful.” He said, looking out at the skyline and smelling the crisp, cool air.

You mistook his honesty for an annoyance at breaching his personal space, and held your hands up apologetically. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” You were about to make excuses and leave, not wanting to upset the very handsome man who had occupied far too much of your brain anymore, but he stepped forward and said quickly:

“No! In fact, I er - I think I like it much more now.”

You smiled, and oh boy, did Bucky know he was done for.

———————————————————-

Bucky started to like the nights.

After the first midnight meeting it somehow became unspoken for the two of you to meet up on the rooftop. Bucky never wanted to overstep or make you feel uncomfortable, but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to see you again in the privacy of the twilight, the moonlight casting gold flecks into your eyes.

It should have been awkward. An ex HYDRA puppet and a girl with a blurry past that had just joined the biggest crime fighting organisation in the world should have found it hard to open up to one another, but somehow that didn’t happen.

You both kept the conversation light, the silences were warm and comfortable, and everything felt bizarrely natural. You’d often be preening your plants and Bucky would be sat on a lounge chair, reading a book and sneaking glances at you. You talked about the city, he told you how much it had changed since the 40’s, and you told him about the crappy apartment with no heating and a nest of owls you lived in before Tony took you in.

Family never came up, it was a subject you danced around and Bucky respected your privacy. He told you about his though, it slipped out accidentally when he saw you preening foxgloves the colour of ripe and juicy plums - and how they reminded him of the ones his mother once had in the window box of their kitchen. Somehow the memory hit him like a sucker punch to the gut, and you expertly swerved the conversation onto something else. It lingered in his mind for the rest of the night, only dimming when he came home from a workout the following morning and saw a little vase filled with purple petals and a book titled “Caring For Foxgloves” left outside of his door.

His smile didn’t fade the whole rest of the day, even through Sam’s relentless teasing.

He remembered you talking about your favourite cafe off campus, and the white hot chocolate and raspberry donuts you would kill for, and took an hour detour from his running route to pick them up for you both to share later that night.

It was amazing, how this girl he only knew through the sounds from his wall was now sitting with him in the early hours of the morning, talking to him like he was a real person and not just some shitty science experiment. You exchanged books, giving him ones that you thought he would enjoy, and he devoured them in less than a week, finding traces of you between the pages.

The two of you never sat right beside one another. You knew his past and you were cautious not to overwhelm him, always leaving generous inches and metres between you both. For the first time in a long time Bucky didn’t want somebody to give him space, he craved those moments when your fingertips would brush as he helped you pot a plant, when your thighs would touch as you leant over him to watch the stars, when he could feel your warmth orbiting him like a planet.

He used to loathe the night time, but now, he spent the whole day aching for the sun to set so he could be with you.

Eventually, as you grew closer with him, you also grew closer with the team, and soon you were joining them sporadically for movie nights and “Friends” marathons and training. You mainly stayed with Wanda and Nat, the two girls sparring with you and showing you the ropes and coming from a place you could understand the best, but you always ended up back next to Bucky - and he loved it.

The rest of the team noticed too. The way that you brought Bucky out of his shell and he helped you to feel grounded. Steve instantly saw that the smile on his best friends face was wider than it had been in fifty years, and he enjoyed watching the two of you together, happy his best friend was happy.

Bucky felt his own change, too. He was no longer a blushing, stuttering mess around you, (well, not completely. He was still a wreck when you smiled at him, or laughed, or did basically anything) but he had found a comfortable middle ground in your friendship, the two of you able to tease and joke with each other like old friends. Finding ways to talk the whole night and day away, watching the sky turn from obsidian to sweet purple and then milky blue, both of you wondering how you had managed to once again miss an entire night quicker than a snap of fingers.

He knew that he was in deep when you got cleared for your first mission.

He remembered waking up, running with Steve, drinking coffee and making eggs, all whilst pretending he wasn’t looking over his shoulder waiting for you every few seconds. Sam came in with a smug smile and stole a slice of toast, buttering it until it was dripping and eating it in seconds, his brow furrowing a little as he watched Bucky.

“What?” Bucky asked, shooting him a curious glance.

“Aren’t you gonna say goodbye to your girl?”

“She not ‘my girl’.” Bucky said through a mouthful of coffee, hating how the words made him feel.

“Oh, right. Of course not. It’s not like the two of you don’t spend every second of every day and every night together, and it’s not like you’re totally head over heels -”

Bucky decided it would be easier to just cut him off, taking his frustration out on the eggs he was now whisking a little too hard. “Why would I say goodbye to her?”

“You didn’t hear?”

He shook his head, suddenly feeling a million tiny needles prickle his skin.

“Bruce signed her off. She’s heading to Madrid with Nat.”

“She’s what?”

That was all it took for him to leave, Sam watching him closely and smirking to himself. Not noticing until it was too late that the pan had started smoking, and the smell of burnt eggs wafted through the air, and Sam was left alone to grab the fire extinguisher and coat the meal in clouds of white foam.

Bucky stormed through the halls, he wasn’t quite sure what his plan was, his mind felt like a bowl of alphabet soup and he couldn’t quite place his anger or frustration, but that didn’t stop him from tearing through the rooms with a face like thunder. He found Tony in the conference room, finalising the mission plans and murmuring under his breath. Bucky feet moved him forward before he could even compute it.

“You signed her off?”

Tony exhaled loudly, and with obvious frustration spun round on his three hundred thousand dollar shoes.

“I was wondering when you would pitch in your two cents.”

“Do you think she’s ready?”

“Yes I do.”

“What if -? What if something happens? What if something goes wrong? What if - ”

“It won’t.”

“What if it does?”

“Look, Barnes. I know you and (Y/N) have been getting on well, and I know that she’s opened up a lot because of you -” He paused, mulling over the distaste in his mouth. “... As much as that might irritate me. But you don’t know what she’s like on the field, she’s brilliant.”

Bucky didn’t doubt that for a second, but his blood was as cold as ice. Missions went wrong all of the time, even a simple recon with Clint ended up with them both littered in bullets, and the mere thought of that made his head spin. He had no real reason to be so overprotective of you, but he truly couldn’t help it, everything in him was screaming at him to keep you safe.

“Are you even sure that...”

