#。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ you will always be the miracle that makes my life complete ⊱ ◜single co-parent verse◞

[aventurineswife]

i had a fluffy req idea if ur still taking them -

different hsr boys {main ones being aven and sunday love them sm} after your baby says their first words 🥹 (more of an ask if reqs are too full !!)

hehehe to make up for my more angsty reqs

(also, if it’s not taken, i’d love to be {🪷🤍} anon :>)

First Words

Tags: Aventurine, Sunday, Boothill, Gepard Landau, Fatherhood, Emotional Moments, Parenthood, First Words, Love, Vulnerability, Protective Fathers, Tender Moments.

Warnings: Emotional Intensity, Sensitive Themes (parental attachment, soft vulnerability)

A/N: THE WAY I SCREAMED?! OMGGG 😭💖‼️ I WAS MUFFLING MY SCREAM WHILE WRITING THIS!! BOOTHILL DESERVED TO BE IN THIS!! And, of course, you can be 🪷🤍 anon!!

Aventurine sat at the edge of the bed, his usually calculating eyes softening as he watched his baby cooing in their crib. The soft moonlight filtered through the window, casting a gentle glow on the room. He had been a master of strategy, a man who thrived on risks and uncertainty, yet nothing in his life had prepared him for the overwhelming joy of fatherhood.

The baby gurgled, the first words bubbling up from their tiny mouth in a way that made Aventurine's heart stutter in his chest.

"Dada..."

His breath hitched. It was a single word, but it held so much meaning. He had been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity, never quite knowing how much it would shake him to hear. His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, one that only those who knew him best would ever witness.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered, though the baby was already asleep. He could have sworn the world had momentarily stopped just to let him bask in the miracle of this sound. There was no strategic calculation, no manipulation of circumstances; just pure, unrefined love. The thought that his baby had chosen him, of all people, to be the first to say such a word filled him with a warmth he didn’t often show.

Aventurine carefully reached over and placed a hand on the crib, gently stroking the baby’s tiny hand. He felt the overwhelming desire to protect them, to ensure that they would never have to face the brutal world he had lived in.

"You're mine now, little one. I’ll make sure the world plays by your rules." he whispered softly, his voice laced with love.

He leaned back, taking a deep breath, feeling the weight of this moment settle into his bones. Aventurine, the master of manipulation, was nothing more than a father in this room—vulnerable, unguarded, and completely enchanted by the simple sound of "Dada."

Sunday had never been one to show much emotion outwardly, his calm and composed demeanor always masking the storm of thoughts beneath. But now, as he sat on the edge of the bed, his golden eyes locked on his baby, his chest tightened in a way that he couldn't explain. He was a man of ideals, of lofty dreams for the world, yet nothing could have prepared him for the heart-stirring moment of hearing his child speak.

"Papa..."

The single word was so simple, yet it rang in Sunday’s ears with the clarity of a thousand bells. He felt as though the weight of all the dreams and hopes he had for a perfect world, a place where his loved ones would never have to suffer, had finally taken shape in that single word.

For a moment, Sunday simply stared, stunned by the beauty of it. His hand, once firm and decisive in leadership, trembled ever so slightly as he reached toward his baby. His heart, so used to thinking in ideals and concepts of the greater good, now beat with a singular, overwhelming sense of purpose.

"You... said 'Papa.'" Sunday whispered, his voice almost breaking. His normally steady hands shook as he cradled the baby, feeling their warmth against him. For a man so convinced of the need for a perfect dream, this moment of imperfection—a baby’s first word—was more than enough to fulfill him. The world of dreams he had always sought to create felt tangible now, as though it had been born in that one precious sound.

As he gazed down at his baby, Sunday felt an unfamiliar surge of protectiveness. The weight of leadership and responsibility melted away, and he realized that no matter what happened, this little one would be his reason to keep fighting, to keep dreaming, to keep striving for a world that would never harm them.

"Papa..." he whispered again, feeling the word vibrate through him. The world he wanted to build suddenly felt like it could be real, because of this one small voice that would grow with love, light, and perhaps even a bit of the dreams he held.

Sunday smiled, a rare and genuine smile, as he looked down at his child. "You have no idea how much you mean to me, little one. I will always protect you."

Boothill had always been a man driven by rage, a cyborg cowboy with a heart hardened by years of loss and revenge. But now, as he stood in the quiet of his cabin, looking down at the baby in his arms, something had shifted. Something he couldn't explain.

His baby, wrapped in a soft blanket, gazed up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Boothill’s usual sharp gaze softened as he cradled the tiny form in his arms, his mechanical hand careful not to hurt them. The sound of the baby babbling was almost too much for him to process.

Then, it happened.

"Pa-pa!"

The world seemed to pause. His metallic fingers tightened slightly, but not out of anger—out of something new. Something tender.

Boothill froze, his heart skipping a beat. The world had once taken everything from him—his family, his home, everything he held dear. But here, now, was something that felt like a new beginning. The word “Pa-pa” rang in his ears, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He had never imagined such a moment, never thought it would come in the wake of all the destruction and vengeance he had pursued.

"You said it..." Boothill muttered, his voice rough. His eyes, usually so cold and calculating, were now misted over with something softer. For the first time in years, he felt something akin to peace.

His gaze flicked from the baby to the window, where the stars twinkled above, endless and quiet. He had fought for so long, but maybe, just maybe, this little one was what he needed to remind him of the life he had almost forgotten.

"Pa-pa!" the baby cooed again, and Boothill let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I’m here, little one. I’ll be here."

It was a vow, but it wasn’t one made from the fury of his past. This vow was different. This one was made for a future, for a family he was determined to protect.

Gepard stood in the nursery, his large frame leaning against the doorframe as he watched his baby sleep in the crib. The weight of his position as Captain of the Silvermane Guards was always with him, but now, in this quiet moment, it seemed almost insignificant compared to the tiny life he had brought into the world.

His eyes softened as the baby stirred slightly, their small hands reaching out as if sensing him in the room. It was then that the baby spoke—barely a whisper, but enough to make his heart stop for a brief moment.

"Buba!"

The word echoed in his mind, and a small, stunned smile spread across Gepard's face. His hand instinctively reached toward the crib, resting on the edge as he leaned down, his heart overflowing with emotion. It was as if the weight of all his responsibilities had suddenly been lifted, replaced by this singular, precious connection.

"Buba!" the baby said again, their voice soft but filled with trust.

Gepard’s breath caught. He had spent so much of his life focused on the welfare of others, on the grand ideals of justice and protection, but now, as he looked at this tiny soul, he realized that this was where his true duty lay. He would protect them at all costs, no matter the challenges that lay ahead.

"Yes, my little one," Gepard murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Buba’s here. Always."

He carefully scooped the baby into his arms, cradling them close. For the first time in a long while, Gepard felt something other than the weight of duty—he felt love, deep and unyielding. And as he rocked the baby gently in his arms, he knew he would fight for them, not as a captain or a warrior, but as a father.

I'm gonna be sick because of this 🥺😕💖😭

[indigodreames]

INSTAGRAM EDIT - GINA ADULYADEJ FEAT. PITCH ANURAK ( single co-parent verse )

[fragilefable]

nobody's son, nobody's daughter.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature (18+ minors DNI) Summary: When you and Joel get separated the night of the outbreak, you spend the next decade searching for him. Just when you've given up— a miracle occurs. Warnings: heavy angst, canon typical violence, character death (sarah), discussions of grief, very brief mention of suicidal ideation, alcohol used to cope, depression, suggestive language, lovers reunited, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Word Count: 6.6k Currently Playing: Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey ♪

A/N: This piece has been months in the making, hours of rereading and rewriting. This is my love child. I'm possibly (definitely) planning a part 2 with smut... ;) I am a full-time college student who unfortunately has other responsibilities, so please be patient with me. My first lengthy piece in a while, so please be kind & enjoy my doves!

Sleep was the most convenient temporary escape available in the post-cordyceps world. Oftentimes, if you were lucky enough, with sleep came dreams—glimpses of a divine, utopian life. One without spores or fungi of any kind. There was, however, always the chance that with it came nightmares—Polaroids of the past, the uprising of the infection. Mothers clutching bloodied children, decaying men ripping open flesh with their savage teeth, and, worst of all— losing Joel Miller. 

Joel was... everything—neighbor, friend, lover. Joel hated that word— laughed every time it managed to escape your lips in a hushed whisper, but that was what you were to each other. It transcended explanation. You'd moved to Austin after college in hopes of starting over, a clean slate. Instead, you'd stumbled upon a single father and his then 11-year-old daughter. You fit into their life like the missing puzzle piece— you completed them. Sarah needed a motherly presence in her life. There was only so much Joel could do for the blossoming young woman. 

And Joel— Joel never knew what he was missing until you came along. Someone to be able to rely on, to love unconditionally, a fixed constant. To say he fell head over heels was an understatement, but it became so much more than physical attraction. It became something far more profound and terrifying— love. The kind of love only poets write about. It was fierce, at times agonizing. That's what made losing him all the more heartbreaking. 

You were with Sarah the night of the outbreak— Joel's birthday. Lounging around in plaid pajamas, waiting for Joel to get home from work. Despite being exhausted, Sarah was beaming with pride over her birthday present for her dad— his broken wristwatch now repaired and refurbished. You smiled mischievously, "And just where did you get the money to fix this, young lady?" Sarah grinned slyly, "Just lyin' around, it's not like he noticed it was missin'!" Hours passed, you and Sarah slumped against the couch: Fast asleep, soft snores escaping mouths, drool dribbling down chins. 

The sight made Joel's heart quaver in his chest. Kicking off his muddied work boots, he carefully plopped down in between the two sleeping figures, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. "Hmm. You're home," you stirred awake, drowsy eyes met with a welcome sight: Weathered tan skin and dark chocolate curls. "Hey, Darlin'. You outta head up to bed. I'll be up soon." You nodded faintly, planting a chaste kiss on Sarah's forehead: "Goodnight, sweet girl." 

You fell fast asleep as soon as your body hit Joel's mattress, his scent engulfing you like a blanket of safety— a shield of sorts. The vague smell of sawdust and pine soap conquered your senses, a heavenly combination. An hour later, you felt the bed dip down, strong arms circling your waist.

Frantic hands shook you awake, calling your name weakly: "I can't find Dad. N' somethin' weird is goin' on outside." You sat up, Sarah's urgency pulling you from your hazy half-asleep state. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll call him. Go back to bed." Sarah ignored your suggestion and sat beside you as you reached for the landline. The call went to voicemail without hesitation: "Huh... That's weird." 

Sarah grew more anxious by the second, "I'm gonna go check the driveway for his truck." Sarah shot up from the bed, feet pattering down the stairs. "Sarah! Wait, I'll come with-" Throwing on your Converse, you hastily ran out after her. Your tired eyes scanned the pavement but found no signs of Sarah or Joel's truck. The Adler's door was wide open; you huffed: "Sarah?" 

The Adler's house was pitch black and eerily quiet, the family's dog nowhere to be seen: "Sarah? This is trespassing!" Tiptoeing through the living room, you halted at the sight of a ruby trail— blood. Grotesque, wet noises filled the previously silent house: "Sarah?" The teen bolted out of the kitchen, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the front door: "Run!" Mrs. Adler scrambled after Sarah, mouth dribbling crimson liquid, no longer bound to her wheelchair. 

"What the fuck–" Sarah's grip on your hand tightened as you passed through the door and stumbled onto the pavement. A pair of familiar brown eyes scanned Sarah's figure and then yours: "Sarah? Darlin'? Are ya'll ok-" Joel's words were cut off when Mrs. Adler dashed through the front door, her figure lunging for you. 

Joel struck the side of her head with a wrench as you made a feeble attempt to crawl away. His strikes were lethal, and yet the elder kept thrashing against the ground. "Joel, stop!" Only then did you notice Tommy, Joel's younger brother, behind you, coaxing Sarah into the truck. 

Joel exhausted Mrs. Adler with one final swing, dropping the bloodied wrench beside him and wiping his shaky hands on his jeans. His gaze softened when he saw your timid frame— shaking and unmoving. "Darlin'... Baby, are you okay?" His hands found your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles on a patch of exposed skin. You hesitated; Joel had just killed Mrs. Adler in cold blood— but she tried to kill you and Sarah first. 

Joel hurriedly hoisted you to your feet, "We gotta go, okay baby? It's not safe here." You clambered into the backseat beside Sarah, the girl's arms thrown around you tightly. Kissing the crown of her head, you reassured her: "It's okay, sweetheart, everything's okay." 

Neighbors began to exit their homes, baffled and disturbed by the sight of Mrs. Adler's bloody, lifeless body lying in the yard. Someone called out for Joel. He immediately instructed her to go back inside and lock the doors. Tommy beckoned Joel into the car, exiting the culdesac and taking off towards the highway. After a fleeting moment, you mustered up the courage to ask, "Joel, what's going on?" Tommy replied, "They're sayin' it's a virus- some kinda parasite." Sarah spoke up, tears forming, "Are we sick?" Joel shot the idea down immediately. 

Tommy and Joel continued bickering, your eyes glued to the road ahead: "Joel! Look- It's Jimmy's place." The two-story farmhouse was completely engulfed in flames, unrecognizable. Your hands clung to Sarah, burrowing her head into your neck: "It's okay, sweet girl." Police sirens rang out through the darkness, interrupted by soft pleas for help. A family was stranded on the side of the road, begging for aid. Tommy began to slow the car. "What're you doin'?" Joel firmly questioned. Tommy shot back, "Got a kid, Joel." 

"So do we. Keep drivin'," Joel spat. Tommy sped back up, eyes searching Joel's for an explanation: "Somebody else will come along." As Tommy approached the interstate, the sounds of disgruntled drivers grew louder: "Fuck! Everybody had the same fuckin' idea. I can't get through this." Joel gripped the dashboard, "All right, all right. Let's think it through," he paused for a moment, "All right, take the field! We cut across, and we pick up on the west side." Tommy steered right, the truck jerking on the uneven terrain. As he drove over the hill, helicopters and tanks came into view, "Shit. Fuckin' army." 

Sarah peered out from behind the seat, "Isn't that good?" Your voice was filled with hesitation, "That's the highway we need to get to." Joel and Tommy argued, eventually continuing toward a town just east of the highway. Sarah stilled, "Maybe it's everywhere. Maybe there's nowhere to go." A booming roar erupted, Tommy twisting his body to get a better look at the night sky: "What the fuck?!" Commercial airplanes flew overhead, merely hundreds of feet above the ground. You instinctively covered Sarah's ears with your hands, eyes wrenching shut at the deafening rumble of their engines. Tommy swerved to avoid a police blockade ahead, turning into a nearby alleyway. 

The streets were flooded with screaming civilians, running in every direction— no one sure who exactly they were running from. A hoard of people fled from inside a movie theater, causing Tommy to shift the truck's gear into reverse. "Dad?" Sarah called out, "Dad!" Joel turned; an airplane was rapidly descending— heading straight towards town, "Shit. Move!" As the plane made contact with the ground, a mushroom cloud of fire and smoke bloomed, causing Tommy to lose control of the truck. 

A strong hand shook your leg, "Darlin'? Stay right there, don't move." Your side ached, cool liquid flowing from your head. Beside you, Sarah quickly came to, her eyes shifting to the figure hunched outside of the flipped car, clawing at the corpse of an older man. "Sarah, baby, don't look. C'mere, put your arms around me." As Joel carefully unearthed Sarah from the mangled truck, you climbed out of the shattered window: Hissing as you shifted against your arm. Sarah tried to put weight on her leg, provoking muffled whimpers and cries at the attempt. Tommy, equipped with his shotgun, called out, "We gotta get off the street!" 

