#dirt lyrics meanings

[renard-dartigue]

Hi now i'm curious what is the beef with the rappers

Man this is going to be long so I'll try to keep this simple and entertaining. I hope this comes across as clear cause I'm shook right now.

Here is a glossarie to break thing up:

Prologue (The Spark 🔥)

Round 1.1 (Physical Education 💪🏾)

Interlude part 1 (Roots 🏠)

Round 1.2 (2 Warning Shots 🔫)

Interlude part 2 (Pusha the Seer 👁)

Round 2.1 (Knifes Out 🔪 )

Round 2.2 (The Nuke 💥)

Epilogue (All eyes on him 👀)

My Theory 🤷🏾‍♂️

Highly recommend checking out the tracks yourself while you read along.

Prologue (The Spark)

Let it be known that I am a neutral party and that I don't take sides when it comes to rap beef. I was here for the music and creativity. I am just trying to recount events to the best of my knowledge. Sorry if some details are inaccurate.

Okay so basically, Drake, J Cole, and Kendrick Lamar are the Big 3 of the rap world right now.

A month ago, Future and Metro Boomin (two rapper who supposedly don't fuck with Drake anymore) released a song with Kendrick Lamar called "Like That". In the song Kendrick took a shot at Drake and J Cole, saying there isn't a big 3, its only him on top.

4 weeks ago J Cole dropped a track called "7 Minute Drill" that is dissing Kendrick. However, in a move that is very uncharacteristic of J, he took down the official track and formally apologized to Kendrick. Thus signaling his exit from the rap battle.

ROUND 1.1 (Physical Ed)

Drake on the other hand dropped "Push Ups" 2 weeks ago, a diss track that went after other rappers he doesn't like but mainly Kendrick. In it, he made fun of Kendrick's height and his contracts. He then ends the song with "I was really try'n keep it PG" meaning he has a nuke on Kendrick that people don't know.

Not long later, Drake dropped ANOTHER diss track "Taylor Made Freestyle" with Ai voices of Snoop Dog and fucking 2PAC! Kendrick has stated before that 2pac is one of his idols so this must have been a deep cut. In the song Drake claims Kendrick doesn't write his own music and uses the writers of Taylor Swift. Relating a rapper to pop music is seen as disrespectful.

INTERLUDE PART 1 (Roots)

Before I continue, I want to give a brief run down on how the public perceives these two rappers.

Drake portrays himself as a superstar, he's always on social media flaunting his success and partying with other celebrities, seeing alot of women and living a lavish lifestyle. His music is catchy, something you put on in the club. Most of his fan base praise him for his sick beats and witty lyrics. He's been in the music industry for a while and is no push over.

Kendrick Lamar is a very private person, doesn't expose anything about his personal life unless its on a track. He almost never gets into fights with anyone. He is a family man, stressing the importance of being there for his wife and son and encourages other fathers to do the same. His fan base praise him for his creative lyrics and highlighting the black American condition.

ROUND 1.2 (2 Warning Shots)

2 Day ago, Kendrick Lamar came back with his first official diss track on Drake called "Euphoria". In this song, Kendrick goes in on Drakes fake personality. Drake has always been known around the community as a bit of a poser, he grew up in Canada and was raised by his white mother, a relatively comfortable childhood. He was a star on the popular show Degassi when he was young. garnering him a fan base early in his career. Kendrick doesn't approve of Drake appropriating black American culture and acting like he some tough guy. When in reality he is a Canadian nerd thats disrespectful to 2pac. All throughout the song, Kendrick hits at things that many people have know about Drake, such as his behavior around underage girls. He also called Drake a deadbeat father who isn't in his son's life, even referencing his lost battle to Pusha T. Then Kendrick finally warns him that he has more dirt that he is willing to share if Drake takes things further.

Similar to Drake, Kendrick dropped another track called "6:16 in LA" later that day. This song focuses on Drake's environment, specifically the people he hangs with. Kendrick implies that Drake paid people to dig into his background and when they didn't find anything, Drake made up stuff instead. Kendrick then says that someone in Drakes group is leaking information to him about something even more serious. Also planting a seed in Drake's mind that his supposed friends don't actually like him, just like the clout from hanging around him.

INTERLUDE PART 2 (Pusha the Seer)

Taking a quick break again, we need to discuss something that occurred long before Drake's battle with Kendrick.