“Bucky?” He felt like a scarecrow shoved in a pool of mud, stuck straight and stiff as you said his name and rendered him totally tongue tied. He wondered how much you had heard, and he felt like there was an ice cube trailing down his spine.

“Aha! There she is! Superwoman!” Tony said, clapping his hands together, always knowing how to diffuse the tension.

He turned around and felt his heart jack hammer in his chest. He could see Nat, but his eyes totally passed over her, because you were there: your hair tied up and back from your face, subtle makeup with long eyelashes and syrupy lips, a black and powder pink tactical suit that fit and hugged every curve and bow of your body. His brain totally let him down, short circuiting at the mere sight of you. You looked so happy and healthy and glowing, and also like you could knock him out with a single punch - and good god would he let you.

“Bucky I was erm, I was looking for you. I wanted to say goodbye.” You clasped your hands together, appearing so sweet and shy, a total contrast to the femme fatale you portrayed.

“Natalia!” Tony said quickly, and for once Bucky was grateful for his interruption. “Come and look at this strange bird with me.”

All of you knew it was quite possibly the worst fake distraction ever but you ignored it. Nat just rolled her eyes and followed Tony to the balcony, but not before wiggling her eyebrows at Bucky.

You moved forward tentatively. “I wanted to tell you this morning but I couldn’t find you.” You weren’t quite sure why you were so cautious and apprehensive, desperate to speak to him. You had been travelling and fighting for as long as you could remember, you had spent many years alone and entered the battlefield countless times - and yet, that morning as Bruce gave you the all clear, the only person you wanted to see or speak to was Bucky.

“I was running, I’m sorry.”

You smiled, and it made him smile. “Well I’ve found you now.” You stepped forward, Bucky inhaled air so sharply it almost sliced the back of this throat. “I wanted to say goodbye, and that I’ll see you soon.” You paused, then blinked up at him almost cheekily. “Would you do me a favour? If you have time? Could you water the plants for me?”

He grinned, toothy and white. “Already on it.”

“Goodbye, Bucky.”

He put his hand on your shoulder, and he swore he could feel you melt into his touch, or maybe that was his knees buckling at his stupidity and the way that you were looking up at him. He wanted to say a million things, but instead he settled for: “Goodbye, (Y/N). Be safe, okay?”

“Of course.”

He watched as you packed your things and headed to the jet, the rest of the crew coming out to say their farewells and wish them luck. His eyes were trained on you as you spoke to Tony, nodding your head as you listened to him. He felt Natasha sidle up next to him, her hair shining copper in the sun.

“She’ll be alright, Barnes.”

“I know. But - ”

“I’ll take care of her. Promise.”

“Thank you, Nat. Good luck.”

“Don’t need it!”

Three hours later and he was in the gym, punching out his excess energy. The bag was splitting at the seams, and sand trailed sadly onto the floor. Bucky ignored it, his hits getting harder and faster, his blood pounding in his ears. Since you had left he had taken to pacing the floor and biting his nails down to the wick, hovering over Steve as he spoke to Nat through her wire. He only left when he realised that he was driving everybody else crazy with his obsessive twitching and marching, taking out his frustration on whatever he could rip apart with his fingers.

“Tony’s going to kill you if you break anymore punching bags.” Steve said from behind him, his voice echoing around the dark room.

“Hmph.”

He couldn’t stop. His hands were red raw and his knuckles were scraped but they would heal soon, and he’d go back to tearing them up all over again, anything to get rid of the adrenaline and nausea that had been swimming in him since the morning.

A minute passed. And then two. And then three. He exhaled, pausing, his hands midway in the air. He was about to say what he had always known, right from the second your eyes met that crisp autumn day, and Steve was the only one he could confide in.

“I think I’m falling in love with her.”

Steve hardly even blinked, just clapped a hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting, his brother.

“I know.”

Because of course he did. He knew it from the way Bucky smiled, the way he was lighter, brighter, like you had made him switch on and appreciate the little things around him. He had seen Bucky doe eyed and loopy over hundreds of girls back in the day, he knew how he got, but this... this was something bigger, magnetic, the clash of two electric people.

There wasn’t much Steve could say, he was great at saving people but not so good at the more personal side of things, he still turned into a puddle when Sharon looked at him. Instead he laughed, his teeth white as snow and his eyes playful and teasing. “You got it bad, dude.”

Despite everything Bucky smiled. Because yeah, he did.

————————— ————————————

You came back from the mission unharmed and euphoric.

And the second. And the third. And the fourth.

Bucky still tracked mud across all of the carpets and tapped his feet mindlessly for the entirety you were gone, but he was getting better. Steve had even bought him a joke present of a pear shaped and scented stress ball, but Bucky had ripped it in half when there was gunfire in the background of your coms, followed by an apologetic “Sorry!” from Sam. Bucky had then poured all of the tiny fruit smelling beads under the duvet in Sams bed, and then put all of his toilet paper on the holder backwards, knowing how annoyed he got about it.

Every time you came back you were exhausted and elated and beaming, and after having a nap and a shower you spent the rest of the day with the team, but the nights were reserved just for him. You grew even closer together. Steve had watched from the rooftop doorway gobsmacked one evening when he had left his phone up there, watching the way you two interacted, the way that he curled into your touch, never away from it. You got electric shocks when your fingers touched, you would blush when his knee playfully nudged yours at something stupid somebody had said at dinner, and you found yourself falling asleep to the image of chestnut hair and ocean eyes. You had crushes before, but this was all consuming, the kind of thing that made your stomach erupt in butterflies and your eyes turn into hearts.

You were worried that it might be one sided, but Bucky was totally, completely, smitten.

He watched you. Noticed the way that you smiled and laughed and tucked your hair behind your ear. He thought of the girls in the forties, with their painted lips and curled hair and immaculate clothes, and how you blew all of them out of the water, even in just your flannel pyjamas and bunny slippers. The coil in his belly when he looked at you reminded him of being sixteen and holding hands at the pictures, but that had just been a flicker, and this was a forest fire.

The first mission with the rest of the crew was when things went sour.

He got to see how you acted first hand. The way that you were quiet in the jet, but smiling strawberry red, taking in all of the orders that Steve meticulously laid out, your eyes wide and eager. He watched you as he helped Nat set up the guns and stock the ammo, the way that you toyed with the knife in your boot, the gears in your head turning and working on something he was desperate to discover.