As you approached Joel and Sarah, a flaming police car crashed into the capsized truck, separating the three of you from Tommy. Tommy roared from the other side of the wreck: "Meet at the river! I'll find a way." Joel turned to Sarah, "Can you run?" She shook her head wearily. He scooped her into his arms, "Keep your eyes on me." Joel shifted towards you, "No matter what, you keep runnin'. Alright, darlin'? Promise me." You hesitated, desperate eyes meeting his, "I promise." 

The three of you stumbled through the alley until you came across a cluster of bodies scattered across the pavement, crouched figures grunting over the lifeless figures. The end of the passage was clear. The only problem was getting past the rotted creatures without being noticed. There was no way Joel could outrun them in his condition. One of the creatures shot up at the sound of a remote blast, eyes landing on Joel. His voice was firm, "Go." You grabbed his arm, "Joel!" He repeated his command, louder— frantic: "You can't carry Sarah w'that arm. Go find Tommy. We'll meet you there."  

You pressed a hurried kiss to Sarah's head, the deranged man scrambling to his feet before you could embrace Joel. You took off towards the other end of the alley, Joel and Sarah barricading themselves inside the vacant diner across from the pile of carcasses. Your body throbbed with every step, head burning with the fire of a thousand suns. Your feet carried you across town, weaving in and out of injured civilians and infected until you reached the river. The stream was pitch black, sounds of gunfire and cries rang out in the distance. 

Suddenly, a bright light blinded you: "Put your hands where I can see 'em!" You obeyed, raising them as high as your injured arm would allow. Your voice raw with distress, "M'not sick! Just trying to find my family!" The man stepped closer, seemingly inspecting your physical state. He was clad in military gear, "You hurt?" You shook your head eagerly: "Just a sprained arm." He nodded his head, "Alright. We've got buses that can take you to a decontamination zone." 

Your head scanned the vast field, eyes scouring for any sign of Joel or Tommy: "I- I can't. I'm supposed to meet someone here. At the river." The soldier looked dissatisfied and slowly lifted his gun, "The river goes on for miles. S'not safe out here." Your eyebrows threaded together in confusion, "What- are you- are you gonna shoot me?" The soldier's grasp on his automatic rifle tightened, "I'm sayin' you have two choices. You can either come with me or you can-" 

A guttural scream sounded from behind him. But before he could turn around, a pair of arms seized his neck and began ripping into his military garb. The soldier flailed wildly at his attacker. While he was busy fighting off the deranged beast, you took off into the darkness, wandering aimlessly and calling out for your family. That night was the last time you saw Joel Miller.

16 Years Later

The bitter winter air overwhelmed your senses until you were gasping for air, limbs numb and cold to the touch. You wouldn't make it much longer without shelter, without warmth. You'd spent the better part of the last 16 years searching for him— for Joel. Ever since that night, you'd scoured every independent civilization, every QZ, within mobs of infected. Each night, you silently prayed never to find him like that— skin pallid and overcome with fungus, head split wide open, cordyceps blooming from within. 

You'd trekked across the country with the sole intent of finding him alive and healthy. The journey was brutal— raiders and infected desperate for blood. But by far, the hardest battle was pushing away the nagging thought that, even if Joel and Sarah were somehow alive, you'd never find them. Now, after nearly two decades of searching, you were reaching the end of your journey. You'd officially trekked across the entire nation. If your estimations were correct, you were nearing Wyoming— hence the formidable cold front. 

You'd heard rumors about a small civilization located somewhere on the skirts of Jackson County— your last stop. You knew the chances were slim; that feeling only fortified with each city, each civilian who hadn't heard of or seen anyone by the name of "Joel Miller." But you kept searching— because the day that you stopped would be the day you lost everything, lost yourself. It was as though he held onto you with a leash. If you tugged hard enough, could you finally break free? What else did you have to live for? Maybe one day you'd have some sort of epiphany, something to make sense of all the death and suffering. For now, Joel kept your hope alive— the hope that there was happiness and safety beyond all of the pain. The very thought of him kept you alive. 

You stood in front of thick and rusted iron gates, your posture crooked due to exhaustion— Just one more stop. The sounds of cocking guns drew your attention to the top of the gates. A young man and woman stand there, rifles pointed at you: "Drop your weapon! Let us see your hands!" You obey. This is standard practice amongst civilizations— you'd done it a thousand times by now. Unsheathing and kicking away your pistol, you then throw your backpack towards the gate. Hands raised next to your head. Your voice wavers as you half-shout, "I'm not infected! Just looking for someone!" 

The woman searched your face for a bit, presumably looking for any signs of deceit. She nodded towards her companion, the corroded metal walls unfolding. Two men approached you and picked up your discarded belongings. The younger of the two roughly patted you down and checked for bite marks. When they were satisfied, they led you past the gates into the town square. The village was pleasant, a handful of people milling about in the slushy streets. 

A familiar voice erupts from behind you: "Please excuse the initial hostility. We need to be careful about who we let in... I'm Maria." She extends her hand. You accept it gingerly and introduce yourself. "Welcome to Jackson. You must be freezing. Come on, we'll talk inside." — Maria leads you inside a small building, the exterior reminding you of the Lincoln Logs you used to play with as a child. The inside is... quaint. A lone desk sits near the lit fireplace. Maria leans against the desk and motions for you to take a seat: "So... You're lookin' for someone. And you have reason to believe they're here?" 

You sigh, allowing your aching body to relax against the couch's plush cushions: "No... I am looking for someone, but... Well, this is my last stop." Maria nods sympathetically, tucking a lone braid behind her ear— "I get it. You've been looking for a long time. It's about time to stop. To rest." You can't help the tears that form on your waterline. Your gaze shifts to your lap. Maria continues, "Who are you lookin' for?" 

You swallow the fist-sized lump in your throat, "Joel. Joel Miller." Your attention snaps towards her as a wistful sigh escapes her lips. A tight frown dawns on Maria's face, "I'm sorry. There's no Joel Miller here." You nod; you knew it was a long shot, but hearing it aloud was something different entirely. You rise from the couch, "Thank you. I apologize for takin' up your time." Maria speaks up before you can reach the door: "Now what? You got a place to stay?" 

You honestly hadn't thought that far, about life beyond looking. For years, finding Joel was your only purpose— your rationale for remaining on this infested hellscape. You had no home, no roots. Maria's voice interrupts your thoughts, "There's room here. We've got food and water— shelter. Hell, we're even working on electricity." You turn to face her. Her words dripping with verity, "Jackson could be your home." 

Despite having just met her, Maria's words touched something buried deep within you— hope. Hopeful of a new life, of new beginnings. You forged a small smile, "Okay." Maria smiled, but it was much different from yours: It was toothy, genuine— "Alright. I'll give you the grand tour then." For the next hour or so, Maria marched you around town. She showed you the vast dining hall laden with maple furniture. The stables filled with mare and their young. 

Then she showed you the schoolhouse. It was a small brick building. The walls were filled with colorful crayon drawings. Tiny handprints were pressed onto the wall in various colors of acrylic paint. The dulcet sounds of innocent laughter erupted from every corner of the room. Children from the ages of 5-12 were scattered around: Some doing arts and crafts, some reading, and others playing with worn toys. A tear slipped down your cheek. You brushed it away quickly before Maria could notice. 

You couldn't help but think of Sarah. About the first time she knocked on your door— she was selling chocolate bars for some fundraiser at school. Her bronze complexion dappled with freckles, and her wide smile revealed a missing tooth. She was eleven at the time, eyes bright and full of wonder. Blind to the atrocities that loomed at every turn. Sometimes, you'd think about what she looked like now— did her curls still rest atop her shoulders? Did she still laugh until she was panting for air? She's thirty now... Has she fallen in love? That was considering she is still... 

You didn't entertain the thought. Sarah was fine, alive somewhere with her father to look after her. Maria's touch pulls you from your thoughts, "How about I show you where you'll be living? Get you settled in." As Maria exited the schoolhouse, you stole one last glance at the room. A little girl met your gaze. Her dark curls were pulled into two ponytails. Her burnt mahogany eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, raising her tiny hand and waving it at you. You returned the sentiment, this time allowing the tear to fall down and onto the ground.  

Maria escorted you just outside of town, to a street lined with country-style two-story houses in relatively good condition. "This one here, the green one. It's already furnished. I'll have one of my guys come by later with some essentials from the pantry. Otherwise, you should be all set 'til tomorrow." Your eyes bore into the house. It was nice, but also... "It's big," you retort, "Don't know what I could possibly need all those rooms for." Maria lays the silver key in your hand, "You never know." 

You internally cringe at the connotation. Start over with some man? Have a big family and a white picket fence? You couldn't. It wouldn't be the same. You let out a shaky breath, "Thank you, Maria." She nods, "Come see me tomorrow, and we'll talk about where to go from here. Everyone in Jackson has a job, a role to play. Rest up... You deserve it." She departs, leaving just you and your great, big, empty house. 

3 Years Later

Jackson developed rapidly under Maria's supervision. The population rose from 50 to roughly 300 in just under three years. Jackson now had electricity, thanks to the Jackson County Hydroelectric Dam that Maria's team was able to get up and running. You'd become the head of patrol— in charge of organizing the schedules and determining the routes. You and Maria had become very close, practically family. She's the person who understood you, what you've been through. 

In an attempt to busy yourself and earn your keep, you'd thrown yourself into working alongside her. Not just with patrols but also with community relations and development. You'd completely reconstructed the greenhouse, built a jailhouse— that, luckily, wasn't used much— and helped fortify Jackson's defenses. Maria assigned you the title "community leader," but you much preferred what everyone else called you: "Maria's right hand." 

Your house was still too big, but now it felt homier— lived in. The walls were plastered with botanical paintings you'd found while out on patrol, vases of fresh cut flowers from the community garden placed upon every surface. Cable knit blankets were draped over the shabby leather furniture, the brick fireplace emanating warmth and bringing solace during the cold winter months. You'd even taken up baking in your spare time, frequently bringing baked goods to the schoolhouse. 

Nevertheless, when the sun set and the sounds of bustling downtown Jackson faded, your thoughts always returned to Joel. His bronze skin, tousled brown curls, and perfectly plump lips. Suddenly, it felt as though the house was mocking you, and the right side of the bed always grew colder. Perhaps it's why you worked yourself so hard; taking a day off was seldom. You couldn't escape the persistent feeling that Joel and Sarah weren't alive. That you'd failed to find them time and time again because somewhere, they were six feet under, buried in an unmarked grave. All it takes is one moment— one lapse between heartbeats— and suddenly, everything has changed.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The spring air was crisp with morning dew. A gentle breeze slipped through the cracked bay window. Three heavy thuds woke you— the sharp knocks cutting through serene silence. Your voice was raspy with sleep, "Coming!" You quickly pulled on the worn terrycloth robe that hung from the bedpost and stumbled downstairs. You swung the door open to reveal Stanley, a young man who worked in construction: "I'm so sorry to wake you, but Maria sent me to get you. She said it's urgent."  

You sighed deeply, rubbing the remaining exhaustion from your face: "Urgent like, 'don't get dressed' urgent?" Stanley's eyes roamed across the dark fabric of your robe before snapping back to your face. His cheeks bright pink, "Oh, um... no! Just meet her in her office ASAP." Sending him off with a nod, you traipsed upstairs and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before making your way downtown. It was early morning, the streets empty save the early risers milling about, getting ready for work. As you passed a group of older women sipping hot beverages, you overheard whispers of "an outsider." As Maria's righthand, you were expected to greet all incoming arrivals. How on earth that could constitute a crisis, you did not know. 

As you approached Maria's office, the woman in question exited swiftly, shutting the door behind her. You grew closer, taking note of her fidgeting hands. She was... nervous? "Good morning, Mar. What's the emergency?" Maria's face was sullen. You'd never seen her like this, not in the three years you'd known her. Your hands clenched at your sides, "Maria? What is it?"

She took a deep breath, "This may be a false alarm, but... This guy's last name is Miller. Says he's originally from Texas." Her words stole the air from your lungs, a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach. She said something else, but all you could hear was buzzing. Your vision blurred, the dark-skinned woman's features coming in and out of focus. Could it be him—had Joel finally found you? 

Maria called your name, pulling you from your trance. As your vision focused, you pushed past her. Your grip on the doorknob was bone-crushing, your knuckles turning white from the tension. You inhaled— don't get your hopes up. It might not be him. You exhaled, pushing the door open with a startling amount of force. You analyzed the man's figure, you recognized him— only it wasn't Joel. It wasn't the Miller whose calloused hands once traveled the expanse of your body, making note of each hidden crevice as though it may hold treasure. Whose lips once seared white hot kisses in the places he knew were the most sensitive— "Tommy?"

He looked dumbstruck, his lips parted in shock. Before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around his neck. It took him a moment to reciprocate your embrace, but once he did, his arms anchored you in place. He spoke your name quietly against the crown of your head: "I can't... I can't believe it." You pulled away, "I hardly can either." His hands rested atop your shoulders as his eyes searched your face in disbelief. His resemblance to his older brother felt like a gut punch. You were afraid to ask— fearful of the truth: "Joel? Is he..."

Tommy's hand squeezed your shoulder in reassurance, "He's alive. Last I checked, holed up somewhere in the Boston QZ." A warm tear slipped down your face, the salty liquid resting just below your chin. You'd checked Boston QZ, but recent "terrorist" attacks had made it impossible to stay longer than an hour without drawing the attention of every FEDRA soldier in that godforsaken city. Your hands trembled as you clutched your chest, "And Sarah? How's my sweet girl?" 

Tommy's face went cold— No. No. She can't— "She's gone." The taste of bile rose in your throat, "Wh-when?" Tommy removed his hands from your shoulders, "That night. Shot by some military fucker. She..." He hesitated, "Joel held her. It happened s'fast." Your kneels buckled, threatening to send you towards the ground. You fucked up— you let yourself get accustomed to the idea of her being alive. Repeated it over and over again until you believed it to be true. This was all your fault. 

Your shoulders shook silently, as if you were crying— but no tears emerged, "I have to… I have to find Joel." Turning toward the door, Tommy caught you by your wrist: "I can't let you do that, hon. It's a damn death sentence." You tugged at your arm, desperate to break free from the restraint: "Let go of me, Tommy. I'm doin' this." Maria stepped forward, her hand resting at the base of your neck— "No, you're not. Jackson needs you here. I need you here."

Your breathing became labored. Deep down, you knew they were right— you were in no shape to travel across the country again. You'd barely survived it the first time. Chest heaving, your free hand found purchase on your throat, tightly grasping and constricting the airway. Tommy wearily let go of your wrist, his eyes wide and filled with fear. You ran for the door; you could hear Tommy call out for you as you fled homeward. Sarah was gone. Joel was alone.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

Days passed, and despite everything, the sun rose in the morning and the moon at night. You weren't quite sure how long it had been. You'd stopped counting daybreak after the first five came and went. Maria checked in after the first couple of days, worried that you hadn't been seen around town— or leaving your house, for that matter. Your grief was debilitating, all-consuming. You couldn't eat, could barely sleep, only finding relief at the bottom of a liquor bottle. You were tired… The kind of tired that sleep didn't fix.

Tommy came once. Sat and talked while you stared straight ahead at the empty wall. He could sense your anger, your resentment. How could he not? You silently judged him for leaving Joel, leaving his brother after his only daughter died in his arms. Tommy told you that Joel had changed. He wasn't the Joel you fell in love with; he'd done terrible things— But so had you. You'd killed innocent people, people who were just trying to protect themselves. And you did it in the name of finding Joel and Sarah, of surviving for them. You'd convinced yourself it was kill or be killed, and you had to live with that. Come judgment day, you'd pay greatly for your sins. You accepted that, too.

