#I hope Oliver will see how much it meant to people

[chaosandwolves]

Oh hell nah.

Are people really that petty?

Making Oliver feel bad about this ep when it was one of the best character developments.

I honestly don't get why people are so mad. It all made sense and they also only have a limited amount of time to fit everything in.

After 6 seasons of Buck doubting the value of his own life and trying to find a place he belongs, he finally understood that he's enough and loved and that's SO BEAUTIFUL.

Did I hope for something else? Yeah I did. But I'm not the writer of the show and they've handled Buck's arch quite beautifully.

Do I still hold on to Buddie? Hell yeah. I think there was a reason Eddie wasn't in the dream. And there are too many things that make me believe in Buddie canon (post about this in works).

Do I want Eddie and Buck to talk about this? Absolutely!! Especially after seeing Eddie not being able to look at Buck and see him crying like this.

Would I think that it would be weird if Eddie's reaction doesn't have any further impact on the coming eps. Yeah I wouldn't like that.

Do I demand to see these things? No.

Would I still be sad and disappointed? Yes.

Do I go and butcher reviews etc and diminish the work of a whole bunch of creatives who put a lot of love into this ep? No. It's disrespectful as hell.

Besides. The episode was beautifully done.

They all did a great job. Oliver, Kenny and Peter specifically. The camera work was great. The music was amazing. It was emotional and fun.

I'm very happy we got a Buck centred piece again with real character growth.

And just because you're angry and disappointed - which I understand cause I'm passionate as hell about them and I will literally lie crying on the floor if Buddie doesn't go canon - it doesn't give you the right to shit on people's hard work. Especially when they've mentioned how proud they are of it.

And think about it. If you're so shitty to the creators and actors and all, why should they be willing to give us the things we want to see?

As for the forgiveness /redemption of the parents thing. This is a bit more complicated imo but in Buck's case we at least clearly were told that Buck's family aren't the Buckleys. He literally tells Daniel that he has a different family that needs him.

The getting along and all in the end was for Buck. For HIS healing.

Believe me I'm not fond of the narrative that parents should be forgiven just because.

But we could talk about this in a proper discussion.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 21 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is learning firsthand just how lonely a deployment can be when he's gotten used to talking to you all the time. You are more than happy to record your daily adventures for him, including your steamy ones.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, masturbation, adult language, romantic Bradley, 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Your original plan to commute to work from your apartment in Mira Mesa went out the window after the box from Bradley arrived. Suddenly his place seemed cozier now that there were tidy rows of envelopes from him covering the table in the living room. You sipped a mug of coffee and looked at all of them, selecting the one that said Open me with your class.

"Whatever you say, Bradley," you murmured with a smile, tucking it into your tote bag for work. You missed your kids almost as much as you missed him, but at least you'd finally get to see them today. You just hoped there was something upbeat in the note, because you were going to have to inform them that he'd be gone until Career Day. Or maybe longer.

Opening the note that was meant for you and your class before digging into all the others just felt right. Really, he was a faithful pen pal to all nineteen of you, even if his current letters were pre-written. As you drove to work, you wondered how long it would take your students to ask about Bradley. Turns out, it didn't take too long at all.

You were standing behind your desk, getting hugs from some of the kids as they got reacquainted with each other and the classroom for the first time in almost two weeks when Jayden asked, "What did you get Lieutenant Bradshaw for Christmas?"

Images of lingerie danced in your head as you cleared your throat. "Stationery," you replied. "So he can write us letters while he's deployed."

"He's deployed?" asked Nia, face lighting up. "With Marty?"

"Can we do another drawing contest with him?" shouted Oliver, already getting colored pencils out of his desk.

"Will you ask if he's allowed to take a video while he's flying this time?" Violet asked calmly.

"Actually," you replied, walking slowly to the front of the room with a single envelope in your hands, "we can't do any of those things. He's not allowed to communicate with anyone who isn't on the aircraft carrier this time around. If he writes to us, he'll have to save the letters until he returns."

Everyone stared blankly at you. 

Jackie raised her hand. When you pointed to her, she said, "But we're not like random people. We're students of aviation. We're his pen pals."

"Yeah!" came a chorus of voices, and you were half tempted to write up a petition to the Navy for all of them to sign.

You had to clap your hands and wait for them to clap in response after they all quieted down again. "I have a note that he wants me to open with you. Should we do that now?"

After literally everyone agreed that was a good idea, you opened it and found a handwritten link to a YouTube video followed by a short note that you read out loud.

"Greetings, Fourth Graders,

By the time you read this, it will be January, and I'll be on an aircraft carrier in the Atlantic Ocean for a seven week deployment. I'm sure your lovely teacher has explained that sending and receiving letters is sadly not a possibility for me right now. I'm going to need you to keep track of all your questions about aviation until I get back for Career Day next month. I'll bring some of my friends along, and we can answer them for you then. Sound good?

Make sure you listen to your teacher, and I'll see you all in February.

Yours Truly,

Lieutenant Bradshaw"

You looked up from the notecard and added, "He also included a link to a YouTube video. Should we check it out now?"

It was actually amazing how quietly they all sat in anticipation while you set up your projector and typed out the link. When you turned out the lights, you had to grab onto the edge of your desk as Bradley's face and voice filled your classroom, even though he wasn't actually there. The twenty minute video began with him sitting on his living room couch in his worn out jeans and the Top Gun shirt you wore to bed last night, and you realized he must have filmed this on Christmas Eve when you were out with Natasha.

"Hi, everyone," said video Bradley as he waved to his phone camera. "I thought I would try my hand at a little lesson on aviation so your teacher could get a break. Make sure you take notes. There will be a quiz the next time I see you."

All of your students were watching him with rapt attention and pencils poised over their notebooks. Bradley kept them engaged and entertained while you fell even more in love.

-----------------------------

"What the fuck?" Bradley groaned as he sank down into an empty spot on one of the long benches in the mess hall. The spaghetti looked like mush, but his stomach was growling so aggressively, he decided to take a bite anyway. It tasted just as bad as it looked, and he grimaced as he started to shovel it into his mouth anyway.

What he wouldn't give for dinner at Salvatore's. Mouthwatering pasta. Expensive as hell wine. You in a short little dress with his hands all over your thighs. Maybe Bronco parking lot sex.

Instead he got another USS Gerald R. Ford meal which was barely edible, and a view of a very hairy Atlantic Fleet aviator with the call sign Curly. Fantastic. Even the garlic bread was so stale it was hard to chew, but if he didn't eat, he would start losing weight. And if he started losing weight, it would make working out harder, which would suck, because going to the gym was his main source of entertainment.

Other than writing letters he couldn't send.

"Are you gonna finish that?" Curly asked, pointing at the roll Bradley only bit the corner of.

"It's all yours, man," he replied, watching the other aviator pick it up and crunch on it with a smile. 

Bradley picked up his tray with the intention of heading to his bunk to change into gym clothes, but when he got there, he collapsed onto the twin sized bed instead. It was clear that he'd only been brought along for this deployment to fly one very specific mission, because as a whole, the Atlantic Fleet pilots were young and green. But as a result of the current political climate, he had internet access completely taken away from him, and he was stuck here for five more weeks with nothing to keep him sane. He didn't even have Marty this time around. Just the pretty stationery set you gave him and the holiday cards from your students.

So he would do what he always did now. He would write. To all nineteen of you. But mostly to you. He realized, like he always did, that this was probably the most boring shit that anyone would ever read. How many times could you really read about your boyfriend telling you that he loved you and missed you. It wasn't like he was writing elegant poetry here.

Gorgeous, I miss you so much. You'd cry if you saw the spaghetti I had to eat for dinner. First thing I'm doing when I get home (besides you) is driving us to Salvatore's, and I won't stop eating until I pass out. The Atlantic Fleet food makes the Pacific Fleet cabbage rolls seem like a delicacy, and the US fucking Navy can quote me on that. 

I love you. I wish you knew I was coming back to you instead of Norfolk. I wish I could ask you to use the credit card in my sock drawer to fully stock the refrigerator before I get home. The only things I want to do for three solid days after I arrive back in San Diego are eat, sleep, and fuck my girlfriend.

Definitely not poetry. "Was my writing this shitty last time around?" he murmured to himself with a laugh. It couldn't have been if you kept responding to him for the duration of that deployment. Just thinking about your letters, both professional and personal, made him ache right now. Your emails and your sassy selfies and the sunset photos were things he didn't even know he had been taking for granted.

One letter from you now would have made everything so much better. With a deep sigh, Bradley changed to head to the gym.

------------------------------

Time passed slowly. Packing up and moving boxes of your things from Mira Mesa to Coronado helped, but you were a little too nervous to unpack too much other than the necessities. You didn't even want to think about that right now. All you wanted to do was plan your next visit to the wine bar with Natasha so you felt a little less lonely. 

As you hung the framed blueprint of the Super Hornet Bradley gave you in the living room, you realized he would have to be lonelier than you were. At least you had Jayden's tales of Vanessa the dog to make you laugh during the work day. And you went out to dinner with some of your friends you hadn't seen recently. And you had a never ending text thread with Natasha now. 

There was a pretty good chance Bradley didn't know anyone on this deployment, and you wondered if he was spending a lot of time in the gym. What you wouldn't give for a gym selfie. You collapsed onto the couch and scrolled through the images of your boyfriend that you had saved to your phone.

"God," you moaned. He was so hot. Especially in front of a sunset. Especially with your lipgloss smudged on his cheek. Especially when he was looking at you in his arms instead of at the camera. "Fuck."

When someone knocked on the door, you nearly fell off the couch. Your eyes caught on the envelopes from Bradley that you hadn't yet opened lined up on the coffee table as you walked across the room. The last time you had an unexpected visitor, it was Natasha. The time before that, it was Vanessa. You didn't know who to expect, but you squared your shoulders and pulled the door open with an abundance of attitude only to find a slightly hunched over older woman standing there.

"Oh!" you said, immediately softening your stance. "What can I do for you?"

She looked from you to the Bronco in the driveway and then back again. "Is Bradley home?"

"No, he's not," you told her, unsure about how much information to give. "Is there something you need?"

She eyed you carefully. "Are you his girlfriend? The teacher he fell in love with?" This stranger knew who you were. When you gave her a concerned look and took a step away from her, she said, "I'm Edith. I live next door. Sometimes Bradley helps me with yard work and repairs around my property." She smiled and added, "He only lets me pay him in piano lessons."

"Edith!" You told her your name with a smile. You knew exactly who she was, because the first time Bradley wrote to you about getting piano lessons from his retired neighbor, you fell halfway in love with him on the spot. "Right, of course! Bradley is actually deployed for a few more weeks." She looked immediately dejected, so you asked, "Did you need help with something?"

"I don't want to bother you with it," she said immediately.

"Please," you replied, already reaching for your shoes. "I'm so bored without Bradley around. I would absolutely love a distraction, Edith."

She wrung her hands and then held them up. "Well, I can't change my light bulbs, because my arthritis is bad this time of year when it gets chilly out. And my back patio is so dark at night, I can't see anything."

"Say no more," you told her, joining her on the porch and closing the door behind you.

It only took you a few minutes to change the exterior light bulbs and rearrange her patio furniture. Then you cocked your head to the side and asked, "Is something beeping?"

Edith sighed. "My smoke detector needs new batteries."

"I'm on it."

She led you inside the sliding glass door, into her kitchen where the beeping was annoying enough that you didn't know how this woman could have slept in the house unless her hearing was starting to slip. Edith told you where you could find a step ladder and new batteries, and once you finished that chore, she started digging around in her purse, pulling out five dollars.

"Thank you for your help," she said, trying to hand it to you as you walked past the piano with the step ladder.

"I am absolutely not accepting your money, Edith. This was the most entertaining part of my day. As long as your arthritis allows it, you can pay Bradley in extra piano lessons when he returns." 

The idea of Norfolk suddenly made you feel anxious, but Edith smiled. "Oh, he's an advanced student. He mostly just plays from memory. I only point out when he's flat instead of sharp."

You weren't sure how long it had been since Bradley checked in with her, but as long as he was allowed to come back to San Diego, you'd make sure he did it more often. "I'll send him over as soon as he gets back."

Edith smiled knowingly. "Something tells me he's not going to want to leave your side right when he gets back. But maybe after a day or two, you could send him over?"

"I'll do that," you told her with a chuckle.

After you walked back across the yard and let yourself inside, you kicked off your shoes and decided to treat yourself with one of Bradley's notes. You'd been trying to ration them, but they were all so tempting. The ones you had already opened were stacked up on the kitchen counter where you could easily find them to read them again and again. You took a few seconds to decide which one felt right, and you settled on Open me when you need a laugh.

Inside the envelope, you found no note at all. There was just one photo, and when you pulled it out, you burst into laughter. Natasha was right; twenty-two year old Bradley was endearingly skinny and mustache-less. He still wore that same grin today, but he really grew into his frame. You marveled over how fresh his scars looked in the picture, deciding to hang it up in the bedroom for now. 

And when you woke up on Sunday, the photo was the first thing you saw.

You reached for your phone thinking you could text Bradley before tossing it aside in frustration. You were frustrated in every way. Mentally and emotionally, but also physically. You missed sleeping next to him most nights. You missed his warmth and the way he kissed you. His strong body and attentive hands.

When you tried to burrow down under the covers in just his sweatshirt to go back to sleep, your skin felt like it was charged. Like there was an undercurrent of need that nothing would soothe except for Bradley.

Open me when you're in bed

That's what one of the envelopes said. You bit your lip before burying your face in Bradley's pillow and moaning. The need was still there, more palpable by the second. You had about an hour before Natasha was supposed to pick you up for brunch and the wine bar; it was the perfect time to read that note.

You ran down the hallway to the coffee table, grabbed the envelope, and took it straight back to bed. Your curiosity had been gnawing away at your mind over what could be in the note meant for the quiet solitude of the bedroom, and now was your chance to find out as you slipped back under the covers.

Gorgeous,

You better be in our bed right now. Maybe you just got home from work. Maybe you're still waking up for the day. Maybe you're ready to fall asleep soon, but you just need something to take the edge off. It doesn't matter, as long as you're thinking about me and my hands all over your body. I hope you're ready to read about how I would take care of you right now.... in an abundance of detail.

You moaned as you looked around the room, wide-eyed like someone was going to catch on to what he had written to you. Desire flared inside you as you squeezed your thighs together and took a few deep breaths before continuing to read.

You're beautiful inside and out. It's no surprise that you really get me going. One thought about the soft swell of your ass or the way you taste when you cum is enough to get me seriously hard. Jerking off while thinking about you is fantastic, but nothing compares to the real thing. Next time I see you, we're taking our time to get reacquainted, but right now, if I could have you, it would be fast and dirty.

"Oh god," you groaned, closing your eyes as you pushed his sweatshirt up, letting cool air meet your warm skin. Then your hand slid down to the apex of your thighs, and you weren't at all surprised to find you were wet.

You look sinful in that bed. I just know it. I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you. My lips would find your breasts before sampling my way down your belly to that soaking wet pussy. When I say every inch of your body is Gorgeous, I mean it. You've got such a tight, pretty little pussy, and I would love to tease you until you're so worked up, you're practically crying. Just my mouth and fingers until you're begging for my cock, Gorgeous. Go ahead. Beg for it.

"Bradley," you moaned softly, a complete mess for your boyfriend even when he wasn't with you.

Good girl. Now touch yourself just how I'd touch you. Rub yourself just right. Use two of those fingers to warm yourself up and then dip them down inside that perfect pussy. So fucking tight, you drive me insane when I can't be with you. I'd be right above you, singing your praises, telling you how much I love you, and pumping my fingers in and out of that pussy while you whine and beg.

This note was absolutely lethal. You were already close. Sweat beaded on your brow as you stroked your fingers along your clit before pumping them inside you. His name was never far from your lips as you kept reading.

You taste so fucking sweet. I'd run my tongue everywhere until you couldn't stand it. I would eat your pussy until you cum in my mouth. I'd keep going until I couldn't handle how badly I needed you. Then I'd fuck you so hard and fast, you'd have tears in your eyes, voice ragged as my body slapped against yours. Tits bouncing as I bottomed out, holding you in place as I came inside you. And then I would let you know that I'm yours.

I'm all yours, Gorgeous. You absolutely own me.

You were panting, grinding the heel of your hand against your clit as you came. Bradley's note fell from your fingers as your back arched off the bed, and you grabbed the sheet as you cried out. You could hear something familiar mingling with your own voice, but it took you a second to realize your phone was ringing as you writhed around in bed, heart pounding fast from your orgasm. You rolled onto your belly and grabbed your phone as you sucked air into your lungs.

Natasha Trace

Shit. Shit. You tried to get your breathing under control as you answered her call, but you even sounded strange to your own ears as you said, "Hello?"

There was a pause before Natasha asked, "I'm leaving now, and I might stop for a fancy coffee on my way to get you. Do you want something?"

"Sure!" you replied, trying your best to sound casual, but pretty sure you were failing.

"I'll be there soon."

You dropped your phone and reached for the journal instead to let Bradley know just how hard you came for him before you got dressed for the day. 

-----------------------------

"Bradshaw!"

It felt like an almost foreign concept for Bradley to hear his name now. Essentially nobody spoke to him outside of his mandatory meetings, and he'd spent so little time in a cockpit over the last few weeks, he spun around in surprise when someone called him.

Of course it was Admiral Walker. Bradley wasn't sure if he was being punished for what Cyclone had done, but he was hardly given any flight tasks to work on. But now that his deployment was starting to wind down, he realized the danger he was going to be flying into for his mission was much more than he originally anticipated.

"Admiral Walker, Sir?" he replied, saluting his superior officer. He wasn't looking to ruffle any more feathers here as long as it meant he'd be going home to you before too long. He felt sick with longing, missing you so much, especially at night, that he hurt until he was finally able to fall asleep. And then he'd wake up to the same choking feeling all over again the following day.

The older man examined him closely for a few beats before saying, "The weather looks ideal for tomorrow. You're team leader. Be ready to go at first light."

"Yes, Sir," he replied, because there was really nothing else to say. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could return home to his house in Coronado where you lived now. Where you were waiting for him. He just needed to get through this safely.

--------------------------------

I hate how isolated he feels. He's not thriving. He's not even eating well. He needs a hug. Gorgeous is enjoying the box of letters even is she is missing him terribly. I think I'll send him home soon. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 22

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[russellsppttemplates]

Did you lose her? (Lando Norris)

Maybe it was never a change of heart

Note: english is not my first language. It's angsty with a happy ending, and it's also the first piece that's I've written that's based of a song, Stick Season by Noah Kahan. I hope I did it well enough! 🫶 also, it has smut, and if you have followed me for long enough, you know I don't usually do it, but I think it's these AUS pics 😮‍💨😌🥵

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: curse words, previous break-up and themes related to that, smut (mentions protected sex, hormonal contraception, praise kink if you squint at the whole thing)

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed

Doing the food shop was one one of the mundane adult life tasks you actually enjoyed doing. You had some music on your ears and walked along the supermarket, making sure you weren't buying too much outside of your list.

Tomato sauce and two packets of the instant noodles for when you didn't feel like cooking or were in a rush, you told yourself as you browsed through the aisle.

The scent should've been the first give away, but lots of people wore the same perfume. However, not all of them had the characteristic underlying scent that to this day meant comfort.

"Y/N! I wasn't expecting to see you", Cisca said as he placed the item she took from the shelf on her shopping cart, "goodness, how long has it been since we've seen you?", she smiled sadly.

Five months, you thought. One hundred and fifty two days since you and Lando parted ways and you shipped your belongings back to England. You told yourselves it was amicable and that you'd still be there for eachother, but you had published your first article and he had started his season without the other by your side.

"It's been some time, yes. How are you?", you wondered, "we've been good, you know how busy it gets around this time of year. But Savannah had their little girl, Athena - let me show you a picture!", she scrambled her phone out of her bag.

"Oh, how cute!", you cooed at the little baby bundled up in a pink blanket, "Mila is such a good big sister, too!", she showed you a picture with the two of them in Lando's lap, the baby tucked safely into his chest as Mila seemed to be showing him one of her toys.

Gulping and swallowing the tears that threatened to fall, you looked up at her and smiled, "I'm glad everyone is doing good - send Oliver and Sav my congratulations!", you nodded, hoping she would get the hint.

Storing her phone back in her bag, Cisca smiled, resembling the smile that you woke up many times to, "I will, darling. All the best for you, hopefully we'll see you around", she said before rubbing your back soothingly.

You found an aisle without people and allowed yourself to cry. Just for a little bit before you had to go back to pretend it didn't hurt still.

And I'll dream each night of some version of you

That I might not have, but I did not lose

"I'm on the podium, dad!", Lando yelled as he hugged Adam, cackling in excitement as he hugged the team who were there to celebrate and congratulate him.

"Congratulations, baby!", you yelled as Lando turned to hug you, arms going around your waist and pulling you as close as the safety barriers allowed, clicking open his visor so you could look at your favourite eyes in the world.

"I love you so much, Y/N!", he yelled back, winking before he went up to get weighed in.

On the podium, he looked at you like you two were the only people there, smiling up at him as he blew you a kiss.

"I knew you'd be on the podium, baby", you smiled once you were back in his driver's room, "How are you so sure?", he wondered, kissing your neck soflty.

"The development they're doing, your talent, Lando, I knew it was going to happen, and from now on, you better get used to being up there every single weekend", you smirked, kissing from his throat to his jaw and up to his lips, humming when his tongue poked at your lips begging for entrance.

It was hot and he was sweaty. His phone read 4:30am as he stood up against the headboard, finding the light switch so he wouldn't walk around the hotel room in complete darkness.

It was the third night in a row you showed up in his dreams. The first time, it was subtle as he dreamed about flying on plane and he was sure you were there. The past two, however, had you in there as a main character. He dreamed of walking in the paddock with you, of having you there to comfort him and knock some sense in his head when his P4 in qualifying didn't feel enough, and now you were celebrating his podium.

It's weird how his brain went there, how his arms and face felt like they had truly been holding you despite not having done it in months. Muscle memory betrayed, he thought as he poured himself some water and took little sips of it as he looked outside the window.

Fuck, he missed you. And not just for these big moments where he was on a high and wanted to share it with you or when he was do low you were the only person that could make him crawl out of the dark hole he snuck himself into. It's when he's making his bed back home and the other pillow remains fluffed because no one's using it, it's the mug you left behind and he doesn't have the courage to send back to you or give to someone else or when he sees something that reminds him of you and he gets it, hoping one day he can get them to you.

You once called me forever, now you still can't call me back

Lando sighed again as the call went to voicemail. It was the third time it happened in the last couple of hours. It was media day at Suzuka and they were having lunch.