He hadn’t been on a mission with you, not only because they way you looked in your suit and the way that you grinned would have led to him inadvertently getting a bullet in his head, but because from what he had heard, your fighting styles were totally different. Your powers and your skills were a mystery to him, one that he badly wanted to solve, but you kept that side of you hidden and guarded with barbed wire, and he respected that.

You were paired off with Sam. Nat with Clint. Bucky with Steve. Wanda with Vision. It was a simple mission, there was some intel locked in a safe of a seemingly abandoned factory in the south of Russia. Tony had discovered the place crawling with hidden members of a gang that specialised in human trafficking and organ farming, and he needed what was hidden below to help blow it out of the water.

It was going to take a lot of skill. There was no doubt that the enemies would be heavily armed, possibly even with illegally manufactured weapons, and all of you had to keep your heads straight the entire time. He had wanted desperately to be paired with you, to keep his eye on you, (not that you needed it) but he knew it was out of the question. Instead, as you all split up a few miles away in the woods, he grabbed your hand quickly and rubbed his finger across your knuckles, looking at you intently, his eyes swimming with sincerity.

“Be careful.” He said, his gaze locked on yours.

You smiled. “Always.”

He stuck his middle finger up at Steve’s smug face as they headed towards the factory.

Things were going well. As well as they could be when they were covered in blood and sweat and surrounded by the sound of gunfire and cracking bones. Nobody had been hurt so far, the coms quiet as the pairings cleared their sectors and worked their way down to the basement. Bucky had just pushed the last man over the railing and onto the concrete floor below when he heard the crackle of panicked voices in his ear, his eyes darting to Steve.

“Shit! Fuck!”

“Sam?”

“It’s (Y/N)! Fuck! One of them took her!”

“What?” Steve said instantly, switching straight from solider to captain, immediately alert.

“There was too many, it was an ambush!”

“Sam just stay there and - ” Steve tried to keep his voice steady and level, but it seemed as though the walls were closing in. To make matters worse, he saw a blur of black in his eye line, and watched helplessly as his best friend tore down the stairwell, his footsteps a clap of thunder. “Fuck! Bucky!”

Bucky knew that he was going to get one hell of a lecture and probably some six week course in impulse in the force, but all that he could think about was you, his blood was ice cold, his body numb and his brain conjuring up a million different pictures of you that made him feel sick to his stomach. He leapt over the bannister and landed haphazardly on the floor, his gun cocked and ready. His eyes were nothing but jet black pupils, scanning for your face through the halls.

He knew that you and Sam had been working through what used to be the laboratory, and that was on the other side of the building. His legs and arms moved almost mechanically, determined to get to you as quickly as possible, taking out anybody that stood in his way. He could hear Steve calling from behind him, and the sputter of the others in his earpiece, but his focus was on one thing. You.

The men were big and brawny and mean. Tattooed arms and shaved heads and gold teeth. Bucky shredded through them like they wore nothing. He flung them over tables, threw them through doorways and dragged them up by the roots of their hair. They were strong though, laughing at him through coffee stained teeth, loving his anger and desperation.

“Where is she?” He snarled at one particularly vicious thug brandishing two assault rifles.

“Who? Your whore? Dead.”

He snapped his neck like it was nothing but a twig.

He ran from room to room, his boots squealing across blood and stray bullets, his breath as ragged and sharp as glass. Everywhere was empty. Rows of vials and big glass cylinders and cages for animal testing, there was nothing, the place completely ransacked and bare. He hissed, getting ready to fight his way through another floor until he heard exasperated grunts and the clash of metal from a small room off to the side.

He skidded into the doorway with his rifle up at his shoulder, his finger right on the trigger, ready to shoot somebody’s fucking head off. Instead he paused, his mouth agape and his hands lowering, the whole room standing still. There was a freezer. Probably for samples and test tubes and whatever crazy fucking thing they kept in a place like this, but they had used it as a cage, the handles tied with thick copper chains and padlocks. Sam was using the butt of his gun to smash his way through, and they were old and rusty and starting to crumble easily, and Bucky watched helplessly as he finally busted in, clouds of ice puffing around him.

Bucky didn’t know why he couldn’t move. Couldn’t help. But his feet were as heavy as cinder blocks, and his heart was thundering in his ears. There was a small squeal, broken and half hearted, void of anything other than exhaustion, and then the smell of tears and blood, followed by sweet mint and wildflowers. Unmistakably you.

He wanted to run forward and scoop you in his arms, press your head against the crook of his neck and get you far, far away from this place, but he couldn’t move, and so he watched as Sam tugged you into him, running his fingers through your hair, cradling you like a child, soothing you as you cried hot, wet tears into his suit. And Bucky wished with everything in him that it was him instead.

He stayed back as you flew home with Sam. He kept away when you were in the hospital with Bruce, lurked in his room when you went over everything with Tony, locked himself away when you confided in Steve. He felt as though he had failed you, no matter what the others said. He felt as though he had let you down, and the noise you had made when Sam tugged you from the depths of that tiny little box, it played in his head like a warped record, haunting him and his dreams.

For a week he kept to himself. For a week he ran a different route and trained at a gym down by the water. For a week he took his motorbike out to a shitty diner in the bad part of town and ate soggy pancakes instead of having dinner with the team, for a week he did everything he could to not see you, thinking that would ease what you had been through, but instead it left you feeling torn and hurt and completely alone.

Tony made him come in to test out a new reloading system and so he reluctantly snuck down to the figuring range under the cover of darkness. He allowed himself to get lost in the sounds of carnage and the smell of metal, until he heard soft footsteps from behind him.

“You’re avoiding me.”

You seemed so sad, and that made his heart clench.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

Silence. That had never been awkward between the two of you, ever, and yet now it was so thick you could cut through it with a knife.

You wrung your hands together, your eyes flitting around the room, never quite landing on his face. That hurt. After a moment you cleared your throat, using the toe of your sneaker to kick up dust from the floor. “Do you - do you know? I mean, has anybody said anything to you? About me?”

He shook his head. “No.” There had been a million times when it was on the tip of his tongue to pry the truth from Nat or Steve, but his respect for you was stronger than his need for answers.

He felt his stomach flip when you finally blinked up at him. You looked as though you hadn’t slept and he knew he looked worse. You were still so beautiful though, looking so young and angelic under the harsh lights and surrounded by all the weaponry. Like a powder pink rose amongst giant, violent thorns.