5 years ago, Drake was in a rap battle with rapper Pusha T, someone who was smaller than Drake at the time in terms of popularity. Pusha dropped a song called "The Story of Adidon" where he dropped a bomb that Drake had a kid and wasn't taking care of him. Drake initially denied it but it was later revealed to be true.

Since then Drake has never responded to Pusha T's diss track, making Pusha the current winner. And Kendrick is bringing it back into the light.

Round 2.1 (Knifes Out)

Around 2 am EST time of May 4th, Drake drops his diss track, "Family Matters" one of his strongest songs, switching his flow 3 times in the span of 7 minutes. In true Drake fashion, its a club song with a catchy beat. Like his previous diss, its aimed at multiple people but the main focus is on Kendrick, even bring up "I was really try'n keep this PG".

Drake doubles down on his black identity and mocks the fact that Kendrick and other rappers are saying he isn't black, (incorrectly assuming that they are coming at him for being mixed when the real issue is that he is appropriating black American rap culture as a Canadian mixed man who grew up in a safe environment) Drake not only calls Kendrick a fraud who only raps about black issues for attention, Or that his activism is performative. He makes a shocking claims that Kendrick is a wife beater. Then Drake says that Kendrick's son doesn't belong to him and implies Kendrick's producer was the real father.

The track caused an uproar. But only for the span of 15 minutes. Because Kendrick did the unthinkable.

ROUND 2.2 (THE NUKE)

Almost as if expecting Drake's move, Kendrick Lamar did what no one saw coming. He dropped his diss track "Meet The Grahams" about 15 minutes after Drake released "Family Matters".

This time around, in a fashion almost unheard of from him, Kendrick strips all the usual metaphors from his lyricism and structures his track like he is speaking to Drake and his family, 4 parts per individual.

Kendrick begins by speaking to Drakes Son, Adonis, the same son Pusha T exposed Drake for neglecting 5 years ago. He's apologizing to him for his father's behavior. Kendrick speaks to him softly but sternly like a mentor, telling him not to be like his father. Kendrick tells Adonis all the things Drake did and warns him not to do them too: involved with escorts, plastic surgery to appear more black, surgery to look more muscular, hiding a kid. (Kendrick stresses that Adonis is black regardless of being mixed, further highlighting that he isn't discrediting Drake's blackness because he's mixed but because he isn't being himself.) Finishing of by telling the kid to be proud of who he is.

The second half is Kendrick addressing Drake's mother and father, Sandra and Denise. Kendrick speaks to her like he's revealing tragic news, explaining to her that her son is involved in disgusting things. He goes down a list of things, his tone growing more intense and angry. Kendrick then claimed that Drake is employing and enabling pedos in his group, and hopes they die. Even implying that his group is going to be raided by the feds some day.

The third half is the MOST shocking of all. Kendrick begins talking to an unnamed individual, simply calls her babygirl. Similar to Adonis, Kendrick takes on a somber tone and apologizes to her for Drakes behavior. He says its not her fault Drake abandoned her, says that she is deserving of love. He warns her not to become a target for people like Drake to pray on and says she has so much to offer the world.

Kendrick revealed Drake has ANOTHER kid and isn't in their life! (Allegedly)

To close of, the fourth half is Kendrick speaking directly to Drake, his tone tired. He tries to reiterate that he doesn't have hate for him. However, Kendrick says Drake was the first one to go after his family and he couldn't let it slide. He once again calls for Drake to take the mask off. Then says this isn't a rap battle anymore, tells Drake he is fighting himself.

Epilogue (All eyes on him)

And so here we are, waiting for what will happen next.

Drake posted an Instagram story denying the claim he has another kid. But given what happened with Pusha T, we can't quite take his word for it yet. We should wait a bit to see if anything comes out.

Kendrick hasn't put out a statement on Drake's claims about him but given the recurring theme of Drake being a manipulative lier, Kendrick clearly denies it. Given how private he is, its difficult to prove or disprove it. Much like Drake's claims, we will have to wait and see if any evidence comes out about it.

Drake and Kendrick stans are at eachothers throats right now, arguing over who one and whats real or fake.

Right now everyone is looking to see if Drake is going to continue the battle or stay silent like he did with Pusha.

My Theory

Personally as an outside observer who only followed the beef for good music. I think this goes beyond a simple rap battle.