"You know it's 3 am back in England, right?", Oscar asked bluntly, "when we were having breakfast, sure, you might have got hold of her if she was doing a late night, but I think you should wait", he reasoned.

Oscar was right. He didn't want to risk it waking you up even though he was sure your phone was on silent since you loved your sleep dearly.

"I hate this", Lando muttered, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. Oscar was aware of some of what had happened between Lando and you. The start of the season always came with new gossip and this one's was filled with rumours and conspiracy theories about the paddock's sweetheart and young couple.

Lando started driving in Formula One when he was nineteen, so they had seen his grow up through the years along with your relationship. At first, you were pinned down as his sister, then a best friend when they realised you didn't share genetics, and then you were his girlfriend. The lingering touches and big smiles they caught never rushed you to admit your feelings or put a label on your relationship, but everyone was there when you walked hand in hand on the paddock and confirmed the suspicions they had for months. Lando Norris and his best friend were in love and they all felt like proud parents as they watched you support him unconditionally every time you could.

"Did you lose her?", Oscar quesioned his team-mate as he picked on the food on his plate.

"I don't have her with me, have I?", Lando snapped and regretted it almost immediately.

Oscar put it down to tiredness, jet lag and the fact that he seemed a bit lost on how he was navigating the situation, "What I'm saying is, did you lose her? Did you do your absolute best to keep her with you?", he said sternly, "Used all of the options and possibilities and it still didn't work out? You don't lose someone because things fell apart in a stressful situation", he reasoned.

He was young but not dumb, truly.

"Feels like I have though", Lando added.

"What I'm saying is if you really want to know how she is and if you want to have an honest conversation with her, you have to make an effort. Not just calling and asking your mother to see if she's spotted her lately, or your sisters to check in your circle of friends whether or not she has moved on", Oscar lectured.

"Do you think I can do it? Do I have what it takes?", Lando confessed his doubts out loud. One of the reasons he had yet to act on it was because having a second chance wasn't for everyone and he needed to make sure it went perfect. You deserved that.

"You're a Formula One driver with deep pockets and a massive heart that still belongs to someone. What can't you do?", the young australian driver mused before he got up, taking his plate with him and leaving Lando pondering about what to do next.

I hope this pain's just passin' through

You sang loudly as you dusted the living room shelves, windows open to let the autumn air in. While cleaning wasn't your favourite thing to do, you had woken up with an urge to clean and given that it happened very rarely, you were taking it in stride.

So far, you found a receipt of a pair of jeans you were meant to return but gave your friends instead, a concert ticket and a bigger amount of dust than you'd like to admit. When you pulled the fabric strap, though, you knew that you wouldn't want to get rid of it. The lanyard belonged to one of the passes for one of the Grand Prix weekend you went to see Lando. Inspecting it closer, you realised it was his second home race, the Polaroid picture attached to it confirming the date.

It started with you joking about the fact that the pass was not the prettiest, so Lando hunted down the paddock to find a Polaroid camera, snapping a picture of you two and pinching a hole on it so you could carry it around and cover the supposed ugly pass. The photo was still intact, just a little dusty as you wiped it with your sleeve. Lando was kissing your cheek as you smiled impossibly big, eyes squinty and smile beaming because of the guy whose lips were on your cheek.

A single teardrop fell on the plastic covered paper before a few more followed as you sat down, looking at what you had once been and how things were right now. The missed calls on your phone led you to believe that maybe he still felt something too, but the potential heartache of trying again and it not working would hurt more than it already does.

The vibration from watch caught your attention as you read the two notifications. One from your e-mail with Qatar Airways written in bold and a text from Lando.

Qatar Airways

Thank you for choosing to fly with Qatar Airways!

Lando ✨️

I need you here with me, Y/N, please

I made the flight reservation for you, they will hold the ticket until two hours before the flight leaves, you just have to confirm with your passport ❤️

You promised me that I was more than all the miles combined

Heathrow Airport, 7th October 2023, 6:30 am.

You couldn't back out now, that would mean Lando would lose the money he spent to get you here in the first place. It wasn't by all means quiet, but your thoughts were loud enough.

You shouldn't be here. Why were you here? Why did you accept this, Y/N?

Because Lando needed you there.

Simple as that.

Boarding the flight, you smiled and thanked as the flight attendant pointed to the area where your seat was and where you would spend the next six hours and a half.

"I'm sorry, our seats are by the window", a woman in her thirties said as she bounced a little girl on her hip, making you get up so she could get to it, "thank you", she smiled, sitting down and buclking herself and her daughter to her body.

"Lyla, you can't go pulling on other people's clothes - I'm so sorry", she apoligised as the little girl pulled on your shirt's detailed button buckle.

"No worries, I know how restless they can get. You do the best for your baby. You're only responsible for yours and her emotions, no one else's on this plane", you offered her, remembering the times you would take flights and fully grown adults would go up to a stressed parent to let them know they could hear their crying child as if the parents themselves didn't know.

"My husband is somewhere in there, too", she chuckled, sometimes I feel I'm responsible for his too - accountantable in a way at least", she chuckled.

"You weren't able to sit together?", you wondered.

"My husband planned the weekend to go watch a race and come back, but we found some holiday days and we decided on a spontaneous trip. This was the only seat left they had", she explained.

"I can change seats if you want", you offered, "I'm flying on my own and I'll get to the destination all the same", you giggled.

"You wouldn't mind?", she asked, relief settling over her as she tried to see her husband, waving at him to come closer as you touched the button to call the flight attendant as the passengers were all sat down on your section.

"This lovely young woman says she doesn't mind switching seats with you", she said to her husband as you spoke to the flight attendant.

"No, there's no problem with that if you both agree", the flight attendant smiled as you got up, ignoring the frown on the man next to you who had to get up so you could swap, "bye bye, Lyla!", you waved at the little girl before her parents thanked you once again.

Finding your new seat, you put your bag under the seat in front and sat down, excusing yourself to the older couple next to you, "I just swapped seats with the gentleman that was here, I'm sorry", you smiled, hoping they wouldn't be too mad.

"Oh, he was able to sit with his family after all - I told you, Harold!", the lady winked at her husband, "I'm Francesca, you can call me Fran", she said sweetly.

Despite the early flight, they both seemed to be full of energy as they started telling you stories of their life and family, showing pictures of their kids and grandkids.

"One day you'll have all of that with the person you love, darling - if that's something you want, of course!", Harold peeped in, "our granddaughters are always telling me not everyone wants the same things!", he chuckled softly.

"It's okay - I would like that, actually", you smiled sadly as Francesca landed her hand on top of yours.

"Why does that sound like a confused heart, dear?", she commented, reading you like a book. The flight was closer to be three quarters of the way to the destination, so you still had some time to kill.

"A little bit; I'm actually flying over to see the person who still has this confused heart", you mumbled.

"Your eyes sparkle when you talk about him, dear - something tells me he's going to 'unconfuse' your heart", she smiled, "tell me about him".

"Godness", you chuckled, "He's kind, respectful, honest, goofy, cute, charming, loving, he's all that is good. We just lost our way, I think", you recalled, smiling at the thought of him.

"You'll find it back, dear. Life has mysterious ways but it has the right ways - I like to believe it does, anyway", the older lady assured, squeezing your hand in hers.

Waving goodbye to Harold and Francesca when you found the taxi bay, you requested to be taken to the paddock.

When you got there, you payed the kind driver before he helped you take your suitcase from the boot, "enjoy the race!", he smiled.

You were thankful all eyes were on the track already, making you cross the whole paddock and step into McLaren's hospitality quickly after collecting your pass.

"Y/N!", Zak said as he was the first person to spot you, "you're here, you came!", he smiled, hugging you tightly, "we're all very happy you're here", he said as he asked one of the team members to store your suitcases somewhere appropriate before leading you to the corridor to the drivers' rooms.

"Lando is inside, and the race starts in less than ninety minutes, so you won't talk all you need to, but it's a good start", he said, knocking on the door before he left.

When Lando heard the knock, he hoped it was you. Sophie and Oscar were great people, but in the last hour, everytime he opened the door, theirs were the faces he saw instead of yours.

"Y/N", he welcomed you into his room before closing the door, "I hope it's okay that I flew you here, thank you for coming", he said as he hesitated on giving you a hug.

Taking a step forward, you laced your arms around his waist as he did the same around your shoulders, inhaling eachother's scent and feeling like a weight was lifted off both of you, "I missed you so much, Y/N", he whispered before you pulled apart.

"It's not the first time you've done that for me", you fumbled with your hands, "although I was very surprised. We haven't spoken to eachother in some time, Lando", you sterned.

"Not because I didn't try", he bit bat with an ironic chuckle, "Why did you come here then?", he defended, taking your words as immediate offense and not taking a second to process them properly.

"Because even though we're not together anymore, you matter to me. I care about you! I'm not sure what monster you depict me as or that you imagine I've turned into, but I wouldn't dream of wishing you misery! If you call me and tell me you need me here, I'll be here because I care about you!", you snapped, "you have no idea how many times I wanted to give up and cancel this! Why am I here, Lando?", you asked.

You didn't expect him to react that way, not that you had a much better reaction anyway.

"Fuck, this is not how we do this", you took a deep breath as Lando held your hands in his, mimicking your movements as he did the same. Three long deep breaths, in and out, in and out, in and out.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that", Lando began, hands laced on yours still, "thank you for bring here, I needed you here because there's no one else in the world that can make me feel comfortable like you do, and I need that. I need to feel like myself - and I know it's a selfish ask to make you get up and drop your things to be here with me but-", you interrupted him.

"It's okay, Lando, you're okay", you cooed, searching for his eyes and hoping you'd get the message your mouth was failing to say through.

You pulled him to sit in front of you in the massage table, "I've been seeing all the podiums you've been getting - the team have done such a great job developing, and your talent and skills have brought it to the podium", you tried a lighter subject even though you were 99% sure of his worries.

"Oscar still qualified above me", he began, "He's a rookie and he's managed to do in months what I haven't done in five years", he allowed himself to express his feelings. After all, it was you.

"Oscar is not driving a tractor like you were", you shrugged your shoulders as Lando laughed.

"For someone who was invited last minute and got a pretty good pass, I'm not sure how the team would feel about you talking like that", he smirked, hand finding your own as he rubbed his thumb on your palm.

"I'm only telling the truth", you smiled, "and I mean it. I know how this sport works, but you shouldn't compare yourself to your teammate when the circumstances are so different", you mused.

"The team have been great and they still haven't said anything", he reasoned.

"Of course they haven't because it's something that happens, Lando. I was watching the highlights and so many drivers went over the limits because that's how this track goes", you stated, "there's only so much you can do and you shouldn't put all that pressure on yourself", you tsked, "I know you do, but you shouldn't", you smiled.

"You always know what to say, don't you?", he chuckled, "I have an inkling on how this here works", you winked and tapped his head with your free hand.

A knock on the door interrupted your moment as Jon opened it right after, "Lando, we need to start prepping for the sprint", he said before he turned to you, "Hi Y/N, good to have you back!", he smiled before he let you finish what you were doing.

"I should go, then", Lando trailed off, "are you going to browse around the paddock? I bet a lot of people miss you and your face here", he nudged.

"I came here for you, I don't care about anyone else", you smiled as you leaned over to press a kiss on his cheek for a few seconds, smiling against his warm skin before grabbing your bag and walking out.

Most of the team must've known you were coming since not many of them took a second look whenever you greeted them or entered a different area.

One of the media girls got you a set of headphones as she stood next to you, Oscar and Lando getting ready to go to the track.

His routine hadn't changed as your eyes followed him while he got dressed appropriately and safely for the race.

Before Lando put his helmet on he looked back at you, winking and smiling when you winked back.

When the gap wasn't closing in, you knew Lando would be disappointed with P3, not because of the place itself but because his team-mate had done better.

As you moved to a better spot to watch the interviews on the media pen, your heart felt like someone was using it like a trampoline, jumping and stomping on it as Lando spoke about himself with such a negative tone.

Surely, the interviewers were fishing for answers with biased questions and his mind took him there.

As you waited for him to be back to the hospitality, you got yourself something to eat, realising you hadn't done it since the plane.

Lando was beating himself up and he couldn't shake the bad mood he was in even when he thought you had travelled to see him and be there for him.

As Sophie gave him a quick debrief about his interviews, he stepped into his driver's room so he could have a quick shower and then head to the team debrief.

"It wouldn't hurt going up to her, you know?", Jon told him, ready to take any harsh words first if it meant you didn't hear them.

"I know it wouldn't, I'm just going to eat something and then I'll join the debrief with the rest of the team", Lando mumbled as he walked up to you.

"Hey", he said sitting down on the sofa next to you.

"Hey, Lando", you said, testing the waters and approaching his body until you rested your head on his shoulder.

"You are going to get your win, Lando. It's going to be an amazing weekend and it's going to be your first. Surely important, but you'll be a race winner and go on to the next race", you said as he seemed to be unsure of the tone you were going for, "as that will be a big moment in a long career - because it won't define it - this doesn't define you either, as a person and as a driver", you concluded, hoping to bring a little bit of his confidence and self-esteem back up a little.

"And you're going to be there?", he asked. He was feeling like shit and needed to know. It wasn't fair, but he needed to know.

"I can't make promises like that, not before we speak properly", you remarked, looking up at him from where you were, kissing his cheek and squeezing his hand in yours, "do you want me to stay here or should I go back to the hotel?", you asked. It wasn't the right time or the right place to talk about it.

"Could you stay here, please?", he said as you took your book out of your bag, knowing it would run long and you'd need some entertainment as there was only so much catching up you could do with the team when they're suppose to be working.

"I will, then", you said as Lando took the plunge and kissed the top of your head.

Ten chapters and a tea later, Lando tapped your shoulders, "I'm finished, are we ready to go?", he asked as you got up accepting his hand to hold as you walked out of the hospitality, grabbing your suitcase from the storage room and bidding goodbye to the team.

"I couldn't get a separate room for you, but the room I'm staying in has this living room area and the sofa opens into a bed, they said it's really comfy and they also left an extra mattress topper and some blankets", Lando said as he drove, "in case you didn't feel comfortable, I- I just want you to feel comfortable", he emphasised nervously.

"Lando, you don't need to walk on eggshells, okay? It's me", you smiled reassuringly as he stole a quick look at you before focusing back on the road, "sounds like a nice solution, fine by me", you reassured him.

Leaving the car to the valet and taking the lift up with you, you stayed silent until you were inside the hotel room, "That's the bedroom area, bathroom's here - and it has a double sink - and then the living room", Lando patted the extra linen folded on the sofa.

"Thank you", you assented, "would you like to talk now or is it bad timing? You must be tired f,-".

"Yes, please", he agreed immediately sitting on the sofa and making room for you to sit in front of him.

"I don't know where to begin", you observed after a while, "it's been tough being without you - I have been so used to having you there for me and to be there for you that nothing quite has the same meaning. I can live without you - barely, but I can -, that's not the question, but I don't want to", you manifested.

"We ended things because we had to, and it did us both well to see from another perspective - that's what it felt for me anyway -, but I want to be with you and to have you with me", he elaborated, "I don't care if you have to spend more time back home because of the distance, or come with me to the races because of the distance, too, I-".

"It was never about the distance, Lando", you interjected. You both used that excuse way too many times but deep down you knew it wasn't because of it.

"We'll work it out then", Lando suggested, "we'll work on us because knowing eachother doesn't mean we don't have to put ourselves first and keep investing on our relationship. I value you so much Y/N, I love you so much and I want to do this right", he whispered as if he spoke any louder would disturb the moment.

"I love you too", you smiled as you laced your hands together, "we'll work on it, together".

It was already late so Lando offered you the bathroom so you could shower and do your night routine first and then make the sofa bed to your liking while he did his night routine.

"Good night, angel", Lando said after you hugged him goodnight, kissing the top of your head before letting you lie down first since the light on his bedside table was the only one illuminating the room.

After you cocooned yourself in the sheets comfortably, you spoke up, "Lando, I'm sorry I didn't answer back sooner", you apoligised.

"It's okay, love, you don't have to worry about that", he cooed softly and you could hear the smile on his voice.

"I know it's not, but thank you for making me feel better about it, goodnight", you smiled, feeling hopeful about it.

The next morning, you were woken up by the noise coming from the bathroom, assuming Lando was showering inside as you stretched, surprised at how well you slept. Maybe the bedding was genuinely nice, the sofa bed wasn't bad to begin with, especially considering the hotel you were staying in, or maybe it was the fact that for the first time in months, you fell asleep knowing the person who your heart belonged to was more than happy to let you keep his, too, and he was in the same space as you.

"Good morning, beautiful", Lando smiled as he noticed you were awake already, "did you sleep well?".

"Good morning, Lan", you yawned, "I did, really well, actually. At what time do we have to be at the track?", you wondered. It was a night race, so the call up was later than usual.

"I'm leaving after breakfast, but you can stay and head there later if you want", Lando declared as you walked up to him, "I just need to freshen up and get ready", you smiled, kissing his cheek and heading for the bathroom with your clothes.

As soon as you arrived at the track, you took one of the back entrances as you knew Lando would spend some time with the fans and other drivers he bumped into, finding a nice spot on the lounge and going back to your book.

"I'm going to start race prep", Lando stopped by you in the lounge after a quick meeting, "I probably won't talk to you much until afterwards so I just came to check on you", he reasoned.

Getting up, you moved to one of the corridors, leaning up to kiss his forehead softly, "Good luck, my love, you're going to do so well, I know it", you smiled against his skin.

"I have my lucky charm with me", he smirked, kissing the top of your head before he got back to Jon.

From P10 to P3, Lando had an eventful race. Fortunately, and compared to the rest of the grid, he seemed to be doing fairly well as he stood in front of AC Units while replenishing the water he lost during the fifty-seven laps.

"I'm so proud of you!", you cooed as he got back to the garage, shaking hands with all the mechanics and engineers before he got to you. You hugged his sweaty body, not caring about it as long as you felt his close to you.

"They're postponing race debrief so I'm going to shower quickly and then we can get going, beautiful", he smiled, kissing a spot on your cheek very close to your lips.

Smiling giddily, you went to the bar area to get a bottle of water for yourself as Sophie walked last you, "seems like we will be seeing a lot more of you again soon - maybe Zak can also hire you as our lucky charm!", she winked as you shook your head, blood rushing to your cheeks at her words.

Back in the hotel room, it was your turn to freshen up and get ready to sleep. The spirits were high and you were feeling like the wait time was over. Your heart was healed enough as you sat on Lando's bed, "I'm so proud of you, you had an incredible drive tonight", you smiled as you moved closer to him as he sat on the edge, back against the headboard and one leg on the mattress while the other hung beside the mattress.

"It felt so good", he smiled, "thank you for supporting me", he cupped your cheek as he silently asked you for permission to kiss your lips. Lando couldn't waste anymore time as he pulled you to him so he could kiss you properly, your legs on either side of his as you straddled him, revelling in the feeling of being in eachother's hold as your hands played with his hair while his held your waist.

"As much as I'd love to continue this, I'm exhausted, baby", he rubbed your thighs, "it's okay, my love, I wasn't thinking of letting you do anything else anyway", you smiled, kissing his nose softly before you got on one knee so you could flop to the side and land on the mattress.

"Sleep here, yes?", he mused and you nodded, undoing the bed and getting under the sheets, his arm holding you to him and making sure he didn't let go.

As if you'd leave anyway.

4.30am and Lando woke up again. This time however, the sight he longed to see was right there. The you he had and had got back, cuddled up to his chest as your leg was hoisted up on top of his own and very close to his aching cock.

As he tried to change the angle so every time you moved, your smooth skin wouldn't pratically tease him, you stirred in your sleep, eyes opening as he tried to adjust your knee.

"Is everything alright, baby? Am I hurting you?", you said as you recoiled from his body.

"No, angel, no!", he quickly guaranteed, "I'm sorry I woke you up, it's just that your knee was very close to me and I was having a hard time dealing with it".

"A hard time indeed", you snickered as you felt his hard-on strained on his Calvin Kleins. Dating after being friends for so long brought an easy joking side to your relationship so much easier and funnier as you wouldn't get offended with most of what you said to eachother, "need help with that?", you smirked.

"But I wanted to treat you", Lando pouted, "Can I, gorgeous girl?", he whispered as he kissed up your neck once you whispered "yes", hands roaming on your body as he pulled up your nightshirt, finding your nipples and twisting them slightly to work your body up the way you did with his.

Your sighs and whimpers let him know he was doing a good job as undressed your torso, littering small kissed from your throat to your tummy, "you're so gorgeous, Y/N, I can't believe you're mine", he said as he blew a raspberry on your tummy, earning giggles from you before he licked up a stripe near your panties line.

"You know how much I like it when you wear your pink panties", he voiced as he touched you over the cotton fabric, feeling you pulsate already, "Do you like it when I tease you over your pink panties, baby?".

"Yes", you scrambled out betwen moans and deep breaths, "Oh my Goodness, princess", he cooed as you squirmed, "You want me to fill this pussy up?", he wondered as you let out a yes followed but a deep mewling sound.

"Let me take a little peek, then", as his fingers pushed the fabric down, a string of wetness caught in the material as he smiled, "Oh my Goodness, look at this pretty little pink pussy", he kisses your clit, "all of you, you're se beautiful, baby".

Rubbing the inside of your thighs with his thumbs, pressing the soft skin as he got rid of your underwear, "Are you going to let me fill you up?", he asked as he wouldn't do it without consent.

"Yes, please do it, Lan", you moaned, hand looking for his own to hold.

"You don't need to say please, my love - here", he whispered as he laced your hands together, "you'll always have me, you hear me? I'm yours, sweet girl", he smiled.

His hand that wasn't securely laced in yours helped you take his underwear off before he came back up to kiss your lips softly.

"Does it feel good when I tease your clit like that, gorgeous?", he smirked as he ran the tip of his cock in your sensitive bud, "Yes - uhg, baby", you gasped, looking into his eyes and swearing you could get lost in them had you not been in such a state of arousal as you were.

"You look so pretty like this, my beautiful, sweet girl", he praised as he saw your twitches and heard your moans at his words, "we need protection, though", he stated.

"I'm good, didn't see anyone else - you?", you wondered as he shook his head, "didn't see anyone else either - condom?", he asked, making you nod and separate so he could get it from his toiletries bag. Hormonal contraception left you feeling worse that it made your life easier, so you and Lando always used condoms.

Rolling it down his shaft, Lando climbed back in the bed and kissed your lips, adjusting himself before he entered you.

You whimpered as Lando slid inside you, a low groan escaping from his throat as he gently slid, taking your hand back in his and resting them next to your head on the pillow.