Unable to stop himself, he blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

“You said that.”

“Not for avoiding you. For letting you - For not being there for you.”

Your mouth was open, brows furrowed as you took in what he said. “What?”

“I should have helped you.” There was desperation in his voice, and he turned to face the targets rather than look at you, not wanting you to see him so weak.

You were silent for quite a while. It was difficult for you to digest his words, like swallowing glass. You had been under the impression that seeing you tearful and cowering and broken had scared him off, had made him look at you differently, but now you knew that he blamed himself. “Bucky...” You said, biting back emotion. “Its not your fault.” Your tone was definite. Strong. You wouldn’t let him feel guilty for something he had no control over.

He brushed you off, shifting his weight, turning playful. “Yeah I know. It was Sam’s.”

You rolled your eyes.

He clicked his tongue. He set the gun down on the table and turned to face you fully, his eyes solid and unwavering. “I am so sorry you got hurt.”

“I wasn’t - I.”Finding the right words was hard. You had so much you wanted to tell him but no idea how to, the sentences sticking to the roof of your mouth like peanut butter. “It was just...Can we? Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“The roof?”

“Yeah,” You smiled, and Bucky swore even the strongest industrial lights couldn’t even match your spark. “The roof.”

Under the stars and above the city as the cars raced and the sirens blared, you told him everything. Growing up as a lab rat, twisted and moulded by scientists and pumped full of chemicals. You told him of finding your powers and being forced to use them for vile things you couldn’t even repeat, and when he heard the tremor of your voice and saw the gloss on your eyes his whole body vibrated and turned a shade of red that it was almost black. You told him how the people that created you had wanted you back, and how Tony had saved you from being taken again, how you owed him your life.

He wasn’t good with comfort. He wasn’t good with words. He was good at tearing people apart limb from limb and shooting them from distances and breaking their bones like they were toothpicks, but for you, he would try. In a move so unlike him that it felt as though he might have been brainwashed once again, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close.

You froze at first, but eventually thawed and melted into him, grateful for his touch. You had wanted to be close to him since the first time you met but you held back, and now everything felt right, like the missing piece of a puzzle slotting into place. Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he gave someone a bear hug, his nose buried in your hair, his fingers locked around you, desperate to keep you safe. Perhaps it was way back then, a time of uniforms and alleyways and candy floss and city smog, a time he used to long for with everything in him.

But now the memories of the past didn’t even compare to what he felt when he held you.

———————————————————

Everything came to a head on the first mission you had alone together.

Two months passed. Two months of subtle touches and shared smiles and inside jokes. Two months of rooftop laughter and midnight meetings and eating ice cream straight from the tub as you sat under the stars. Two months of utter, dreadful, aching, slow burning, and it was driving everybody else crazy.

Mostly Sam.

“I’m just saying,” Sam had murmured to Steve over chocolate eclairs one morning as they watched you teach a wide eyed, love struck Bucky how to play Mario Kart. “Can’t we just lock them in a room? Force them to kiss?”

“No.”

“It’s just so gross.”

Wanda flicked a grape at him, smiling cheekily as it bounced off his nose. “It’s sweet.”

He cocked a brow and tilted his head, his eyes filled with mild disgust. “Is it?”

Steve flicked through the files in his hand and licked whipped cream from his fingers. “He’s happy. Leave him be.”

“He’s a dumbass.”

“They both are.” Natasha interjected from behind them, wiping sweat from her brow and pulling off her boxing gloves. She was monotone and her face was straight, but even the black widow couldn’t bite back the smile she had as she watched the girl she now thought of as a sister and the once murderous, unbeatable assassin arguing about blue shells on the sofa.

The first mission you had been assigned together was in a small town in the Midwest somewhere. There had been unusual sightings in an airfield in the middle of nowhere, and a fugitive from Germany had been spotted in the bars that bordered the little village. Tony didn’t want to send too many people and blow the cover, just your powers of manipulation and telekinesis to apprehend the subject, and Bucky for added strength and precision.

Initially Tony was hesitant on pairing the two of you together, but there was no denying that you both worked brilliantly together. You understood one another on a level that nobody else did.

Bucky didn’t get nervous before a mission. In fact, he hardly felt anything. He spent the hours in the jet preparing himself and his weapons, going over maps and plans until they were drilled in his brain. But as the two of you took off, you with your rose blossom lips and eye watering suit and soft laughter, Bucky felt a warmth coiling in his stomach.

Apprehension.

You were staying at a cheap hotel a few blocks from the airfield. Tony had thought of everything and booked the two of you in rooms the opposite end of the hall from each other. Three floors apart. Bucky had slipped the receptionist a twenty for the room next to yours. For protection, of course.

Working undercover could be mind numbingly boring. Hours sat in a parked car in the dead of night, freezing to the bone as you watched an apartment from the bushes, trailing a suspect for days on end - but any time with you was a blessing for Bucky, even if it was sat behind the wheel of a cheap car with painful seats and broken heating.

The mission was a quiet one at first, you’d spotted the subject and had been following him, but all he seemed to do was eat crappy diner food and watch hours of cartoons. You both remained a safe distance but you managed to eventually bug his apartment when he spent the evening at a strip club. Tony and Steve updated you often, they had intercepted his phone calls and learnt that he was sending out a shipment late one night, and the two of you needed to stop it before it reached the air.

The rain was torrential when the two of you left the hotel. You smiled secretly to yourself as you walked through the slick streets, noticing how Bucky always made sure you were on the side away from the road, and how he moved so that you never got your feet in puddles. You were in the middle of nowhere following a criminal who spent far too much time eating potato chips and watching Rick and Morty, and yet you struggled to think of a time when you had been more content.

It meant everything to you.

Staying up late to listen into his apartment, Bucky buying practically the entire vending machine, the two of you pigging out and talking about nothing. You had breakfast at diners and communicated at night through knocks on the wall. Whenever you were out and the air was ice cold, Bucky would always move in close to you, his arm brushing against yours, his body your own personal heater. He wanted nothing more in those moments then to pull you into him and warm you up some other way, but instead he kept his eyes fixed forward, and bit the inside of his cheek until it bled.