You only dared to look at Tommy's face once. You saw Joel in his eyes— you saw Sarah. Maybe if you hadn't left Joel in that alleyway, she'd still be alive. You could've protected her, taken the bullet for her. You would have, without hesitation. You'd cross the fiery pits of hell for her, reside in Caina, and be tortured for eternity. You may not have given birth to her, but Sarah was your daughter.

If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could faintly picture her smile. The dimples that formed just below her bottom lip. You could smell the faint aroma of her strawberry shampoo. Hear the broken remnants of her grandiose laughter. You swore to keep those memories someplace safe. Take them out and remember when you needed to, as if they were photographs.

A part of you wanted to be happy that she didn't suffer. She was too innocent for this new, heartless world. She was everything good in life. She was sunshine, sugary syrup, and pure, unadulterated love. But you could not accept this bright side. Not when it meant a life without her in it. Innocence is beautiful, but life is for living.

Tommy stood up, slipping a piece of paper on the nightstand. You cautiously turned it over to reveal a creased photo: You, Joel, and Sarah posing after winning one of her soccer games. You stole one last glance at Tommy. This time, he did not see blinding hatred in your gaze. Instead, he saw gratitude. As your glassy eyes bore into him, he nodded knowingly and left.

Maria came a couple of hours later with leftovers from the dining hall. Setting them on the counter next to the empty whiskey bottles displayed like pathetic trophies. You were in the same position as when Tommy left. You held the photo in your hands, thumbs stroking its frayed edges. Maria quietly dragged a chair closer to the bed, sitting just within arm's reach: "I went to a really dark place after I lost Kevin."

Tearing your gaze from the picture, one of her hands finds yours: "He made life worth living… It took me a long time to start to feel human again. To feel something other than pain and sorrow. The grief never goes away. But slowly, it starts to feel less like loss, and more like love." She inhaled shakily, "I know what you're feeling right now. I know why you're drowning your sorrows in that shit, trying to drink yourself to death." A tear slips down your face, her hand squeezing yours gently: "But you have to understand… What you're feeling right now, that's love. You're not a bad person for how you try to kill your sadness. But it's not gonna work."

You're unable to contain the choked sob that escapes your throat. The tears come harshly, scorching saline against your skin. Maria shifts her weight from the chair onto the bed, holding your shaking frame: "It's okay… Let it out." Her hands cradle your head, smoothing over your disheveled hair. "It's all my fault," you gasp between sobs, "I never should've left them. It's all my fault." Maria shushes you, "No, honey. You don't really believe that. You want someone to blame, but you're not that person."

Eventually, the tears cease. Your breathing evened out as Maria held you, "I miss Joel, so fucking much." You could feel Maria nod tenderly, "I know Honey." A lone tear slipped down your cheek, "Do you think— do you think he'll find me?" Maria pulled away, her chestnut eyes meeting yours, "Truthfully, I don't know." With a deep sigh, she squeezed your hand— "But I know he wouldn't want you to live like this. Isolating yourself from everyone else. You're allowed to grieve, but please don't shut me out. You're my person." You clutch her hands, squeezing firmly: "Even at my worst?" Her arms curled around your torso once again, "Even at your worst."

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The warmer seasons passed with haste. A wintertide blanket of white gradually covered Jackson. Day by day, Maria and Tommy were able to pull you out of your depressive stupor. You had to admit, they made quite the team. Maria was ultimately right, Joel wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life a bedridden drunkard. But still, life without him was arduous. There wasn't a day that passed that you didn't think of Joel Miller. About where he was, what he was doing, who he was with, and whether he missed you as terribly as you did him. 

As much as you wished to focus on these melancholic thoughts, new developments began to bloom in Jackson. Tommy and Maria's blossoming love was hard to ignore and impossible to disapprove of. Watching two people whom you adored fall in love, it felt as though nothing had changed: No cordyceps, no raiders, just Jackson and all of its inhabitants. Perhaps you could find peace in that. When Maria told you that they were expecting, you were over the moon. Maria and Tommy deserved it, Jackson deserved it. Proof that the world is not over— that no matter the circumstances, mankind will prevail. 

You threw together a small wedding ceremony with the help of the florist and local bakery, the couple wanting to tie the knot before the baby's arrival. Joking about how "shotgun weddings" withstood the test of time. Something arose in you, a pang of jealousy— Envious that you and Joel never got the perfect white wedding. It disgusted you, so you buried it deep within the recesses of your heart. 

The winter was hard, the Wyoming chill threatening every crop that dared to sprout from the Earth. This resulted in you spending extra time in the greenhouse. You found gardening to be a rather soothing task, being able to nurture new life in a world marked by death and decay. It also provided plenty of time to think: Something that you did not relish. No matter how many times you pushed the thought of Joel away, it always returned. Whether it was at dawn or late at night plaguing your dreams. 

When you weren't at Tommy and Maria's house or at the Tipsy Bison, you were in the greenhouse. The small shack sat right on the outskirts of town, situated with the perfect view of downtown Jackson. The glass panes shut out the cold, trapping any warmth inside. You bathed in the basking glow of the sun, gravitating towards it as a Sunflower would. You weren't sure when thoughts of Sarah became joyous, memories no longer met with choked cries but instead with soft chuckles. Nonetheless, you welcomed the growth. It's how she would want you to remember her. 

You watched the clock that hung just above the door, a mere estimation of the time: 12:15 p.m. You carefully removed your dirt-caked gloves, setting them on the wooden bench beside you. Your stomach growled impatiently as you began the journey downtown. The air was frigid despite the sun's rays, the cold slowly numbing your fingers. As you ambled towards town, Stanley came jogging towards you: "Hey! Just got word from the gates that Maria's back. Brought some stragglers, two, I think." 

You nodded in his direction, "Alright. Thanks, Stan." The soft crunch of snow beneath your feet accompanied you as you approached downtown Jackson, an air of excitement and uncertainty radiating off of the townsfolk. It wasn't every day that Jackson came across people who weren't just blood-thirsty raiders looking for valuables. As you rounded a corner, you overheard a commotion, the sound of yelling. Strangely, it didn't sound angry or fearful. It sounded... happy. 

Midtown came into view; the construction that was being worked on was now abandoned. Immediately, your gaze fixed on two figures in the middle of the street embracing. That was... not typical. You could make one man out to be Tommy; his black curls contrasted starkly against his warm taupe skin. The other was taller and broader, his hair disheveled and graying. Behind them you could make out Maria on horseback, next to her was a young girl, who couldn't be older than thirteen. 

Maria's expression was borderline unreadable, a mixture of trepidation and relief. Until her eyes met yours, then her face softened. A look of tenderness emerged. Everything about this situation puzzled you— Until the two figures broke apart. The man stood inches from Tommy, his hands gripping Tommy's shoulders firmly. His face was sunken with exhaustion and hunger; a vast smile overtook his face. A smile you would recognize anywhere. 

He looked just as he had twenty years ago, only now his hair was significantly longer and his beard gray. His face was now littered with wrinkles, just as yours was. A telltale sign that time had, in fact, passed, that the world fell apart right in front of your eyes. Your fingers dug into your thigh. You surely would've drawn blood if not for the layer of denim protecting your skin. You knew you were grieving, but hallucinations seemed extreme. You took a hesitant step forward, still on the opposite end of the street. 

Maria beckoned for you. Your name seemingly catching Tommy's attention as he turned towards you. As the men stood side-by-side, it was impossible to deny. Their likeness evoked something in you— realization. You weren't dreaming, you weren't hallucinating. He was there, just a yard away: Joel Miller. His gaze found yours, eyes searching your face in disbelief. Your name left his mouth like a question, but it sounded like a prayer. 

He stepped forward as if he was testing the waters. You repeated his action, "Joel?" A smile broke across his face once again, causing you to break into a sprint. He jogged forward, careful not to slip on the icy gravel. Tears began streaming down your face, their warmth countering the icy chill. Before you could slow down, your body collided with his. His arms were tense, his hold fastening around you. You'd only dreamt of this moment for two decades. 

You weren't sure how long you stood like that. Head nestled firmly against his chest, tears staining his leather coat. His gloved fingers gently grasped your chin, pulling your face from its sanctuary: "Baby... Fuck, I can't believe it." His eyes searched your face for any sign of unease. He could find nothing but pure joy: "You found me. I searched for you, Joel Miller, for 16 years. And you found me." 

Joel let out a breathy chuckle, cut off as you captured his lips in a velvety kiss. At first, it was chaste.— A silent admission of consolation, twenty years in the making. You ran your tongue across his bottom lip, prompting him to groan as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. After a moment, a loud cough erupted from behind you. You reluctantly pull away, your forehead resting against his. Your hands cupped his cheeks, eyes glassy with relief and adoration: "After all this time?" Joel leans forward to place a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth, "Would wait forever f'you, Darlin'." 

© 2023 fragilefable do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing to any other site.

divider by @saradika

[d-targaryenshoe]

Love Of Tomorrow - Colin Bridgerton

Word count: 968

Summary: How becoming a father can change a man's feelings, quite strange is it not?

The first light of dawn crept through the heavy curtains, casting a soft golden glow over the room.

Colin Bridgerton lay on his back, head propped on pillows, gazing at the two people who had become his entire world.

Beside him, you, his beloved wife, slept peacefully, your hair spread across the pillow like a halo.

Nestled between you, in a tiny cradle of blankets, was your newborn son, a perfect bundle of warmth and innocence.

Colin’s heart swelled with an emotion so profound he could hardly find words for it.

He had always imagined what it might be like to become a father, but nothing had prepared him for the sheer depth of love and protectiveness that surged through him every time he looked at his child.

The baby, with its tiny, delicate features and the softest skin, seemed almost too perfect to be real.

Every breath his son took, every little noise he made, felt like a miracle.

Colin gently brushed his fingers over the baby’s tiny hand.

The infant stirred slightly but did not wake.

Colin marveled at the small fingers, so perfectly formed, and felt a lump in his throat.

He couldn’t believe that this little life was his to care for, protect, and love.

You stirred beside him, your eyes fluttering open.

You smiled softly as you took in the sight of your husband gazing down at your child.

“You’re still awake,” you whispered, your voice thick with sleep.

Colin turned to you, his eyes shining with happiness. “I can’t seem to take my eyes off him,” he confessed, his voice filled with awe.

You smiled and reached out to touch his cheek. “I know the feeling,” you said softly. “But you need to rest too, Colin. You’ve barely slept since he was born.”

Colin shook his head. “I don’t want to miss a single moment,” he said, his voice catching slightly. “Every time I close my eyes, I feel like I’m missing something.”

Your heart melted at his words.

You had always known that Colin would make a wonderful father, but seeing him now, so completely and utterly in love with your son, filled you with a happiness that you could hardly contain.

“Why don’t you hold him for a bit?” you suggested, your eyes twinkling with affection.

Colin hesitated, a look of uncertainty crossing his face. “Are you sure? What if I wake him up?”

You chuckled softly. “He's your son, Colin. He's used to your voice, your touch."

"Besides,” you added with a mischievous grin, “you’re going to have to get used to holding him at some point.”

Colin nodded, though he still looked a little apprehensive.

Carefully, he reached out and lifted the baby from the cradle of blankets, cradling the tiny body against his chest.

The baby made a small noise but then settled back into sleep, the tiny head resting against Colin’s heart.

Colin felt a surge of emotion so intense it took his breath away.

Holding his son in his arms, feeling the soft rise and fall of his tiny chest, he felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility.

This little life was so fragile, so precious, and it was up to him to keep him safe.

You watched him, your heart full.

You could see the love and wonder in Colin’s eyes, and it made you love him even more.

You had always admired Colin’s carefree spirit, his sense of adventure, and his boundless energy.

But seeing him now, so gentle and tender with your child, made you realize just how deep his capacity for love truly was.

“You’re a natural,” you whispered, your voice full of admiration.

Colin looked up at you, his eyes shining with gratitude. “I don’t know about that,” he said, his voice tinged with humility. “But I’m going to do my best.”

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him gently on the lips. “You’re going to be an amazing father,” you said with certainty.

Colin smiled back at you, his heart full. “And you,” he said softly, “are already an amazing mother.”

You blushed slightly at the compliment, but your eyes sparkled with happiness.

You had always known that motherhood would be challenging, but having Colin by your side made everything feel possible.

For a while, you simply sat there in the quiet of the early morning, taking in the wonder of your new family.

The world outside could wait.

At this moment, everything you needed was right here, in this room.

As the sun continued to rise, filling the room with a warm, golden light, Colin felt a deep sense of contentment settle over him.

This was his life now, and he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

Every adventure, every journey he had ever taken, had led him to this moment, to this little family that he loved more than anything in the world.

“I think we should stay in bed all day,” Colin said suddenly, his voice filled with a playful determination.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? And what about your duties? Your responsibilities?”

Colin shook his head. “Nothing is more important than this,” he said, his voice firm. “I want to spend every possible moment with you and our son.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man you had married. “Then it’s settled,” you said with a grin. “We’ll stay in bed all day.”

Colin beamed at you, his heart light with happiness.

He leaned over and kissed you, a sweet, lingering kiss that spoke of all the love he felt for you.

When you finally pulled apart, Colin settled back against the pillows, holding your child close.

As the day went on, the three of you stayed in bed, wrapped up in each other and in the joy of your new family.

[moonlightdawn1102]

'You Had Me At Hello'

Pairings: Single Mom Reader x Mob Boss Bucky Barnes, Slight Reader x OMC

Word Count: 2516

Warnings: Verbal Abuse, Slight Physical Abuse

Being a single mom wasn’t something you’d ever envisioned for yourself. You’d always thought that you’d be the type of woman to have the whole white picket fence lifestyle with a husband that loved you deeply. That didn’t happen though and instead you ended up dating some jerk of a businessman for three years until he left you at eight months pregnant for his secretary.

You should have seen it coming considering how pretentious and conceited he was, but you were a fool in love who held out hope that he’d change for the better. You thought the pregnancy would help the two of you become closer again, but it did the complete opposite.

In the long run, you supposed that walking in on Tommy fucking his secretary was a blessing in disguise. At the time you’d been heartbroken but now you were glad to no longer have him in your life despite the hardships you’d faced. You’d been able to get emergency housing due to the fact you were eight months pregnant when he kicked you out, but it hadn’t been easy and money was hard to come by, you'd done whatever you could just to scrape enough money together to get all of the necessities for your baby before they arrived.

When your daughter was born everything in your life changed, you’d never experienced a love like it before and you knew from that moment on that she would always be your number one priority. When Gracie turned one was when you officially went back to work, your neighbour helped out when she could with taking care of Gracie, but for the most part you’d have to take her with you. It wasn’t the best plan but you had no other choice, you needed the money and couldn’t leave Gracie alone.

That plan worked just fine until Gracie started attending preschool and your landlord decided to put your rent up by fifteen percent. After that you had to work two jobs just to make ends meet, ideally you would have worked three but you needed that time to spend with Gracie.

Today was one of those days where just about everything that could go wrong did. Firstly two people called in sick at the diner you worked at which meant that apart from the cook, you would be the only one working. Then Gracie’s preschool called and told you that you needed to pick her up because she’d bitten another student. By some miracle you’d managed to get a hold of your neighbour who picked Gracie up for you and dropped her off at the diner.

You hadn’t spoken to her about the incident at school yet because you were far too busy, but you planned on it once your shift finished. Currently, Gracie was sitting at the counter doing some colouring while you worked. If only that had been as stressful as your day would get, but apparently the universe hated you.

You walk over to the corner booth and smile brightly when you spot one of your regulars, James Barnes. He'd been coming to the diner for around four months now, he was always kind to you and always made sure to tip you generously. He tended to flirt with you, but it was never taken seriously on your part, you were sure that someone as handsome and as charming as James wouldn’t ever be interested in you. That didn’t mean you didn’t feel good when he’d make sweet remarks and flash that award winning smile at you. 