Here is my theory: Someone from Drake's clique told Kendrick that Drake and his producers were writing something about him. Real or fake, Kendrick was pissed. And so he drafted 3 tracks, dumping everything he hates about Drake into them. And then, with the leaker's help, Kendrick baited Drake into a battle, goading Drake to drop the "Family Matters" track so he can shut the battle down with "Meet the Grahams". Or maybe his first 2 tracks were a warning to Drake that if he released a track with lies on him he would reveal he has another kid.

I do think Kendrick initially had good intentions in trying to help Drake be a better person. But maybe the more he learned about Drake the less sympathetic he felt.

But I don't know thats just how I see it.

Thanks for reading my essay. I hope it made sense heh. I encourage healthy discussions in the comments and reblogs please. But everyone agrees that Drake is inappropriate with young girls. We won't argue over that.

[teaboot]

As someone who learnt english as a second language via textbook, I have to say "flying by the seat of my pants" is a hilarious idiom xD

It's the first time I've seen/heard it.

Could you share another one you like using?

Idk about idioms specifically, but there's a bunch of phrases I learned from my mom!

Lord love a duck! (Incredulous, like 'oh my god')

Lord suffer in sheep dip! (Sheep dip meaning sheep poop. Incredulous, but for annoying things- like 'are you kidding me?')

Is there a piano tied to your ass? ('Don't be lazy, do it yourself')

Someone's cruising for a bruising. (You're picking a fight.)

I don't give a rat's rip. ('I don't care'- a rat's 'rip' is it's butt crack.)

Pull up a stump! (Get yourself a chair, sit down.)

Everybody out of the pool! (Get out of the car)

I'm flying by the seat of my pants. (I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm doing it.)

Don't go blowing smoke up my ass. (Don't over-compliment me, don't flatter me, don't stroke my ego, don't tell me positive lies)

Looks like it's gonna rain on our parade. (A storm is coming.)

Sorry to rain on your parade. (I've given you bad news- can be used sincerely or sarcastically to denote sympathy for incurring a bad mood.)

Better button that lip. (Stop talking.)

Someone's gonna stick a boot up your ass. ('Stick a boot up your ass'- fight you, beat you, kick your ass.)

Stick that lip out any further, and a pigeon'll shit on it. (Stop whining.)

Suck it up, buttercup. (Stop whining.)

Dumber than a fence post. (Very stupid.)

The back forty. (The wild or forested area behind a rural home. The 'forty' being forty acres, or farmland.)

Don't go begging for a fat lip. (Whatever you're saying or doing is going to bother people and get you in trouble.)

What on God's green earth (What the fuck)

I'm sweating like a pig in a porta-potty (like a pig in a plastic outhouse- I'm very warm, it's hot here)

He thinks the universe flew out of his ass. (He thinks he's more impressive than he is.)

Your mouth wrote a cheque your ass couldn't cash. (You promised more than you were capable of providing.)

You've got a horseshoe up your ass. (You're very, very lucky.)

Taking a dirt nap. (Dead.)

Pushing (up) daisies. (Dead.)

Give me forty acres to turn this rig around. (I need time and space to move this large, heavy, or unwieldy thing. Usually about navigating a vehicle. Taken from a song lyric.)

Jesus take the wheel. (God help me, I can't handle this, I give up.)

Gone belly-up. (Has died.)

We've got a floater. (This one is dead.)

Herding cats. (Trying to organize chaos, managing an impossibly complicated situation.)

I've got a black thumb. (I am bad at growing plants, all my plants die- reference to having a 'green thumb', or being good at growing plants.)

Stop trackin' floor cookies. (Floor cookies are bits of animal shit that fall off your work boots- 'tracking floor cookies' means wearing your boots in the house; take your shoes off at the door.)

Running around like a headless chicken. (Frantic, disorganized, stressed out by many tasks or panicked by a big situation.)

Spinning my wheels. (Waiting around for something to happen, getting nowhere, frustrated by inactivity, not making any progress towards a goal.)

He's gonna blow a gasket. (He's going to lose his temper, he's going to be angry.)

They'll tan your hide. (They'll punish you severely; usually through violence. Specifically in reference to a spanking.)

He's a few bricks short a load. (He's not clever / he doesn't think things through / he's crazy)

Not the sharpest tool in the shed. (Not the smartest person. Very dumb, clumsy, or absent-minded.)

I'm not going to bail you out. (Not going to save your sinking boat- not going to help you out of your bad situation.)