You arrived at the airfield at midnight. The moon was high and the sky was dark and you both had to crouch low to be avoided by the overhead lights. You saw the suspect speaking to someone on his phone, and not long after a large white van pulled up towards him, the driver getting out and opening the boot.

“That’s it.” Bucky said pointing at the wooden crates. His voice was right by your ear, and you tried to ignore the way you shivered.“You ready?”

You nodded, smiling up at him. “Always.”

What happened next was mostly a blur. The two of you kept your heads down and your hands on your weapons, the pounding of the rain disguising your footsteps. You made it across the tarmac with Bucky covering you, his eyes alert and prepared for any imposing danger. You lifted your hands, ready to snap your fingers and apprehend the man rooting around the boxes, but before you could even feel the warm buzz of your powers through your veins, six men leapt out from the back of the van, guns raised and smoking.

“Fuck. Fuck! It’s a set up.”

Without even a second thought, Bucky pushed you aside. His body totally covered your own, and he hissed and swore, firing back at the bullets rapidly charging at you. You swung your hands and fought back, sending out flickers of fire and air, setting one of them alight and watching as he howled in pain. Bucky shot at everyone he could, sharp pierces right in the skull, always one hundred percent accurate, but his brain was whirring a mile a minute. He was trying his best to keep his eyes on you, his only goal was to make sure you were safe.

It wasn’t like he thought you were weak - far from it. He had seen you out on the field, been knocked on his ass from the aftershock of your powers more times than he could count, and he knew he had no real reason to be so worried but that did nothing to stop the prickling feeling across his skin like a million tiny little flames at the thought of you getting hurt.

You were determined to keep him safe as well though.You tossed back bullets and threw your knife through the air, smiling as it slashed through on of them, leaving him crumpled and crying on the floor. The two of you worked well together, playing off of each other’s attacks and combining your skills to get as many of them down as you could. Right when the last man hit the floor, you exhaled, and Bucky allowed himself a soft smile, looking beautiful and bruised in the middle of a rainstorm.

“Are you alright?” You heard him say, but his voice faded into static in your ears. Behind him one of them had struggled to his feet, blood spurting out from his neck, his face filled with nothing but venom, his eyes wild and vicious. You didn’t even blink, thrusting your hands forward and sending a wave of power through the air.

But it was too late.

He had already lifted his gun, a ripple of bullets flying towards you both. You leapt in front of Bucky, pushing his head down and trying to soften the impact, but his hands curled painfully around your waist, dragging you onto the floor and under him. The bullets missed the two of you by centimetres, piercing into the airplane behind you both. Your surge of power had knocked the man back and he was down once again, his body now pale and lifeless. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, and Bucky’s. He was fully on top of you, warm and solid and absolutely seething, his chest rising and falling above your own.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Bucky...” You inhaled, trying to get him to calm down and look at you but he merely shook his head, his body vibrating blood red.

“No. We’re leaving. Now.”

———————————————————-

After the ambush, it was too risky to return to the hotel, and so Steve sent out coordinates for a safe house an hour away. The ride there was completely silent. You didn’t even try to speak or diffuse the tension, you could practically feel Bucky’s anger, and the steering wheel had even started to bend from his grip.

The safe house was a small cottage. The only heat was from a tiny wood burner in the lounge, and the only food on the shelves were tinned peaches and cans of custard. Everything was oddly cosy. Pink knitted throws and round plush cushions and mismatched sofas, dried lavender tied to the wall and exposed brick and white, ceramic milk jugs. In any other circumstance you would have been happy to spend the night, but Bucky’s sour mood was quick to dim your spark.

You sighed as he threw his duffel bag onto the table, angrily heading to the sink and twisting the tab, exhaling loudly at the thin dribble of water that came out.

“Bucky.” You started to say, but he held his hand up as a warning.

“No.”

“Yes!” You snapped, needing him to understand you. “You have to listen to me.”

He dismissed you, too overcome with annoyance to even process your words. You could have died tonight, and you were acting as though it didn’t matter. “You were a goddamn idiot out there.”

“No I wasn’t!”

He slapped his hand on the wooden counter, a slap ringing through the small room.“You jumped in front of a bullet -“

“You almost got shot Bucky!”

“You almost got shot.”

“It was what was best for the mission.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the mission! I only care about you.”

“What?” Your voice was soft. A whisper. You could hear everything around you, feel him before he even stepped forward. Your breathing was shaky, adrenaline spiking through your body. The man you were in love with looking at you desperately and longingly, as though there was a physical ache inside of him.

He shrugged, because what else was there to say? He was looking deep into your own eyes, wanting to drown in them. His face was stern and hard and he was pissed, and yet, strangely, none of what had happened seemed to matter. He stepped towards you, his gaze running across your figure, looking for any cuts or bruises one of those fuckers might have left on you.

“Are you hurt?” He said finally, his face millimetres from your own.

“No.”

“Good.”

He kissed you. His hands went up and into your hair, his chest pressed against yours, his lips were warm and soft and hungry, ready to devour the one thing he had wanted since the very first time he laid eyes on you. You melted into his touch and he smiled. The kiss got more intense, teeth clashing and hands under sweaters and his body rolling against yours. You moaned in his mouth and he bit your lip and your pulses synced and raced and leapt. This was six months of pure longing and frustration and the need to portray everything that had gone unsaid for far too long.

It wasn’t long before you ended up on the floor. You were both too greedy and touch starved to even stop or make your way upstairs, you both needed the other like air, like addicts desperate for another hit. His lips were all over every bit of skin he could find, you lasted like sweat and cinnamon and vanilla and he swore he would give up everything he had if he got to feel you like this, whining and writhing and grabbing him, tugging him closer and kissing him like an angelic little devil.

He had once been a Casanova. He had once made ladies swoon and mothers blush and fathers clench their fists. Then he had been shattered, rebuilt in a way that wasn’t quite right, his body used for torture rather than pleasure. And yet, with you, the rain pelting the windows and your bodies intertwined and your lips tasting like summer strawberries and everything that he had ever dreamed of - he felt whole, for the first time in a long time. The noises you made were sinful, and his thoughts were nothing but you,you,you, the girl he had fallen in love with through the sounds in the wall and with the flowers on the roof, the girl that occupied his brain more than anything else.