“Hey Sugar, you look beautiful today” he says with his signature smirk. You roll your eyes playfully and giggle gently, “James, I’ve been running around this place like a crazy woman. I couldn’t look less beautiful. Now would you like the usual?” you say with a smile. James leans back in his seat and looks you over, “Firstly, I’ve told you to call me Bucky. Secondly, you look as beautiful as ever. Thirdly, you shouldn’t have to run around this place to begin with, you should have someone to take care of you. But yeah, I’ll have my usual please” he says softly. You blush and nod your head, “I’ll bring it over in a minute” you say with a slight smile. 

Bucky always ordered the same thing which was a black coffee and a slice of pie. You grab the coffee pot and pour him a cup before placing a slice of lemon meringue pie on a plate. You turn around to walk back over to Bucky, but are stopped in your tracks at the man walking inside the diner. What the hell was Tommy doing here?

You hadn’t seen him since he’d kicked you out on the street. Your hands were shaking and you threw the cup and plate down on the counter, “Pumpkin, come here” you said quickly to your daughter. Gracie hopped down from the stool and came over to you, Tommy was walking this way and you felt like you were going to pass out. 

You picked Gracie up and held her on your hip, you couldn’t let her be a part of this especially considering the fact you’d told her that her father was in heaven. You look around for a way out before your eyes land on Bucky, you swallow thickly and walk over to him, “I..I’m really sorry to ask, but could you please just watch my daughter for a minute? I need to take care of something and I..” you begin to ramble.

Bucky shakes his head and gestures for you to put Gracie in the booth opposite him, “It’s no problem. I love kids and she seems like an angel” he says softly. You felt relief flood your system and you set Gracie down, “Be good Pumpkin. Stay here with Mr Bucky” you say before pressing a kiss to her head.

“Y/N, I want to speak to you. Is that her?” you hear Tommy call out from behind you. Taking a calming breath, you walk over and grab hold of him before pulling him out of the back entrance. “Who the hell do you think you are Tommy?! I haven’t seen you in over three years. You don’t just get to turn up and announce yourself to my daughter!” you exclaim.

Tommy scoffs slightly, “Our daughter, Y/N. I’ve spent two months tracking you down. I’m her father and I want to see her. You either let me see her, or I file for custody. Who do you think will win that court case? The struggling mother who can barely afford to clothe her or the father who has the capability to send her to the best school in the state?” 

“Y..You can’t do that. You can’t take her away from me. I won’t let you, Tommy” you say firmly. He laughs and takes a step closer to you, “Oh yeah? And how do you plan on stopping me? You’re still the pathetic little fool that you’ve always been. You were just an easy fuck, Y/N. That’s the only reason I put up with you for so long, but I’ll be damned if I let my daughter grow up to be like her mother” he says flatly.

You couldn’t handle his words of torment any longer and slapped him hard across the face, it was the only time since you’d met Tommy that you’d ever stuck up for yourself. It might not have been the brightest idea though, because the next second Tommy had his hand around your throat and had knocked your head against the wall. You groan out in pain and try to pull his hand away, “You stupid fucking bitch” he snarls out, he raised his fist to hit you but it never made contact.

Suddenly, he wasn’t anywhere near you and Bucky was standing in front of you. He lifted your chin with his fingers to check over your face before turning your head gently to check the cut on the back of your head from when it had hit the wall, “Hey Sugar, are you alright?” he said softly. You nod gently but wince at the pain in your head, “I don’t think you are. I’ll take you to the doctor, you’ve got quite a nasty cut” he says sympathetically.

Tommy stands back up from the ground where Bucky had thrown him, “Hey man, get the fuck out of here. My girl and I were just talking” he shouts. Anger flickered behind Bucky’s eyes at Tommy’s words, he turned around to stare Tommy down and you saw the fear that immediately consumed Tommy, it was almost as if he recognised Bucky. 

“M..Mr Barnes..I..I didn’t know it was you” he stutters out. Bucky laughs darkly, “So you know who I am? And what do I do for a living, correct?” he asks calmly. Tommy quickly nods his head and holds his hands up in defence, “Yes..Yes of course” he says, you’d never seen Tommy look afraid of anyone so why did he look like he was about to cry in front of James? Bucky hums gently, “Right, so do you want to explain to me why you put your hands on my girl?” he asks.

Your eyes flicker to Bucky in confusion, you weren’t his..Not that you hadn’t dreamt about it. Tommy glances at you, “Wait..Wait..You’re dating him? You let a man like that around our daughter but won’t let me speak to her? Do you even know who he is?” he spits out. You swallow thickly and fiddle with your fingers, “You kicked me out and left me for your secretary while I was eight months pregnant. You don’t get to dictate who I date or sleep with, and you definitely don’t get to tell me who I bring around MY daughter” you say firmly while taking a step forward to stand by Bucky’s side.

He looked proud of you and subtly reached for your hand squeezing it softly. Tommy looked like he was about to blow a gasket and scoffs loudly, “You know what, you’re not even worth it. You’ll come crawling back when he moves on to his next whore” he says before straightening his suit and making his way out of the alleyway.

You let out a sigh of relief and let go of Bucky’s hand but he just holds it tighter refusing to let you part ways, “What do you think you’re doing Sugar?” he asks. You blush and look up at him, “Well..I..erm..I figured that you were just putting on a show to get him to leave. I can take myself to the doctors, it’s no big deal” you say quietly. 

“Oh Sugar, I wasn’t putting on a show. I meant every word that I said. You’re my girl. You have been ever since I walked into this diner. I’ve just been waiting for you to realise it” he says with his usual charming smile. Your mouth drops open in shock at his words, “Wh..What? But I’m..I’m not..You could do so much better, I’m not the type of woman you want by your side. I mean, you’re..You know..From a certain societal class and I’m a single mother working two jobs” you say quietly.

Bucky laughs softly, “None of that matters to me, Sugar. I’ve been trying to do this at your pace, but clearly I wasn’t obvious enough. So, Y/N would you please let me take you out on a date?” he asks with a smile. You were about to answer when you heard crying, a tall blonde man walked out the back of the diner with Gracie in his arms. You felt your body freeze up at this strange man holding your crying daughter, you were about to lose it when he spoke whilst looking at Bucky.

“I’m sorry Buck, she won't stop crying” he says while bouncing Gracie up and down. You walk over and Gracie immediately calms down, you take her from the man and glance back at Bucky. He shakes his head with a smile, “Don’t worry about it. Y/N this is Steve, he’s my right hand man, but more importantly he’s like my brother” he says to you which allows you to relax.

At least Gracie hadn’t been left with some random man, “It’s nice to meet you Steve” you say softly. He nods his head with a polite smile, “It’s nice to finally meet you too. Buck hasn’t stopped talking about you for weeks” he says with a chuckle. You let out a laugh and smile brightly before remembering what Bucky had said, “Wait, you said that he’s your right hand man. What is it you do for work?” you ask curiously. Steve stares at Bucky and shakes his head, “You haven’t told her? Jesus Buck. You need to tell her, I’ll wait for you in the car” he says with a sigh. He gives you a friendly smile before walking back into the diner.

Bucky scratches the back of his head which makes you narrow your eyes in suspicion, “What is it? What do you do?” you ask firmly. He sighs softly, “I’m..erh..involved with some not so legal activities” he says vaguely. “What kind of illegal activities?” you ask. He looks at the ground before making eye contact with you, “I may or may not be a mob boss..” he says with a slight laugh.

You just stare at him in shock for a few minutes and try to process what he’d just told you. There was no way that this sweet and lovely man could be a mob boss, he was like a damn cupcake half the time and made you feel safer than anyone had in years. “I know it’s a lot to process and if you want me to leave and never come back then I’ll do it. But I just want you to know that I like you Y.N, I want you in every way imaginable and I want to take care of you. I want to be the man that you deserve. I want to be there for you and Gracie if you’ll let me” he says softly.

His words made any resolve you had left crumble into pieces, you decided that you didn’t care what he did for work as long as he treated you and Gracie in the way that he’d promised. You smile up at him before leaning up and pressing a deep kiss to his lips, “Eww mommy..” Gracie whines which makes you laugh and pull away from Bucky.

You look at him with a light in your eyes that hadn't been there since you were a child, “Well, I can speak confidently when I say that we want you. I just want to know if this is really what you want. Are you sure you want us?” you say softly. Bucky chuckles gently and shakes his head fondly, “Sugar, you had me at hello” 

[lezzballer]

do you have any girlfriend headcanons for diana?

Diana Taurasi girlfriend headcanons

(somewhere in the 2008-2012 era)

∞ Diana will flirt with you incessantly for years. But she's very very comfortable with flirty lighthearted friendships that never go anywhere. So she won't do anything to evolve the relationship beyond that. If you want to be with her, you need to be the one to make the first move

∞ Diana loves dates. She loves everything about dates. Beaches, sunsets, picnics, cafes, lounges, restaurants, food, wine, live piano, flowers, jewelry, ambience, architecture. She loves giving and receiving gifts and experiences

∞ Diana will only call you her girlfriend if she's extremely serious about you. All the women she wasn't serious about were just friends to her, not girlfriends. So she hasn't actually had many girlfriends

∞ Because Diana hasn't actually had many girlfriends, she doesn't have much relationship experience. She doesn't really know what she wants or needs from a relationship. All she knows is she wants and needs to be around you 24/7

∞ Diana wants to let you into her whole life. So get ready to spend some time in the Inland Empire

∞ You have to navigate a language barrier to mesh with her family. And you have to make sure her sister adores you. If you can't do that, your relationship with Diana won't last. But Diana is drawn to you because she knows you'll fit in with them. She wouldn't bring you to Chino unless she was sure you belonged with her family

∞ Diana always calls you "my love." Sometimes she'll even call you "mi amor"

∞ Diana looks up to you and admires you and genuinely believes you're way out of her league

∞ When she looks at you, you feel like the most important thing in the world to her. She'll take your hands in hers and give you a look, saying nothing in a way that says everything

∞ She'll say mild flirty things to other women to brighten their day. But that's just talk. It doesn't mean anything to her. She's yours and you trust her.

∞ She's very playful. There are times when she can't say a single serious word. She'll pretend to be a completely different person just for fun. She knows that outsiders project a domineering power-hungry personality onto her. So she likes to act out a parody of the person they think she is. But you know who she really is. The idea that your soft silly self-deprecating woman could ever go through with any interpersonal cruelty is absurd. All you can do is laugh

∞ Diana is a nuzzler. She will nuzzle you whenever and wherever. She'll nuzzle you in the middle of a mundane conversation about nothing in particular. She likes to rest her head on your shoulder and press her face into your neck

∞ Even though Diana's only in her 20s, she already has a litany of chronic health problems. Back problems, skin problems, mental problems. Her entire left hand broke and healed wrong. Her spine is a nightmare. And now that you're her girlfriend, her problems are your problems, too. When you take care of her, it fills her with love and wonder. She's never had a relationship like this

∞ Diana is addicted to basketball. But the moment you have a crisis in your life, she'll leave her team to be by your side. And she'll take care of you the way you take care of her

∞ The challenging thing about being with Diana is her worldview. She believes there's more bad than good in the world. She doesn't believe in miracles and she doesn't believe in the future. The only thing she feels she can rely on in life is the present moment. That makes it difficult to plan a life together. The only way through this is to lead the way and see if she follows you. So far, she's followed you every time.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

Hi! Plz may I request smth super smutty and likely weird with the Valeska twins and a dom reader? (Hell, make it poly if you want!😏😉 if not, separate is also fine🥰 ) I just love the thought of those two getting fucked senseless, they'd be so pretty 😘 maybe including but by no means limited to: pegging, slight mommy kink, edging, over stim, bondage... etc... and followed up by some really fluffy aftercare 🥰

As for a song, my brain keeps going back to Mz. Hyde by Halestorm. So that, I guess!

‘MZ. HYDE,

-GOTHAM!VALESKA TWINS X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; The Valeska twins meet their match ;)

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!valeska twins x female reader. SMUT!!! wrote hcs ahh!! FemDom!reader, readers a brat tamer. THREESOME!! Bondage, pegging, overstimulation, mommy kink, and more!!! some incestous undertones on jerome’s part but not really. I love dom!reader sm <3 ty for this request gave me a random burst of motivation. Fluffy aftercare ofc <3 our boys need love !!! after getting their brains fucked out

♫ “I will gently violate your mind, before I tuck you in / my poison is your remedy.” Mz. Hyde by Halestorm

⋆ Taming these boys is hard, but boy is it worth it.

⋆ First and foremost, how you ever managed to get them to share you is a miracle. But, reader, you have the both of them wrapped around your finger.

⋆ They are both completely two different types of subs, but both brats in different ways. Jerome especially.

⋆ Starting off with Jerome, he practically feeds off everything you say. He vies for your attention so desperately, and your degradtion; for both him and his brother alike. Every word you say, he’s hanging off of. He’s so desperate to be punished, it’s hard to resist.

⋆ Jerome is definitely a lot more teasing. He’ll stretch out on the kingsized mattress in all his glory, preening like a cat, ready to be taken. His eyes light up in a crazed expectation, excitement filling him. His cock is throbbing at your words. Every single “You’re a sick fucking animal.” You utter to him while he writhes below you, he loves. He gets drunk on being degraded.

⋆ Speaking of which, he wants to be fucked like an animal in heat. If you two are fucking, he’ll want to grab your hips, whining loudly, trying to control your movements. You’ll have to slap his hands away, and he’ll pout and growl. If you’re pegging him, he’s grinning and giggling like a maniac, trying to spew out vague jokes and insults, only for you to shut him up with each thrust. When you hit that sweet spot inside of him, his eyes are rolling back, and he’s pausing in his speech- faltering under your touch.

⋆ He also loves watching you peg his brother; it’s thrilling for him to see his typically always-in-control brother who typically ruins his fun be shut up for once and just take it. He’ll laugh and point as he watches, 100% getting off on the degradation of his brother.

⋆ “How’s it feel, brother?” Jerome is taunting, palming his cock in his hand, making fun of Jeremiah. Jeremiah isn’t pleased in the slightest, but it’s hard to snarl something back when he’s getting his hole fucked deep and senseless.

⋆ I’ve mentioned before, Jerome never shuts up. So you’ll have to make him. Make that ginger CHOKE on your strap-on, shoving it down his throat. Watch him wildly gag and look up at you with big almost innocent eyes. His spit will dribble down onto the make-shift cock, making a sloppy mess of his mouth.

⋆ Jeremiah is much more composed, but also gets a kick out of finally seeing his brother shut the fuck up for once in his life.

⋆ Unlike Jerome, Jeremiah is much more hesitant to be dominated, pegged, or tied up. He’s a bit of a narcotic control freak- he’s spent his whole life trying to be in control, so it’s harder to get him to cave.

⋆ You’ll have to be more methodical in your approach. It will take awhile for him to to want to be pegged, so you start small- with slow and sopping blowjobs, feeling him trying to thread his hands through your hair. Everytime he reaches out for you, you’ll remove your lips from his cock, and his lip will curl with annoyance. At first he’ll be angry, constantly trying to give you commands, but it’s useless unless he wants to cum. By the end of it, you’ll have the man begging for your mouth back on his member, through raw tears from being edged hours on end.

⋆ Jeremiah will beg, and that level of submission will break him. From then on, he’ll trust you more, and realize his brother might be right- it is fun to let go. From then on, the two of them will practically worship you.

⋆ They are both big fans of being overstimulated. Jerome will be whining, rolling his head and eyes back, tongue out his mouth. You’ll watch his chest heave with each stroke, sticky cum staining your hand and sheets. Restraints holding him firmly in place. Jeremiah will be murmuring senseless pleads for you to stop, but when he cums over and over, he can hardly complain. He will thrust up into your hand, trying desperately to pull against the ropes around his wrists and legs.