Looks like things are going south. (The situation is growing worse.)

I'll start making tracks. (I'll leave now, I'll start working, I'll get going.)

He's fucking the dog. (He's not being productive, he's doing a bad job, he's made things worse, he's screwing around.)

He's making puppies. (Less graphic version of 'fucking the dog'.)

Plant your ass. (Sit.)

Playing grab-ass. (Procrastinating- accomplishing nothing, slowing people down.)

He couldn't find his ass in the dark. (He's stupid, ineffective, underqualified, or incompetent.)

He couldn't pour water out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel. (He is unbelievably, comically dumb or ineffective. He can't do anything right.)

One foot in the ground. (Dying, or half-dead.)

I'm kicking rocks. (I'm not doing anything productive.)

I'm hauling ass. (I'm running away.)

Madder than a wet hen. (Very, very angry.)

Like I said I'm not sure that these are all idioms but they're all the phrases and sayings from my childhood that I can remember right now

EDIT: Cannot BELIEVE I forgot my mom's favourite

52. Wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which gets filled first. (Wishes don't come true by themselves)

Plus some more I forgot:

53. You make a better door than a window. (You're in the way of my view.)

54. You can take a long walk off a short pier. (Go fuck yourself.)

55. He's about as sharp as a bowling ball. (He's stupid.)

56. Scoot your poot. (Move over.)

57. Not my first rodeo. (I know what I'm doing.)

58. He's built like a brick shithouse. (He's broad and sturdy and very strong, solid.)

59. I smell bacon. (I saw a cop nearby.)

60. I don't want to hear a peep. (Stop talking.)

61. You're thinking with the wrong head. (You're making bad decisions because you're horny.)

62. I'd lose my ass/head if it wasn't tied on. (I'm very absent-minded, forgetful.)

63. That went down like a lead balloon. (That situation was bad.)

[kissforyouu]

like that / jjk

you're spending time with yourself until you get a message from you boyfriend to...what...bend over?

pairing : jungkook x reader

genre : established relationship , fluff , smut

warnings : sexual content , sort of softdom!jk , use of toys , he's pussy whippppeeddd , lots of clit stimulation , he's literally playing w her yk , squirting , fingering , anal play , he's so careful w her kinda , bit of dirty talking , cute aftercare

a/n : NOO IDEAAAA WHAT I JS WROTTEEEE. hope u like it tho :D

unedited.

that's my shit, that's my wave ~

do it like that and i'll repeat ~

don't be scared, i ain't afraid ~

swaying your hips from side to side, you hum to the lyrics and melody of the song as you cleaned the living room. you really enjoyed cleaning, sort of, you liked what the outcome made you feel like. satisfied.

you know what or who else made you satisfied? your boyfriend. i mean, as in, he always made sure you felt satisfied with your relationship. sexually and romantically.

you smile, letting out a small yawn as you think of the cute flowers he got you a couple days ago. there was no special occasion and you were confused at first when he handed them over to you.

"eh, what's this about?"

you tilt your head to the side, biting both your cheeks from the inside. your boyfriend hums, pressing a kiss onto the crown of your head.

"they reminded me of you, so i bought them."

your heart flutters, cheeks heating up as you let out the girliest giggle ever.

"thank you, kook."

you tip toe upwards to press a small peck onto your boyfriend's cheek which he gladly accepted with a bright smile. you were still so shy, even though you've known jungkook for an year before dating, still, this whole relationship thing was new to you. you've been dating for about 6 months now, and it's been the best 6 months of your life so far! he loves you so much, and he shows it.

giggling at the memory, you crouch down to collect the dirt into the dustbin. as you occupy yourself with more cleaning, you suddenly hear the notifications ring on your phone. you walk towards the table where the phone was on, tugging onto each of your gloves to take them off.

you hold your phone in your hand, opening the notification from jungkook.

bab— WHAT the fuck?!

kook💘 : home in 5, be in the bed naked

ass up

what? huh? you turn off your screen, awkwardly looking around although there's not a single soul at home. for now. your cheeks were flushed in a deep shade of pink, eyes blinking repeatedly. that was always a habit of yours which jungkook found adorable all the time. whenever you were nervous, shy, embarrassed, you would blink your lashes repeatedly while looking away. cute, he'd mention.

in addition to the flushed face and blinking eyes, you keep away your broom and apron and walk to your bedroom with a wet patch forming on your panties.