Everything was too much and not enough, his head was buried in your neck, your legs were around his waist, pulling him tighter, urging him to go deeper. He had dreamt of this moment for a long time. He had imagined a candle lit dinner and red roses and awkward touches and itchy dress shirts, he wanted everything to be perfect, because you deserved the world. But in the living room of a safe house in the middle of nowhere, covered in sweat and blood and surrounded by thunder and clashing furniture seemed oddly magical for a couple with roots like yours.

After, you were cradled in the crook of his arm, with your hair splayed across his bare chest. Bucky was having a hard time controlling his rapid pulse and heavy breathing because holy shit he had just slept with the girl of his dreams, but one look at you under the moonlight looking ethereal and exhausted and everything else just dissolved into wisps or smoke.

He wanted to tell you in a better way, but he just couldn’t keep it in any longer. His brain was fizzled with pleasure and dizzy with euphoria, and he just wanted, needed you to know everything.

“I’m in love with you. I have been since I first saw you.”

You froze. After a beat, you buried your face into the flesh of his chest, your soft laughter tickling his abdomen, his fingers trailing loosely across your spine. You smiled like a child, looking up at him with big eyes and heart shaped lips.

“God. We’re both idiots. I’m so in love with you too, Buck.”

He grinned, and he felt like his heart might tear in two.

—————————————————————-

You arrived back at the compound with interlocked fingers and matching grins and Sam nearly collapsed with relief. Tony almost went into cardiac arrest.

For the first time in fifty years, happiness followed Bucky wherever he went. Things were easy, light. You were his. You crawled into his arms at the end of a bad day and you laughed into his shoulder and you held his hand and kissed him and killed him and resurrected him all at the same time. He had never felt home in this modern world, and now he looked forward to each day and whatever strange and inane adventure the two of you would end up on. The anvil that had been crushing his heart for so long had started to lighten, and he owed it all to you.

Still, there were hard days. When he woke up slick with sweat with eyes wider than the moon and an urge to wrap his hands around something, or when you thought of the past and became consumed by the memories, tears falling down your face before you could stop them. He got jealous, and he had multiple stern talks with Steve about “not threatening the interns just because they speak to your girlfriend,” you could be stubborn, take on more than you needed, return from a mission with a limp you tried to hide, one that eventually led to an argument about your reckless choices. But nothing ever lasted more than a day. You were always there for one another, with open arms and gentle smiles and the unconditional love that people would kill for.

He had been in a million different situations where he felt like he was drowning. Like something was pulling him under the depths, crushing his lungs and shattering his oesophagus. But nothing compared to how he felt around you. Nothing could match the way you consumed him completely. the electricity that coursed through his veins when your fingers brushed against his, there was nothing quite like the way his heartbeat would slow when you were around, the way that he suddenly felt warm and full whenever you laughed.

He had spent so long alone. He had spent so many years fighting a war he never signed up for, and he was exhausted. He was starved of attention but terrified of exposing himself, and he lived with a chain link fence around his heart. Your soft voice so soothing, the sweetness in your eyes and the innocent bat of your lashes disarmed him better than any soldier ever could. There was something about you - something magnetic, magical.

Your sweetness went straight to his brain. One look at you and his mind dizzied, a sugar rush that only you gave him.

Whenever somebody asked where he was from, he thought partly of Brooklyn, of his mother and Steve, of cobbled streets and dog tags and ink stained newspapers. He thought of darkness. Of being moulded and reshaped deep down in the depths of bad places, of iron and rust and metal, his hands coated in blood.

But mostly, he thought of you. Safe and warm and sweet and so good. How expensive mattresses and dim candles and hot chocolate didn’t make him feel half the way that you did. How you grounded him, calmed him, made everything feel light and coated in sunshine when he had spent so goddamn long being frozen.

So when somebody asked where he was from, he thought of you, because you were home.

[bumbleberrysky]

alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) | 01

pairing: gabriel x reader genre: soulmate au, canon divergent around s13, hurt/comfort, humour, future smut (probs) wc: 3.2k rating: sfw warnings: none except the appearance of battered gabriel fresh out of asmodeus’ hold notes: welcome to my first dive into writing for supernatural! i saw someone say that s13 lit a fire under their ass like nothing else and honestly i don’t think i could have described it better. i binged so much while catching up the past few weeks idk who i am anymore

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It's something you're destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you'd thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you're suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you'd been brought here in the first place? Maybe...

Chuck works in mysterious ways after all.

next.

“Honeys, I’m home!”

The bunker has the same light aroma of musty air and metal as you let yourself in through the heavy front door, feet carrying you, out of habit more than anything, to the steel landing that marks the entrance to the fortress. It’s been so long since you were last here that the two men you used to hunt with regularly have likely forgotten they gave you a spare key. Well, they hadn’t exactly given it to you so much as you’d made a copy on the down-low and kept it for occasions such as this.

One hand keeps pressure on your arm, an attempt to stem the bleeding, and the other carries your single carry-on bag. You make it about halfway down the stairs before your gaze swings out over the foyer and you freeze, mid-step.

Sam and Dean, the two figures you expected to find here, are standing stock-still with their guns half-poised (not directed at you) and expressions on their faces that are a combination of shocked, pissed, and extremely confused (mostly directed at you). Following the line of their weapons leads you to the other two occupants in the room, most definitely unexpected and completely unfamiliar.

One is in rags, cowering, and whimpering, unrecognisable underneath filthy tangled hair that covers his face, and the other is in a prim suit marred only by blood and a bit of dirt, barely a single strand of dark hair atop his head out of place.

“Twinkletoes? What the hell are you doing here?!”

It’s Dean’s stupid, old nickname for you that breaks you out of your shock, a glare already falling onto your face with the practised ease of muscle memory.  

“I’ll answer that when you tell me what the hell I just walked in on—” You come the rest of the way down the stairs, slower and more cautious now, with your gaze trained on the two at the other end of the table. It’s when the man in rags finally looks up from where he had been cowering and you catch a glimpse of his face, bloody and bruised but instantly familiar, that your words swell and catch in your throat.

“… Gabriel?”