"You feel so good for me, sweet girl, so wet so warm, so good - aah", he breathed out, "so tight, my sweet sweet girl", he squeezed his eyes shut at the feeling of your walls squeezing him.

You stretched your arm out enough to pull his face closer to yours, kissing his jaw and then his lips before whispering "you can move, love".

Lando pulled back slowly, thrusting in gently to begin with and savouring how you felt around him.

"I love you", you muttered into his neck between moans as he picked up the pace, thrusting into you faster, harder and deeper.

"I'm close", Lando groaned as he felt your walls clench around him, his hand crawling between your bodies and drawing lazy circles on your clit to get you to your release.

"Me too, feels so good, I feel so good", you moaned out, a high pitch one particularly when you felt the band was about to snap.

“My sweet girl, my beautiful sweet girl, are you going to come for me?”, Lando worked you up as your body started to show signs of it, "let go, my love, I'm here, I've got you”, he soothed, still gently rubbing your clit with one hand and keeping hold of the other.

Your back arched, sensitive nipples rubbing against his skin, as you came with a high-pitched whine, nuzzling your face on his thick neck as you came undone around him. Lando came soon after, his hand that was not holding yours groping your waist as he groaned.

“Good, sweet girl, that was good, you did so well for me. I’ve got you, it's okay", he assured as he felt you flutter around him, probably from overstimulation considering neither of you had been with anyone else and you hadn't slept a full night yet, the tiredness he felt also a cause for how quickly he finished.

Lando kissed your forehead sweetly before he pulled out, getting up and throwing out the condom on the bathroom bin before he cane back to you on the bed.

"Let's put this on, yeah?", he whispered soflty as he helped you put on his linen shirt, buttoning it enough to let you breathe but still feel hugged by the fabric, and then a clean pair of underwear he got from your suitcase.

Before he laid in bed with you again, he put on his own underwear, pulling you to his arms and then pulling the crisp white covers over you.

"Do you feel good, baby?", he asked once you were cuddled up to him, "yes, I do", you smiled, a mixture of post sex glow and being back in his arms.

"Thank you for not giving up on us, I love you, sweet girl", Lando said as he played with your fingers, bringing them up to his mouth so he could kiss every single one of them, "you're the best thing in my life", he mumbled, letting you drift off to sleep.

[apricot-blossomss]

I have a somewhat reverse idea of your latest Apollo angst. What if Apollo strikes down some mortal who was flirty or aggressive towards reader? He goes into full God mode; grows into a giant, deepens his voice then punishes the mortal. Turns to reader and he fears that reader now being afraid of him but no, reader is so amazed and grateful that he saved her from that man's unwanted attention that she is running up to Apollo who picks her up and kisses her everywhere.

☛ when someone tries to harass you, apollo strikes them down

☛ tw: attempted sexual assault & graphic descriptions of violence, it turned out a lot more angsty than I thought, angst, hurt/comfort, set in ancient greece

The sun was shining down on the city's marketplace, unobstructed by clouds. Many people had covered their heads in an effort to protect themselves from this summer's unforgiving heat. Still, the place was packed with people, drawn out of their protective homes by the delicious smells, excited chatter and the many attractions, sprinkled in between stalls with fish, spices, bread, olives and fruit.

Your mother had instructed you to buy olives and oils, the latter you were storing in your basket right now. "Thank you very much," you said, bidding the merchant goodbye to try and make your way to the tight crowd.

As you were pushing through the crowd to escape the packed area, you couldn't help a giddy smile creeping onto your face. The sun had barely reached its peak and your mother was only expecting you back by the afternoon, which left you enough time to meet up with your lover under the pines outside the city, as planned. And the faster you got there, the more time you would have.

It was this prospect that made you speed up, maybe a little too much, because you found yourself tripping over your own feet. Out of instinct, you pressed the basket onto your chest and braced yourself for the impact. But it didn't come. Someone had gotten a hold of your upper arm to stop your fall. Quickly, you got onto your own two feet and picked at your braid in embarrassment. "Thank you very much, sir."

That's when you recognized the man and instinctively took a step back. He, however, didn't seem bothered by the gesture and took a step towards you. "You are welcome. Can't have my future bride dirty herself, can I?" Right. It was Agapios, whom your parents had chosen to be your betrothed, with no knowledge of your current love life that was very much occupied by the god Apollo himself.

"Uh, well, thank you," you said, not knowing how to finally break to this man that he had no chance with you. But why would you? If it weren't for Apollo, your marriage to Agapios would be set in stone. In his eyes, it was. "See you soon, then," you said, a little awkwardly, and turned to leave on the road that lead out of the city.

But when you passed the gates, Agapios caught up to you. "I should keep you company. It isn't right for a woman, especially one your age, to be walking alone outside." You bit back your protests while you thought of a way to get rid of him. Shoving him into the stream that guided your path to the pine trees didn't seem too wise, given that your betrothed was a prominent member of society and quick to claim injury. Not that he would be wrong.

"This is quite the interesting route to take home," he interrupted your silence once again. If he didn't leave you alone till your meeting spot, maybe Apollo would find a way to get rid of him without suspicion. Your lover was quick-witted enough to assess this pesky situation, you were sure, even though he had no knowledge of your betrothal. Not that you were keeping it a secret, but you simply had no ambitions to let this man intrude that part of your life as well when he was already meant to take up your future.

"I like the quiet," you responded after a period of silence, hoping he'd get the hint. To your surprise, he did, showing an unusual social awareness. He stepped in your way and took your arm, the one that wasn't holding your basket. You couldn't help but stiffen up, his touch was wrong and unwelcome.

"Why are you so cold to me?" he asked, or rather, demanded, holding your arm more tightly. "You should be happy I even chose you." Something flashed in his eyes that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A quick look around revealed that you were only surrounded by grass and trees, no person in sight. "You should be kissing my feet that I am doing you this favor. Otherwise, you would never even be able to hope for someone even close to my level." He wet his lips. "You really should show your gratitude."

"Sorry," you mumbled under your breath, now trying to escape from his company as fast as possible. Maybe you should jump in the river. Miraculously, you managed to break free from his grasp and walk around him in large, quick steps. Maybe that gave you a false sense of hope, because just a few steps away from him, your body was pushed into a roadside grove with such a force it made you trip, but his painfully tight grip kept you up.

You were barely able to process anything that was happening to you when you were pushed again and landed on the hard ground. Unable to soften the blow, you felt a pain on your hip, but that was nothing compared to the panic that set in when you saw your attackers feverish eyes. "Listen, please, I'm sorry-" you breathed and tried to stand up, get on your feet, flee, but he kneeled down and constrained you to the ground.

You should have kicked and screamed for help, you should have done something, you were screaming at yourself to do something, but your body was frozen up as one of Agapios' hands closed around your throat, so tight you couldn't breathe, and the other tried to lift the skirt of your dress.

That was when your body finally gave in to your demands to move, fight, do something. You managed to land a kick on him, but he only laughed and spit down on you. All your kicking was slowed when the lack of air made your brain go fuzzy and your body tingle. All gasping and ragged breathing was of no use when he was so much stronger than you. Tears streamed down your cheeks and you could only sob when you saw his winning grin.

He was about to forcefully pull your legs apart when something happened. Neither you nor your attacker were able to process it: The white flash of pure light that burned up your eyes. Still blinded by the brightness, all you could feel was that, suddenly, the hands were gone from your throat and body, and you took a ragged breath, coughing and gasping for more air.

Breathing past the lump in your throat, you looked up. Your heart stilled and then raced as you beheld the sight before you. You had only ever seen Apollo's human-sized form, only ever felt his gentle gaze and his bright aura. But it had to be him. The creature before you- it looked so much like him, and then again not at all.

He was taller than any of the trees, as tall as the city walls. And he seemed to be glowing. Not in the way you knew, where his breathtaking smile shone like the rising sun. His eyes were filled with fury, his nostrils flaring, his clothing and hair seemed to float around him. Not peacefully, no, they were moving as if violently ripped around by a storm. A storm that was so terrifying and wonderful.

That was when the realization sank in. You were saved. He was here. With shaking hands, you covered your thighs with your skirt. Now, you were shedding tears of relief. The sound of your sobs was the only thing disrupting the ghostly silence. Until he talked.

When he talked, you first couldn't believe it was him. The voice was deep, not only in tone but in gravity. It was old, and it was godly. It made the air hum with tension and your skin explode into goosebumps. The sound of it was so mesmerizing that you almost didn't catch the words, though they cut clear as razors through the air. "What did you just do?"

Apollo was trying to remain calm, for your sake, but his composure was slipping as he tried to think of the most painful way to punish this pathetic piece of garbage that was this mortal. This man who had dared lay his hands on you. He would destroy him, he would make him cry and beg, he would make him pay dearly. In order to remain in control of himself, he didn't dare look back at you, it would only fuel his rage.

"Please!" The mortal man cried out, shielding his eyes from the light of his godly presence directed against him. "I didn't do anything- She wanted it!"

SNAP!

The man screamed when Apollo cracked his bones and contorted on the ground, wallowing around in the mud and sobbing. His eyes found yours and they widened pleadingly. "Tell him it wasn't like that, tell him to stop!" You didn't.

"How dare you talk to hear with your filthy mouth," Apollo said and his words were like thunder, deep and rumbling, filling the air with a tension like in a storm. "How dare you look at her." Agapios whimpered in pain and fear and pressed his tear stricken face into the mud. With slow, torturous steps, Apollo approached him. Your sunny god had transformed into a terrifying monster, all powerful, set on revenge. And yet, you didn't think you had ever loved him more.

"Please... mercy," Agapios sobbed, but Apollo only laughed a cold, cruel laugh. His eyes were that of a madman, crazed with rage and thoughts of revenge. His fist closed around the man's upper body, lifting him up and clenching his fist so that he screamed in agony. Apollo leaned down and breathed into his mouth. It was not just any breath. It was hot and burned the air, like a fireball, like a small sun itself, it entered Agapios mouth. In order to avoid the gruesome spectacle, you averted your eyes, but you knew he was being burned from the inside out right now.

After a short while, the gasping and screaming stopped and it got quiet. Very quiet. When you lifted your gaze, you saw that Apollo had shrunken down to his human size and was looking at you with an unspeakable pain in his golden eyes.

Apollos hands were shaking, all anger had left his body when he was looking at you, twigs in your hair, eyes red from crying and a purple bruise forming on your arm where the bastard had laid his dirty fingers on you. His eyes observed the tremble of your hands, the curling of your fingers, your tense form. But he didn't dare look you in the eye and see the fear in them that he must have inflicted upon you.

Without thinking, he had subjected you to such a gruesome sight. As a god, he had eternally glorious sides, but also cruel and depraved ones. Ones that you were never meant to see. Revenge and wrath had consumed him whole. What if you would be looking at him with the same fear and disgust you had when looking at the puddle of flesh and bones that had been your attacker?

He heard you sniff and his heart seized. No matter if you would push him away, he had to try and comfort you. "Love," he said softly, raising his hands to show you he meant to harm and approaching you ever so slowly. A few feet away from you, he kneeled down to be at your level, hands still in the air. "Are you alright?" Normally, he would congratulate himself on anything coming out of his mouth, but he had to acknowledge that that was a very stupid question.

"I'm alright," you said and sat up. Your voice was hoarse, and only now you fully registered what had happened to you.

Somehow, Apollo looked even more distraught than you did. "Please, love, don't fear m-" But he didn't get to finish his sentence because you had launched yourself at him and landed right in his conveniently open arms. You breathed in deeply and immediately, his arms closed around your as he held you like he never wanted to let you go again.

"Thank you," you whispered, pulling him even closer and he readily obliged, placing you in his lap as he locked his arms around your waist. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry I was late," he breathed and touched your chin to lift it from his shoulder in order to look at you. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."

He looked so sweet, it was almost impossible to believe he was the same divine creature that had towered over trees and reduced your betrothed to a boiling pile of bones. There was such a softness in his expression, his touch was so gentle, his voice so calming. How could you ever be afraid of him? He had saved you.

"It's okay," you answered. "Thank you."

He groaned and tapped his forehead against yours, letting his full lips ghost over the skin of your cheek. "Don't thank me. I didn't do it for you, only out of selfish rage and revenge, and now you have to fear me."

"I don't," you said, firmly. "And i don't believe that. Because you care. Because when you turned around and saw me, you were about to cry. Because you hold me so gently. Because I know you, and I also know you would never hurt me. I'm not scared, and I can decide myself wether I fear you." You didn't break eye contact, you had to make sure he understood.

And he did. Apollo nodded, cupped your cheeks with his and pressed featherlight kisses up your jaw. As the tension began to leave his body, and yours, he let out a sigh and it was hot against your skin. "No man will ever hurt you again," he promised, so gravely that you didn't dare point out the improbability of that statement, or the tone of his voice made you fear he would eradicate any man from this earth until only he was left to hold you, caress your bruises and kiss them away with his healing lips.

You locked your hands with his and kissed his temple. "Can we go some place else?" In this spot, on this path, you would never feel safe again, that Agapios had taken from you.

Your usually relentlessly talkative lover only responded with a silent nod and carefully guided your face into the crook of his neck. His arms closed around your upper body, engulfing you whole, and you felt his voice next to the shell of your ear. "Close your eyes, love, we're going home."

[manicpixiefelix]

all this, and love too (will ruin us)

{ One-Shot for head, heart, hand. }

Summary: The night of Oliver's party and both yours and Felix's moods are ruined upon finding out Oliver had been lying to you both for your entire friendship. While sticking with Felix all night to make sure he doesn't maim Oliver, Felix realises he doesn't like sharing you anymore. You're more than okay with this, but Oliver doesn't seem to be okay with sharing Felix, even if he has no say anymore. Canon tries to happen, but you get there first, so you kill the problem at it's source.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: MAZE SCENE; death, murder, violence, nongraphic smut, dominant felix, bathroom blowjob, oliver's birthday party situation, oliver being incredibly manipulative, reader being incredibly manipulative back at him, heavy drinking and drug use, You VIOLENTLY Murder Oliver Quick In The Maze.

A/N: 6074 words. oh god these oneshots are only getting longer and longer. whoops. but also PLEASE heed the warnings. this is the Reader Kills Oliver oneshot (first of two) that i was talking about. not sure how i feel about it. its very unedited.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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On the drive back from his parents' house, Oliver sits in the back. Like a scolded child he keeps his gaze low and voice even lower. None of you speak the entire drive back; you try and focus on the wind in your hair and the hum of the car and not how your stomach is turning. In your mind you see the connections as they light up, small things you'd missed, things that are starting to make a lot more sense.

You wonder what other lies you could have gotten ahead of if Oliver hadn't been so nervous about you going through his file at Oxford.

Every single thing about him was designed specifically to be appealing, to you, of course, but more importantly to Felix. It was meant to be you who knew it all, could see the full board and all the pieces the people around you moved; it was meant to be you who could plan well enough and see far enough out to keep Felix out of situations exactly like this.

Felix is curt and swift the moment he's out of the car, trying to escape Oliver who rushes after him, his desperation echoing through the halls. You're several steps behind Oliver, silent, watching the exchange, watching Oliver cling to an ever-dwindling hope for even friendship, as Felix calls out the weirdness of his ongoing lies, tearing that hope asunder.

"I just wanted to be your friend," is all Oliver can say when pressed about his lies. It's genuine, it breaks your heart, but it doesn't make it better. For a moment, you see conflict as it flashes across Felix's face, but he clearly can't do this right now, needing at least the night, but promising not to tell his family.

As you go to leave, go to follow him, Oliver catches your sleeve, holds it too tight for just a moment -

"I thought you knew," his voice wobbles, but there's something like alarm bells in the back of your mind. Everything about Oliver is purposeful, even now. But you know him, you know how he likes to play.

"No you didn't," you look at his fingers still coiled in your sweater, watch him drop them, "you knew I trusted you." You wouldn't let him shift this blame; the faint dismay you can see in his eyes behind the hurt gives him away. He knew Felix had more emotions than sense, but somewhere along the way he seemed to have forgotten that you were so much more than another adoring fan in Felix's shadow.

"'m sorry," stumbles from his mouth almost like a reaction to the look in your eyes, "for hurting Felix with all this, I- I never wanted that," he shakes his head, dropping his gaze, "or hurt you," tacked on as an afterthought. Both of you know where he was placing the importance of that apology. Everything Oliver Quick does is with purpose.

"I know you are, Oliver," you tell him, standing tall and unflinching as you left him alone.

"If you leave my side tonight I'm going to maim him," is how Felix greets you when you enter your room. Sitting on his bed, you see a little, ornate box open in front of him, and you recognise it as one of the few stashes he had around the estate for desperate times. This one, if you recall correctly, was shoved well beneath Henry the Eighth's bed, and had a decent amount of coke that you'd left here after last Christmas.

"Can't fucking believe- I can't fucking believe him!" He rants, cutting up lines of coke on the little hand mirror Venetia had donated to this particular stash box. Mind working a million miles a minute, you're quiet, letting him rant. Running on autopilot, you begin to strip down to your underwear, pulling out your costume for the night, frowning at it in the afternoon light.

"How complicated is your costume?" Felix asks, finally looking up, gazing over at you and the sheer, shimmering thing in your hands. Without a word, but with a vague shrug, you turn it to him.

The base was like something you'd see at a rave, little more than green underwear, with straps, and beading, and jewels, and loops of green and purple pearls by your hips that would bounce while you walked. The overcoat, though it was far to generous to call it that, was pure gossamer, sheer and green, with hand-stitched silk leaves making up the hem that fell perfectly to your ankles, and intricate, hand embroidery of vines that extended across both shoulders, and both arms, ending with little, purple flowers embroidered by your wrists.

There's large, brown boots with a bit of a hell and some large buckles, and a belt that's half a skirt that hit just below your knee to give you some coverage, at least on your left, sewn to look like it was covered in leaves. Plus a leather thigh harness and flask that Farleigh had gotten you made for your last birthday.

Leaning back, Felix reaches out to feel the gossamer between his fingers, frowning for a beat.

"Don't be precious about it."

For a moment, you frown in confusion. Despite your entire outfit being exquisitely and perfectly tailored, you knew you could afford to not be precious about pretty much anything, even this. But that's never been an outright request he's made.

"I'm not?"

Quiet follows, the soft rustle of your garments as you begin to get dressed, and Felix quickly snorting a line of coke.

"I'm going to lose my fucking mind tonight," he mumbles. Even though you're half dressed, you still lean over his shoulder automatically as he lifts the mirror and the rolled bill up to you like an offering, holding the mirror steady for you.

"I need a drink," you groaned, to which Felix immediately agreed.

"God, why don't we stash anything in here?" He lamented, laying back and watching you head to the door once more while you're trying to do up your belt to hold up your partial leaf skirt, still without your overcoat.

"Because that's tacky and we're not alcoholics." Even with your explanation, Felix pouted. Still, it's a quick trip to the Blue Room and the bottle of rum you're glad Venetia hadn't found in the broken piano.

The night gets blurrier, gets better, with half a bottle of liquor in your veins before the sun even sets. As you're making yourself dreamy and ethereal with glitter and gems and makeup in the mirror, Felix drapes himself over your shoulders, pouting again. The drinks and drugs are already hitting you both and you can hear the revelry beginning outside.

"It's not going to last," he says pointedly, and you're confused until you see him trying to poke at the iridescent eyeliner that wasn't quite dry. Rolling your eyes, you smack his hand away. So he makes his point again, adding, "I'm going to get glitter all over me."

You smirked at him in the mirror, tipping your head against his.

"Don't be precious about it."

A spirit amongst the fairies, you greet your college friends with open arms and boundless enthusiasm, always keeping Felix close at hand. He was more subdued than you, more subdued than many of your friends were used to. Whenever you looked at him, it seemed like his gaze was searching, his expression drawn unless someone had caught his attention, and he wore a smile that seemed to convince them.

"Need a drink," his hand around your wrist and no time to protest, Felix dictated your night and it's pace. Frustration and apprehension keep him tense, even as he tries to loosen up; you feel every time that tension spikes, even if you don't know it's cause. His nails dig into you, wherever he's holding you, shoulder, thigh, arm -

In the bathroom, doing lines with India and some guys who claim to be friends of friends of the Cattons, you're leaning against the sink until you Felix nudge your knee with his own. Looking to the door, you see Oliver in white, taking up it's space. Felix only has to gently tap your thigh for you to shift, sitting in his lap.

"You can't ignore me forever," Oliver tells him, watching you both, watching the way Felix wraps an arm around your middle to hold you close and secure on him.

"I can try," Felix practically sings, his nails sinking into your stomach. With his free hand, he offers you his cigarette, raising it to your lips. You drop your gaze as you inhale, trying to only focus on keeping Felix secure in this moment.

"Felix we need to talk," Oliver insists, "Felix, come on man -"

"Look, man, I tried to be nice -" Felix started, and though you tried to gently warn him, pressing against him with Fi on your lips like you hope he won't say something he'll regret, he just holds you tighter and continues on, "but can you fuck off and bother somebody else?"

India half snorts with laughter in the middle of a line of coke, the others all judging Oliver the longer he lingers in the doorway, but Felix drops his gaze. His lips are on your shoulder to keep from saying anything else.

One of guys whose names you don't know asks who Oliver even was, but Felix can't answer; tension again, maybe anxiety or frustration, but his mouth moves from the gossamer and embroidery on your shoulder to your bare skin above the neckline, where your collar meets your throat. His teeth sting. His nails still sting. He swears under his breath before he lets go.

"Sorry," he mumbles finally, sighing and resting his forehead on your shoulder. You tell him it's okay, voice fond, but when you lean over to do another line of coke, you meet India's reproachful gaze. It takes you a long few seconds to connect the dots, to realise what was going on in her head. You're so fucking over everything tonight.

"You know Farleigh was lying to you about us, right?" You say casually, taking your line and sitting back up. Her eyebrows rise in surprise, "I know you think we're all gross and cousin-incest-y -" you hear Felix's faint laughter behind you, and feel him nudge you with his thigh, silently asking you to get up. Both of you do, and Felix manages his first proper smile of the night, even if it is smug.

"But we're not related," he tells her, "thank fucking god," and smacks your ass as the two of you exit, as if to just prove a point.

You're on your knees in a different bathroom when you hear everyone else start to sing happy birthday, but Felix's voice is a low growl of don't you dare stop, and his hands in your hair. Nothing else matters to you in this state of mind, blurry, pliant, desperate to follow his every command. It's as if you've forgotten what exists outside of Felix's hands on you.

The night becomes lights that are too bright, and music too loud, and laughter and glitter and the warmth of the people dancing around you. After a few hours you feel yourself starting to come down from your high, starting to come back to yourself, still on the dance floor. Venetia's dancing with a blonde boy, looking so pretty, like she's having a genuinely fun night, but when you point it out, Felix takes your hand.