you slowly take your sweats off, then your lose crop top. staring at yourself in the mirror, you reach down to pull your panties down your ankles.

since you've only been together for 6 months, your sexual experiences with him were limited — or just any sexual experiences in general. you were a virgin before you met jungkook. although you've had the sex talk about your preferences, limits and such, you never put it into action. yet.

maybe now is the time? you don't really know. jungkook was always unpredictable, you never know what he's got under his sleeve.

you remove your hair tie to brush your hair a bit to make it look nicer. you make sure to also apply some lotion to moisturize your body a bit more, some perfume and deodorant just in case you smell bad. i don't know, uh—you thought. once you're confident you smell good enough, you open the door a bit to give a little sneak peak of inside the room. giggling to yourself, you tip toe your way onto the bed, laying yourself over the soft white sheets.

to be honest, the sheets made you feel hornier. the feeling of your already hardened nipples brushing against the soft material made you wanna touch yourself then and there. you whimper, laying your chin on the pillow you placed under your head.

you were laying on your stomach, naked, waiting for your boyfriend.

he should be here any moment, you think.

a minute or two passes by. your legs were up in the air, tangled, as you hum to some random song.

"i told you to have your ass up, yeah? what's this?" a soft voice rings in your ears following with a light tap landing on your ass cheek.

you squeel, turning around to face your boyfriend.

"jungkook!"

"someone's excited..." the smirk on his face never leaving, his eyes scan down your body, eyeing your breasts down to your ass.

"mm, pretty baby" his words leave in a form of a whisper, thumb caressing your chin tenderly. you can't help but crack a small smile. Jungkook glides his hand over your shoulder blade, down your back—soothingly— and stopping right above your ass. ugh, you wanted him to touch you there the most.

jungkook lands a soft kiss on the top of your head as he got up. he runs his fingers through his hair, ruffling it after.

"wait for me while i shower?"

what.

"kook—"

"good girl. i'll come to you in a few minutes." jungkook leaves to the bathroom with a snicker, giving you side glances while smirking. it was obvious he was purposely trying to tease you, take his time and make you desperate. he's succeeding. because the mess between your legs just continued to grow.

you had your legs pressed tightly against eachother, clit throbbing as you tried to ignore the ache.

jungkook. that asshole.

you groan, laying sideways on the bed, staring at your nails trying to kill time.

about 10 minutes pass by, jungkook finally enters the room wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a white shirt.

"look at you, laying there all pretty waiting for me to ruin you." the tone of his voice is cocky, he sits next to you, his presence radiating confidence.

your toes curl the moment he brushes a few strands out your face, tucking them behind your ear.

"pretty." jungkook scrunches his nose up, his eyes squinted as he presses a small peck on top of your nose.

"okay, ass up now." it's as if someone sent an electric shock down your body, you're suddenly in alert and immediately raising your ass up, your knees keeping your body balanced.

jungkook hums, getting up (AGAIN.) walking to your shared closet. wait, closet, shit—

your boyfriend walks out with a pink vibrator and a dildo he had bought earlier. shit, you remember now—

"do you have anything in mind you want to try?" jungkook hums, stretching his arm out to wrap it around your waist.

you sleepily nod, batting your eyelashes with a shy smile.

"care to tell me?"

"no." your voice is small and delicate, almost inaudible for jungkook to hear. but he hears it, giggling in return as a big smack lands on your ass cheek. you stay silent, snuggling more into the pillow.

"i want to know." he asks—no, more like, demands.

you have flashbacks of the conversation you had with him a week, where you ended up telling him that you were open to the idea of using toys after he started suggesting things to try out because you just wouldn't tell him what you wanted. too shy. but you did want to tryout toys.

"like what you see?" he motions his head towards the little 'presents' he's holding. you roll your eyes, huffing at his face.

"ah, ah, up." he signals at your ass as if he hasn't been leaving you needy everytime you got ready.

you pout, still obeying his words as you push your ass up, hoping that this time he would touch you instead of walking off to do something else. this is something jungkook did, he liked to tease you. a lot.

"my good girl, always listening to me." you feel him pat your hair and the mattress dip, indicating that he was sitting behind you.

you feel your mess grow bigger as you wait eagerly for him to lay his hands on you.