The brothers in front of you heave a great, unanimous sigh, a look passed between them telling you that you’re about to be on the receiving end of a very ludicrous and typical Winchester story.

x     x     x

The first time you met Gabriel was not long after you’d gone through the biggest plot twist of your entire life. You’d gone to sleep in your bed, in your home, and woken up in a completely different part of the world, like some magician had snapped their fingers and you’d been the punchline of their very next trick. Much to your regret and distaste, some minor investigation revealed that where you’d woken up in the backseat of a car on the side of the road was in some state in the US. You’d sworn to yourself that you would never step foot here in your entire life and then, like God or whoever reigned above was laughing straight in your face, you’d just up and woken up in some random car in a place that made you long to be literally anywhere else.

Preferably somewhere where the occupants didn’t have such easy access to guns.

…like the two men who screamed and pointed theirs at you when you popped up from their backseat after they climbed into the cabin, fast food in their arms.

That was the first time you’d met the infamous hunting brothers, the Winchesters, and the first time of many you’d nearly died in their company.  

It had taken a while for them to trust you, but after you inviting yourself onto a few of their cases and saving their asses a handful of times (ignoring the amount of times they saved yours because you forgot that almost every American slept with a gun beneath their pillow) they’d eventually taken you under their proverbial wing. It helped that you had literally nowhere else to go and nothing but the clothes on your back and a bare handful of belongings to your name. Once they figured out you weren’t hiding anything up your sleeve and that you’re just naturally annoying and a little dumb, they’d happily invited you to become an official-unofficial part of their little hunting gang. This means you’re also familiar with the hilarious angel they have in their back pocket. Castiel is a riot and one of the things you miss most when you go off to hunt on your own.

Having been around during the whole ordeal of Lucifer and Michael going through the motions of continuing their family spat on an apocalyptic scale, you too grew to be familiar with their youngest brother, the archangel Gabriel. Of course, while you’d been there for a fair amount of the angel-turned-trickster’s shenanigans, you weren’t there for the final appearance he made at a hotel in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. In complete juxtaposition to the fact that you could count on one hand the amount of times you’d interacted properly with Gabriel, the sensations you experienced at the news of his sacrifice, his death, were unlike anything you’d ever felt before. You like to consider yourself much more emotionally healthy and with an emotional range far larger than that of a teaspoon and the Winchesters’, but that… that news was something that it had taken you months to recover from fully.

And even then, apparently your recovery wasn’t as complete as you’d thought, because hearing what the boys have told you now has made your eyes burn and your stomach turn into a nest of manic bees, your insides lined with flowers and pollen. You think, for a moment, that you just might be sick.

You’re sitting in the library, Gabriel having been taken to a room of his own by one Winchester while the other fills you in before they’re both reunited before you, and you’re in the kind of mood where you sort of want to just sit there and dissociate for a few hours, truthfully. You can tell you’re not going to get that opportunity though, so in the wake of the bombshell they’d just dropped on you about all you’d missed in the past few months—that they had apparently forgotten to tell you over the phone when you checked in occasionally— you do the next best thing you can think of for the moment.

Put it on the backburner, baby.

You massage your temple with your fingers as you lean your head into your hand, a sigh escaping through your nose. “See, this is why it feels like I have been brought on as a babysitter—I leave for a few months and you old men manage to dig up another almost-apocalypse and find and raise Lucifer’s kid?”

“Alright, first of all,” Dean whips out a finger to point at you, filling you with glee. You’ve barely been back a few hours and already you’re stepping back into your favourite “stir-the absolute-shit-out-of-Dean” pants. As always, he is almost pitifully quick to rise to the bait. “Old? Who are you calling old? Alright so maybe we have a few years on you but that’s just because you’re a toddler and w—”

“Dean,” Sam places a placating hand on his brother’s shoulder, a look that seems to be a mixture of amusement and exasperation crossing his features. “You’re making it too easy for her.”

The older Winchester pauses, turning to pin you with an accusing look. You smile, not even attempting to appear innocent. After staring at you for several long moments, Dean makes the ‘eyes-on-you’ gesture with his fingers before turning away, rolling the tension from his shoulders as he takes a seat across from you.

“You were gone for almost a year this time, did you have any luck, well, leaving?” Sam brings your attention back to him, the question dragging out a sigh that feels like it’s been dredged from the very depths of your being.

“No,” you answer, sounding somewhat petulant even to your own ears. “Why is it so hard to leave this god-forsaken country! I hate it here. I’m sick of trying to make a run for it and being zapped back into a swamp, or—or a pool at the top of a penthouse suite in the middle of some random city! It sucks balls.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean waves his hand, enjoying the dirty look you give him. “So you still haven’t found whatever purpose you’re meant to fulfil while here?”

You huff, shaking your head. “No. It’s been years and I still have no idea why I woke up here that day. Or why I can’t leave.”

Over the time you’ve spent with the Winchesters, a few things became apparent to the three of you about your stay here. One, it was indefinite. You’d discovered quickly that you are, quite literally, unable to leave. Every time you get close to escaping this country you black out and wake up back inside. Sometimes in a helpful place, sometimes…. Not.

Two, the three of you had thrown around and entertained the idea that maybe you’d been brought here for a reason, that like them maybe you’d been divinely allocated a role to play. But you’ve been through a lot with the Winchesters, whether in person or by association, and still…

You’re no closer to being able to leave and return from whence you came.

You have no idea why you’re here!

This is something that has really contributed to your temporary career as a hunter here. That isn’t to say that this profession isn’t something you were involved in before you came here, but you’ve really… you really dove into it, whether as a distraction or as an ongoing investigation as to what on earth was going to set you free of your tie to this place. A part of you thinks that each case you take on, each person or family you save and creature you slay might be the one reason that brought you here, and the one task that with its completion will grant you freedom. You’ve never been a fan of being caged; just because this one spans a grand total of 9.834 million square kilometres doesn’t make it any less of one.

This most recent expedition that led you to part from the Winchesters for such a long time was another of your failed attempts to leave. You think you’ve tried escaping at every possible point along the coastline and border by now, with a definite lack of success.

“Well, if it really is some divine intervention keeping you here, then it’s better if you just sit back and settle down, twinkletoes.” Dean huffs a laugh, leaning back in his chair with an accompanying creak from the wood. “Those divine types have proven to be… kind of assholes.”

You frown, but he isn’t saying anything you haven’t already thought. It’s part of why you’d settled so easily into hunting here, actually. ‘When in Rome…’, as they say. You’re familiar with the hunting grind and there is comfort in familiarity.