"Don't look at Ven," there's that hunger in his eyes, that firm tone he'd been using all night, "don't touch Ven, don't -" he cuts himself off, wets his lips. Looking around for a moment, he spots something in the crowd that makes him scowl. Just a moment, as you follow his gaze, you see Oliver. The moment your eyes lock with his, however, Felix has his lips on your jaw.

"Fucking mine."

There's half a second where you and Oliver are still locked in this moment, you watch the way his expression starts to shift, jaw tensing, something like anger flickering in his eyes. But you can't bring yourself to give a shit about Oliver as Felix has his arms around you, kissing down your throat with a feverish, almost lewd intensity in the middle of the dancefloor.

"Prove it," and you let him drag you from the house, heading towards the place that had always felt a little special for you both, almost a little magical.

"I'm being selfish," Felix announced as you finally hit the tree line just before the maze, "I don't fucking care anymore, I'm being selfish, about you -!" He turns to look at you, only to see you gazing up at him with starry-eyes, hanging on his every word. He breaks into a sheepish grin momentarily, shaking his head as his voice drops for a moment, "oh, you're fucking loving this, aren't you?"

"I want you so bad right now it's actually embarrassing," you agreed with a wide grin, unable to contain your laughter, despite how genuine the feeling was.

"I'm being selfish," he said once more, muttering it this time, though as you entered the maze and the moonlight peaked down upon you, you could see the blush still upon his cheeks, "I don't want anyone else to fucking touch you again, you hear me?" This time, when he looks at you, he thinks he can see hearts in your eyes; your overwhelming love and acceptance, even for this -especially for this- is making it very hard to keep the stern act up, except -

"Anything you say," you tell him, breathless as you approach the centre of the maze, voice edging on desperate, "anything at all." And you see it hits him just where it had needed to, to hear you wanting and wanton and offering yourself to him -

The gossamer overcoat is ruined, scratched all up the back where you're pinned against the statue, half sitting on the base with your legs around Felix's, your fancy green undergarments around one ankle. His nails scratch down the bare skin of your back, fucking into you with furious intent to match.

"You've always been mine," he groans into your ear.

"Felix -" you whimpered. Immediately he was grinning, lips inches from yours, gazing at you through his lashes.

"How's that proving anything?" He teases, low and knowing, and as his hips snap up to meet yours, you take the hint, his name getting louder and louder on your lips as you almost chant it, till his hand is between you both, helping get you off, and you're close and all but screaming his name and -

"Felix." Not from you. Oliver.

"Oh Jesus Christ!" Felix immediately looks murderous, and not in a fun, sexy way. Oliver's demanding to talk to him while you struggle to pull your underwear back on.

"Could hear you out there," Oliver mumbles, half stumbling over his words, unable to look at you, focused on the dirt by your feet instead.

"Kind of the point, Ollie," you snapped, frustrated and now unsatisfied, but dressed once more.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Oliver?" Felix demanded. Oliver advances on him, presses into his space with desperate eyes and a bottle clutched to his chest. He doesn't look at you, he can't fucking look at you, you don't matter. It's Felix and his emotions who lead every situation the two of you share; it's Felix he has to win back over.

But he should have expected you not to leave, should have expected that when Felix pushed him away, shouted for him to get the fuck away, that you would try and step in.

"He's already got you on a leash, can I just have this one fucking moment?!" He snaps at you; he doesn't hit you but you recoil like he has, and Felix's gaze grows cold. Oliver seems to sense this before he even turns back, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I just- they already have everything -"

"Back off." Felix warns sharply, but Oliver can't help himself, won't listen.

"I just gave you what you wanted!" Oliver throws himself at Felix, pins him to the statue, their bodies flush and Oliver rambling, "like everyone else does! Everyone puts on a show for Felix..." his voice drops, childish and weak and wanting, and you watch him press himself closer as he turns gentle, "so I'm... I'm sorry if my performance wasn't good enough..."

"I think..." some part of it was working on Felix, his voice soft and placating, "I think you need to see somebody," or maybe he knows by now exactly how Oliver wants him to act; his eyes never leave Oliver's face, even when he doesn't let him go, "you need help okay, seriously -"

"No, no, I don't," Oliver's voice is rising again, "I just need you to understand how much I fucking love you," a tremble in his voice, sounding so raw, so needy, "you're the only friend I ever had, Felix." The manipulation is so blatant it almost hurts; you don't matter to him in this moment, all that matters is saying exactly whatever Felix needs to believe.

"I mean, doesn't this just prove how much of a good friend I actually am? How well I actually know you?" That hope, that dangerous, heartbreaking note of hope that's going to make your skin crawl. But you're not leaving without Felix, and he's not leaving this moment it seemed, "I'm still the same person, yeah? I'm still the same person," he insisted.

A long few moments pass, Felix's gaze searching Oliver's face for something beyond you. But then, finally, his gaze slips to you. All you can do is shake your head.

"Don't-" Oliver murmurs faintly, tipping his head to try and block you from Felix's line of sight, but Felix turns his attention back, expression helpless.

"I don't know what you are," he breathes, "but I do know you; you make my fucking blood run cold."

The fight drains out of Oliver, as does every last drop of hope. He lets Felix push his hands away, makes himself give Felix space to breathe. After a beat, he looks back at you, unsteady on his feet, pain in his eyes, but then he lurches, quickly shoves his half-finished bottle into Felix's hands, and rushes away to be sick.

Oliver is doubled over, retching, when you get to Felix. Before he can raise Oliver's bottle to his lips, you tuck yourself under his arm and wrap him up in a hug. He's trembling, but you feel the bottle against your back. Felix tucks his face into the crook of your neck, tears unspilled, clinging to his eyelashes.

"Better?" You ask forlornly once Ollie had gone quiet.

"Fuck off," he spits, finally coming back around. You watch him over Felix's shoulder, and the glare he levels at you as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand is almost surprising. Still, you try and show the same compassion you knew Felix would in this moment.

"Wash the taste out of your mouth," you try and tell Ollie gently, moving carefully out of Felix's arms, wrapping your fingers around the neck of the bottle he'd brought with him, "I think you should go to bed after." Oliver doesn't even reach for the bottle, but he does stop, looking between it, and then between you and Felix.

"Please," Felix sighs, head bent and bottle clasped tightly in his hand, "I need this."

"We can get another," you tell him quietly, calmly. Felix's gaze flicks to yours, imploring for just a moment, but dropping again when you don't relent. Felix sighs, once more, but finally relents, handing you over the bottle. Which Oliver has kept his focus on, brow now furrowing.

"I gave you everything else of mine, my drink's not even good enough for you anymore, like the rest of me?" He sneers, reaching unsteadily for the bottle in your hands, though his eyes and their focus betray him. Something lights up in the back of your mind, like one of those memories that made far more sense once Oliver's lie had been revealed. Alarm bells once again.

Felix stumbles to a halt -

"Fucking fine -" but as he tries to reach for the bottle again you step out of his range, beginning to see red as you got closer to Oliver, prickling with suspicion, "what is your problem, Y/N," Felix sounds so fucking tired, but all you can see is the deer of a boy before you growing wide eyed as he looks into yours.

"It's Oliver's," trying with all your might to not jump to conclusions, you hold the bottle out, desperately hoping that you'd connected the wrong dots, that Oliver was just drunk and as helpless as he appeared, that he couldn't be this malicious or vindictive-

"You want me to be sick again?" He tries to stand up to you, bottle pressed to his chest and refusing to step back even as you continue to crowd his space, "fuck off." He's seeming more sober, more alert, more with himself with each minute that passes. The distant noise of the party rings in your ears and all you can think about is the cold bottle between you and how Felix had almost -

"Leave him alone," Felix called out, footsteps in the grass sounding as though he was making his way back to the maze, "he's not worth it."

"He's pathetic," you spit, nose to nose with Oliver now, face heating up as hot, angry tears begin to close your vision. Still, you can see in Oliver's eyes that he's finding fewer and fewer ways to escape the situation.

"I don't care what either of youse think of me anymore," Oliver's lip curls as it quivers, trying to play distraught and callous all at once, "go fuck each other to feel like you're not just a fucking waste of space, vapid cunts -" he can see he's touched a nerve by the way your expression lights up with malevolent fury.

"Fi," there's a shake in your voice that you can't even fight, "please leave."

"Can you please come with me," Felix sounds like he's on the verge of tears, and when you turn, he's reaching for you, his hand shaking, "please can we go?" He begs.

An angel. Your best friend. Your everything. Your Felix.

Seeing him like this, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that Oliver's greed and jealousy would rather see Felix hurt than not in love with him, you couldn't let him get away with it. Finally you start to cry, even if you hadn't meant to, and the sight of it has Felix begging for you to leave with him. Oliver starts pushing, demanding that you both fuck off.

"Give me a minute, My Felix," you tell him, trying to smile, trying to reassure him, "I'll catch up."

"I'm not leaving without you."

"I don't want you to see this," you turn back to Oliver with newfound resolution. He's stepped back, leaning himself against the statue, doubled over, head in his hands.

"See what?" Felix asks dubiously, and Oliver looks up, sees the way you're approaching him, and scrambles to straighten his posture.

"Ollie's going to have a little drink," you offer him the bottle again.

"Tryna make me sick again?" He snarls.

"Then use it to wash your mouth out, then swallow," you order coldly, "and repeat until the bottle's empty."

"Why should I?"

"Because it's just as perfectly fine as when you handed it to Felix," you hissed, voice low enough that Felix himself couldn't properly hear. Oliver narrowed his eyes, matching your tone.

"If I don't?"

"What I will do to you, Oliver Quick, will be much worse than whatever you've put in that bottle, so you'll drink it all up," you leaned in, whispering close and menacing, "and if you do throw it up, I will have you on your belly, like the worm you are, sucking your own sick off of the fucking ground."

"What the fuck is going on?" Felix demanded, and you turned, taking a deep breath and hopefully giving a much more convincing, determined smile.

"He made you cry."

Felix's expression immediately changed. All soft and fragile but understanding, he just asks that you don't be long. You promise not to be. Both you and Oliver watching him go.

Once in the clear, you turn back to your captive audience, keeping your voice low.

"I'm not going to make you drink it," you admit, and though Oliver's confused and on edge, he seems to relax, just a little.

"The fuck do you want from me then?"

"I just need to hear you say it," you step back from him, give him space, even step around to place the bottle at the foot of the statue and lean your forehead against the cool stone.

"Say what -?"

"I'm not fucking stupid, Ollie," you groaned, looking at him out of the corner of your eyes, "you think I could hurt you? I ruin lives behind the scenes, I couldn't -" you flail your hands awkwardly, rocking back on your heels, turning to him properly once more. It appears to work, however, as Oliver is now only regarding you warily, instead of seeming actively cautious. "I was... hurt," you admitted, "I know why you said it, but I was hurt to hear you say Felix was your only friend."

"That's not -" he tried, defences lowering further as he attempted to defend himself.

"No, I get it; I've done terrible things because I love Fi, I couldn't imagine," you cast a pitying, apologetic look to Oliver, "him not loving me back."

And it works. He cracks, little by little. The tears begin to form, the lip starts to tremble.

"It's not fucking fair," it already sounds like there's a lump in his throat, "why do you deserve his love?" He scowls, "why can't I? I can be like you, I can be good -" he babbles, sniffling harshly amongst his defiantly sharp tone, "I know I could be," you gently wrap an arm around him and he fists a hand to tightly in your overcoat that it tears, "I was everything he wanted me to be -"

"I know, Ollie, I know," you carefully remove his antlers, holding them in one hand as you coax him in close, running a comforting hand through his hair.

"I wanted him to love me, I wanted- I never wanted him hurt, but wanted him dead so it wasn't my fault if he didn't love me; he couldn't love anyone -" he breaks down into furious tears, "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. I hate you, I hate that he loves you without you even trying -" there's no apology in his distress, even as he lets you hold him close, and you, for a few more moments, whisper reassuring nonsense. "I never wanted to hurt him," he mumbled softly, "but I wanted to kill him. I could never hurt him," there's anger and guilt in his eyes as he looks up at you, tear soaked and helpless, "but I wanted to hurt you." What you give him in return is pity, is sweetness and apology, but your blood is burning through your veins.

"You would have regretted it."

"I know..."

"Are you lying?"

"I think I am."

You have what you need, the confession, the intention; validation for your motivation. Hook, line and sinker.

"Hey, Ollie, Ollie, darling look at me, I know, okay, I know-" you try, taking his face in your free hand.

"No you fucking don't!" Oliver insists, but you keep insisting, "don't fucking take that tone, I just told you I was trying to kill Felix to hurt you -!" He thrashes, but your gentleness is unrelenting in this moment. You will give Oliver Quick what he deserves.

"Ollie, look at me, okay? Look me in the eyes, please -" you begged, and finally he did, despair and anger all there amongst the tears, "keep looking me in the eyes," you tell him gently, and firmly, and he does, too curious for his own good and wanting to see where this was going -

"Everything," you give him the faintest, reassuring smile, one hand on his face, shaking, messily wiping tears from his cheeks with your thumb as he keeps your gaze, "is going to be -"

- and you ram one of his antlers into his soft, exposed belly with all your strength. Surprise and pain hit him all at once and suddenly he's scrambling, trying to get your hands off of the headpiece. But he's winded, and suddenly in overwhelming pain.

"- fine," you breathe out, shaking with adrenaline. You have him pinned against the statue, just like he'd had Felix only minutes ago.

"Eyes, Oliver," you ordered coldly, while making sure to keep smiling, even as fresh traitorous tears were gathering and already spilling down your cheeks. Hand in his hair coming to grip him tightly, keeping his gaze level with yours, "what did I say? I want you to look me in the eyes -" and you rip the antlers out before plunging them back into his gut. Lips twisting into an animalistic snarl involuntarily, Oliver splutters and fights and squirms but everything is becoming slippery, and warm, and slick with his blood. The antlers, your hands, and his; hard to get a grip like the firm one you had on your weapon of choice.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-" he chokes out helplessly, bloody hands moving up, trying to grip your arms, your shoulders, your face, "how -fuck- why -?"

"Whatever you had in that bottle is too good for you; you tried to kill Felix, you said so yourself."

As his strength begins to fail, the way he holds your face turns tender, almost gentle, before his hands fall back to rest on yours, both gripping the bloody antler. Oliver's weight rests on the statue, watching you with despair and helpless, pained moans. Cheeks wet with tears, you can't even fathom how you're doing this, or who you will be once it's done.

"You are not the minotaur of this maze," you grit your teeth, leaning your weight on the headdress, driving it into his guts until the bloody antler snapped clean off of the headdress, you still can't bring yourself to stop. It doesn't feel like enough. He tried to kill Felix. So you took the other antler in hand, unable to stop yourself, shaking with rage and tears, "you are the dear in my fucking headlights; you tried to hurt Felix, you tried to kill Felix! You are nothing, nothing, nothing," you punctuate each nothing with another bloody, unnecessary jab until you can't keep going. The second antler collapses to the ground, and you stumble back, hands shaking.

"Didn't want to hurt him," Oliver insists weakly.

"You were someone we loved," you can see the first antler still jutting out of him, stemming the blood flow but undoubtedly causing excruciating pain. But you spare him no sympathy, only a look of absolute loathing, finally taking in what you've done, the blood your fury had shed. "Someone I loved!" Burst from you, raw brutal betrayal scraping its way from your throat, face hot and wet with tears, falling to your knees, looking up at him with an exhausted fury, "you will never hurt him again. I will never give you that chance."

But Oliver's quickly unfocusing gaze slips from you, rising to a point beyond you, out into the maze. A weak, faint, but somehow still triumphant smile works it's way across his lips.

"Him?"

Like in a horror movie, you cast your gaze over your shoulder. You hear when Oliver finally gives out, stop holding himself up on the statue and fall to the ground, but all you can see is Felix at the edge of the maze.

And that look in his eyes.

Oh god, what have you done?

"Felix," tears start welling in your eyes again, and finally he looks away from Oliver's body, his own antler protruding from him, slowly bleeding out, to you. From here, he can't see the blood on your hands, the blood that's all over you, but he can see it all over Oliver, "Fi, please, you need to -" but he's stepping towards you, almost automatically; he looks ill. You have to look away, can't bear for him to see what your rage has brought about.

"I'm not," his words are robotic, still a bit slurred, and he keeps looking at Oliver, "going without you. 'said that." But he stops behind you. Eyes closed, you wait, you can't bear to even look at him. Then, slowly, he moves. When you breathe, it makes you shake, but you slowly open your eyes.

Felix approaches Oliver. You watch the faint, far away smile wears as he sees Felix up close once more.

"Fe-lix," he sighs faintly, reaching out with weak, shaking, bloody hands, feather light finger tips leaving red streaks along Felix's cheeks, his jaw, his lips. Felix's head dips in close, into Oliver's aching touch, his forehead resting against Oliver's in this moment.

"You were going to fucking kill me, Ollie?" Felix whispered through clenched teeth, on the edge of tears.

"'m sorry," Ollie mumbled weakly, shock and blood loss catching up with him as he struggled to keep his eyes open, "didn't want to hurt you."

"You wanted to kill me -"

"It wouldn't hurt."

"It would have hurt them!" Felix grabbed him by the collar with one hand, wrenching the dying boy up enough to see him pointing at you, still kneeling on the ground, second bloody antler laying in front of you. All Oliver could do was make a pained whimper, and Felix dropped him back to the ground, "and you said it yourself-" his voice is venomous, but your breath catches as you realise just how much he must have heard to know that, "and even having a thought like that," he snarls, hatred burning in his eyes, "means you don't fucking know me at all."

Felix is by your side in the very next moment, pulling you into his lap as he leaned back against the base of the sculpture. You're sobbing into your bloody hands, nothing else to do or say. Even as he's shaking, as he's crying too, Felix doesn't let you go, doesn't let you feel anything but secure with him.

"You saw it all, didn't you?" You whispered finally, and feel him nod.

"I said I wouldn't leave without you."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry -" and while he tells you that you don't have to be, the words, the fears, the desperate justifications and rationalisations pour out of you, "he said he was trying to kill you, Fi, and I couldn't- I should have walked away, just gotten him kicked out or taken away or- or- but I couldn't," you gasped, "I couldn't let him ever have that kind of chance again, I couldn't risk that, my mind wouldn't let me -"

"I know, I love you," Felix murmurs weakly, his forehead against your shoulder once more, "dad and Duncan will know what to do, they'll take care of it tomorrow," he sounds so young in this moment, so tired and fragile. You nod quietly, leaning into him. When his hands find yours, threading your fingers together and holding on tightly, Oliver's blood is still sticky on your skin. Neither of you seems to care.

"How did you know something was so wrong?" Felix finally asked, the air cooler and quieter now. You have no idea how much time has passed, but it sounds as though the party was winding down. Oliver's party.

"He wasn't that drunk," you said after a long moment of deliberation, "could see it in his eyes," taking a deep breath, you cast your gaze to the guest of honour, completely still, chest no longer shifting with shallow, frantic breathes, "if he wasn't drunk, why was he sick?" Sighing, you leaned into Felix. You felt so hollow; "everything Oliver Quick did, he did with purpose."

[anendtopursuit]

i genuinely have so many emotions abt npmd, especially about max jägerman

he's such a tragic character!!! like yes max is the villain but he also Didn't Have To Be. one of the biggest issues w hatchetfield in-universe is how willing people are to take horrible things at face value - nobody thinks max can change because bad shit happens all the time in hatchetfield, nobody cares why this ONE kid is acting out. nobody looks for him when he disappears because people go missing all the time in hatchetfield, what's one more kid gonna do. even once they've found his body they barely mention him; richie gets more love and mourning and he was actively bullied by half his classmates. they care more about losing the big game than they do max's death.

and yes ok the repeated mention of them being 18 is 1) a joke abt slasher movie teens conveniently being Just Old Enough to sexualise and 2) a joke abt grace thinking that perfectly normal barely-flirtatious activities (like max offering to carry her books) are too scandalous and explicit for 18 year olds. but also like. he's a kid. 18 is an adult but also a kid, yknow? and he. literally thanks them for making fun of him because it's the nicest thing anybody's ever done for him. he takes it as an olive branch for friendship rather than the mockery it was meant to be. he's just a kid with a shitty life who's taking it out on people because nobody cares about him. he himself sings about how he knows he's gonna peak in highschool, so why not do whatever he wants now, since he'll amount to nothing later? and once he dies, his own friends sing about how much better their lives are without him.

yes obviously he's a bully and a villain, i'm not disputing that, but there's something so painful about seeing that glimmer of hope for redemption right before his death - that maybe he was wrong about them, that maybe his dad was wrong about him, that maybe they could be friends and he could have people who care about him and be somebody other than a mean jock - and then it's instantly snatched away from him, and all that's left is humiliation and misdirected rage. it's so fuckin sad.

or maybe that's just me. i dunno.

[fandom-whores-world]

Remarkable 3

Batfam x Neglected! Reader

Prologue , Part 2

Hey guys! I’m back! After seeing how popular this series became I knew I had to shift my focus to it! I hope you guys enjoy Part 3

You woke up the next morning, and everything went the way it usually did. Alfred knocked on your door to announce breakfast, Tim walked right past by you in the hall, and the rest of your siblings made plans you would never be invited to. You finished up breakfast quickly, thanked Alfred for the delicious food, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and then were on your way.

Instead of taking the limo to school with Tim and Damian, you preferred the less stressful option of riding your bike to Gotham Academy. You hadn’t really cared much about going to school with Tim, but now that Damian was about to enroll as a freshman a part of you wished you had gone to school in Metropolis. Damian was a difficult person to deal with on the best of days. His status as Bruce Wayne’s only legitimate son gave him more than a big ego, but the truth was you really just didn’t want another Wayne to have to compete with. At least if you had gone to school in Metropolis you would have been closer to your best friend Kara.

Kara and you had become fast friends when you first moved into the manor. She would tag along with her cousin, Clark Kent, who had a close relationship with your father despite living in a different city and having very different occupations. According to Kara since you were the same age it was a sign you two were meant to be best friends. While you didn’t really believe in things like “signs” you were glad to have Kara in your life. She was kind, funny, strong, but most importantly she saw you. It didn’t matter to her that you weren’t a prodigy like your brothers. She loved you for you, and that meant the world.

You sighed before chaining up your bike outside of the school. ‘What’s done is done’ you thought as you approached the large marble building of your school. Even if you didn’t like going to school with Damian, there wasn’t anything to be done about it. After his elementary school graduation Damian would be attending Gotham Academy whether you liked it or not.

As you entered the school building you noticed a large group of students crowded around the announcement board. You tried to catch a glimpse of what they were looking at, but there were too many people in the way. Eventually you found your friend Olive in the crowd and asked her what was happening.