⋆ Jerome has more of a mommy kink then Jeremiah does; and it’s a sore subject for him. It slips out randomly during one of your sexcapades, and Jeremiah will look at him incredulously before laughing. It’s his turn to taunt Jerome now. THIS will get under Jerome’s skin, and he’ll go red in the face, lip trembling while he struggles not to cum right then and there from the sheer humilation.

⋆ In terms of aftercare, PLEASE take care of these boys. Jerome will be overtly clingy, and Jeremiah overtly embarrassed. Jeremiah will insist he takes a shower first, and Jerome will be glad to have your sole attention in the mean time.

⋆ Both of them aren’t used to being taken care of. And both of them feel infinitely grateful. When I say they would do anything for you, I mean anything. Que Jeremiah watching you clean him up, looking at you like your the only pure thing in the world from lidded eyes. Jerome is equally as intrigued, never being treated with a soft touch before you.

⋆ Expect playful banter by the time you clean them up, mostly from Jerome. You’ll be cuddled up together in the sheets, Jerome’s head laying on your thighs, and Jeremiah’s head laid between your breasts.

⋆ “So…Y/N, which one of us has the bigger dick?”

⋆ “You two are literally identical, Jerome.”

⋆ “She just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. It’s obviously me.” Jeremiah will snidely chime, small smirk on his face.

⋆ The sibling rivalry continues to persist, Jerome sticking his tongue out at him and blowing a raspberry on your thighs, which tickles.

⋆ Like I said, you have these two boys wrapped around your finger.

[emmyrosee]

okay so, this evening has not been fun for me, so ofc I’m gonna try coping via escapism 🤩

and as always you are absolutely NOT obligated to write it. I’m so serious, if you don’t want to there’s absolutely zero pressure emmy, I’d completely understand one hundred percent.

very long story short, I got my grades back for this semester and despite doing soooo much better overall this year than my first year and not failing a single class this time around, unless I get a miracle it’s looking like I’m going to have to be asked to withdraw from my university for a whole year ☹️

and as someone who got straight As from elementary til my last year of high school/made school my whole life, this is just an enormous blow to any self confidence I had finally built back up. I was doing better mentally and finally feeling a bit like myself again and I’ve just felt so sick with anxiety all evening because I don’t even know what to do anymore. If they decide to ask me to leave, it’ll make my chances of medical school even slimmer than they already were and I can’t help but feel like a bit of a failure and like I’ve just ruined my future despite knowing it’s not all true and I still have options :(

it’s so hyper specific and I’m so so so sorry abt that, but would it be possible for some comfort + tons of fluff with kuroo possibly? I just want to be babied a bit by this fictional man LOL. I feel like he’d know exactly what to do and how to get my mind off of it until I inevitably get that email :(

anon <3

My love, I am so sorry you’re having to go through this, and I am here, to PERSONALLY, tell you that you are far from a failure, and you should still be proud of yourself for getting so far. It’s okay to have bumps like this that halt your dreams, and it doesn’t make you any less deserving of continuing to chase those dreams. And hey! Use me as an example! I went from being a mechanic for four years and being fired for being so terrible (yes that is an actual thing that happened) then I went to college for writing; and now I’m a licensed esthetician with a focus in makeup artistry! There is no such thing as a dead end, no such thing as a closed room, just keep treating yourself gently and reminding yourself that this is far from over, your dream is still more than obtainable with some time and it is more than okay.

Ahem. Let me get off my soapbox PFFFF-

——-

Last night, you refreshed your emails who knows how many times, staring at your computer screen on the verge of hyperventilating for what felt like hours- and it might have been; your brain can’t process how long it was right now.

Your bottom lip was tight between your teeth, the hand on the mouse pad trembling, waiting in anticipation, tight with nerves. Your other rested a fist on your lap, waiting for the results and occasionally wiping a rogue tear that falls.

There’s a soft rapping on the door, but you don’t turn to face it. You merely keep refreshing.

“Hey,” tetsuro whispers, and you hear his feet padding into the room, and when he gets next to you, he crouches down. Once again, you can’t spare him a glance. “Any updates?”

You stay silent. He winces, “I’ll take that at a no…” he lays a warm hand on your back and gently rubs it in circles, “it’s okay baby. We’ll figure it out, we always do.”

“Tetsuro, please,” you whimper, not quite in the mood for a pep talk. “I’m going to puke right now, my life is in flames and crumbling around me, I’m so nervous, please. Save the pep talk, I can’t handle it right now.”

“I'm sorry,” he soothes. He doesn’t say anything further, just rubbing your back in slow, firm circles with his palm, blinking his golden eyes up at you warmly, lovingly.

You feel your body cramp from being under his loving touch, suddenly dawning on you just how long you've been sitting in the chair, inert and unwilling to peel your eyes from the email inbox. You suddenly become hyperaware of how your legs feel numb, your fingers are cramped and your eyes are burning. It's the first time in hours you've taken a break from your refreshing to scrub at your eyes, breeding a wetness to try and soothe the sting.

You hear Tetsuro sigh, "why... don't we go to bed, angel?"

"No."

"But-"

"I can't," you whimper. "Not now. Not yet-" your breathing picks up as you look at him in despair, chest fluttering and heart pounding as you try to breathe. He furrows his brows and shushes you softly, big hands moving to cradle your cheeks and force you to look at him.

"Baby," he says softly, but firm enough to ground you. "It's late. They're not going to send it this late at night. And if they do, we'll deal with it when we wake up tomorrow. But I'm almost certain they're not going to send it to you this late. I promise, okay?"

You let out a shaky sigh and look at the time: 22:43. It's far too late to be thinking, to be worrying, and you'd much rather breakdown in the comfort of your own bed, than alone in this wooden chair.

But you do know that, no matter what, Tetsuro is going to be right next to you, rubbing your back and cradling you close.

When you say nothing, Tetsuro slowly stands up and scoops you in his big, strong arms, "come on, angel face. Let's get some rest." You thunk your head against his chest and fist your fingers into the collar of his shirt, letting him carry you to the bathroom where he plops you down on the countertop.

He grabs your toothbrush and some toothpaste, and gently tells you to open, which you sleepily do. He's extra careful, making sure to get every tooth he can, scrubbing softly as to not make you uncomfortable. Silence, save for the bristles on the toothbrush, fills the room, the corner of Tetsuro's tongue sticking out in focus.

"Okay. Spit," he says, moving so you can comfortably turn your head and spit the froth out. Skincare comes next, and his touch is even softer as he massages in every product you use.

"Good girl," he whispers, picking you back up to carry you to bed. "My good girl. Good, brave girl..."

You drift off in his arms at his praise, not even feeling the way he gets you into pajamas or gets you under the covers, the exhaustion of the constant high of anxiety weighing you down.

Waking up this morning, your bones feel like bricks under the wall of your muscles, barely able to move under the force of it all. Your skin feels like paper, so hyper aware of it now that you’ve had the time to come down from your anxious state. You blink up at your ceiling, eyelids tight as you do, and you continue to stare and let your body wake up molecule by molecule, inch by inch. You feel it coming to life, and you slowly bring your hands up to press the heels of your palms into your eyesockets to force the rest of the sleep out of your eyes.

When your hand then drops next to you, you feel yourself grow saddened at the lack of warmth. Tetsuro’s been out of bed long enough to let his side cool down, and it makes you want to cry at the idea of being alone right now.

You never should’ve shut him down last night. All he wanted to do was help, and you shut him up and made him feel bad, now he’s not even in bed with you anymore, and you feel tears sting at your eyes again, this time out of anxiety of making him upset, and-

“Ah, you’re up.”

Your guilty, howling mind shuts up as soon as tetsuro’s body makes its way into the doorway, smiling and stirring his tea with a spoon. “Good morning, babygirl.” He takes a step into the bedroom and before you know it, he’s at your side, sitting on the bed next to you. He uses his free arm to wrap around you, but not pull you to his chest. “Did you sleep okay?”

“No,” you whimper, voice croaky. He nods and lets his thumb rub up and down the curve of your shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled at you last night.”

His brow cocks in confusion, “huh?”

Now, finally, you turn to face him, “I snapped at you… I told you to-“

“You told me you didn’t want a pep talk,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s okay. You’re allowed to tell me that my words might not be the most helpful. I’m not going to get mad at you for that. It’s not like you told me to shut my ugly ass up- you’d never do that, I’m too pretty.”

This, for the first time in what feels like days, has you crack a smile. You let out a small laugh, breathy and barely there, but he smiles proudly all the same, pulling you in for a hug now. “You’re a goof,” you murmur.

“And you, need to eat something,” he whispers against your head, and you deflate in his arms again. “Don’t you protest me, you know you have to eat something.”

“‘M not hungry,” you say.

“I know, but you didn’t eat last night, and I let you sleep in-“ at his words, your eyes flick to the clock on your nightstand, red numbers flicked onto 10:24. “You have to have something.”

“But-“

“I know,” he says. “Do you want something sweet, or savory?”

20 questions. It’s something he does after a fit of your anxiety to try and make your life just a hair easier, decisions quicker, and your day just a bit brighter because you’re getting exactly what you want. He claims he used to do it with kenma, hence why he’s so good at it.

“Uhm…” you shrug, “why not both?”

“Both?” He echos. “Okay. Do you want fruit?” You nod. He nods with you. “Okay. How about a bagel?” You nod again. “Okay. With some cream cheese?” You shake your head and he clicks his tongue, “butter?” You shake your head again, “okay. Uhmmmm-“

“I want to do it,” you mumble, and he presses a kiss to your head.

“You sure? Because I can whip something up-“

“I have to do it. I have to put the toppings on my bagel.”

He nods a final time and squeezes you close, “okay. If you need any help deciding, I’m right here, okay? I’ll be cutting your fruit.”

You hum and slowly swing your legs out of the bed, stretching and mewling from the force. When your hand instinctively darts for your phone, he clicks his tongue, "leave it. You don't need it right now."

"But-"

"I told your family to text me if they need you. Your phone is on do not disturb. Leave it there, babe." He swings his own long legs over and extends a hand out to you, wiggling his fingers enticingly for you to hold. When you grab three of them, he smiles and slowly leads you into the kitchen.

The news is playing on tv at a low volume, there’s a discarded blanket on the couch, and you quirk a brow in intrigue, “tetsu, how did you know I was awake?”

He shrugs, “my life shifts when you wake up for the day. I feel it in my soul.”

“Ew.”

“Shaddup.”

You laugh again, smiling a weak smile as you plop down at the table. He makes his way to begin cooking your bagel, popping it in the toaster before making his way to cut up your fruit. You sigh and play with your fingers, wondering if you should make conversation, or let silence rule, and you sigh shakily before opening your mouth to speak. “What’re you going to have?”

“I, my love, already ate some toast with some apple jelly and butter.”

“Oh.”

“But I’m going to pick at some fruit with you, because I don’t want you eating alone.”

“You don’t have to do that-“

“I know,” he hums. Then, he turns to face you with a smile. “I want to.”

Your heart flutters as you smile at him, looking down at your fingers to distract yourself. Usually, you’d be scrolling through your social media, checking apps and emails, but since he forbade it, you’re left to listen to him sing softly and the newscaster drone on and on. After a few short minutes, your bagel pops, and he plates it with some sliced fruit and places it in front of you, before kissing your head and grabbing various toppings for it.

Breakfast drags, but in a comforting way, where it drips by so slow like honey, syrupy sweet as Tetsuro talks. He talks about everything and anything, about the game Kenma's going to stream for charity, and the funny meme he sent the streamer- or funny to Tetsuro at least, as allegedly Kenma left him on read. You find yourself eating at his company, and before you know it, your bagel, juice, and fruit is gone. You look down at your plate in surprise, and he wiggles his brows at you, "feel better, angel?"

"Uhm... yeah," you say, almost confused. "I didn't think I was that hungry."

"I don't care how you thought, I'm glad you ate." He stands out of his chair with a stretch, "you still hungry? I can make you another-"

"No," you sigh. "I... I really should check my email-"

"Not until I give you a bath and a massage."

You quirk your brow, "you're going to give me a bath and a massage?"

"Of course," he chuckles, "If you're too anxious to give yourself some self care, that's plenty fine, but that means I'm going to give you self care." He shrugs, "those are just the rules."

"Do you even know how to give a massage?"

"Bokuto and I used to massage each other after practice all the time." Your brow quirks higher, and he holds his hand up, "don't ask. Just trust me."

"Can Bokuto give me a massage?" You tease, giggling at the way he gives you a fake smile and a high pitched "no," to tease you.

He presses a kiss to your head, "I'm going to go run the bath, why don't you get changed and meet me in there?"

"Okay," you hum. He nudges your nose with a finger before stalking down the hall to the bathroom. When your hear the tub running, you make a dash towards the small office room for your laptop, nervous to check your email, and-

"I took it out!" He calls, followed by a cackle.

"You're an ass!"

"It's your favorite ass, though!"

You grumble and make your way to the bedroom to get undressed per his request, stealing one of his oversized shirt to conceal yourself until the tub is filled. You stalk into the bathroom and blush under the way his eyes glaze up and down you, "fuck, I love you in my clothes."

"Back off, I'm about to bathe," you snort.

"Yeah, but I can still find you hot." As the tub fills, he adds a scoop of epsom salt, and a splash of bathing bubbles, large bubbles brewing on the surface of the water. You smile and watch them shape and form, the sweet smell filling the air around you. You feel excitement brewing inside of you as you watch him turn off the water and push himself up and off the floor with the edge of the tub, "should do it, baby. I'm gonna let you soak, I'll set up for a little massage after, make you nice and comfortable.

"Okay," you mewl. He presses a kiss to your lips and makes his way to the door. "Hey, Tetsu?" You say, reaching for his hand, which he takes happily. "Thank you."

"Anything for you, babygirl," he whispers. "You know that." He pinches your cheek and leaves the bathroom for you to relax.

The bath water is warm as you soak in the epsom salt, feeling your muscles loosen and relish in the combination. You bury your face in the bubbles and close your sleepy eyes, letting the smells lull you into a state of relaxation. Your head is still heavy with anxiety, but your heart is full of love and warmth for your boyfriend.

You're not sure how long you were floating in silence, lost in the bubbles and oils, but he gently knocks on the door, "you okay? Haven't heard you for a bit."

"Yes," you mewl, stretching. The water is now chilly and the bubbles are mostly gone and you rub your hands over the surface of the water. "Is the massage stuff ready?" You tease, looking at your hands and wincing at how pruny they are.

"It's been ready, I didn't want to bother you," he snickers. “Come out when you’re ready, just wanted to make sure you were alive.”

“I’m alive, I’m coming,” you call, getting out of the tub to dry yourself. You take your time drying off, trying to enjoy the last little bit of warmth clinging to your skin. You leave the bathroom to get dressed into some clean pajamas, smiling as tetsuro busies himself with the whole massage set up. “Candles? You spoil me.”

“There’s a lot of smells going on,” he says with a face.

“I know I can tell,” you hum. Getting dressed, you slip on a pair of his boxers and a shirt, and you make your way to the bed to wait for him.

“Alright-“ he pats the bed for you to crawl on top of. “C’mere, let me pamper you.”

You giggle, “you have been pampering me!” Regardless, you swing your legs onto the bed and lay on your stomach, squeaking as he straddles you and cracks his knuckles.

He lays a massive paw on each of your shoulders, using his thumb to splay and press the muscle under his force, and your eyes cross in the middle and flutter in relaxation. They work in circles to press into the muscles, before laying flat on your back to dig his heel into before his fingers press and roll back up to your shoulders.

Thick fingers roll over the knot in your right shoulder, no doubt from the refreshing of the page for hours on end last night. You whine and bury your face in the bed, and he hums, "I know beautiful, I almost got it."

"Feels good," you murmur.

"Told you it would," he says softly. “You need to trust me.”