...mm, finally! your breath hitches the moment jungkook's middle finger touches your puffy clit. he runs his finger up and down your gaping hole, not adding much pressure but making sure he's still lightly touching you. you whimper at the feeling as jungkook repeats his action a few more times.

you feel his fingers creeping over your clit to reach your crotch as he gently strokes you there. pressing his index finger onto the base, he rubs your crotch in circles, right above your clit.

"please, please, go a little more down and touch me there...!" jungkook cracks up a scoff, not responding to you with words but actions as he starts to press kisses onto the insides of your thighs. his soft plump lips leave delicate, soft kisses on your thighs, trailing up to your ass cheeks.

once he reaches them, his index finger switches positions from being on top of your crotch to your throbbing clit that's practically begging to get touched. he doesn't lay a finger on the very evident wetness between your puffy lips but to your clit as he begins to rub slow sensual circles right there. he makes sure to add the right pressure to press onto your clit, not too soft but harder than usual, then circling it.

all you did was whimper, letting jungkook do his own thing. you feel jungkook's kisses slowly reach down your ass cheek, then kissing in between your thighs, right next to your drenched pretty lips. he continues to leave small kisses around your quivering pussy, enjoying the sight of your pathetic little hole clench around nothing.

all this soft stimulation was enough to make you relax and fall asleep. you yawn even, that especially catching jungkook's attention.

"not gonna sleep, are you? feels too good and i haven't even started yet, hm?" jungkook flicks his fingers against your head.

you whimper, shaking your head.

"no, please don't stop." your voice was muffled due to your lips being pressed against the pillow.

he stops for a moment, then two of his fingers dive straight in between your folds, coating them with your juices. jungkook drags his fingers back to his mouth, tongue licking his fingers clean. he hums in satisfaction;

"fuckin' delicious. so sweet. never gonna get tired of you." he licks his fingers again.

jungkook delivers a slap to your asscheek, gripping the flesh after to pull on it. he fondles with your ass, taking his time to appreciate your lower body. you're just a whimpering little mess for him, that's it.

you feel your body suddenly jolt up, feeling his palm lay flat on your pussy, rubbing it harshly. jungkook circles his whole palm on your cunt, middle finger pressing tightly onto your clit. you moan in a low tone, back arching for him instinctively.

he continues to rub you while you release a series of hums. your dripping arousal, now smeared all over jungkook's palm, created a wet slippery noise.

"a-ah, gguk..."

"hm?"

jungkook pulls his hand away to slap your pussy twice, the wet smacks echoing through the room. he then grips onto your thighs, pulling them back to have you laying on your back suddenly.

you look at him, confused, but also a bit annoyed by the loss of friction on your pussy. jungkook grabs your face and holds it tight, both of you not giving a single fuck about the fact that his hand was drenched in your arousal.

he moves your face to your left, then to your right, then proceeds to wipe your own arousal on your cheeks. that action alone had your cheeks burn in the colour red and pussy clenching again. jungkook's smirk never falling off of his face, he also wipes his palm on the side of your neck.

silence.

but clicking his tongue in his mouth, jungkook's hands touch your thighs, rubbing up and down the smooth skin. slowly, he spreads your legs further until there was full access to your pussy without any problem.

you can see him bite his lower lip, eyes glued to your clit while his other hand grabs the little vibrator he had bought you earlier.

okay, but, nooooooo.

"kook, need y-your cock instead!" you whine, "please" ; barely a whisper.

desperate.

"mhm? this what you want?" His hands reaches to grab his fully erect cock through his sweatpants. there was a very evident tent in his sweats.

"yes, yes, please!"

"listen to me well and you'll get it, hm?" he reassures you, hand caressing your hair.

you gulp, nodding. jungkook turns on the pink vibrator on medium intensity, then angling it on your clit.

your hips immediately buck up slightly, making you gulp down your saliva. the vibrations weren't too intense, but not too less either. there was a light buzz heard in the room, mixed with your soft pants.

the smug look on jungkook's face never came off as he tightly presses the vibrator onto your clit, making you result in jolting up again. not only that, he also has the audacity to increase the volume to its max intensity. immediately, your hips started shaking, thrusting upwards as well. your moans were a mess, mixed with whining and small cries here and there.

"shh, it's okay, pretty girl." he tries to soothe you down with his hand caressing your thighs.

"ah! ah! gguk, p-please, mm!" you fist the bedsheets real hard.

"yes, sweetheart? how does it feel? feels good?" jungkook hums, never stopping the soothing rubs on your thighs.