“You haven’t heard (y/n)?” She pulled you to the side of the crowd where there was a small gap just wide enough to see the poster that had caught everyone’s attention.

“Your father is coming to give a speech about running a successful corporation”

You whipped your head around in shock. Olive continued talking, but all you heard was static. Your mouth felt like cotton, your ears started ringing. You were about to start spiraling, but before you could you felt a hand clamp down on your shoulder. You turned around and saw Olive looking at you with worry.

“Are you okay, (y/n)? Maybe you should sit down? Come on, just a few classes before lunch with Kyle and I”

She guided you away from the crowd and the board so that you could calm down.

“Homeroom is about to start (y/n). Why don’t we head to class?”

You nodded mutely, but your mind was still on your father. You may not fight for his attention anymore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t affect you. You knew that as soon as the event was over everyone would be swarming you and Tim for info about your father. While Tim may not like being pestered with questions at least he wouldn’t have to reopen all those wounds of neglect you would.

Eventually you reached your homeroom. Olive started waving at her boyfriend, Kyle and pulled the two of you over to where he sat. Kyle smiled warmly at the two of you before gesturing to the seats around him.

“Don’t leave a poor boy alone guys”

Olive laughed before putting her bag down and sitting next to him. The three of you were desk mates with Kyle sitting closest to the window, Olive in the middle, and you in the aisle. Seeing that they were waiting for you to join them you shook your head free of the negative thoughts that filled your head, and took a seat.

Eventually the three of you settled into light conversation over one thing or another, and before you knew it the class had started. You were grateful to have Biology as your homeroom since it is one of your best subjects. When you first moved to Gotham you had wanted to be a Doctor like the men and women who took care of your mother before she passed. While you didn’t want to be a Doctor anymore, you were still reaping the rewards of study from your childhood dream.

The class came to an end, and after that the rest of the day went by in a haze. By the time you realized it you were on your way back to the Biology Lab for second homeroom. You had left your book bag open by accident, and a girl pushed by you knocking all of your school supplies out in the process. She threw out a half hearted apology and a tight smile before rushing by. You decided not to let it bother you. There were very few students in the hallway, but the hall was very narrow which made it difficult for you to pick up your things without getting in someone’s way.

Eventually you decided to just wait for your classmates to leave the hall before grabbing your things. When you were almost finished picking up everything you heard some footsteps approaching the hallway. You looked up and saw the Dean of Gotham Academy turn into the hallway while talking to your father’s party guest, Harvey Dent. You were surprised to see him again so quickly after the party. While you were lost in thought the Dean became aware of your presence, and moved to introduce you to him. However, before she could Harvey stepped forward and held out his hand,

“Ms. Wayne, it’s a pleasure to see you again after the gala”

You laughed awkwardly while getting off the floor before accepting his hand and giving it a shake.

“It’s nice to see you again too, Mr. Dent”

The Dean noticed your familiarity with Harvey Dent and started going on and on about your accomplishments at the school.

‘She’s probably looking for a donation’ you thought wryly.

The whole time Dent nodded his head and listened with rapt attention. Eventually the two started to wrap up their conversation. Once again Dent turned to you, and started to chat

“I don’t want to seem pushy, but it really would be nice to have you work with me. Have you given my offer any more thought?”

You bit your lip and fidgeted awkwardly before finding some inner courage and saying

“I want to take you up on it please!”

Dent gave you a million dollar smile, shook your hand, and said

“That’s the spirit, kid. Glad to have you on board as my newest intern! You start Saturday at 9:00 a.m. Don’t be late!”

[gothamcitycentral]

OH Oh oh, I would love to hear a Charlie canon vs fanon rant if you're up for sharing?

Ok ok mainly I was thinking of someone recently saying “Charlie represents a shallow christian view of redemption in which you just try really hard and don’t do drugs! you’ll be a good person that easy!” (paraphrased) and well. No. Definitely not.

What Charlie represents is the emotional idea of redemption.

Charlie’s chosen existence is based fully upon the idea that there is no category of “bad person” that excludes someone from being human. As such, everyone is capable of redemption because ‘there’s good in everyone deep down inside, she knows there is.’ People like to think this as naivety (which is. a whole other thing) but this is the stance the show takes every seriously. So many, and I mean so many, are under this impression that Charlie is at some point going to be proven wrong about redemption. That not everyone can actually be redeemed. But she just won’t be because the point is always that Charlie is right. With Angel, with Pentious, against Lucifer, against Adam and against Sera, she’s proven right.

“You build something nice, you invite people in and offer them everything and they just bring VIOLENCE and CHAOS to your doorstep. It doesn’t matter how well intentioned you are, they’ll always disappoint you.”

…He says, as the hotel crew work together to keep each other safe and out of harm’s way even at their own risk.

In any case, Charlie’s view of redemption is that of loving-

-and being loved.

This is what the series shows. Every fully realized character loves, and is loved by, someone.

No exceptions.

It’s a deliberate point of humanization because the show argues everyone has humanity. Which is what Charlie argues! The show is always in alignment with her values. As such, it doesn’t make sense to argue any of this is something she is meant to grow out of.

Now, where the above statement is drawn from is that she doesn’t have the practical understanding of redemption. Hence the parody of America’s famously ineffectual D.A.R.E program. This done because Charlie is very much throwing shit at the wall (done through looking at common behavior in hell and having her patrons do the opposite to appeal to Heaven) in very desperate hope something will work and Heaven will recognize her people… as people. Importantly, the significant thing of Angel Dust and Sir Pentious being the actors in this scene is that through understanding them Charlie learns a practical idea of redemption. That being as (and what the show properly conceptualizes redemption as) the correction of behavior that harms oneself or those around you. Which is why we go from:

To:

“Heavenly people, the porn star chose a night of debauchery, that’s not a soul worthy of being in Heaven!”

“Are you really telling me you haven’t had a drink with friends at the end of a hard day?”

She’s not bending over backwards to make Angel as appealing as possible to Heaven, she’s making a stance that disagrees with their perception of ‘bad behavior’, reminding them to acknowledge his hardships and what influences his behavior, and making it clear that these specific actions aren’t having a negative effect on anyone, and therefore doesn’t contradict her statement that Angel has improved.

Then people see the part of Charlie’s arc which is learning to have a damn backbone (to put it bluntly) and go and argue that the end point for Charlie’s character is to “stop being nice.” Well, first of all, Charlie being nice is the only reason everyone isn’t dead, so jot that down, and second, while yes Charlie fights against Adam, the ultimate result of that conflict is:

“He’s had enough.”

Charlie is always going to choose mercy. She is always going to extend humanity. She is always going to offer the olive branch. People think Charlie is going to come to some grand revelation about having to be cruel and that just, isn’t the point. Because the big thing is that people believe Charlie is defined by her naivety (and that eventually that naivety must be destroyed) but she isn’t.

The only moment I can really think that suggests Charlie being such is her singing in the pilot during the newsbroadcast despite being warned otherwise. Besides that, I just don’t see it as a major point of characterization. Because we see Charlie acknowledge not everyone wants to change, but she doesn’t get to deny any the opportunity, deny them the hotel. Because they were entitled to the opportunity to change and improve by process of being alive. “How can I turn him away? I can’t. It goes against everything I stand for.”

In general I think there’s a failure of people who view Charlie as just… naturally happy go lucky at factory default and miss that Charlie’s kindness is a choice.

Charlie was born into a broken world with a decomposing kingdom to her name. Her optimism is a developed coping mechanism because it’s the only way she can believe everything can maybe work out. Because Charlie has been surrounded by this constant death she felt powerless to stop and everyone has just! accepted it! This constant misery that she unavoidably bares witness to, and it feels like she’s the only one who cares.

So she has to be kind. She has to believe things can tangibly improve. She has to put the entire world and then some onto her own shoulders and live with every action she takes having millions of lives dependent on it. Charlie doesn’t even think she’s any sort of properly equipped to do any of this, but she’s the only person who’s bothering to try.

As Charlie deeply internalizes what people say about her. Hell’s clown, a joke, a fool chasing an impossible dream, destined to fail. Whenever anything goes wrong, Charlie directs that entirely at her own self. Adam is going to slaughter the hotel? What a horrible person she was to give the them false hope. Heaven decided to personally purge Charlie and her family because they dared to believe in their own personhood? Well she should have done a better job at convincing them otherwise.

Charlie doesn’t like herself.

So she masks it.

Sometimes the mask, the optimism, breaks.

I think Charlie’s optimism is as to Alastor’s cruelty, that’s why this scene compares them the way it does. Those aspects of them, they’re not fake exactly, but they are conjured to shield their fears. Charlie is afraid of failing everyone and Alastor is afraid of… being afraid in the first place frankly.

Because again, Charlie views everyone as her responsibility. She needs no reasoning beyond Hell being her people for her to dedicate her entire being to them. People seem to not acknowledge how closely she and Vaggie manifest their feelings of self loathing, even if they pretty much do it on opposite ends of the spectrum. Vaggie is a living extension to Charlie, Charlie is a living extension of Hell. The knight and the princess, both sworn to their own duties even at their own suffering. And the princess would burn herself to ash to warm her kingdom. Charlie is the self chosen sacrificial lamb.

[buddiebeginz]

Reminder that this is how bummys talk about Oliver and worse. Let's not forget some of them also made a 4hr podcast months ago saying awful stuff about him, all because he was posting about hanging out with Ryan and not Lou. They've also been repeatedly calling him biphobic/homophobic because he said Buck should get to explore his sexuality more and have sex.

Some of these people used to be Buddie shippers but the truth is they never really cared about Oliver or Buck. They have the nerve to call us fetishists when a lot of us have been shipping two best friends for years who we just want to see take their relationship to the next level. The main draw for them with b/t is wanting to see two guys they think are hot together because it certainly wasn't about Buck and his happiness. They weren't ever looking at his scenes with Tommy thinking is this really the best relationship for Buck? They've always been more concerned with Tommy and wanting him to be a permanent fixture on the show. Almost immediately after 704 some of them were calling him Buck's endgame. Even though we were shown time and time again how much Tommy was never the right person for Buck.

Now that their ship is over they've inevitably turned on Oliver and are blaming him for it even though at the end of the day the person who made that decision was Tim.

Also and this is something I really really wish bummy stans would get through their heads, actors are allowed to have personal opinions about the media they act in. Oliver has said he's a fan of 911 so I'm sure he watches the show. It's clear from many things he's said that he genuinely cares about Buck every bit as much as we do. So acting like he's not allowed to have preferences for the show and for Buck just makes no sense. He's connected to Buck in a way none of us are so if anyone should get to have thoughts on Buck's story it should be him. He's allowed to like or dislike a ship or a storyline. I know it sucks if an actor that's part of a ship you like doesn't support that ship but it does happen.

Oliver has supported Buddie for years and been very transparent that he wants to see it happen. He was never going to become the captain of the b/t ship. He's never really been super supportive of any of Buck's other ships nor does he have to be. Oliver has always been respectful towards his co-stars and fans and always given respectful answers about Buck's past ships in interviews and that's all he's really required to do.

It's honestly baffling how bummy stans continue to play the victim and continue to try and come up with all these reasons for why they think Oliver is a bad person for not supporting their ship and Lou. The reality is b/t was never meant to last. Oliver knew this and didn't want to lead anyone on. It's also very likely that Lou didn't get along with the cast especially given how they went out of their way to say goodbye to Callum and there was nothing for Lou. Not to mention Oliver very deliberately leaving Lou out of his photography spoke volumes.

I also think Oliver saw at least some of the drama online this year both from b/t stans and from Lou and it made him less likely to engage with that part of fandom. Bummy fans spent a not insignificant amount of time this year saying terrible sometimes racist things about Ryan and Eddie (like telling Ryan he should have finished the job when he talked about his s*icide attempt). Ryan is clearly someone that Oliver cares a lot about so if he saw any of this I'm sure it didn't endear him to those fans. On top of that they continually pushed for a guest character, who was never meant to be anything more than a plot device in Buck's story to be a main character and have his own Begins episode.

I'm just really sad and angry that this is the kind of stuff Oliver is having to deal with. Buck's bisexual journey should be this amazing positive thing and bummy stans have repeatedly tried to warp it to be their way or no way. I just really hope that Oliver knows there are so so many of us who love him and appreciate all the work he's done.

[sleepysnk]

a/n: this is a repost. i hope y’all enjoy! <3 also sorry if my characterization of oliver is ooc or weird!! i tried my best </3.

pairings: oliver aiku x fem!reader

warnings: college au, friends with benefits, mentions of hookups, alcohol consumption (they’re not drunk tho), reader n oliver have feelings, possessive behaviors, mentions of jealousy, brief mention of sae itoshi x reader, nsfw, smut, jealous sex, slight exhibitionism (they’re at a party), bathroom sex, use of pet names (baby, my girl, babe, princess), dirty talk, very brief choking, creampie, rough sex.

synopsis: you and oliver had been hooking up for several months. your agreement with one another was never meant to be taken seriously by any means, but all of that begins to change a few months in and when oliver sees you talking with his roommate, sae, he can’t help but want you all to himself.

are you mine? ft. oliver aiku

The sight of multi colored strobe lights dancing along the walls of the party you were at filled your vision as you walked through the crowds of people around you. The music was vibrating throughout the house, making it unbelievably hard to hear inside of the living room you had now entered. 

You were currently searching for your friend that had disappeared into the loads of people who attended the party. Isagi always had a habit of wandering off with his other friends and finding random girls to flirt with. However, that didn’t stop you from having a good time at the party you had been invited to. It was one of the more popular ones that were held off campus. You felt kind of lucky since these events were usually pretty private depending on the person, but you were one of the people who had received an invite from the man who was hosting it himself. Kunigami never failed to throw some sick parties. He always knew how to get people hyped and provided the essentials to make a party fun. Drinks, marijuana, etc. He knew it all and always had a guy for anything that was requested at the party. 

Not to mention, the place he owned was huge and there was always enough space for masses of people to attend without the rooms feeling stuffy. Though, that was sort of inevitable considering that it was nearing the end of the semester and summer was approaching. It would be humid inside the house no matter how much space he had. 

You turned the corner and scanned the room for any signs of Isagi. There were so many people inside the kitchen that it made it almost impossible to differentiate who was who, but it was obvious that your friend was nowhere in sight. It sort of disappointed you, but you didn’t want to spend the entire evening by yourself. There were all kinds of people at that party and you didn’t want to run into the wrong person on your own. You figured you could message him and find out the details of his location. He couldn’t have gone very far, right? 

You were about to pull your phone out of the waistband of your skirt, but halted when you saw someone you knew very well standing just a couple feet away. 

Oliver Aiku, your friends with benefits.��

That’s what you’d like to call him. 

You and Oliver had been hooking up for several months prior to the party you were at. He was one of the first guys you met during your second semester of college, and you both clicked the minute you came across one another. Oliver was a sweet talker. He knew how to get you flustered and your cheeks burning. One thing led to another, and you both hooked up that night with each other. He made you feel like you were on the moon from how great the pleasure was. He also made you cum at least twice the entire evening, and that was a first for you. Most of the men at your campus never knew what the hell to do with their dicks, so it was a surprise to see that Oliver knew what he was doing. It was like he was already familiar with your body and he did everything to make you feel so fucking good. 

It didn’t end there, though.

You saw Oliver more than you had anticipated. He would sometimes appear at the dining hall you were eating at, or he would be walking around campus with his friends. Each time, he always made it known that he saw you. Whether it was a smirk or a little wink that no one else noticed but you. He was attractive. He was fully aware of what he was doing, so you gladly gave in the next time you saw him at another party. You ended up having sex with him yet again and it was even more erotic than the last time. He was just too hard to resist and you often craved him more than you liked to admit. Oliver Aiku had become an addiction you couldn’t get over, and he felt the same way about you. 

He was the one who proposed the idea of a hookup agreement with you. He told you that he couldn’t stop thinking of you on a daily basis, but he wasn’t searching for something serious like a committed relationship. You felt the same way on the topic and agreed to start a friend with benefits with the man. It was just casual sex. Sometimes you’d call him up to let him eat you out until your voice was almost gone from how hard you had been screaming his name, or he would be the one to reach out to you for some head. It was simple. 

Well, it was supposed to be.

As the months went on, there had been a connection formed between you both. Neither of you had the courage to drop the bomb on each other, so you both remained silent on the feelings that brewed inside you both. It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious, and you knew that. However, you just couldn’t help but feel a tug inside your chest whenever Oliver would be speaking with another girl in front of you. You knew he was free to do whatever he wanted, but you just couldn’t shake that feeling. Oliver wasn’t yours and you weren’t his, so that same topic applied to you as well. Though, there wasn’t anybody else like Oliver. Nobody could fuck you better than he did and you tried to find someone who could, but you never found that person. You figured at some point he would get bored and just find someone better. To be fair, Oliver was quite relevant on campus. He played soccer for the university team and he had a lot of friends. He was bound to find someone else and you would just end up as strangers.

Seeing Oliver at the party was no surprise. He was everywhere and he’d definitely make a move to speak to you. The fact that you two knew one another wasn’t a secret, but nobody was aware of what you did behind closed doors with him. 

You were standing there for way too long. It didn’t take a while for Oliver to shift his gaze onto you. Once his eyes latched onto you, that familiar smirk made itself on his features. Your cheeks burned the moment you made eye contact with your sneaky link. He was around a few of his friends, but he could care less for the mindless conversations they were having. All he could focus on was you. 

His eyes explored your body that looked absolutely perfect in the dress you were wearing. It hugged all of the right places and showed off everything he loved to see. Blood was rushing to his dick already and it made him shift around to hide it. Oliver was practically undressing you with his gaze and he couldn’t get enough. He decided to send you a text to get the memo through to you. He didn’t want his friends becoming suspicious of his sudden absence, so sending a message would do just fine to him. 

The moment you saw Oliver whip his phone out of his pocket, you knew what he was about to do. He had done it plenty of times before. It was like a secret code shared between the two of you. 

Your phone vibrated, bringing your attention down to your device. Oliver had sent you a few messages and you decided to read them rather than ignore them. 

Oliver: come here

Oliver: you look so pretty <3

You looked up at Oliver who was leaning against the countertop with his drink in his hand. He honestly looked kind of dumb standing there, swirling it around like he was at a bar but regardless you began to make your way over to him. There were several people who passed by you on the way there, but you eventually made it to Oliver who seemed very happy to see you beside him. 

Oliver could be such a tease sometimes. He liked to mess with you in so many ways and you honestly never got tired of it. Though, sometimes he did get on your nerves. He would drive you nuts by telling some weird jokes or even making shitty pickup lines to make you laugh, but he did it all to see you crack a smile. That pretty grin only deserved to be made by him, nobody else. He never liked to admit that he was possessive over you, but at times, it was very fucking obvious. There was an occasion where he gripped the steering wheel a little too tight when you mentioned a male classmate that had been asking you to study with him for a test. He never liked when other people had their eyes on you. It was kind of wrong of him, but he just couldn’t help himself. You were just too delicate to let some random guy mess with you or your heart for that matter. 

Once you were next to him, his friends didn’t really bat an eye. They were well aware of you and didn’t usually care that you were around. You were thankful for that because sometimes guys could be so weird about that kind of stuff. Luckily, they were fairly chill and never really said much besides a hello or a how are you. 

Oliver turned his head to meet you. His eyes shifted towards your pretty lips that were shiny with lipgloss. He was so tempted to makeout with you right then and there, but he had to keep his cool and act right. He didn’t need you to become a mess because he was trying to kiss you in front of his other friends. “How’s your night been so far, babe? Got anything interesting to tell me?” he took a sip of his drink, raising a brow at you once he finished asking the question.

You shook your head. To be honest, the party hadn’t been quite eventful at all. It was the same usual shit you had been used to since you were a freshman in college. “No.. not really. It’s been the same old shit.. you?” you cocked your head to the side. 

Oliver nodded, acknowledging your words loud and clear. He thought the party would have been more lively since it was getting kind of late, but much to his surprise, there hadn’t been much happening at all. He figured at some point he could bounce and have some of his own fun with you. You two had done it plenty of times before and it was much better than sitting around drinking the entire evening. 

He was about to open his mouth to speak when an idea flowed into his brain. He wanted to pass some time before he left the party, and since you were there, he wanted to mess around with you for a little bit. It wasn’t something he wasn’t used to doing. There were many times where he would poke fun at you until you had no choice but to smile at him from how stupid or corny he sounded. It was nice being able to do such a thing with you, so he figured he would give it a try since seeing you laugh made him happy. It would help take his mind off of how dry the party had become since he arrived there just an hour or two prior.

He let out a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. This made you turn to look at him with curiosity written on your features. He then started glancing around at the different people who were wandering the party house. “So, you see anyone you want to sink your teeth into tonight?” he questioned, turning his head to look at you. “I have my eye on a few.. but I wanted to know if you were interested in any new prey.”

His question took you by complete surprise. Oliver wasn’t really the type to brag about those kinds of things to you. He never really mentioned them before so it was odd, but it kind of bothered you to have him bring it up like that so casually. You weren’t sure what he was trying to get at. Did he want some kind of reaction out of you? It was weird. The other fact that he mentioned he had his eyes on someone else made your chest tug with hurt. It was stupid to feel that way about a guy who you referred to as your “sneaky link” but you couldn’t help but feel that way. 

You had to put on a facade and just tough it out. It was just Oliver. Guys like him could get a little airheaded and not realize what they said. You wanted to play at his game too. You didn’t want Oliver to get away with something like that, so you would test the waters on your next response. “Actually, yeah, I do. He’s around here somewhere,” you crossed your arms over your chest, searching the room for a guy you could point to. 

Oliver was stunned to hear your response to him. He didn’t think you would take his words so seriously, but hearing that there was a possible suitor lurking around at this party had alarms going off inside his head. He began to wonder who it could be. Could it be Isagi? He was well aware that you two had a friendship, but maybe there was something else going on behind the scenes that he didn’t know about. He started narrowing down the options inside his head and wondered who else could be there. He surely regretted asking you such a question, because it was honestly a joke if anything. 

“Wait, what? Who-“

“Oh! There he is! Gotta go!”

He was interrupted the second you walked away into the crowds of people that were formed in the living room. Oliver watched you disappear for a brief moment, but his eyes quickly caught on to where you were standing. You weren’t alone anymore, but the problem was who you were beside. 

His own roommate, Sae Itoshi.