“Are you going to stay a while?” Sam asks, opening the first-aid box he’d first brought over when you’d settled down. Ah, right—you’d almost forgotten about the injury on your arm, despite the fact that you are still pressing a palm to it. You listen as he speaks, almost swearing you can detect a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “You still have a room here for you, of course. We haven’t touched anything inside.”

“Yeah, mostly because we didn’t wanna deal with the mess and the booby-trapped doors—” Dean’s under-the-breath mutter is cut off by your coo, a wide smile pulling your lips.

“Oh, you two missed me, didn’t you?” Instantly, you are successful in ruffling Dean’s feathers— Sam might take a bit more work, though. “I know I really light this dark, dingy place up but I didn’t know it was that bad without me! Ah, perhaps I will stay a while. You know, out of charity.”

“Sammy,” Dean says, beseeching. “It’s not too late—you hold her back and I’ll find her key. It’s not too cold, she’ll be alright outside.”

An appalled and affronted look slips onto your face and Sam has to clear his throat so that he doesn’t laugh and add to his brother’s torment.

“I’m not a misbehaving puppy,” you say, holding your arm out for Sam as he comes over and finally freeing your bloody hand. “Wait, unless you want me to be. Been broadening your horizons beyond animated tentacle porn have you, Deanie-bo-beenie?”

On cue, Dean’s face flushes light red, whether from anger or a brief spritz of embarrassment, only God knows. You can see Sam’s face grow tense from the effort of holding back noise in your peripheral as he tends to your arm.

“You know what? I’m better than this. I’m gonna let it go.” Dean rises from his chair, making a show of dusting off your metaphorical drama. His light eyes flick to you, squinting. “I’m tired; I have a date with my memory foam pillow and nice, warm, feather duvet and a good night’s rest, so goodnight. I hope your bed has bed bugs, twinkletoes, and I hope they bite.”

“I hope you sleep well too, Dean!” you call after him, deciding you’ll have to give him a break from the bullying tomorrow  or else he’ll explode before you can have much fun. “Do you want me to come tuck you in?”

“No! Goodnight!”

His yell and disappearance down the hall is followed a few moments later by the familiar sound of a door slamming shut,

“That’s not very fair of you,” Sam announces, sounding strained and very much like he’s trying not to laugh lest Dean has an ear pressed to his door. “He’s too tired to fight back right now.”

“I know,” you answer, wincing as he wipes down the laceration on your bicep and cleans the blood away with an alcohol wipe. It burns, but it’s definitely not the most painful thing you have ever experienced. “I hadn’t seen you guys in so long, though. I couldn’t help myself.”

Sam simply snorts, reaching for the needle and thread to being stitching the skin back together, and you breathe harshly through your nose as you reach for another topic to distract yourself.

“Are the two—sorry, the three of you actually dads now? To… to Lucifer’s half-angel kid? I thought angels getting frisky with humans was, uh… illegal up in heaven.”

You feel rather than see Sam roll his eyes, your own pointedly directed away from your arm where he has begun to get to work. “It’s Lucifer, y/n, I don’t think he cares about what’s illegal up in heaven.”

You purse your lips—he makes a fair point. Honestly, you feel a little silly for questioning it. “Right, and he’s… trapped in some other dimension? An alternate world where the apocalypse really happened.”

“Yep,” Sam says, hitting a particularly painful spot with his needle. You hiss, giving him a glare.

“I wasn’t even gone a year! Just hearing all this shit is stressing me out so much, dude.” You sigh, attempting to adjust your position in the wooden chair without jostling your arm too much. Thankfully, practice has made Sam quick at his job and already he is almost done piecing you back together. He finishes up with a knot, snipping the thread and then placing a large bandage carefully over the wound. He dusts his hands once done, standing from where he was leaning against the table and proceeding to loom over you like a T-Rex.

“You’re blocking my light, bro,” you inform him, narrowly avoiding a subsequent good-natured smack to your good arm. “Damn, what the hell! Didn’t you take an oath or some shit? I’m your patient!”

“I was studying law, not medicine,” Sam retorts dryly. He turns to leave and put the first aid supplies away, his back facing you but not before you see how his lips twitch. “So your annoying ass is free game.”

“Maybe so,” you acquiesce, rising from your seat with a light grunt as you jostle your arm. You consider asking Sam where Castiel is, to see if you can get a hit of the good stuff and skip the healing process, but think better of it. You always feel a bit bad asking him to heal you, though you barely ever have to since he’s like a rabid mother hen the second he sees blood on any of you. “God, I’m beat. I didn’t think I could get any more tired than I was before, but as always catching up with you two has aged me a few years and now I’m just about as tired as you two are all the time.”

Sam doesn’t rise to the ‘old man’ bait you dangle in front of him—never really does, if you’re being honest; that’s mostly Dean’s vice— but he does offer you a smile that is unexpectedly sincere and fond.

“Go to bed, toddler,” he retorts, before continuing in a softer tone, “… It’s good to see you again, y/n. I’m glad you’re here. Dean and Mom are going out on a hunt in the next few days and I think you can really help with, uh… the whole Gabriel thing.”

For a moment, you don’t say anything. You’d sort of been trying to avoid thinking about the elephant in your mind, for the very same reason that makes your eyes burn once more. It hurts, a lot, thinking and imagining what he must have gone through at the hands of Asmodeus. It feels like your heart is going to tear itself to pieces in your chest from the sheer extent of your empathy and how terrible you feel for him. The Gabriel you saw cowering before you earlier is nothing like the confident feathery asshole you used to know.

Even having only seen him once, it’s enough to make you fearful of the possibility that… he might be too far gone to ever return to that last echo of his previous self.

“I’m not sure what I’ll even be able to do to help,” you respond, approaching the doorway to the hall with your bag in tow. You pause to finish what you’re saying, meeting Sam’s puppy-like gaze from across the room. “But I’ll try. It hurts to see him like that, so… I’ll stay a while, to do whatever I can.”

Sam’s answering thankful smile and nod is all you can ask for in response as you turn and head further into the bunker, dragging your bags back to the room you’d come to call your own over the years. Your gaze strays on the way to one of the doors that has a little note taped on saying, ‘please do not open suddenly or loudly’, undoubtedly the room that they have allocated to Gabriel for the time being. Heart heavy in your chest, you continue on down the hall and tear your gaze away.

You’re not sure how much you can do for him, but you hope you can do something.

next