"ah, ah, n-nngh, please, please, please, gonna cum!" your body was going crazy. body shaking with hips trusting upwards with intensity. jungkook had to press your legs down to the mattress, fingers gripping tightly onto your thighs.

"jungkook! f—fuck! ah, nnh, mm, gh— cumming!" your whole body shudders, shaking as your white liquid gushes out.

jungkook immediately turns the vibrator off, fingers reaching to gently stroke your pussy up and down to soothe you.

you were a panting mess.

"sensitive baby, came from just that. didn't even start yet. wanted to cum so bad." he gently blows on your swollen bud, then pressing a light kiss on it after.

you whine louder, hands squeezing your breasts really hard due to sensitivity.

"think you can take more?" he asks.

immediately, you shake your head from side to side, signalling no. fuck, maybe you could, but hell no.

"come on, baby. you can take a plenty more. it's okay, my love." he starts planting kisses across your shoulder blade, hands caressing your breasts.

you melt into his touch, almost forgetting the little ache in between your legs. jungkook grabs a nipple, twisting it to the side before releasing it.

"need you to get on all fours again, pretty girl."

you groan, lazily picking yourself up again and turning around, body now laying flat on the bed. jungkook wraps his arm around your waist, lifting your ass up. you put pressure on your knees to balance yourself again, your ass up in the air for your boyfriend.

"love this view."

you hum in response. he begins to slap and squeeze you a few times again, kneeding your cheeks as if it were some dough.

jungkook begins to touch your pussy again, fingers circling your clit. your body grinds onto his hand, whimpering. his fingers slither away from your clit, now touching your puffy folds.

"oh, fuck", he caresses your folds, fingers slightly dipping in between as well.

"mine." jungkook kisses the top of your ass cheek.

jungkook gathers your wetness from in between your folds, then dragging those fingers to your hole (read:other hole) to smear it all over.

you audibly gasped in shock.

"kook..." you ask.

"mmh, will you let me?" he presses his thumb onto your hole.

"mm, mm." you hum in approval; hands clutching onto your pillow beneath you.

jungkook grabs the dildo this time, then shoving it right up your pussy. you make a squeaking sound, startled.

he chuckles, "what's so shocking? 'know you like this, baby."

he didn't even give you time to prepare.

"so pretty like this. just a little hole for me to stuff, hm?"

he traces his pointer finger on your agape folds then thrusting the dildo in a little deeper.

"g-gguk!"

he ignores your yelps, turning on the vibrating dildo.

fuck, wait, you didn't know it vibrates— your body is immediately falling to your pillow, full weight on it and your entire body squirming around.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK–"

you clench your hole so many times, the pleasure slightly unbearable. it wasn't a secret that he had put it on max intensity.

"how do you feel?" jungkook reaches your hair, caressing your locs softly while you squirm on the bed.

"p-p-please, mmh! gggood! feels good!" you choke out.

jungkook laughs, kissing the tip of your ear. he leans back to reduce the intensity a bit, now on medium vibrations. you feel your body calm down, but still, squirming around and your pussy a big fat mess.

he spits a fat globe of spit onto his fingers, then spreading it across your tight hole. jungkook moans, thumb rubbing your hole in the form of circles.

"pretty baby." he murmurs.

you're whimpering - music to his ears -, jungkook enters his pointer finger inside you, just a little, but fuck, does it hurt. this is a weird feeling, you've never had anything put inside...there. it's an odd feeling, but you trust jungkook. it's okay.

he pushes it in a bit more, earning a lengthy moan from you.

"so fucking tight. gotta get you to loosen up, hm? yeah?"

"yes, yes, i need to—" you gulp, "loosen up. for you." you were nodding your head frantically, pussy clenching over and over around the vibrator.

this was all fun for jungkook, he loved seeing you so obedient and squirming under him as he toys with the vibrations of the dildo inside you. his pretty little girlfriend. who knew she'd be into this kind of stuff? nobody, exactly. he'll make sure he's first and only person to ever touch you this way, and to love you.

he spits on you again, smearing it all over your hole then pushing his finger in deeper. you had to admit, you kind of enjoyed it. being stuffed on both your holes. as filthy as it sounds.

jungkook begins to slowly thrust his pointer in and out of you, loving the way your falls feel around his finger.

"think you can take two, sweetheart?" he caresses your cheek with his free hand.

you bite your lower lip only to let go with a small bounce, you nod your head.