The thing that struck Oliver by surprise was that he never knew you were connected with Sae. As far as he was aware, you two had never come into contact with one another. It made him question a lot of things. Did you know that Sae was his roommate? How long had you two been speaking with each other? Did Sae know he was fucking you for the last few months? He didn’t have a single answer to any of them. The times Oliver brought you over to his apartment he made sure that Sae wouldn’t be there. There was never a time where he would encounter you at his place, so how the fuck did you know him? He knew the kind of person Sae was and he could gladly get any girl he wanted into his bed, but Oliver didn’t want you with him. There was no way he would allow that shit to happen. He adored you too much to let you slip through his grasp like that. 

He sat back for a second, watching your every move intently. He didn’t want to dart over there and make a scene, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling he had inside his chest. 

Usually, Oliver wouldn’t bat an eye at things like this. He doesn’t get angry like this. Not at you, more specifically. He was well aware that there weren’t romantic feelings involved in the relationship you had, it was physical. Yes, it was all physical and there was no emotional connection between you both. He isn’t mad, there is no way he is mad at this or at you over this matter. However, he just couldn’t explain why he felt that green sensation coming over him. He couldn’t hide the scoffs when you laughed at Sae, or the way he would roll his eyes when you smiled a little too long at his roommate. He wanted to know most of all why the hell he wanted to storm up to you and Sae and pull you in for a kiss so he would see it. He wants him to know you belong to Oliver, not him. But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t feel that way. Right? Right.

He finished the rest of his drink, clenching his jaw when he saw you get just a bit too close to his red haired companion. He hated feeling emotions like this. He was so powerless in that situation it made him almost crush the solo cup he held in his right hand, but he had to keep his cool. You weren’t his. 

Oliver pulled his phone out of his pocket. He had too many questions for his own good, and he just wanted to know the basics. It would be nothing too intense, so he began typing a message to you. There were a few times where he would delete the text on his screen, but he eventually sent a few to you. He hoped you would see it, but seeing as you were too distracted in Sae, he wasn’t sure that would even happen. 

Oliver: baby

Oliver: i didn’t know you knew sae

Oliver: baby answer me

He noticed that his drink was empty as well, so he decided to get a refill real quick. If this went south, he knew damn well he was going to need a few to keep himself from losing it that night. 

He turned to the side, grabbing a bottle of liquor to pour into his cup. The stench filled his nose and made his mouth water from the desire to taste it. There were so many options at that party that he wasn’t sure what he should have, but he stuck with something simple instead of going crazy. He had to drive himself home that night and he didn’t want to get too intoxicated. 

Once he turned back, he almost dropped the cup in his hand. Your placement inside the living room was now gone and you were nowhere to be seen. Sae was also missing. The horror soon washed over him and his feet moved on his own to find out where the two of you had gone. He prayed deep down that you were just by yourself somewhere in the house and not in some random bed with Sae. No, there was no way you were about to fuck his roommate. 

He then walked around and might have shoved a few people in the process, but he could care less about what they had to say. He passed by the speaker that had music blasting from it which sort of deafened his ears for a brief moment, but that didn’t stop him from walking around the house to find you. Oliver then halted when he saw Sae standing in another part of the house. He was standing with a group of other people who were unfamiliar to Oliver, but he was relieved to see that you weren’t beside him at the time. Though, that begged the question of where the hell were you right now? He hoped that you were safe, but that was completely uncertain at the moment. All of his attention went to Sae, though. He couldn’t hide that he was kind of pissed off at him for doing such a thing. 

Oliver stormed up to his roommate, pulling him in by the collar of his shirt. Sae was taken completely off guard when he saw that the person grabbing him was his own friend. He was stunned and most of all confused. He could see this anger that swirled around in Oliver’s dual colored eyes that almost scared the living shit out of him at first glance. “Where is she..? Huh? Answer the fucking question..” Oliver’s tone was menacing and the grip on Sae’s shirt was only growing tighter the longer he held it. 

Sae blinked, confused as to what Oliver was talking about. He was blown away by his actions as well. There was no reason why he should be held like that. “Hey! Hey! Oliver, what the hell?! What are you even talking about?” he furrowed his eyebrows, trying to shimmy out of his friend's grip. 

He hated the response he received from his friend. He knew exactly what he was doing with you, but the last thing Oliver wanted to do was start something physical in the middle of the party. It could damage his reputation and he had soccer to worry about too. “Where’s the girl you were talking to, Sae?” his tone softened just a little, but it was somewhat firm at the same time. 

He then quickly gathered what he meant and remembered that he was talking to you just a few minutes prior. Sae nodded his head towards one of the corridors that led upstairs to the top floor. “She went up there to pee..” he replied. “What’s this even about? Are you dating her or something?” 

That’s all Oliver needed to hear.

He then released his friend, sending Sae a few inches backwards. He was still completely appalled by what Oliver had just done, but he decided not to chase after him. He didn’t want to possibly lose a damn limb because he was looking for some girl. It was still very confusing, but he refrained from continuing on with any questions. 

You were sitting inside of the restroom that you really needed to use for the past ten minutes. You did have a bit to drink and alcohol tended to run right through you. It would be quick, but you couldn’t stop staring at the messages Oliver had sent you just a few minutes prior. He seemed quite insistent on getting your attention with them and it honestly puzzled you as to why he was interested in your relationship with Sae. To be honest, you didn’t know a single thing about him besides his name and that he played soccer for the university team. It was no wonder that you did, but why was Oliver so damn curious to know? You never questioned his ties to the random girls he used to talk to. It would irritate you to no end but you never made a big deal out of it because you knew Oliver would make a huge joke out of the whole thing. 

Eventually, you finished your business and went to wash your hands. The soft thump of the music playing down below you filled your ears. The night was barely just beginning. You still had yet to discover where Isagi was hanging out at. He wouldn’t hear the end of it if you found out that he had left the party or something. 

Once you dried off your hands, you went to open the bathroom door. You twisted the knob and pulled it open, but there wasn’t an empty space. Instead, you were faced with a very irritated looking Oliver. He practically scared the living shit out of you when your eyes landed on where he was standing. You didn’t think he would come up here or even seek you out. You knew damn well it was probably Sae who revealed those details to Oliver, but it still made you curious on how the two of them knew one another. Also, why did Oliver care so much about it? He never really paid much attention to those kinds of things before, so why was there the sudden change of heart on his end? Sometimes guys could be so fucking nosy and Oliver was one of those men who had to be in your business. 

You decided to clear your throat to shift the obvious tension that had formed around you both. Oliver had his eyes fixated on you intensely. “Oliver-“ he then cut you off, forcing himself inside of the bathroom and slamming the door with his foot. 

He looked down at you with serious eyes. Your heart began to beat rapidly inside your chest at his sudden actions. You hadn’t seen Oliver behave in such a manner in the entire time you had been having sex with him. He backed you up so you were now pressing against the counter behind you. He had you caged in with his arms that were resting on either side of the sink. “Why did you do that, baby? You like having fun with my roommate?” his voice sent chills up your spine from how hoarse it was. Seeing him act that way had you pressing your thighs together. You never believed there would be a day that you would see Oliver Aiku jealous over his own roommate. The one you didn’t even know about.

You avoided his gaze, but you could feel him burning holes in the side of your head. You knew you had to say something eventually, so you did your best to come up with a response. “Oliver, I never knew about Sae like that..” you looked up briefly, then settled your eyes somewhere else in the room. “But most of all, why do you even care? We aren’t dating, Oliver, you know that.” 

He kissed his teeth at your words. He was so tired of hearing that you weren’t his girlfriend, but that didn’t mean shit to him. He was ready to throw out that idea and become exclusive with you, because the thought of Sae having you all to himself made him pissed. He didn’t want anyone else to have you but him. There was nobody else that could treat you better than Oliver could. “I don’t care.. you’re mine, (Y/N).” he leaned towards your level, so your foreheads were now pressing together. 

Before you could reply, Oliver pressed his lips against yours. The kiss between you two was gentle and it almost made your knees buckle from how sweet it was. His hands found their way towards your waist and then to your hips where he groped at your flesh. You could feel his stubble against your chin as he continued kissing you. Heat began to pool between your thighs, making you all the more needy for Oliver to continue touching you. He knew all of the places to poke and brush against that would make you melt in his hands like butter. He loved that about you. You were so easy to crack and break apart. Sure, he could take his time and be patient with you, but he knew that wasn’t going to be possible tonight. He had this ache inside of his shorts that was begging him to be freed. You didn’t seem like you were in much of a position to wait around either for him, so he figured he would get things going as soon as possible.

Oliver pushed your legs upwards with strong arms. You were now sitting on the sink with both of your thighs around his waist. His large hands squeezed at the fat, allowing a whimper to escape your lips. Instinctively, you opened your legs just a little so Oliver could gain better access to you. He couldn’t hide the smirk that wrote itself on his features when he pushed his hands up your dress and felt that damp spot on your panties. He had done so little, yet you were a soaked mess down there. If he had more time, he would have devoured you and gotten a taste. He always loved seeing your reactions whenever he would go down on you. 

He pressed the pad of his finger against your throbbing clit. Your hips bucked at the feeling of electricity that spread along your belly. Oliver pulled away from the kiss, making eye contact with you. He rubbed small circles on your sensitive bud, earning a few moans. “Needy, huh, baby..?” he chuckled, pecking your lips. “So fucking wet.. ‘gotta have you now.”

With trembling hands, he pulled your dress backwards so he could expose more of your skin. Goosebumps littered your skin when the cooler air brushed against your bare flesh. You watched with heavy lids as he untied his shorts, pulling them down along with his boxers so he could free his cock. You chewed on your bottom lip, anticipation bubbling inside your belly at what was to come. Oliver was on the bigger side. You always had chills whenever he would take it out and fuck you with it. You were surprised you were able to take it the first time from how great the girth was. He was probably the largest you had ever taken. 

He pushed your panties aside, positioning his cock near your dripping hole. The tip dragged along your slick folds, allowing noises to come from both of you. You needed Oliver more than anything right now. Your hands went to rest on his broad shoulders, looking up at him with desperation in your eyes. “Oliver.. fuck, don’t tease m-me!” you threw your head back when the tip of his cock brushed over your bud. “Need you..” 

Oliver grinned at your need for him. He couldn’t lie. He honestly wanted you more than you wanted him. The two of you hadn’t fucked in a long time, so having a moment like this was bound to bring in lots of fun. He knew you had to be quick, considering that you were doing this in a bathroom at a party, but part of him did have the desire to take it slow. If it were anywhere else he would have his tongue buried between your legs until you were making a mess on his chin. “Tell me how much you need me, princess.” he teased your hole, making you whine. “Tell me – fuck – tell me how bad..”

You disliked how he was making you wait. All you wanted was for him to be inside you already, but that was becoming impossible from his actions. You decided to just give in to what he wanted. It would get things started much faster. “Oliver..! I need you so bad, ah! P-Please.. fuck me!” your nails dug into the fabric of his t-shirt. 

Your voice was like music to his ears. 

Oliver then pushed his cock inside of your dripping cunt. A sharp gasp left your lips from the sensation of his dick filling your pussy up. You could never get used to how thick his cock was. He was splitting you apart with every inch, and you found yourself almost crying from the stretch. Your pussy was sucking him in so perfectly that he was fighting with himself to not completely ravage you right then and there. You were so fucking tight. Nobody else compared to the way you made him feel. It didn’t matter if he went and slept with someone else. They never made him feel this euphoria that you were able to create for him. He never desired to see those people again, but when it came to you it was such a different story. All he could crave was you. Being inside you, having your walls squeeze his cock. He wanted you more than he would ever like to admit, but most of all, Oliver wanted you all to himself.

His palms placed themselves on your hips where he finally fully bottomed out inside of you. You felt so full with him. Oliver wasn’t sure if he should move yet, but when you began to grind on his cock he knew that you were more than ready for him to fuck you. 

He slowly began to thrust forward into you. Your moans were much softer and delicate this time, but he knew they would begin to grow louder once he started to move more. He gripped the plush of your hips tightly as his pace began to pick up just a little. Fuck, you were so perfect like this before him. Your sweet pussy was taking his cock in so nicely. He was already losing control of himself. Oliver never realized how badly he missed you until that moment. You were on his mind so much and the thought of losing you struck fear into him. He didn’t want anyone else to think they had a chance with you. 

You were lost in complete bliss at his actions. He was going at a decent pace, but you were already feeling like you were on the moon from what he was doing. The scent of his cologne, his grip on your body, the way his cock split you apart. All of it was so perfect. “O-Oliver! Shit.. it’s so good!” you squeezed your eyes shut, holding on to his shoulders for support. He had you completely wrapped around his finger. 

Hearing your pretty voice made his dick twitch inside of you. He loved whenever you said his name like that. All whiny and needy like he was the only one you needed at the end of the day. There was nothing better to Oliver than hearing you cry out for him. He couldn’t help but rut his hips a bit harder this time, giving him a slightly better angle to those nice spots. He wanted to make you feel good. Your pleasure always came before his. “Yeah? You like this, princess? Like when I fuck your p-pretty cunt with my fat cock?” he grabbed your face with his hand, pressing your cheeks together. 

You nodded vigorously at his question. Oliver thought you looked so fucking nasty like that. Shaking your head like you were a bitch in heat. It was erotic. He thought it was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. 

His hand retracted from your face and went to circle around your throat. He held it there firmly, but not hard enough to the point where you were losing oxygen from his grip. Oliver just couldn’t keep his eyes away from you and your body. You were beautiful, truly. He hadn’t ever seen someone with such enthralling beauty before. He just couldn’t help but feel mesmerized by your features. There was so much to like about you. He couldn’t pick just one thing to focus on. He knew a girl like you could be snatched up by someone else within a heartbeat. There were probably loads of people waiting for you to give them the time of day, and he was fully aware of that. He saw the way people turned their heads whenever you walked into a room. Oliver was one of those many faces that stared at you with admiration any time you strutted by. He loved that people also thought you were pretty, but it also brought jealousy. You were too good for some of those shitty guys he encountered on campus. The last thing he would want is someone breaking your pretty heart into tiny pieces. 

That’s why seeing you with someone like Sae angered him. 

Oliver knew he shouldn’t have acted the way he did towards his friend, especially over you, but there was just something about having you in someone else’s arms that pissed him off. Someone seeing you naked and fucking you drove him mad. He was the only one who should have access to you like that. The idea that someone else could possibly have that chance lit a fire underneath Oliver’s ass. He didn’t want that, not one bit.

He didn’t realize it, but he had begun fucking you at quite a rough pace. He was just too pissed off about what happened with Sae earlier that he was taking it out on your cunt. You didn’t seem to mind that much though. You were a moaning mess and your hold on him was tight. You were practically clinging onto him like your life depended on it. Oliver shifted his angle, so he could feel more of your cunt around him. As he thrusted, the items on the sink moved with him and a few things almost fell over. However, he didn’t give two shits. 

The sound of skin slapping filled the room. Several grunts had rumbled in Oliver’s throat while he thrusted into you. He knew you were getting close by the feeling of your walls slowly tightening around his dick. He had this need for reassurance. He had to know and hear from you that you weren’t going to go off with somebody else. “Fuck.. tell me you’re mine, baby.” he looked down at you with a serious stare that made you shiver. 

You whimpered when his hand around your throat began to squeeze. He was making you look at him while his cock dragged along your walls. This kind of energy was turning you on so much. You could almost cum on the spot from just his voice. “I-I’m yours, Oliver!” you whined. “I promise..!”

Those words made him feel so much better. He couldn’t hide the smile that had appeared on his features. Oliver gritted his teeth from how fucking great you felt around him. You could feel the knot inside your belly tightening with each rut of his hips. All you could crave was that climax. Your nails dug into his shoulder, leaving marks on his skin even though he still had his shirt on. 

With one final cry of pleasure, you finally reached your orgasm. Sparks of euphoria danced along your skin from the intensity, and your legs began to shake. Oliver gasped sharply when your walls clamped tightly around his cock. He didn’t expect it to happen, but he actually came himself. He filled your cunt with his cum, covering your velvet walls with white thick seed. The warmth inside your abdomen made you tremble a bit, but you were too lost in your thoughts to even think about what just happened. Oliver had come inside you before, so you could care less. Those words must have pushed him over the edge, because he didn’t expect for his high to hit him that hard.

Oliver snaked his arms around your waist. The two of you were both quite messy and the restroom you were in was humid. He brushed his lips against your ear, making you feel goosebumps. “I mean it.. you’re my girl, baby.“ he rubbed small circles on your back, soothing you. 

You tucked your head underneath his chin, letting your eyes fall shut. “I don’t mind that..” you whispered, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Really? I mean-“

BANG BANG!

“Hey! Who’s in there?! Some of us have to piss!”

You and Oliver looked at one another, then started giggling when you heard the person on the other side. He quickly kissed your forehead, smiling down at you. “Come home with me tonight.. I can’t stay away from you anymore.” he said, cupping your cheek.

You grinned. “I want nothing more than that.”

[almondmilktargaryen]

The Girl Who's Got Agoraphobia (Part Four)

*pictures not mine. layout made via canva

Summary: You're the girl with agoraphobia Michael told Oliver about. You're known for not leaving your room much (obviously). But that doesn't stop Michael from checking on you.

Couple: Fem!Reader/Michael Gavey

Category: Flangst, friends to lovers

Content warnings: Fic begins with a panic attack

Word count: 2.3k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

Fucking Losers

You were having a fit. A moment. An episode. Whatever it’s called. It didn’t matter as your body shook in the dark.

Of course, you were thinking about Michael. How could you not? He was one of the few people who saw you in this state before, apart from your mother. He quickly learned how to help, often asking you from the foot of your bed if certain parts were accurate as he read from the academic journals he pulled from the library. You would be at the head, hunched over homework or your book as you give him a simple yes or no.

But Michael’s not here. You haven’t seen him since the end of finals. Then you both went home for winter break and didn’t check in on one another for two weeks; the longest either of you have gone without speaking since you met. It was unheard of, terrifying. Despite how things were left, you did not want things to stay that way. You weren’t the one who needed to mend this with an apology, but leaving the wound open isn’t helping anymore. Perhaps calling time of death is the only answer.

Rising slowly from the floor, you took your time and your breaths. To avoid exacerbating the situation, you made an effort not to gasp for air. You press your back against a blank wall while steadying your knees as they shake. You mentally map out the pathway from Fleming to Haygood. It’s nighttime, but there’s plenty of lights on the paths, surely. The ones you can see from your window are.

You made up your mind. You picked up your coat and scarf from your chair. While following the same light from your peephole, you observe the dust looping around itself in the stream before vanishing back into the dark. You don’t even think to look out of it before opening the door.

And Michael was there. He stood in the yellow-lit hallway in his trench coat, barely hiding the d20 graphic tee he bought at the last Comic-Con. His glasses were fogged, and he was out of breath. “Hey,” he says like his lungs aren’t burning.

“Michael.” You held your door. You dare not sniffle.

“Figured you’d be here.”

Your face turned to stone. “Did you?”

“No-no, not like that,” he coughs on his own words. “I only meant—that I—I was hoping you were here.”

That hits you, but you don’t want to show it. “You’ve been running,” you say.

“I have.”

“You never run.”

“Painfully true.”

You look him up and down. His runners (irony) are soaked as well as his khakis from the calves down. Not only did he run, but he ran through the snow. Your eyes dart to his, which are slowly being revealed as his glasses adjust to the indoor temperature. It gets harder to look at him; slanted brows and Cheshire Cat lips turned downward. They’re parted slightly to let in more air. Unlike you, he doesn’t look away. Because he doesn’t know what you were about to do, but you know why he’s here. Michael never runs. So why else would he be here? In the most delightful way possible, he surprised you. Not a high bar to meet after last time, but you might as well get to the point. You clear your throat. “Michael, I—”

“I’m sorry.”

You meet his eyes, still fogged, but you don’t speak a word. Not because you want him to grovel (entirely), but because you don’t know what to say.

“What I said was wrong. But you knew that already. I shouldn’t have said it. And I shouldn’t have taken this long to say it.”

You lean on your door, blotting your snot on your sleeve. “Why did you?”

Michael shrugged, then his eyes turned away from you, trailing to the wooden floor beneath your feet. “Stubbornness. Geniuses don’t like being told they’re wrong. Even when they are absolutely wrong. And… uh…”

Your brows quirk.

“I’m afraid of saying it aloud. Because it sounds so bad, but I don’t mean it to be because it’s not—oh my God, you’ve been crying!” His glasses finally defogged. He comes closer and you don’t stop him when his hands take a gentle hold of your arms, the only thing adjacent to a hug at this moment. It’s all the rift between you will allow, even in the midst of mending. “What happened?”

It was your turn for your eyes, dry and irritated, to fall toward the floor as you finally cave and sniffle to spare your sleeves. “Panic attack.” There it is. That’s what it was. The description came to you when you needed it. “I’m fine now.”

“You should sit down.” His breath is a mix of beer and mint gum. “They always take the energy out of you.”

“Yeah.” You step back, still holding the door. It has a habit of leaning forward and closing on its own. You wait for Michael to step in. He eventually inches forward until he’s under the doorway, keeping eye contact with you and his hands in his pockets. Then he’s in.

You take off your coat and scarf, then Michael’s, setting them all on the arm of your big chair. With your silent permission, you both take refuge in your designated spots on your bed after slipping off your shoes. You take a pillow each to hold, then you turn on your bedside lamp. Instead of an old yellow light, the room glows with a soft orange instead. Michael nestles up to the wall next to your astronomy posters, his skinny legs stretched out straight in front of him and away from you. The lines of his eyes are redder than usual. You noticed them in the hallway, but you still didn’t say a word about it.

“What’d you want to say?” You eventually asked.

“Promise you won’t get upset?”

“Yes.”

“Even if it comes out bad?”

“As long as you explain yourself. I promise.”

Michael sighed. His head bumped against the wall as yours did with the headboard. Your post-attack exhaustion is already taking over. “Oliver ditched me. At the pub.”

“He did?” It explained the beer.

Michael nodded. “For Felix Catton and his vultures.”

“Oh, Michael.” It sounds bad. A typical primary school reaction of retreating to the closest person to avoid being alone, and possibly even a target. It sounds absolutely selfish. But you kept yourself composed because you couldn’t help but feel for him still. He knows that pain too. You’ve joked in the past about how hopeless you both are at making friends, but it doesn’t hurt less when you’re proven right. “I’m sorry he did that.”

“I went to grab us some pints. When I came back, he was at their table. Barely spared me a glance.”

“Guess he wasn’t meant to be your friend.” You say it like you turned into your mother. She always said it when you found yourself in the same grief time and time again.

Michael shrugged. “He was boring. He barely spoke at all. And that’s why I came straight here. Because I knew you would never do that to me.”

You sniffled again. It thickened in your nose. “You’re a prick sometimes, Charles. Even when you’re an absolute arse to me, I like you too much to do that to you.”

“Even when you call me Charles?”