“I think I trust you too much,” you snicker. Tetsuro says nothing, merely offering you a laugh through his nose as he continues with the massage.

Your body twitches as the tips of his fingers dig into your side as part of the massage, but your snicker doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend. “Something wrong?” He hums, doing it again.

"Tetsu!" You giggle, reaching behind you to try and stop his wrists, "that tickles!"

"That's crazy, I'm not tickling you," he snickers, and it's hard to tell if he's lying or not. "I mean, I can tickle you, if you want-"

"No!" You squeal, and your laughter turns choppy as he uses the sides of his hands to playfully chop up and down your back, making your body instinctively let out bumpy noises from your mouth.

“Quite an attitude on ya today,” he taunts, before hooking his fingers up under your arms, making you shriek, “okay, now I’m tickling you.”

Your mind spins from the sensory change, the signals in your brain cross, but one thing is for certain:

The email is far from the front of your mind.

And it feels good to laugh.

[todorokies]

Hello! Are your applications still open? If not, then just ignore my post. Can I ask you something sweet with Megumi or Gojo, how would they take care of their s/o when she is not feeling well after a mission. Also do you write for Okkotsu Yuuta and Inumaki Toge?

taking care of their s/o after a mission

including: satoru gojo & megumi fushiguro (separate)

a/n: im so sorry it took a while for me to write this anon, but i hope i delivered to your liking <3 also i write for yuuta but not inumaki but he’s still my baby ^~^

☆ . . . satoru chooses to put you in his high regards. constantly emphasizing your abilities to whomever is within ear length or he’ll always find a way to steer a conversation to make it about you . . . you recently learned and honed a new technique? he will climb the tallest building in japan and announce it to the local citizens. there’s not a single doubt about your capability that lingers in his mind, however, when you come home with a limp, bruises that would take a miracle to heal, and the life drained from your face a harsh reality check slaps him across the face.

you don’t have the same durability as him and not completely invincible to attacks. the thought of you leaving for a mission and possibly not coming back made his throat tighten up like barbwire around the flesh.

he’d offer to run you a hot bath. once you accept, he’ll tenderly wash your hair and carefully massage your back, being mindful of the few knots that cover the corners of your body. kissing those exact spots after each movement of his fingers cascade your figure.

☆ . . . megumi has good intentions but his efforts come off as awkward. he has been in many positions in his life of having to take care of his loved ones, it comes as a second nature to him, however he struggles immensely with romantic vulnerability. 

you make a small appearance at his dorm to greet him after your mission. a pitiful smile plays on your lips as you lean most of your body on the edge of the door. your breathing is jagged while wincing every now and then with a hand resting on your lower abdomen. he immediately invites you, oddly keeping a distance —mainly to observe you— after listening to you retell the details of the mission he offers you painkillers, water, vitamins, and a change of clothes. (his clothes)

although you already visited shoko upon your arrival, he still insists on checking your wounds and bruises; cautiously peeling off the bandage to see if you got properly stitched up. with his callused fingers lightly threading against your fragile skin goosebumps arises met with a shiver going down your spine. the entire act is such an intimate sight to see.

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3 requests are open send em in !

[ninjatrashpanda]

Kisses so Sweet (And Spicy)

Written for @bucktommypositivityweek Round 2 (Todays prompt is "Scenes from a fire truck")

Read on AO3 here!

Buck dropped the sponge into his bucket with a cheerful, little hum. He’d usually be annoyed at getting assigned the grunt work, but he really didn’t care right now. With Gerrard finally gone and Bobby finally back as the 118’s one and only captain, even having to wash the ladder truck couldn’t crush his happiness. His hum turning into an upbeat whistle, Buck fished the sponge back out and began cleaning away.

Life was good, he decided. The 118 was finally complete again, Mara was back home with Hen and Karen where she belonged (and good riddance to the Wicked Witch Ortiz and her spot on the city council) and Chris had finally agreed to talk to Eddie over FaceTime. (Buck was convinced that Chris would be home by New Year’s, if not earlier!)

And then of course there was Tommy. Back when Buck had asked Tommy to meet for coffee, he hadn’t been sure what exactly he had been ready for. He had only just figured out his own bisexuality and had actively ruined his first date with a man by violently shoving said man back into the closet with him.

It had been embarrassing. It had been a slap to face. It had been a wake up call.

That Tommy had agreed to the coffee date (Yes, it was a date, shut up, Chimney!) was nothing short of a miracle, albeit one that Buck was thankful for every single day. Tommy had a way to make him feel cherished, loved, and all around important, like nobody else he’d dated ever did. The usual Tommy-warmth that always started deep in his chest began spreading through Buck’s body just thinking about it all, and it made him feel indefinitely lighter, almost as if he was floating.

A wolf whistle coming from the station entrance ripped Buck from his thoughts. Startled, he dropped the sponge, which landed on the floor with a wet squish sound, while he leaned against the truck and clutched his chest.

“I hate you!”

“Well, shit, and here I thought dropping in for lunch with my boyfriend was gonna get me some brownie points!”

Buck looked up, hand still on over his heart but unable to suppress the wide grin that spread across his face. Tommy stood there, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips, wearing a very specific blue hoodie that Buck very much knew was his.

“You scared the life out of me!” he called out, still half-laughing, half-gasping for air. He pushed himself off the truck, grabbed the wet sponge from the floor, and tossed it back into the bucket before letting his eyes roam over Tommy’s frame. It looked a bit tight on him, deliciously stretching over his chest and arms. Buck found himself wishing the hoodie was just a bit tighter so it would maybe show a little stripe of midriff, but alas. “You look nice in my clothes, though, so I guess I can’t stay mad.”

Tommy’s smirk turned playful, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively as he strolled into the station and over to Buck. “Hmm, me wearing your clothes does it for you, huh?”

“Implying me wearing yours wouldn’t do it for you?”

Tommy chuckled, stepping closer until there was barely any space between them. He reached up and ran his fingers lightly along the hem of the hoodie, pulling it just enough to show a hint of skin. “You know damn well it would,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “You in my clothes, in anything really, or better yet, nothing at all… I’m not picky.”

Buck’s grin widened, and he felt the familiar flutter in his stomach that Tommy always seemed to ignite with just a look or a touch. He leaned in, his nose brushing against Tommy’s as he spoke. “Good to know we’re on the same page.”

Then, without a warning, Buck grabbed Tommy by the hips and did a fast turn to slam his boyfriend against the side of the truck. Tommy let out a surprised yelp, but Buck quickly swallowed it by crashing his lips onto Tommy’s, wasting no time in shoving his tongue into Tommy’s mouth. Tommy, upon recovering from Buck’s surprise assault, returned the kiss with just as much enthusiasm.

A soft moan escaped Buck as Tommy’s arms engulfed him and pulled him closer, the heat between their bodies growing higher and higher with each passing second. One of Tommy’s hands began wildly roaming over Buck’s back in wide circles, each swish sending a shock of electricity through his body, while the other quickly traveled down to his ass instead. Every knead and squeeze of Tommy’s large, skilled fingers went directly to Buck’s groin, stealing his breath along the way in the process.

Buck’s own palm had made its way under that damn hoodie, his fingers brushing over the scar on Tommy’s firm stomach. The sound that came out of his boyfriend as Buck decided to run his nails over the healed tissue was something deep and primal, almost a snarl, and it made Buck almost lose all sense of self. He pushed himself even closer, practically melding into Tommy, their bodies flush as the temperature between them rose to nigh unbearable degrees. Buck’s mind was a haze of Tommy: the taste of him, the feel of him, the soft grunts and moans that escaped with every grind of their hips against each other. There was nothing else in that moment, just the two of them and the overwhelming, desperate sense of want-need-crave.

Tommy’s fingers tightened on Buck’s ass, pulling him impossibly closer, as if he was trying to absorb him altogether. Buck gasped into the kiss, the sensation sparking a jolt that ran from his toes to the top of his spine and into the tip of every little finger, making his knees buckle slightly. Tommy took advantage of the momentary lapse, flipping their positions so that it was Buck’s back pressed against the cool metal of the truck. The shift was so fast it left Buck breathless and laughing against Tommy’s lips.

“Oh, we’re playing like that now?” Buck murmured, breath ragged as Tommy’s lips trailed down his jawline, nipping and sucking, leaving a heated path in their wake.

Tommy hummed, the sound reverberating against Buck’s throat where his lips had settled, sending shivers racing down Buck’s body. “Just keeping things interesting,” Tommy whispered, his voice low and rough, the sound vibrating deliciously against Buck’s skin.

Buck’s hands roamed under the hoodie, tracing the muscles on Tommy’s back, feeling the way they flexed and moved under his touch. He tugged the hoodie up, needing more contact, needing to feel every inch of Tommy’s warm skin against his own.

Tommy’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his eyes dark and filled with a hunger that made Buck’s stomach flip. He didn’t even get a chance to admire the view before Tommy took advantage of the situation, pinning Buck’s wrists above his head against the truck, his grip firm but gentle. Buck’s heart raced at the sudden restraint, his breaths coming out in short, desperate bursts.

“You know, I used to steal the ladder truck to hook up in it when I was a probie,” he panted, the corners of his mouth rising into a dirty grin. The glimmer that flashed up in Tommy’s eyes told Buck that he understood what he was getting at, and Buck’s mind already ran away from him to try and figure out how to discreetly run to the locker room, where his overnight bag filled with lube and condoms was sitting in his locker.

And then, just like that, it was over. Really, Buck and Tommy probably should have anticipated that this thing they’d been doing just now was going to abruptly end one way or another. Though frankly, Buck had not expected the goddamn intercom to suddenly come to life.

“Firefighter Buckley,” Bobby’s voice droned out of the station speakers and echoed through the bay, “you will refrain from sleeping with your boyfriend in our ladder truck. I’ve praised you for outgrowing that phase, don’t make me retract that.”

Buck let out a startled yelp, his face turning a deep shade of crimson. Tommy burst into laughter, his forehead dropping against Buck’s shoulder as he shook with amusement. Buck’s heart, which had been racing for entirely different reasons just moments ago, now pounded in sheer embarrassment. He let his head thunk back against the truck, staring up at the ceiling as if it might somehow provide a portal to disappear through.

“Well, that’s one way to kill the mood,” Buck muttered and glanced up at the loft, where Bobby stood at the railing with his arms crossed in front of his chest, a challenging look in his eyes. Tommy straightened up and quickly shot Bobby a smile and a wave before turning his eyes, still sparkling with mischief and no small amount of affection, back to Buck.

“I can’t believe he actually announced that over the intercom,” Tommy said, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. “You’re never living this down, you know.”

Buck groaned, dropping his face into his hands for a moment before running them through his hair. “Yeah, I know. I’m gonna be hearing about this one for a while,” he admitted, but there was a lightness to his tone. This was hardly the most embarrassing thing he’d done during his time with the 118, and he knew that each and any teasing that’d come his way was in good fun.

Tommy reached out, tugging on the hem of Buck’s shirt to pull him in for a softer, more subdued kiss, one that still held all the warmth and passion from earlier, but also carried the pure, unadulterated love that Buck knew had settled in his heart by this point. It grounded him back into reality, assured him that no matter how hard Chim and Hen would take the piss out of this moment, he had Tommy, who would always be there to remind him of his worth.

“Come on,” Buck said with a soft smile, grabbing Tommy’s hand and dragging him toward the stairs. “It’s time for lunch.”

[vpgoldenrod]

Aziraphale's Haunted Look: On Being Forcibly Outed and Exiled From The Garden

While we're all talking about Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss, I'm surprised by those who thought Aziraphale looked disgusted because that's not an emotion I'd seen in him at all. There's sadness, and confusion, and anger, but I couldn't remember seeing disgust. When I watched the scene again I realized there's something else going on that really struck a chord with me. It's an uncomfortably familiar look.

He feels exposed. And I know what it feels like to be exposed in such a violent and intimate way.

Stay with me, I promise this is relevant to my analysis.

I didn't know what being transgender meant when I was a kid. Being raised in a fundamentalist Christian house meant that I wasn't exposed to those ideas, so I lived my life feeling like something was always just kind of broken. It was like I was looking right through the problem at other things, trying to alleviate symptoms without understanding why they existed in the first place. I eventually met other trans people, who gently nudged me in the direction of my truth. I even became aware that I had experienced some minor dysphoria. Every time I came close to acknowledging the truth however, my eyes would once again begin to glaze over the problem. I always managed to subconsciously shove it back into a little box and move on with my life. It was like I accidentally “did a big miracle” and hid this truth from myself so well that I continually forgot it was there.

Til one day I had an encounter that changed everything.

We're friends now but oddly enough, it was only meant to be a fling. I won't go into too many details because it's not just my story, but it was a lovely time that culminated with us meeting and doing what adults do. The person I was with, a cis man, silently clocked me the minute we were face to face. For reasons I now understand, without warning and in the middle of our shared intimate experience, he decided to talk dirty to me as if I were a gay man.

No one had ever spoken to me like that before. It had never occurred to me to ask anyone to do that, or that anyone would want to. I was in an intimate space and filled with the typical emotions and endorphins one has during sex, but it was a fling. I had walls up. So for the first time in my life, in this incredibly vulnerable position, someone grabbed me by my lapels and forced me to face a deep truth about myself that I'd spent decades silently dancing around. It was a blunt, irrefutable truth and it hit like a sucker punch to the solar plexus. He saw me when I was very much not trying to be seen, and there's few things more terrifying than that.

Even now, years later, I have such a hard time putting into words the overwhelming emotions I felt that night. There were so many, and yet somehow I can see every single one of the emotions I felt in Aziraphale's face when Crowley lets him go. My heart breaks all over again seeing how exposed he felt. He can barely make eye contact until he stumbles onto the one emotion that gives him his agency back: anger.

Gabriel shows up to the bookshop completely naked. When a bewildered Aziraphale points it out Gabriel says, “Who told you I was naked?”

But that's not how the story goes.

God looks for Adam in the garden, but he hides from her. He eventually tells God, “I heard your voice in the garden and I was afraid because I was naked, so I hid myself.”

Then God asks Adam, “Who told you you were naked?” And of course Adam knows he is naked because he ate the apple.

I've made jokes about Crowley being the apple that bit Aziraphale, but I forgot the bit that happens afterwards. He is aware of his own nakedness. He is exposed. To God, to Crowley, and to himself. As a result he is exiled from the safety of his Eden. Man, if this isn't the perfect analogy for being forcibly outed I don't know what is.

This show is so gay you guys.