“Of course.” You pull your lips into a half smile because you don’t have the energy for much more. “So why’d it take you so long to realize that?”

“We’re hopeless at making friends. You left so quickly. I thought I fucked it all up from the start.”

You pursed your lips as his words settle in. The exhaustion only creeps in as you sink into your bed. “We’re both terrible at making friends, aren’t we?” You try to lighten the mood with a chuckle, even though it’s terribly depressing.

“But it’s easy with you.” He holds the pillow close to his chest, looking you in the eyes as he says, “I don’t want to lose that.”

You push your leg out to nudge him on the nose. He thins out his lips as he takes it, even though you took off your socks. Once you’re successful, your leg drops to his side. “Well, you won’t lose it.”

And the silence in the room stretches as you watch the wound heal between you in the lamp’s soft glow. The vulnerability in Michael’s eyes mirrors yours.

“You know,” your voice breaks the silence as you sit back up and put your pillow back in place. “What Oliver did to you was awful, but we can still take advantage of the night. Let’s go to the pub.”

Michael raises an eyebrow. “It’s Saturday night. It was so crowded down there.”

You shrug. “You said you wouldn’t let anything happen to me, right?”

The corners of his mouth quirked up. “I did say that.”

“So, let’s go.” You stand up, turn on your bare heels, and extend your hand to him. “Maybe it’ll be good for us. Better than being around those fucking losers.” It’s uncharacteristic as the last words fall out of your mouth, but it certainly felt appropriate.

“You sure you’re not tired?”

“I’ll let you know when I’m tired.”

“I’ll take it then.” And Michael takes your hand When he lands on his feet, though, it’s closer than expected. He’s so close to falling into you, which would make you both collapse on the hard floor. But he balances himself by taking a hold of your hip with his other hand.

It would be normal to step back and let go of his hand to give him space. It certainly would make sense. But you can’t explain the sudden surge of boldness that hits you. And without thinking something through for the first time in your life, you push yourself up on your toes and kiss him. It was quick, and spontaneous, much like the whole decision.

You open your eyes to see Michael’s face illuminated by the lamp, part of its shade reflected in his glasses. The weight of what you just did started stacking on your shoulders, brick by brick. But before you can pull away and apologize, Michael’s lips meet yours again. His kiss is different—frantic and eager, filled with the desperate need to connect again (or proof he’s never kissed someone. You’ve never talked about it). It’s sloppy as both his hands move to your waist and grip at the fabric of your sweater. Your hands meet his chest as you try pushing him away. Your lips are drenched by the time you finally separate.

“Michael, slow down.” You wipe your mouth.

“Sorry,” he whispers. Beer still lingers in his breath.

“It’s okay. Just… do it like this.” You urge him to loosen his hold on your sweater as your hands find their way to his face. You show him how to kiss with tenderness.

And he responds accordingly, his kisses becoming softer and more deliberate. His hands rest on your waist now. No force in them. The urgency fades, and his skin is warm as your hands lace around his neck. He pulls back this time, though, and the look in his eyes shows you how dazed he is. “Maybe we should stay in,” he suggests softly.

“Well, I—”

“Not anything like that. I’m not ready for… that. I just know you’ll be exhausted soon.”

You couldn’t lie. You were already there. “But you said you—”

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. But that’s a simple thing to prove in a pub at any time. We’ll go soon.” He pecks you on the lips. “But for now, you should rest.”

You don’t argue further. Instead, you pull away from Michael completely and make way for your wardrobe. Luckily, this isn’t the first time Michael’s spent the night in your dorm, so you pull out some of the spare pajamas he’s left behind during late movie nights. You both turn away as you change, but meet again in an attempt to make room in your single bed. Michael wraps an arm around your waist as you both get comfortable and squeezes in close, keeping you from the edge. He props himself up on his elbow.

“Are you going to fall asleep?” You ask him.

Michael leans over to put his glasses on the end table. “Shouldn’t be too hard. And it’s already more comfortable than your couch. If I can’t, your bookcase is easy to reach. I can always grab a memoir.”

Your knuckles brush against his sweatshirt, a weak attempt at a smack as you giggle. Michael takes that hand and turns it in his hold like he is examining it. He kisses your fingers and cradles them against his chest. He knows you feel his still rapid heartbeat.

“This is all… a lot for me.”

“Me too.”

“What made you do it?”

“Did you wish I didn’t?”

“God no. I’d been wanting to for a while.”

“So did I.” You trace the Oxford logo on his chest. “So I did it. Just in a brief moment where I stopped overthinking.”

The air blown out of Michael’s nose is cool against your face. “You actually stopped thinking?” His lips find your forehead as he still keeps hold of your hand—an assurance that he is joking. “Had to say it.”

“It’s difficult. But it’s easier with you.”

The smartass grin leaves his face at that. Instead, he lets his head meet your pillow as his eyes refuse to stray from yours. He brushes your hair back, his short nails just scratching your scalp. It’s soothing, and it encourages you to close your eyes in bliss as your mind is blank.

Taglist: @anukulee

[smallraindrops-blog]

Sacred Ingredients

Zagreus/Male!reader 

Fandom: Hades (2019 game)

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: There was a new cook in the house

warnings: Implied reader death, no beta.

Notes:

The fic that is the reason yall have been seeing so many food posts lately.

This is the first response for the wholesome Zagreus x male reader request. I took my time with this since I wasn’t sure if I was following the prompt.

To the anon, thanks for the wait. If this isn’t what you wanted, please lmk and I will be happy to redo it. I do hope you enjoy this one.

Important: often people would use other names for the gods to avoid bringing unnecessary attention to themselves. Our reader is one of those people.

Enjoy!

~

One of your first memories was of your Mom holding a small bit of cake between her fingers. 

It was made of thin layers of dough, heavy with sheep cheese, crushed nuts and honey, so heavy with it that the dipping honey caught the sunlight just before you bit in.

Sweet. Creamy. Nutty. All combining together in your mouth as you chew.

You groaned in pure delight as she laughed, getting you a plate with a much bigger piece. See? I told you that you would like it. Mama is never wrong. Not with food.

Just like that, food had became your life. To you, there was no better way to say ‘I love you’ than by cooking someone a good meal.

You learned how to perfectly roast fishes, how to stuffed chicken, the right moment to add herbs or how to use olive oils or butter to add rich flavors to the dish. You learned how to knead the bread, how to time the rise just right and the best spots in the stone ovens to place the loaf. 

Food was everything. It was the bittersweet memory of your mama’s hand on your cheek after a sickness took her far too soon, it was a way to feed your family while working hard as a fisherman, it was a way to earn your place among warriors and kings. 

You loved all of it, even as the other men had scoffed at you for enjoying women’ work. However they never turned away a meal you cooked, at home or in the war tents.

The very last thing you cooked, a recipe your mama taught you, was a simple bread, meant for dipping in wine. 

Barley flour. Dry yeast from the grapes. Then you added the simple spice mix you came up with and always added in. The one that had people waiting outside for your bakery before the markets opened.

Parsley. Rosemary. Oregano. Garlic cloves smashed up and added into the bread, and just a little dash of salt.

You had set one aside for yourself for later.

You never got to eat it. 

~

When the news came that the terrifying god of the underworld was looking for a new cook, you didn’t hesitate.

To get a spot in the house of the gods was prime time. It meant respect, a place to live and most importantly it meant regular income. That was money you can send to your mama and sisters so they can get into a better area of Asphodel.

You had spent hours over the cake. 

You made sure that each layer of the dough was perfect, thin and flakey with a satisfying bite, that the cheese was the perfect amount of tangy creaminess, that nuts were crushed to the right size, that the honey was placed in the perfect spot to complement the cheese and nuts.

This had to work because your family worked hard to get the coin to order such things from the expensive shop of the boatman.

Even the neighbors had pitched in, with the promise that you will pay them back.

You took a nervous breath as you shifted on your feet, winced as the terrifying King of Below tossed aside the meal someone brought him, promptly dismissing them. 

“And another one bites the dust.” The sleep god muttered as he crossed something off a list.

He looked up, blinking heavy downturned eyes at them. You and the other commoners were careful to keep their gazes low, not willing to show any disrespect to any of the gods.

The gentle one huffed and gestured for the one before you to go ahead. You were up after this, assuming that the person before you didn’t have something amazing. 

The underworld King made a loud gagging sound and wordlessly dismissed the shade. Gentle one only clicked his tongue as he crossed out another line and shook his head, white curls flopping around. 

“Good luck, buddy.” He told you with a cheerful grin, using his quill to point to the desk.

Did the gods normally call people buddy?

With a deep breath, you went to the looming desk, feeling like you were meeting the fates themselves. 

“And what is this?” The King of those below growled, his haunting eyes locked onto you like a predatory bird. His hellhound shifted next to him, their three noses twitching at the food.

“This is a plakous, my lord.” You said, proud that your voice was stronger than you expected. “Made with wheat dough, rich honey-“

The King held up a large hand and you stopped speaking, fearing you had already lost your chance. A shade took the plate from you and brought it to their master. 

You held your breath as he took the first bite, your heart no longer beat but you swore you felt it in that moment, slamming against your chest. He chewed slowly and his bloody red eyes slowly went wide.

A hush fell over the grand hall.

Then the King did something he didn’t do with any other meal, he went back for a second bite.

After that bite, he peered down at you for a long, long time.

“Is this all you can cook?” His voice broke over you like thunder. You shook your head, your hands curled up nervously 

“No, my lord. I have created meals for kings and I can cook many things. Meat of all kinds. And bread, vegetables and so on.” You wished you were a more eloquent man, but that had never been needed before.

Not to mention such an education was beyond your reach.

And your food alway did the talking for you. 

The king took a third bite then tossed the rest to the hellhound, the animal eating in a single swipe of its tongue. The tail wagged once, thumping on the floor. 

The Wealthy One nodded slowly.  “You may start today.”

~

The kitchen size alone would have made your mama weep with joy. The amount of fresh produce, herbs and clean grains along with plenty of meat made your jaw drop. 

You clapped your hand together in thought then…You hit the ground running. 

There was an endless list of tasks to be done before the kitchen would be ready to open and you went through all the tasks with horse blinders on, determination fueling you.

The first meal you officially served Master was a few of salted and peppered trout with a garlic lemon sauce with butter and herbs along with a hearty lentils soup, warm sourdough bread for the soup and sauce.

You added a fresh cucumber salad along with a large plate filled with cheeses and fruits that would compliment the fish.

When the plates came back, clean of even a drop of sauce, you felt something loosen in your chest. 

~

Eventually you began to learn the house's routine and the many shades. You learned to always have some type of bread readied with olive oil. 

You learned what went fast and what you had to jazz up to get rid of. 

The most important lesson you had learned in life and one that remained unchanged even now was that most souls just wanted something that tasted like home. 

It was toward the end of the kitchen hours when you heard someone take a seat.

Even at this late hour and working alone, you weren’t one to turn away a hungry soul so after wiping your hands on your apron, you turned with a smile.

“Welcome! What can I…” your words trailed off, your eyes going wide as you realized who was sitting in one of the barstools.

The Prince of the underworld gave you an exhausted, crooked grin. There was a curious gleam in those mismatched eyes, the strong lines of his cheeks softened by the dim lights of the lounge.

He was inhumanly beautiful in the ways all divine beings were.

But there was something different to his handsomeness.

Unlike the soft loveliness of Sleep, the sleek grace of the Fury or the dark shocking beauty of Night herself, this god before looked almost moral like. It was his eyes that revealed his godhood. It was the power in his broad shoulders.

You were surprised by how much you liked it.

“So you are the new cook everyone is raving about.” The Prince said, leaning on his forearms to peer at you. You saw the strength in his arms, his quick grace as he moved. Strong and muscular with thick tendons upward from the knuckles. 

It was clear this god was a warrior of a sort.

Your eyes flickered down in embarrassment when you realized you were being disrespectful in your staring. 

“I believe so, your highness.” You said, bowing your head in a show of respect for his position. “How may I serve you?” 

“Honestly?” The Prince leaned, scanning the area behind you. “Whatever you have will work. The last cook we had working here would just give us sliced onions if we came in this late. Once he gave Hypnos a single apple peel for daring to ask for something else.”

He sounded amused, chuckling to himself at the memory. It was a nice laugh, deep and rich.

You couldn’t imagine being so rude to the gods. Your mom was a pious woman and even a quiet sigh during prayers would get you a disapproving look.

With a nod, you went to get the Prince his meal and drink.

Thankfully you had a leftover trout and tossed one onto the grill to cook as you prepared a bowl of cabbage for him, added in spices along with honey vinegar and silphium.

You had some bread and garlic cheese so you plated those as well with olives and grapes.

You decided to give him a rich red that most enjoyed, filling it up to the brim.

“Oh wow.” The prince muttered as you set everything in front of him and with a bow, you rushed back to the fish, flipping it over. Once it was ready with some garlic butter sauce, you brought it to him. 

“Please let me know if you would like for me to serve you more or cook something else for you.” You told him and the prince blinked at you, his mouth filled with bread and cheese. 

The prince waved a hand before you left him for his meal. He drank the wine deeply before placing it back down. You immediately refilled it. “This is plenty, my good shade. Thank you.”

With a respectful nod, you resumed cleaning up the kitchen. Counters got wiped down, supplies restocked but it wasn’t the usual relaxing routine it normally was.

You felt the weight of those divine eyes on you. The Prince was quiet as he ate but you caught quick glimpses of his curious gaze on the shine of the plates, or reflection in your knives.

It was only when the Prince left that you let yourself breathe.

~

Master liked large meals but only if they could be eaten quickly. The only thing you had been warned never to add was pomegranates. No one would tell you why.

The Gorgon, the creature was surprisingly sweet for all the horrible tales you heard of her kind, ate in a rush as well.

If you were smarter, maybe you could have made a clever joke about how the lowest server and the King of the Underworld ate the same way.

But one look into her smiling face held your tongue. She was always kind so you would be so in return.

The Fury was a regular companion of hers, requesting simple meals of fish and some types of roasted vegetables. Mostly she would drink deeply, often you would have a pitcher of wine put aside for her. 

Sometimes Dreaded Death would join her, unwelcoming to all and cool. He rarely ordered any food, his fingers drumming on the table sounded like funeral marches to your ears. 

His twin was the complete opposite, Gentle Sleep had a sweet tooth unlike anything else you have seen. Often he would ignore the dinner option altogether and eat slices of cake, candied figs or honeycombs. 

If you weren’t careful around the god, plates of cookies that were meant for the whole house would go missing around him. 

You still haven’t found the last two plates he stole from you.

And...

There was The Prince himself. 

He was a regular now, always sitting close to wherever your work station was that day. He also was the only one who ate anything you put on a plate for him, and would shove the meal into his mouth like a starving creature. You always made sure to give him larger servings.

“Tell me your name.”  He ordered you one day. His tone was deep, firm. Making it clear he wouldn’t take no for an answer.  “You keep feeding me delicious food, no matter the hour. And I don't know what to call you.”

Then he added with raised eyebrows, sounding more like a playful suitor than a Chthonic god. “Please?”

You considered it, your hands still on the bowl of the hardy stew just placed before the god. You stared at the stew for a moment, then at him.

Or just past him, not willing to meet the god’s eyes, life and death danced in those unusual eyes of his.

You were a moral, a simple one at that. 

You never picked up a sword, never learned all the fancy learnings that a prince might, never learned much beyond what you needed to but you knew names had powers, could decide whole destinies before a babe even wailed out their first cry. 

Names could summon the gods themselves.

Quietly, you told him.

The prince grinned at you, his smile fierce and beautiful like a victorious lion. Your breath hitched, forgetting that one was to never look the gods in the eye.

Then the next words he spoke early jumped started your heart into beating once more. 

“It suits you, my good cook. Call me Zagreus.” 

~

Later, alone in the kitchen, recipes laid in front of you, you tried to will yourself to focus.

Schooling was too costly for your family especially after your Mother’s death. Your reading went far as basic words and numbers, just enough to get by in the markets.

You never needed much. 

Right now, however, the recipes might as well be another language. 

You were too lost in thought, several times you had already caught yourself even daring to think The Prince’s name in your mind.

What would happen if you dare to…

Zagreus.

A soft noise came behind you and You whirled around, glancing everywhere as if expecting him to appear right behind you. 

He didn’t. 

You realized you heard the sounds of the Wretched Broker restocking his shelves. Thankfully, he was too busy to realize that the House’s cook had gone mad simply by learning a God’s name. 

Maybe you should start wearing a pot on your head.

“Zagreus.” You whispered, fingernails digging your palm nervously. “Zagreus.”

When the god didn’t appear, you didn’t know if you were disappointed or relieved.

~

Slowly, you learned more. 

There were the loud fights between Father and Son that would cause the house to rattle. Many shades would escape into the lounge, hands over their ears.

”Tell me, do you get along with your father?” Zagreus grumbled, his plate cleared of any crumbs. His legs were bouncing, filled with an endless energy you knew you would never be able to match. 

“No.” You said, not wanting to think of that man. You knew he was somewhere in the underworld but the less you knew, the better. “I suspect few do.”

Once, over a glass of white wine and a simple meal of sourdough bread and warm vegetable soup, He told you was looking for his mother.  

“You will find her. I know you will.” You told him quietly, holding his stare. “Have faith, Zagreus.”

Another time, over a cake from a new recipe you came up with, Zagreus asked about you. Maybe it was the exhaustion after a successful dinner rush but you told him everything. 

His smile was warm, his eyes watchful of your every move as you told him of your family and their new place you brought for them. 

Your cheeks flushed when you realized he was staring at you.

“I will have to stop by then.” He teased, his hand almost brushing against yours. 

“Yes.” You agreed in a whisper, your mouth suddenly dry.

~

“Cook me your favorite meal.” Zagreus ordered one day, not even bothering to sit down. You lifted a cool eyebrow, well used to his impulsiveness by now.  

“Hello, Zagreus.” You greeted dryly, wiping your hands on your apron, not actually that upset.

Not too long ago, you would have wilted from the thought of being so playful with a divine creature but things changed.

Zagreus brought it out of you somehow simply by being himself. 

“I am doing well, thank you.” You continued to teased despite his oddly serious expression.

Zagreus blinked, then chuckled with a bright grin. “I am a horrible influence on you, I fear.”

You laughed, cheeks flushing at his smile. “I am afraid so, your Highness. Now what is this about a favorite meal?”

“Yours. I want to know what your favorite food is.” 

“Oh.” You grabbed an apple, rolling it in your hands for something to do. Butterflies dancing in your stomach as Zagreus leaned in, his hands on the counter. This close, you caught the scent of copper.

unwillingly, your gaze tangled with his, caught like a fly in a complex web. A stray thought reached you, could a mere fly understand the geometric structure, beauty of such things?

You swallowed nervously. “It’s nothing special, Zagreus. Just something my mom cooked up for me.”

Zagreus narrowed his eyes, his jaw firm in his resolve. “Excellent, then. I trust you have all the ingredients you need?”

You nodded but opened your mouth to dissuade the prince from his idea, however he was already walking away, “I expect a meal to be waiting for me when I get back!”

~

One day, staring at a wooden spoon in your hand, cake batter dipping from the tip, you realized that Zagreus had became someone very, very dear to you. 

Morals and gods didn't mix together well. At least, not for the morals. Cracked eggs and spilled milk and all left would be a big mess with no one to clean it. 

What did it mean when a shade, a mere ghost of who you were, was in love with a god that shone like the sun, whose very presence made you felt like you were alive once more?

~

When Zagreus returned, his hair was still damp from the Styx river and you had to look away from his beauty.

Quietly, you put the final touches on your favorite meal. You swallowed nervously as you picked up the plate and went over to him. 

Thin layers of dough. Creamy cheese. Crushed nuts. Honey.

A long ago memory of your mom's smiling face as she watched you take a bite. Sunlight made her golden and immortal in that singular moment in your very heart.

You offered it up like the cake was a sacrifice, like you were offering yourself up to the god to make the final decision of the worth of your mortal soul.

“This is the first thing I can remember my mom making for me.” You whispered, your work rough fingers curled nervously against the counter. “This meal is what got me a job here. I got to know you because of this cake.”

Zagreus took a small bite, then closed his eyes in bliss. He said your name with a weight that you never heard before. 

When he looked at you, his expression gentle and hopelessly fond, there was no need for more words. 

~

When he kissed you for the first time, he tasted like home. 

[lemotmo]

I'm nervous to send anything but certain topics aren't being posted or answered anymore so this feels safe! But feel free to tell me NO! ❤️

Q. Have you seen the Tik Tok Ryan watched about how if Eddie isn't gay then they've just made him the biggest jerk possible when it comes to dating? 😂 I mean she wasn't wrong. Having hope makes me nervous!

A. Haha, yes, I saw the Tik Tok and it does make him look particularly bad in the context of dating. But it just continues to prove what a very hard corner they've written themselves into where Eddie is concerned. He is not a bad guy. He's not. He's a good man with a very deep sense of duty, responsibility, obligation and expectation. And in that context the women he has chosen to date, post Shannon, make sense. His relationship with Anna was always the obvious head scratcher because on paper she was absolutely the perfect person for him, but the relationship always felt off. Once we got the spoiler from the insider saying she was supposed to be the relationship that led to Eddie's sexuality discovery it made the Anna relationship make much more sense. I know there are some who don't want to believe the insider information, but given Tim's history I think he would have repudiated the claim if it had been false. We have already seen Tim correct false information this off season, so I see no reason why he wouldn't have corrected that one as well if it were untrue. It was everywhere. He knows it was leaked information. Everything Eddie experienced in that relationship further seems to support the idea that the original plan was a sexuality awakening. The panic attacks he was having fit perfectly into this theory as well because Eddie is not a commitment phobe. They never felt like a couple. She felt like Christopher's babysitter. They even had Eddie flat out admit that Christopher loved her so he thought he could force himself to love her too. It's the classic sexuality arc relationship.

Marisol is another mess entirely. You could tell she wasn't meant to be back last season, and they didn't even bother trying to pretend otherwise. I think the Kim nonsense was Tim's way of maybe trying to demonstrate that Eddie just doesn't feel like he can find a connection with anyone else, romantically speaking, and he was reaching out so hard for doppelganger Shannon because he thought she could tell him why. There is absolutely no other plausible reason for that storyline. Eddie specifically told Buck that it wasn't about sex and he didn't want to sleep with her. He wanted to talk to her, and once he was able to, what he talked about was how broken he feels. That is where we are with Eddie. That very much feels like trying to recreate where he was mentally in season 4 without retelling the same storyline. So it feels very much like they're headed in the sexuality direction. I understand people are hesitant to allow themselves to be excited about the possibility. And they are correct when they say we have no proof that's where they're going. But what I will say is that it's okay to say that things feel genuinely different this time around. It feels very different than it ever has before. And we're allowed to acknowledge that. Oliver and Ryan are behaving in ways they never have before. And we're allowed to also acknowledge that. Ryan has very much followed Oliver's pattern from last off season. He has followed the same interview patterns, right down to switching to gender neutral pronouns. And he is following the same fandom behavior from Oliver last season. He is being very openly pro Buddie. Acknowledging the corner the show has written themselves into, and acknowledging the patterns that Oliver and Ryan are following and repeating is not giving false hope or unfairly raising expectations. It's acknowledging the clear change. That's all anyone is doing. If it makes certain people feel better to be adamant that it's not happening, fine. That's their fandom right. But it's other people's fandom right to be excited about and to acknowledge the possibility of the storyline. A storyline that feels very much within reach. Let people be excited.

Hey Nonny! I'm firmly saying YES to be honest. I know that Ali also isn't posting about certain subjects and topics anymore. So please, don't be afraid to drop something in my inbox. As long as it's not about fandom messes, it's fine. Thanks again for doing this. I do appreciate it.

If we all focus a bit more on fandom positivity, we can hopefully counter some of the negativity.

As for Ali's answer? Yes, yes and yes. The playing field has been set and all the pawns are exactly where they should be to get Eddie out of that closet and into Buck's arms (after some extra loopholes, no doubt).

I agree so hard on the fact that it's okay to be excited and hopeful. Let yourself hope. Why not? What have we got to lose at this stage? Besides our sanity that is. 😉

And yes, the people out there who are being cautious about Buddie? They have ever right to be. I mean, nothing is set in stone at this point. So, it's more than fine to want to hold back on the excitement for a while.

We can all coexist just fine, if we respect each others opinions and POVs, because after all:

We all have the same end-goal in mind. 😋

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

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If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[jacensolodjo]

It is easy to make jokes about the Eastern European and Jewish prerogative about food. It is not so easy when you know both groups have been literally starved to death through no fault of their own.

It is easy for someone to say "why didn't they just leave" but not so easy knowing because these murders by starvation were intentional, the victims were actively prevented from leaving. Which in itself is proof it was intentional for these people to starve to death.

If you want us to believe something like the Holodomor was a natural famine you shouldn't also tell us about internal passports (something many countries have done in order to keep an eye on where their "undesirables" are going) and people being shot for trying to board trains, planes, busses, and carriages. If, instead, it was natural, why stop people from going somewhere that there IS food?

Through the lens of epigenetics we can begin to understand why a third generation American of EE/Jewish descent might have this anxiety about food, about making sure there is enough, that we remember those who are less fortunate, that we appear to subsist entirely on leftovers. Or, indeed, why many with these epigenetic changes tend to trend towards higher percentages of body fat. Our bodies through our genes remember a time nobody could be even a pound overweight and it knows that the body literally eats itself as we starve and the first to go of course is body fat so our bodies, knowing all this, make sure we have extra "God forbid (ptoo ptoo ptoo), just in case".

"They tried to kill us, they failed, let's eat" isn't just a pithy saying. We outlived them even despite being unable to eat. We do not hoard food, we just happen to have a lot of leftovers through this anxiety about food. "Oy, I ate too much" is a blessing. With it, we are aware of how few times our ancestors could say the same. During Pesach (Passover), we have an entire dinner party (complete with perhaps a little too much wine) and recline in style as we eat matzo and remember why it is just so damn flat (we rushed off to escape from Egypt without finishing making our dough. D'oh!). Everything on the seder plate has a meaning, with some items being added or removed based on the traditions of the family or congregation doing the seder. Such as in the past couple years the olive is added to symbolize the hope for peace in Ukraine (or, for some, peace in the Middle East). Or the orange to symbolize the inclusion of the LGBTQ community.

Perhaps it seems paradoxical to eat so much in one sitting instead of saving some for a time where food may be scarce. But it goes hand in hand with "They tried to kill us, they failed". We have survived another day and have enjoyed good food and good company. In spite of everything they did to us. We feast out of spite. Perhaps because of all those times our enemies were eating without a care in the world while our ancestors watched and starved. We have proof of commie buffets while starving Ukrainians watched from the street. We have proof of Jews being teased with food, with Gentiles tossing heels of bread on the ground so they could watch as said Jews fought over it or flinging a sausage and laughing as Jews raced to get it as if they were playing fetch with a dog. Or the innumerable times people were killed for stealing a handful of grain when many times they were the ones who had farmed the grain in the first damn place.

There are many who do not see starvation as a tool of genocide. They don't understand how starvation can break a community. Death by Hunger, the translation of Holodomor, was not about control like people claim (in other words they claim the death was an accident, that the starving was meant to keep people in line. If they had just behaved themselves they wouldn't have died etc.,). It was always and forever about a stronger group ridding the world of another group without getting literal and metaphorical blood on their hands. They could cite plausible deniability. It wasn't their fault, honest, it was just bad luck.

The stereotypical scene of people in lines that stretch multiple city blocks was in fact the norm. And more often than not, only the first few dozen would get anything at all and everyone else would find they had wasted an entire day waiting for food that was never meant to be given to them in the first place. The supply was purposely small. At least for those who were either too low in the Party or not a part of it at all. For Jews, you turned to the black market which was often caught selling spoiled food as well as food that wasn't actually food at all (such as sawdust masquerading as bread). Which happened even with regular stores because as a Jew you could only buy certain things and everyone knew it and still would not sell the genuine article because why should they? It is, after all, going to a Jew. Soviet areas were guilty of doing this to everyone, too.

So if you are visiting an EE and/or Jewish home and they actively push food on you and insist you take leftovers, that is their love language. We want you to have enough because far too many times our people did not. And in Jewish culture, it is a literal mitzvah to provide food to those who cannot procure it themselves either because of money/access, or they are going thru the bereavement process or otherwise incapable of dealing with making sure they have something to eat (such as an illness that prompts them being added to the Mi Shebeirach list which in many congregations is printed and given out to refer to during the Mi Shebeirach prayer during services and may also be paired with the mourner's kaddish list). It is why when you go to a house where the occupants are sitting Shiva, you will often find their kitchen stacked with tupperware of varying sizes and cuisine and you will often be instructed to bring something as well though it isn't a requirement. Generally, your presence is considered the more important aspect of the Jewish bereavement process. (Just do not say you are going to sit Shiva with someone. Rather, you are paying a Shiva call or condolence call. Only the mourners are in fact sitting Shiva. Also important: try the door first before ringing or knocking, as usually that is seen as an interruption to sitting Shiva which is frowned upon. And do not literally call them unless told otherwise for the same reason.)

Food makes or breaks us. Food is not inherently moral or immoral. And yes, perhaps there is always room for dessert. And maybe we do eat too much but that's okay. We have survived to enjoy it, so let us do so. Nu, it is what our ancestors would want.

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Antonio Dawson: Just Friends 3 (final) 

A lot of people wanted this final part. So, I finally sat down and wrote it. I hope it was worth the wait. Xoxo  

Antonio searches your eyes trying to shake the sleep out of his head. “What?” He lifted himself off of and into a sitting position. Your hands grapple for the sheets yanking them up over your naked breasts. Knowing that he had spent half the night with them in his mouth, it seemed silly. But you felt vulnerable and your nerves were raw with emotion that you could no longer suppress. His dark eyes were lasered in on you. You felt like he could see right through you. 

“I said I think we-” 

“No, I heard what you said.” The dark gruffness had nothing to do with him just waking up. He cursed in Spanish before hurling himself out of bed. You felt your heart drop into your stomach as he exited the room. Your breath caught in your chest painfully. You had figured that this conversation wouldn’t go over well, especially with the abruptness in which you brought it up. You hadn’t expected him to leave like that. You had thought your relationship had gone a little further than the bedroom. You lay back in the bed feeling the tears start to burn the back of your eyes.  

You knew it would be painful but didn’t think it would be this humiliating. 

You jumped when Antonio came back into the bedroom. He had put on his boxer and jeans but his olive chest was still exposed and his feet were bare holding his black shirt in his fist. You stared at him frozen unsure what to do.  

He came and sat down on the bed by your feet. His expression was serious and his jaw was clenched. He held out his shirt to you. You just stared until he shook it. You reached for the soft material pulling it over your naked form. Satisfied Antonio took huffed out a heavy breath. “Okay, now what is going on? Because I’m a little confused here querida. I could have sworn that you were the one who called me over here last night and fucked me seven ways to Sunday.”  

Your cheeks flushed dark with color. You swallow hard. What are you supposed to say? You had been the one to call him over for an all-night booty call. “Yeah,” 

“Well, I know the sex wasn’t the problem. The sex is never a problem between us.” His cockiness about it shouldn’t have been a turn on but it was, even in this situation. “Did I do something wrong?” You heard his tone change and go into cop interrogation mode. 

“No,” 

“Say something wrong?”  

“No,” 

“Did I overstep-” 

“No,” 

“Did I-” 

“No,” You cut him off abruptly, refusing to meet his stare. “It’s not you Antonio.” 

“Did you meet someone else?” You scoff at him. 

“I would have never called you over here if that was the case.” Your tone biting offended. 

“Then what is it?”  

“It’s me,” You suddenly felt bad for whoever had to sit opposite Antonio in an interrogation. When he wanted to know something, he didn’t let up. How did people hold up for thirteen hours of this prodding? Then again, you had been holding onto this secret for months. “It’s becoming more than sex to me, okay?” It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. You bit your lip trying to regain your composure. His expression softened and he looked at you with pity.   

“Oh, Cariño I’m sorry.” You throw the covers off you and push him away as you shoot to your feet. The truth was out and you didn’t want him to baby you through this. It would only make everything so much worse. You keep your back to him trying to ignore your heart shattering. 

“Don’t,” You run your hands through your hair harshly tugging at the strands in frustration. “Don’t do that. I know what we agreed to.” You feel his body come behind you. He is radiating heat and the smell of sex. His rough hand falls on your shoulder and urges you to turn around. You keep your back stubbornly to him.  

“Baby,” Antonio forces his body between you and the wall. He cups your cheeks forcing you to look up at him. “That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry I wasn’t direct enough to tell you that I didn’t just want to fool around. And I’m so fucking sorry I made you feel like that. So, let me make sure you understand. I want you, all of you, in every way. Te amo.” 

Tears finally rolled down your cheeks, but they were of joy and relief. You turn kissing his palm. “I love you too. Te amo Antonio.” He pulls you in close kissing your forehead sweetly as he holds you tightly rocking you back and forth.    

[bookshelf-dust]

Hii love!! I absolutely LOVE your works and was wondering if you could write a fic where Billy finds the readers s/h scars and asks about it? The reader kinda opens about why they did and Billy is super confused about why you would purposely hurt yourself, but he swears to himself he’d never let you do that again?? If not, that’s perfectly fine, i know this topic is pretty sensitive to people🤍🤍

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 2,513

warnings: SH trigger warning!! please heed that. mentions of self harm (specifically cutting), scars described, areas on skin. all scars are healed and reader has recovered. please do not read this if this will make you uncomfortable. this is meant to be comforting and let you know that things do get better. it is about acceptance and change.

a/n: anon!! thank you for this idea. i just want to put it out there that i’m not taking requests for the foreseeable future, and haven’t been for quite awhile, but i got sent this and i felt really compelled to write it because it’s something that’s important to me. i felt like i could do it justice, at least a little bit, and i really hope that it will provide you with some comfort. this is something close to my heart, and my goal here is that it will reach someone the right way and encourage them to keep going. i love you all so much!! please go easy on me as i’ve never written anything like this before. also did a bit of a different format! anyway, mwah! 🥰

————

Billy knows you’re shy. Of course he does. 

But he wants you to feel as comfortable with him as he does with you. He’s never felt as relaxed and safe as he does when he’s around you. Hell, he’s never allowed himself to let his guard down in this way. 

Inviting you to sleep over was his olive branch, hoping you’d have a space where you could be fully you. He has the house to himself, and he knows that will help ease your anxiety. All Billy wants is to give you all that you’ve given him. And maybe more.

Billy had just stripped, pulling on sweats and an old t-shirt, not caring whether you saw him in his underwear. He’s yours anyway. Sure, you haven’t gone very far in your relationship, but he still wants you to see how comfortable you’ve made him. He’s never done this casual intimacy thing before. 

“I’ll be just a second, okay?” You give him a gentle smile, feet softly padding against the worn hardwoods, sleeve brushing the door frame as you walk by. 

Billy watches you walk out of his room with your pajamas tucked under your elbow. “Okay, baby.” 

He busies himself while you’re gone, straightening the bed, finding the tv remote. (He’d never be allowed to roll it into his room if he weren’t home alone.) He figures you’re taking your makeup off too, maybe doing something with your hair, and heads to the kitchen to make some popcorn for you both to share. 

In the bathroom, you take a deep breath as you pull on your nightgown. You don’t pride yourself in having nice or fancy things to sleep in, but you felt like bringing this with you because it’s one of the few things you own that makes you feel pretty. Something about a freshly washed face and the soft fabric make you all…content. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror. The gown is not tight by any means, and actually a color that brings out your eyes. It has little bows on the sleeves and a tiny strip of lace at the hem. You don’t tend to dress for anyone but yourself, but you do think Billy will like this. Some part of you craves that feeling. 

He’s never even seen your legs before, much less your collarbones. And not because you’re trying to be modest, but because it’s been cold and any other opportunity hasn’t presented itself. Showing someone so much of yourself is harder than you anticipated. And you anticipated quite a bit of work. 

You inhale and exhale deeply, shaking out your arms. You can’t help but be nervous. You’ve never slept over with a boy before. But it’s Billy. Your Billy. What is there to be worried about?

Billy returns to his bedroom shortly after you’ve sat down and queued up the movie for you both to watch. You take the popcorn he offers you, the socks that are much too big, and snuggle into the worn pillows propped up against his headboard. 

You’re sitting too far away for Billy’s liking, munching on your snack and trying to focus on the beginning of Nightmare on Elm Street as if you haven’t seen it over ten times. His eyes can’t stop dragging over your bare legs. This is the first time he’s seen them, and he wants you and all that skin closer.

“Baby,” he drawls.

You can feel his big blue eyes on you, but for once you really are paying attention. “Yeah?” you hum, licking butter from the tip of your thumb.

You don’t even look over at him, and Billy lets out a huff of a laugh. The noise prompts you to spare a glance in his direction, but he’s already got an arm wrapped around your thigh, yanking you across the sheets until you’re pressed against his side. 

He tries not to convey how excited he is that he can feel the warmth of your skin on his, how soft your inner thigh feels. He frees you though, laughing at the “Oomph” you let out before settling yourself more comfortably. 

You swing your leg over both of Billy’s, handing him your popcorn remains and resting your head on his shoulder. He happily sticks his hand in your little bowl, eating what you’d left behind. 

As the movie progresses and Billy finishes all the popcorn, you shift further and further into him. It makes Billy so happy to see you act so comfortable around him. This is everything he was hoping for. He sets your empty bowls on his side table and wipes his hands clean with the wet rag he’d brought with him.

You’re engrossed in the movie, laughing every now and then at something you shouldn’t find funny, or clutching at Billy’s fingers when you get stressed out during a tense moment.

God, he’s so happy to be with you. If he could make this night last forever, he would. Billy kisses the top of your head and wraps an arm around your back, his hand coming to rest on the top of your thigh. You don’t think much of the gesture, only feeling a shiver run down your spine at the contact. At his warm hand on your skin.

Your skin.

Your nightgown has ridden up a bit, and suddenly you register exactly where Billy’s hand is. You take a deep breath, hoping he won’t rub your thigh and feel what you’ve avoided showing him for so long. 

You try not to worry, try to keep your focus on the movie, but you can’t. Your bubble has popped. You want to adjust your nightgown, but you’re afraid to draw more attention to the area, afraid to offend him and make him think you don’t want his touch. 

Billy’s thumb starts to stroke back and forth on your skin. You can feel the exact moment he registers that it doesn’t feel the way it should. The way your arms do, the way the soft backs of your hands do when he takes them in his. 

You feel him sit up slightly, crane his head to look at you. At your thigh.

Upon touching your leg, Billy had expected smooth skin. But he met ridges. Bumps. Lines of raised skin. He knew that wasn’t normal, and it sent a surge of curiosity or maybe even concern through him. 

What he sees confuses him. What happened to your leg? 

“Baby? What’s that?”

He’s sitting up fully now, prompting you to do the same before you fall against the bed. 

The longer he looks at it, the more confused he gets. There are scars on your leg. They’re not big, but there are a lot of them. So many that it’s scaring him. Some thin, some thicker. Different shades of scar tissue and scratched skin that never returned to its original state. 

They aren’t fresh, no, not at all. They are all healed. But he’s so confused because he’s gotten lots of cuts and bruises throughout his life, and they’ve never looked like yours do. They don’t look like a normal injury does. These look…deliberate. And he doesn’t understand.

You turn around and sit on your knees. I guess it’s now or never, you think. If you don’t tell yourself that, you’ll probably throw up. And if you hadn’t moved so far past this, you’d feel even worse. 

“They’re scars,” you say, rubbing your elbow. 

Billy flicks your knee, mainly because he doesn’t know how to react, his other hand rubbing down his face. “No shit.”

Your heart is pounding despite the fact that this is something you have long overcome and are not ashamed of. Even still, there is a part of you that hopes he won’t be disgusted with you. It’s the same part that hasn’t let the relationship go as far as you’d like it to. 

“I put them there.”

Billy blinks. Even if some part of him knew that’s where this was headed, he still can’t wrap his head around that. “What?” 

His eyes dart to your leg again, wondering if the scars are more extensive than what he can see. He’s scared of how badly you’ve hurt yourself. If he’s not careful, his eyes will glaze over. 

“A few years ago. You know how I’ve mentioned my depression and anxiety? And how I have medicine? How it was hard for me to go on dates with you at first or how sometimes I get standoffish?” 

He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“Well, you’ve been really good at reassuring me and understanding my panic attacks and stuff, and I’ve gotten a lot better at managing these things. But before all of that, before how I am now, I had no one. I was all alone, and I couldn’t deal with my feelings. So I took it out on myself. I started cutting myself as a way to cope.” You hate to admit all of this, but he deserves to know.

You start fidgeting with your fingertips and break eye contact with him. Billy’s lips have formed a stern pout, his brows knitting together in a way that shows he’s trying to understand you. To him, he really is just trying to comprehend this. But to you, that’s the look of shame you’ve been awaiting. You don’t want to be looked at that way.

You sit on your hands and stare at a string that’s come loose from your worn-in comforter. 

“Anyway, I didn’t have anyone to help me. I couldn’t talk about how sad and lonely and angry I was, and I certainly wasn’t ready for a doctor. I kept it all in, figuring it was safer that way. But that got to me, and I chose to take it out on myself. There.” You touch your thigh. “Here and here.” Your fingers brush your stomach and hip. “Here too.” Your forearm. I know it’s horrible, but that’s what I chose to do. And I wouldn’t ever want someone else to choose that.” 

“I didn’t want to die, I just wanted the hurt to stop. I needed an outlet for all of those suffocating feelings, and that was what I did. Hurting myself helped me feel better because at least I was expressing something. And I was able to punish myself for being so unlike everyone else. So quiet, so hard to love, so different.”

Your heart is pounding but you steal a quick glance at Billy. He can’t fight the emotion from showing on his face anymore. He feels his eyelashes getting thick with tears that are threatening to spill at any moment. 

“I know this is probably hard to understand. I know you might be disgusted with me. But I guess it’s better that you know, right? I should’ve been more open about it with you sooner to avoid it being so…complicated.”

You stop, not really knowing what else there is to say. You’re hoping that this will encourage him to say something. Anything. You’d be happy to answer a question at this point.

Billy brings the hem of his shirt up to wipe his eyes. You wince, feeling awful for making him emotional over this. 

He takes a moment to try and wrap his head around what he’s just heard. He’s had a habit of self-medicating with alcohol, with cigarettes, hell, even ego lifting shit he shouldn’t at the gym. But everyone copes differently, right? You wouldn’t do what he does. He wouldn’t do what his dad does.

He just can’t bear the thought of thinking that someone would physically do that to themselves. That you, his perfect girl, would be feeling so low that you’d make yourself bleed just in search of relief from the pain. He can’t understand it, but at the same time, he sees that it comes in different forms. 

Billy reaches out for your hands, waiting for you to take them. The pressure behind your eyes immediately softens at the gesture.

“Don’t apologize to me, okay? I’m just trying to process.” He lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your warm skin.

“Okay.”

He kisses each of your knuckles in turn, maintaining eye contact all the while. He straightens, not letting go of your fingers. “I don’t like to think about you being in any sort of pain. Imagining you doing that to yourself…fuckin’ breaks my heart.” 

You tilt your head, scanning his face. He’s hurting for you, and you want to take it away. “It’s okay, Billy. I’m so much better now.”

“But I wish that I’d known you when you were hurting so damn bad. Y-you were alone, and I’m angry that no one was there to pull you out. I would’ve helped you.”

You squeeze his hands. “Billy, baby. I wouldn’t have let you help me.”

“Why?” he asks, his voice cracking. 

“Because I didn’t want to get better. I was comfortable in an endless cycle of hurt, and I had to be the one to finally change something.”

Billy leans forward until his forehead is resting against your chest. “I’m so sorry that you had to deal with that, and I know you sure as hell don’t want my pity, but I just can’t have you ever be in pain.”

You weave your fingers into the hair at the base of his neck. “I know, Billy. I’m okay, I promise? I’ve worked really hard to be okay.”

He straightens, cupping your face. “God, I know you have. I’m never gonna let you hurt like that again, you hear me?”

“I hear you, Billy. That’s not a place I ever want to return to.”

He leans in and kisses you with so much passion, using his lips to say more than he could ever form into words, that it leaves you feeling dazed. Loved.

“I’m so proud of you,” Billy says. 

You smile at him, and if he weren’t already sitting, he’d need to because of how weak you make him. 

“Thank you for respecting me and not treating me differently. You have no idea how much that means.”

Billy’s hands slide down to rest on your collar bones. “Why on earth would I treat you differently? Have people before? If anything it shows me how much of a fucking star you are, because you got through that all on your own. You got through it and now I have the pleasure of being yours.” 

You feel like someone’s poured warm water down your back. “People are usually awful about it, yeah. But that doesn’t matter. I’m grateful that you’re so accepting. And I want to be more open with you.”

“You don’t ever have to worry about that, baby. I’m working on my patience, so I’m happy to wait and learn every inch of you. Inside and out.” He winks at you, hoping to coax out a smile. It works.

“I’m so glad I got to this point,” you admit to him. You never say that out loud. 

“Fuck, so am I.” He kisses your forehead. “My best girl.”