[whyse7vn]

JEON JUNGKOOK

RANDOM 01:

!gc jungkook who is probably the most sensitive man you will ever meet. could literally cry about the thought of ants being stepped on there really has not been a day were jungkook has not cried over the smallest inconvenience or the stupidest scenario you could imagine

!gc jungkook who can and will make every single conversation he has about you

!gc jungkook who is the most affectionate member his favoured love language being psychical touch

!gc jungkook who was aware he could be “too much” (no pun intended hehe) told to him by many friends and exes

!gc jungkook who despite being the clingiest man alive now wasn’t always this way

!gc jungkook who a few years back was actually known as the quietest among your friendship group

!gc jungkook who made it his life mission to NEVER allow his members to see or experience the “overbearing” side of him

!gc jungkook who had never quite broken down the way he did when all his members sat him down one night and asked if he even liked working alongside them

!gc jungkook who the proceeded to speak about all his fears and insecurities sobbing into his hands (and namjoons shoulder) embarrassed out of his mind

!gc jungkook who had sobbed for the second time that night after the words “let us love you kook please stop holding back” left your mouth

!gc jungkook whose world seemed to shift after that

!gc jungkook who aged 21 moved into his first apartment with you actually throwing up at the thought of not being able to see you 24 hours a day

!gc jungkook who had to have his card taken away from him because he has no sense of saving and easily falls for the stupidest scams

!gc jungkook who without a doubt if asked (normally you don’t even have to ask) will fully admit that he is so deeply in love with you it causes him physical pain

!gc jungkook could actually die at the mere thought of you speaking to another man

!gc jungkook who lacks so much common sense it’s actually a miracle he’s still alive today

!gc jungkook who was convinced him and namjoon were related for 3 years cuz you joked about it one time for like 5 seconds and he fully believed it because everything you say is a fact and you would never lie to him

!gc jungkook who for some weird reason always carries a one dollar bill in his pocket

!gc jungkook who always sends each member a good night and good morning text

!gc jungkook who is the most strangely innocent (?) man you’ve ever crossed paths with despite the crazy crazy things that comes out of his mouth sometimes

!gc jungkook who is unintentionally sososo funny

!gc jungkook whose favourite thing is getting tucked into bed something about the gesture is so endearing to him makes him blush giggle and feel all warm inside (especially if it’s done by you)

!gc jungkook who watched bam almost kill pigeon one time in his garden and now refuses to look at or talk about pigeons ever again because he fears all pigeons may be plotting to get him when he’s lest expecting it for allowing one of their kind almost die WILL cry if someone even mentions the word pigeon

!gc jungkook who likes to bake cakes sometimes surprisingly he’s really good at it and lives for the little praises you give him when he does decide to bake

!gc jungkook who has a really strong fear of getting arrested for tax evasion for some reason??? like yeah namjoon helps him do all that stuff but what if one day joons feeling silly and makes him evade his taxes???? it’s a real fear and jk has it ok?!

!gc jungkook who believes with his whole heart that his members are the coolest people he’s ever met and everything any one of you does jk watches in complete awe and admiration

!gc jungkook who now unapologetically wears his heart on his sleeve

—

something while i try get my shit together 🤣🫰🏽😂🙏🏽

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @kooksmilitarywife @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @indigobsessed @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @leleluvsbts @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @k4ngelz @jmnscutie

[indigodreames]

"All my coworkers keep tellin' me that Dao is starting to look just like HER MOTHER. I swear when she was first born she looked just like a mini me!" Pitch said with a chuckle. Not that me cared who their daughter took after. He did notice she did have a little bit of both their personalities in her despite how young she still was. Perhaps once she got a bit older she'd start looking like a MIX of them, he wasn't quite sure yet. "What do you think? Does she look like me? Even A LITTLE?" He asked as she scooped up his daughter in his arms and pressed their cheeks together to get a better look at their resemblance or lack thereof.

open starter feat. pitch anurak

[starlingflight]

loml

Written for @corneliaavenue-ao3 TTPD Several Sunlit Daylights challenge.

Read on AO3 or below:

I. lesson of my life

Every illusion Ginny has ever had is shattered over the course of a single night. 

She doesn't go into the chamber willingly. She claws, and scratches and fights against Tom's commands with all her might. She cries, and she struggles, but in the end it makes no difference. She isn't strong enough. As the darkness swallows her up, her final childish hope is for a rescue she knows isn't coming. 

When she opens her eyes again it doesn't feel like a miracle. The cold from the stone floor has seeped through her skin, a chill has settled deep in her bones and she knows, with absolute certainty, it will never fully go away. 

Of course Harry is there, holding a mighty sword, a dead monster behind him. The very image of the conquering hero she's always fantasised about, but this isn't like one of Ginny's fantasies. He's covered in blood, and his eyes are wide with the same terror that's taken root deep within her soul. There's no triumph in this moment, only horror. 

This isn't a dream. It's a nightmare. One that Ginny won't fully wake up from for a very long time. 

She learns many lessons that night, but the most important one will come later. After she's spent weeks, months, years putting herself back together, because Harry might have rescued her from the chamber, but, as Ginny will come to realise, the only person who can really save you is yourself.

II. light of my life

Harry's never known a darkness like this. It starts when he watches Sirius fall through the veil, tiny tendrils of black slowly leaking out from his heart, unfurling with increasing urgency until he's overwhelmed by a cold, empty abyss that he's sure nothing will ever penetrate again. How can it when Sirius is never coming back? 

He doesn't even notice the first ray of light. It happens so quickly. He's in the hospital wing, trying very hard to let Hermione's commentary on the latest news from The Prophet distract him from the aching chasm in his chest, and the unbearable weight of the prophecy, when it happens. 

Luna says something completely ridiculous about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks – whatever they are – Harry can feel Hermione's exasperation from across the small gap that separates her bed from Ron's. Ginny's chocolate eyes meet his, and something happens that he'd assumed would never happen again. 

Harry smiles. 

It's fleeting, lasting less than a second.  There's very little time to dwell on it before they're looking away from one another, and the grief washes over him again, a tidal wave that steals the air from his lungs. 

That's just the beginning though… or maybe the beginning had been years ago. Maybe the blush he'd once thought of as the setting sun had actually been the opposite; Ginny's light rising, her warm, rosy glow beginning its ascent into his life. 

She continues to rise that summer, forcing the darkness back with her sheer brightness. Her smile turns black to grey; her laugh is powder pinks and bright oranges; the jokes she coaxes from him are pure, cloudless blue. 

When she runs at him across the common room months later, she's blazing, burning red. When she reaches him, when Harry finally kisses Ginny, the sun reaches its apex and his whole life is awash with bright, brilliant gold. 

For a few shining weeks there are only sunlit days. 

III. loss of my life

Fittingly, they're at a funeral when it happens. Ginny always knew he had great comedic timing. She's not laughing, however, as Harry lays out all his stupid, noble reasons why they can't be together. She's not crying either, though; that feels like a small mercy. The only one she's going to get for a while. 

She does cry when she finally makes it home. It's silly, she knows. Silly, foolish, naive Ginny Weasley, a familiar, cold voice whispers through her mind. For once, she doesn't try to argue with it, but she doesn't try to stop either. 

Instead, she buries her face into her pillow and lets herself sob until her eyes run dry. Her tears aren't just for her broken heart, but for everything Ginny's already had to sacrifice; her childhood, her innocence. 

It isn't until weeks later that she realises the true magnitude of what she stands to lose. 

“And then what does she think's going to happen? Someone else will kill off Voldemort while she's holding us here making vol-au-vents?” 

The fork Ginny is holding almost slips from her grasp. Her heart falters in her chest. Harry playing his flippant comment off a joke does nothing to return it to a steady rhythm. 

It plays round and round in her mind that night. Her knuckles are ghostly white where they grip her bedsheet. Vaguely, she'd known what he'd planned to do, but vague notions and knowing with absolute certainty are two very different things. The task Harry brought up so nonchalantly in the kitchen is nothing short of a suicide mission. It hits Ginny with the force of a barrage of stunning spells, knocking the air from her lungs; Harry might not come back to her. 

Two days later, when she kisses him in her bedroom, it doesn't feel like she's saying happy birthday, it feels like she's saying goodbye.

When Harry follows Ron out of her bedroom door, he takes a piece of Ginny with him, one she prays she hasn't lost forever. 

IV. longing of my life

She haunts him like a ghost. What was once screaming colour and pure unfiltered brightness is now just a memory, a pale imitation permanently stuck on repeat in his mind. 

Harry moves stoically from one hiding place to another and, though they're separated by miles, Ginny follows him to every single one. 

He can hear her laugh in the wind that shakes the canvas sides of the tent. He can see her smile in the sunlight that penetrates the thick canopy of the forests they move between. At night, when he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend the sheet brushing against his skin is her fingertips. 

It's worse when he has the locket on. Then, he's tormented with visions like the one he'd imagined on his birthday; of her moving on. Finding someone else. Living a life that can never be his. 

Horcrux or no, he can't stop himself thinking about her. Aching for her. Longing for her. 

He clings to memories of Ginny like scraps of driftwood, the only thing keeping Harry afloat when he's been set adrift. 

V. lament of my life

It's like the chamber all over again. Ginny's whole world is flipped upside down in the space of a single night. 

She doesn't see Fred go. She doesn't know the last time she sees her big brother that it's the last time.  

“Take care of yourself,” he'd shouted over his shoulder as Ginny had gone hurtling down a corridor in pursuit of a Death Eater.

“Don't I always?’ she'd called back. 

What if she'd told him to do the same? Would he have listened? Would he still be there? 

There's very little time to dwell on such questions in the middle of a battle.  Especially not when every passing second brings another devastating loss. 

Lupin. Tonks. Colin. 

Ginny's heart shatters into a million little pieces until it doesn't exist at all. Or so she thinks, until she sees Harry's body cradled in Hagrid’s arms. 

Then she knows she still has a heart, because it's in unbearable agony. She doubles over from the pain of it. His name escapes her lips on a scream, as though she might be able to call him back to life through sheer desperation. 

Tom Riddle talks; for the second time in Ginny's life, she's unable to hear him, but this isn't like the Chamber at all. This time Ginny wishes she was dead. 

When the battle resumes, she jumps straight into it with wild abandon. Ginny's lamentation is not filled with tears, or wailing. It's fire and rage for everything that's been taken from her. Tom Riddle already stole her past. Now he's taken her future. She will take everything she can from him, or die trying. 

VI. lowest of my life

He's never truly let himself imagine what it might be like to actually defeat Voldemort. If he had, Harry doubts he would have pictured it like this. 

If it's a win, why is there so much loss? 

He doesn't know whether the grief or the hope is more overwhelming. They mingle together, like waves in the ocean, swelling and breaking, threatening to pull Harry under. 

He can feel it crash over him as he stands in the great hall the day after the battle. The bodies are still there; all the people who don't get the second chance Harry does are laid out in front of him. Lifeless eyes staring, unseeing, up at the enchanted ceiling. 

The guilt and the pain sweep through him like ice water, filling his lungs; rising up in Harry's throat until there's no possible room for air. He takes a step back, desperate to flee somewhere he can sink down into the cold, lonely depths. 

Before he can, a hand, small and warm, slips into his, pulling Harry back to the surface. He releases one, long, deep breath before looking at her. 

Ginny's attempt at a smile is tinged with sadness, sunlight peeking through dark grey clouds. 

Only hours ago, he'd contemplated all the things he needed to say to her, but now no words are exchanged at all.  Only a look. It's all they need. All they've ever needed. Everything has changed. But he's still Harry, and she's still Ginny. 

Instinctively his arm comes around her. Ginny buries her face in his chest, sagging slightly against him, as though she was waiting for this moment to let herself rest. Like she needs him as much as he needs her. 

Harry's head rests against hers, the floral scent of her shampoo is faint, lingering beneath everything that's happened. It makes his heart falter anyway. He holds her tightly to him, something he never thought he'd get the chance to do again.  As he's come to expect, time seems to stop for her. They stay like that for what might only be seconds, or possibly an entire lifetime passes. 

Eventually, Ginny pulls out of his grasp. It takes less than a second for her hand to find his again, fingers entwining. She pulls gently, silently commanding him to follow her. Harry almost asks where they're going, but he doesn't really need to. He's free to go wherever he pleases now. He'll follow her anywhere. 

Ginny looks up at him as they walk towards the double doors. He can still see the embers of her blazing light smouldering in the dark depths of her eyes. He was right, there will be hours, days, and years in which to talk, but he doesn't need her to say a word now to know where she's taking him. He lets her pull him forward, lets her light guide him to a future he's still not sure he deserves to have. 

VII. loser of my life

For a while, Ginny thinks she'll never recover from the loss, from the grief and the heartache. It's not the first time she's felt this way, but this time she doesn't have to face it alone. Once she has Harry back, he doesn't leave her side again. 

They fall back together naturally. They stitch themselves back together slowly until one day, years later, the sun is blazing brightly in the sky, the pleasant summer breeze is ruffling the grass beneath her feet, and Ginny feels whole again. 

“Ready?” Her father asks, holding out his arm out to her. 

“Ready,” Ginny agrees, threading her hand through the crook of his elbow. Holding her colourful bouquet of wildflowers in front of her with her free hand. 

There have been times, in her darkest moments, when she wished she was someone else. A girl who hasn't dwelt in a darkness that most people don't ever see even in their worst nightmares; a witch who hasn't looked into the eyes of evil and refused to bend, refused to break; a woman who hasn't lost things that can never ever be replaced. 

Now, as soft music begins to swell in the summer air, and her gaze locks on Harry, waiting for her at the end of the makeshift aisle formed by the rows of chairs that have been put out in her parent's orchard, Ginny doesn't regret any of it. Everything she's lost is a step she's taken towards this. 

She can feel dozens of heads turn towards her, but Ginny only has eyes for Harry, and he, it appears, only has eyes for her. His smile makes the sun look dim in comparison. Still, the corner of his mouth trembles; even from a distance, Ginny can see emotion well up behind his glasses. 

‘Don't you dare,' she mouths, feeling her throat tighten as she does. Her arm stretches out, lifting her bouquet like it's a wand, miming hexing him. She's closer now. She can hear the tremor in his laugh as he puts his arms up in mock surrender. 

It's too late; the laughter she's coaxed from him doesn't stop the tear that slips down his cheek. Of course, one of her own escapes only a half a second later. 

“We look like such losers,” Ginny informs him, shaking her head, as her fingers slip from her father's arm into Harry's awaiting hand. 

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, quietly enough for only her to hear. He's still smiling as another tear slides unconcernedly down his face. His free hand reaches up, his thumb swipes away the ones that are currently leaking traitorously from Ginny's eyes. “But you're my loser.” 

It takes her a moment to regain her breath. A fleeting second in which she can't quite believe they're here; that they made it. Then she smiles even wider than before. “Not officially – not until we get through this ceremony.” 

Harry's gaze holds hers. Ginny almost forgets they have an audience. The world reduces down to just the two of them, grinning madly at one another. Harry's fingers squeeze her hand. “We'd best get on with it then.

VIII. legacy of my life

Books are filled with what many consider to be his finest achievements. Tales of thrilling battles, speculations on unsurvivable curses, and records of great victories are inked across the pages of history. 

As are the many titles thrust upon Harry; The  Boy Who Lived, Chosen One, Saviour.  To him, they're little more than noise, assumptions from people who don't really know him, and never will.

When he slips the wedding ring onto Ginny's finger, Harry gets the first title he's ever chosen for himself: husband. Her husband. 

Not long after, he gains another one, this one unplanned, but no less momentous. James, tiny, and so precious, is placed into his arms, and Harry becomes a father. 

His real legacy begins there. It's not just his, it's hers too. Their legacy. 

It's recorded in baby books and photo albums rather than history books. It's memorialised in finger paintings and handmade Christmas ornaments (made under Ginny's expert supervision) instead of plaques and statues. It's hundreds of little memories of their family that will never see the inside of a newspaper, but that doesn't make them any less noteworthy, not to Harry, who'd never dared to imagine that this life could be his one day. 

IX. love of my life

“Dinner!” Her mother calls from the back door of The Burrow, her voice ringing out across the garden. 

The sun is setting, dipping below the topmost branches of the orchard. The sky is a tapestry of pinks, purples and golds, stretching out for miles above them. 

“What do you think?” Ginny asks as her feet meet the ground, dismounting from her broom. “Could I make it as a pro?” 

Harry lands beside her. His eyes sweep appraisingly over her. Ginny's stomach swoops like she's still in the air. “I don't know,” he says thoughtfully. “The League is brutal. It requires rigorous training.” 

Ginny shrugs unconcernedly, hoisting her broom onto her shoulder as she does. “Do you know any Quidditch captains who might be interested in helping me with such an undertaking?” 

“I know one who might be able to make some time for you this summer,” Harry says as he falls into step beside her. He inclines his head towards her broom.“I can take it for you?”

Ginny's eyes narrow, prepared to tell him she's perfectly capable of carrying her own broom, but, when she turns, the way he's looking at her makes her heart race, and the words die on her tongue. without her permission, her expression transforms into a grin. “Very chivalrous of you.” 

A weight is lifted from her as Harry settles her broom beside his on his shoulder. “That's kind of what I'm known for.” 

“Only ‘kind of’?” Ginny's eyes wander to the quickly darkening sky above them as she laughs. “In that case, I'll be sure to let people know of this latest act of heroism – personally, I don't think you get enough attention.” 

“Well, if that's how you feel, you could always give me more.” 

Ginny stops midstep. Her head turns sharply back to Harry. She should keep walking, the words that are on the tip of her tongue will lead to something that neither of them planned for on this particular summer evening. 

Harry's eyebrows rise upwards; even in the dusk, Ginny can see the challenge sparking in his eyes. Unbidden, she takes a step towards him. “Are you flirting with me, Potter?” 

He doesn't back down, but he doesn't make a move towards her either. The brooms he's holding clatter together as he shrugs with just a bit too much tension in his shoulders to be truly nonchalant. “I might be.” 

Ginny's blood thrums in her veins as she takes another step towards him. “Need I remind you that I'm spoken for?” 

“How could I forget?” Harry's head lowers despite her reminder, until he's so close Ginny can see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. “I suppose he's deeply in love with you?” 

“Yes,” she nods with absolute certainty. “And I feel the same about him.” 

Harry's head dips lower, the determination in his eyes making his intention clear. Ginny rises on her tiptoes, unable to fight the pull that always inevitably beckons her to him. 

Barely an inch of space remains between them. Her heart flutters wildly– 

“Oi!” The loud, obnoxious shout comes from the far end of the orchard, making Ginny jump. She turns towards it and finds a lanky figure glaring at them from where he leans against the fence. “When you're done being disgusting, Nanna says to hurry up – dinner’s ready and the rest of us aren't allowed to start without you.” 

James doesn't wait for a response before turning on his heel and marching back towards the house. 

Ginny rolls her eyes at her son's retreating back. Her hand slips into Harry's, the most contact they're getting, at least until after dinner. “Remind me again why we had children?” 

Harry sighs, allowing her to lead him towards the gate James has just departed from. “You said they'd be cute.” 

“Well, they used to be,” she says fairly as she pushes the gate open with her free hand. “I wasn't thinking as far as them becoming teenagers.” 

Harry nods seriously. “Really, who could've predicted such an unforeseeable outcome.” 

Ginny looks up at him as he follows her through the gate. Brown eyes meet green through the burgeoning twilight. Two identical smiles bloom like flowers in spring. 

“Certainly not you, judging by your appalling Divination grades.” 

[silverhairsimp]

I Can't Sleep Without You

Pairing: Bokuto x fem!Reader

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT ENTER. PWP. Oral (f!receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, consensual recording. Bokuto is the consent king. Doesn't matter how long you've been together.

a/n: I had this idea in the middle of the night and woke up to draft half of it. finally finished it so here you goooo :) enjoy! not proof read. also. two posts in one day? who tf am I?

reblogs are always appreciated <3

Trying to balance dating a professional volleyball player with a full career of your own has always been a challenge. No matter how badly you wanted to be there at every single game, every international trip, it just wasn’t realistic. 

You and Koutarou had been together since your third year of high school. You survived college together (despite the long distance), and after living together since he went pro, it was nearly impossible to get a good night's sleep whenever he was away for games. 

And this time was no different. He had been gone for a 10 day trip overseas for one of the biggest tournaments of the year. Between your work schedule, his practice schedule, and the time difference… phone calls were scarce, texts were short lived and it was really starting to get to you. Sleeping in your giant bed without him was hard enough! The last thing you needed was for your schedules to be the farthest thing from compatible.

As the days went on, it got harder and harder. The side of his bed was so cold without his warm body next to you and it was beginning to be too much. Logically there was only one solution: get all the pillows in the house, your favorite sweatshirt of his, his cologne and cuddle up in bed to make due. And until he got back, this is how you slept. 

You had practically built a barricade in the bed, pillows surrounding you in every direction and corner. He wasn’t supposed to be back for another two days, but by some miracle he had gotten home early. Unbeknownst to you though… it was the middle of the night by the time he got back and what a surprise it was to see upon his arrival. Or at least it would have if you were awake to greet him.

You were snuggled up under the covers, leg hiked up over one pillow with your arms clinging to another for dear life. You’ve got his sweatshirt on and he can smell the fresh scent of his cologne from the door to your bedroom. It wasn’t enough for you to just spray it on the sweatshirt though, you had to put a few drops of it into the diffuser so the whole room would smell like him. 

You must be so tired because you hadn’t even moved a muscle since he walked in. Quickly and quietly, he sets his bags down and changes into his comfy clothes to get some sleep with you finally in his arms again. Only when he goes to crawl into bed, there’s almost no room! “Baby girl… you trying to replace me or something?” He asks as he brushes your hair out of your eyes and smoothes it behind your ear, followed by a tender kiss to your forehead. “There she is,” he smiles warmly at you when you finally start to open your eyes. “Kou? You’re home already?” You sit up and rub the sleep out of your eyes with the heel of your hand. He sits on the edge of the bed and nods his head, “One of the teams dropped out last minute so our games got cut back, we had already played each team twice… no sense in playing them a third, or at least that what coach thought–” he’s babbling and you smile at him, reaching out your arms finally happy and complete now that you’ve got your boyfriend back with you. “Sooo,” he draws out, “wanna tell me what’s going on with all the pillows? And why I can smell my cologne in the diffuser?” He asks with a soft chuckle and a bright smile. He’s not mad at all, not in the slightest. “Just missed you is all… had a hard time sleeping without you.” It’s actually really endearing you’d gone to such lengths to keep yourself comfortable while he was gone. And to be fair, he was no better. He slept with that polaroid of the two of you under his pillow, the one from after his first win as part of the MSBY Black Jackals. He had scored the winning spike and was so excited that he ran straight to you before the refs had even called the game. It’s such a fond memory of his and it's honestly what keeps him going. You are what keeps him going. “Well, I’m here now, so… can I have my spot back, or am I still being substituted by a bunch of pillows?” He laughs as you throw the pillows off the bed, not caring if they fall to the ground or land against the wall. The only thing that matters is that you have him back. And that’s very clear once you throw your arms around his neck and climb into his lap. His hands settle on your hips as he finally gets to hold you and kiss you again after far too long. 

“Missed you too– by the way–” He mumbles against your lips, in between kisses. All of a sudden, you aren’t so tired anymore, he can tell by the way you start to rock your hips in his lap and tug on the hairs at his nape. When he wore his hair down, it made grabbing and tugging at it so much easier, and if he’s being honest, it’s one of the reasons why he started doing it more often. 

He moves the two of you back against the headboard, sitting upright with you still in his lap. “You don’t still need this do you?” He tugs on the strings of his hoodie, “now that I’m back?” You shake your head and smile before telling him: “take it off”, and who is he to deny anything you could ever want. 

His lips find yours while his large, calloused hands travel up your hips to your waist, just wanting to feel you again before gathering the fabric and pushing it up and over your head. “There she is… my beautiful girl…” He places open mouthed kisses up your bare chest, between the valley of your breasts before giving some much needed attention to your tits. He rolls his tumb over one nippple while his mouth swirls around the other, sucking on it before popping off and moving to the other side. 

“Missed your body– missed kissing you goodnight every night… missed fucking you to sleep on others…” He keeps mumbling between kisses while you grind against his lap. “Missed you too baby… tried to take care of myself, but it never feels as good as when you do it.” He snickers at that, “Poor baby, your fingers not long enough? Need me to take care’a you?” When you nod your head yes, he flips you on to your back, positioning himself right between your thighs. 

Your fingers claw at his shirt, wanting him to match, it was only fair that way. He lets you pull it off, lowering his head to get it out of the hole and pulling one arm out before tossing the shirt on the ground, left to be forgotten about until morning. “Bet you taste so good… can I, baby? Can I taste you?” When you nod your head yes and push his head down further he stops, “Uh uh, gotta hear you say it… you know that.” He places a few kisses right above your collarbone, sucking a mark into the skin there while he waits for your consent. “Please Kou, want you to. I need it– need you so bad– please touch me…” It was more than enough to satisfy him. Hearing your cute little plea’s just to get him to touch you after your time apart. 

“That’s a good girl– my good girl. Now, hips up for me–” He instructs as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slides them down your legs. Grinning at the silvery strands that connect to the fabric as he pulls them away. “So wet already… were you thinking about me before I got back?” He asks as he tugs his boxers down his thighs, not wanting to worry about them later. “Always think about you when you’re gone–” you whisper as you arch off the bed, longing for his touch. “Yeah? Me too…” He lowers himself down onto the bed and kicks even more of the pillows off as he presses kisses to your inner thighs while he gets closer and closer to what he really wants– what he needs. “Spend so much time getting myself off to those naughty pictures you send… all the videos we’ve taken… Gettin’ me all worked up just thinking about them.” He licks a fat stripe through your folds and suckles on your clit, that smirk on his face growing wider as you twitch under his touch. “Why don’t we add to the collection, hm baby? Wanna take a video of how good I eat you out? Have something to remember me for the next time I’m away?” You nod your head and quickly scramble to find your phone. If it weren’t for the face id, you’d certainly be struggling to enter or even remember your password right now. That chime of the camera sounds and the flash turns on, reflecting in his honeyed eyes as he devours you. It's obscene. The way his chin and corners of his mouth are already covered in your slick. Or the way his eyes have never left the camera. Gods what did you do to deserve a man that takes such good care of you? 

That question lingers even longer when he kisses your thighs and spits right onto your pussy, only to bring two fingers to your cunt. “C’mon sweetheart, wanna hear you… don’t keep those cute noises all to yourself… wanna have this video too and watch it in the showers, or in my hotel room all alone and remember how good I made you feel.” When you start to get louder, he works even harder. Giving you his tongue and his fingers at the same time. He’s curling them inside of you so perfectly and hits that spot over and over again until you’re coming undone within minutes. “That’s it baby girl– ride it out– use me, please…” He begs you and hums against your cunt when you start to rock your hips against his face. You’re trying your best to hold the camera steady while your other hand reaches to fist his hair, tugging him even closer while another orgasm builds. “Kou– fuck… want your cock– please, need you after so long–” You beg and gods he can’t wait to replay this video over and over again, hearing you plead for him. “Anything for you– gimme the phone, sweetheart.” He removes his fingers, popping them in his mouth to wipe off the rest of your essence while he sits back on his haunches and takes the phone from you. 

“Be a good girl and get on all fours for me…” When you do what he asks, he gives your ass a little love smack and uses your phone to get a good view of your pussy. It's so slick with his saliva and he’s sure it’ll make it even easier to slip right in. 

Still, your boyfriend isn’t a small guy, so he spits right on the tip of his cock and pumps himself a few times. Of course making sure to record it for you later. 

He's got the phone pointed straight down as he watches his cock push past that tight ring of muscle through the screen. “F-fuck…” he mutters breathlessly, and you’re not far behind with curses of your own. “Hnngh, baby… go slow… been a while…” “I know love, you’re doing so good for me, aren’t you?” When all you do is nod your head he stills his hips, “Aren’t you?” He asks again in a more firm tone, “Yes– doing good for you, only for you, Kou… please.” 

Gods you really are such a good girl, his perfect baby. A few moments pass as he allows you to adjust, once you give him the okay, he draws back his hips and thrusts forward again. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes against the quiet walls of your shared bedroom and it’s music to his ears. Hearing that and hearing your cries of pleasure is all he could ever wish for. 

“Can already feel you clenching around me… gonna cum?” he asks as he continues to piston his cock into you, when you babble on a string of ‘yes’s and ‘please let me cum’ he tosses the phone on the bed and reaches around to rub tight circles around your clit. Working you up until that second release hits and you’re gushing round his cock, making a mess on the sheets below. 

“Fuck– squirting like that without a proper warning? Naughty girl…” He snickers as he picks up the pace even more, chasing that blissful high of his own. “Gonna cum, baby– gonna fill ya up nice and deep, yeah? Bet you missed this the most… missed my cum inside you, hm?” 

“Yes– fuck– yes, missed your cum– please, kou– need t’feel it, please!” You beg so pretty for him and he wouldn’t dream of not giving you what you wanted so with one final warning, he lets you know he’s cumming and shortly after he’s painting your walls white. 

He keeps thrusting, getting it as deep as he can until he’s given you everything he could hold before he collapses on top of you. Even with the video long forgotten about, the phone is still recording all the audio. He holds you close in his arms, pulling your leg over his hip with his cock still buried inside of you. “I love you, so much… you know that right?” 

You rest your hand on his chest and nod, “Yes, Kou. I know, and I love you too. Just as much.” 

He rubs soothing strokes along your backside and peppers your forehead with kisses until you’re closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep. He finds your phone as quietly as he can and flips the camera to face him, telling the camera one last time, ‘i love you’, before turning it off. 

Being away from you while he’s away for tournaments may suck, but getting to come home to you like this makes it all worthwhile.

[oddballwriter]

Honeymooning with the Moon Boys

Warnings: I don't really think there is any. The only note I want to give is that the boys are all individual and there no reference to the others' honeymoon ideas. So yeah. 

Author’s Snip: I really have no excuse. I've just had this idea bubbling in my mind for a bit.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Steven Grant

I feel like the obvious choice is Egypt, and yeah sure maybe he does want that to be your honeymoon location, but not for the reasons you think

It's a miracle. Steven isn't info-dumping about Egypt. Lol

Okay but in all seriousness he doesn't really say anything unless you ask him because he's probably explained everything before you two even got married. Yeah you visit some spots and he'll tell you a bit but otherwise. Complete zip

Steven feels like if him talking all about it takes away the magic of the honeymoon and what it's meant to be. It's meant to be a thing that you both get to experience as a newlywed couple. It's a personal thing for the two of you. So he knows that him fanboying will take all that away because his focus isn't on you, his spouse, the light of his life and the air in his lungs, and what kind of husband would he be if he focused on anything else

So you two go see more scenic places like the shores or the nightlife

Do something together

And I mean, you have the rest of your lives together. You can be tourists some other time

Marc Spector

I have a feeling Marc would actually want to go somewhere where no one will bother you

He would be okay with whatever you wanted but if you genuinely want him to say what he wants and imagines for the honeymoon then he'll say that

I know Marc gets played as a grouch a lot but like, Marc is just not a people person and he doesn't want to deal with people during the trip where it's meant to be just for you and him

He doesn't want to hear a million strangers congratulating him and you and all that

So maybe a cabin somewhere nice with scenery. Where you can soak in all the sights together with no one interrupting you

You don't need to go anywhere where there will be a bunch of people because its all right there if you just look out a window

The two of you can just cuddle and have a peaceful time

Yeah, you guys go out and get dinner someplace nice too but just like

Just the two of you

Like it will be always, now that you're married

Jake Lockley

Here comes Mr. Party Boy /hj

Jake wants to go somewhere lively since he sees your honeymoon as one big party vacation for the two of you to celebrate trying the knot

He still values it the same as Marc and Steven would with it being something for you but he just wants it to be fun and big

So he'd want to go to someplace like Las Vegas, New Orleans, Miami, or New York. Just something fun.

You're newlyweds so why not act like it?

I do see one thing that seems like something Jake would do and that's doing one big road trip to your honeymoon location

It sounds wild but in all honestly, Jake's wild, and also why not?

You guys are married now, you're going to be with each other for the rest of your lives so might as well pack yourselves into a car and have fun on the road

Stop at some spots you see advertised on the billboards that you pass. It'll make for great stories to tell others or reminisce on down the line

I can see Jake being the type of man where he keeps his old cars and has a story for every single one of them

Anyways, the honeymooning

Jake makes sure it's something that you two will always remember and look back on as your first big trip together as a married couple in the face of maybe other trips