"words, baby, need to hear you say it." his touch is really soothing.

"yes, two. take t-two..."

jungkook squeeze your ass, then pulling his finger out to replace it with his pointer finger and middle finger. he spits on you again, getting it all over his fingers and your hole, then slowly thrusting it in.

"mmh! hurts! ...a little, ah!"

"'s okay, baby, it's okay." his thumb on the same hand rubs your cheek softly.

jungkook begins to thrust his fingers in and out of you at the same time, maintaining a decent pace, not wanting to hurt you too much.

meanwhile, he also makes sure to increase the intensity of the vibrator. again. fuck, not like hr ever told you, anyway.

"shit— gguk! ggukie, ah! ah!"

your legs start shaking due to the intensity, which results in jungkook having to wrap his arm around your thigh to keep you still.

"it's okay, baby. you're doing so good." he says while pulling his fingers in and out of your puckering hole.

he holds you down to the mattress harshly while your moans are muffled by the pillow, drool gushing out of your lips and making a damp mess in your pillows.

"shit, feels so good—mmh!"

you reach your arm down to grope your breast, flicking your nipple with your finger.

if someone had asked you an year ago what you'd be doing now, you definitely wouldn't have guessed to be on some man whom you call your boyfriend's bed with both your holes stuffed. but oh well. life.

at this point, you don't even feel your legs anymore from this position. but oh, so worth it.

jungkook curls his fingers inside you with a smirk, his other hand suspiciously sneaking around you waist and—

"ooooohhhh, oohhh, ah, ah! fuck, gguk! you're gonna make me cum!"

—rub your swollen little clit in circles. shit, shit, shit. his fingers tug on the little bug, pinching it and pulling it to rub it all over again.

this felt like heaven.

you grind your hips onto his hand, now both your fingers working on your sensitive nipples as your body begins to completely shudder, shaking and squirming.

your pussy grips tightly onto the dildo, clenching over and over again as you yelp out an extended moan.

"kooook!" you moan out afterwards.

"yeah? my baby's gonna cum? gonna cum all over this good for nothing dildo like a little slut?"

your tongue was out, your mind was fucked and you could barely think of any words. there was only one thing you could focus on and that was the stimulation jungkook's giving you and the fucking dildo that's shoved up your pussy. you feel so full, so stuffed that at one point you found it hard to breath even.

so you just nod your head showing agreement and jungkook's fingers dipping deeper into your flesh while you squirm around. that's definitely going to leave a mark.

and without another second being passed, your orgasm comes crashing down to you, your shoulders shrugging and whole body slumps down to your bed.

your legs are shaking, heartbeat increasing, nails gripping the bedsheets as you scream in overstimulation while your boyfriend continues to rub your clit. you're a whining mess, the room filled with your sweet moans and groans.

"please, please, please, please, please!"

you scream, tears at the end of your eyes.

"fuck, you fucking squirted."

that was the second time you've squirted. first time being from jungkook's dick, of course.

he turns off the vibrations, slowly and gently pulling the dildo out of you.

"shit, y/n."

he holds your ass cheeks separate, spreading them to take a closer look at your completely ruined pussy. big mess on the bed too.

"my girl..." he coos.

you're whimpering, body fully exhausted from the whole session you had.

"baby, are you okay? y/n, sweetheart?" suddenly, he's concerned.

"you just fucking ruined my cunt, moron." you cuss out.

jungkook's nose scrunches. he leans down to press a kiss on the tip of your cheek.

"come on, you need to pee." he pats your ass cheek.

"no, too tired." your words are barely audible.

"alright." jungkook hums. for a moment, you think he's sided with you, but no, you squeak once you feel his hands flip you to your back, then two arms enveloping your entire body as he picks you up.

instinctively, your legs wrap around his little waist, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

jungkook takes you inside the bathroom, then placing you on top of the toilet.

"pee. you want me to look away or?" he asks.

you nod your head. jungkook takes that as a sigh to walk out of the bathroom after muttering a "call for me when you're done".

while you pee, you take a moment to take everything in. your boyfriend had just fucked you hard with toys, made you cum and squirt and now you're in his bathroom, taking a piss. you probably looked like a mess right now, also.

once you were done, you also make sure to clean yourself with some tissues.

"kook! done..." you shout, then mumble the last part. your post sex self was always quiet and too fucked up. in addition to that, always feeling confused and lazy. jungkook would happily take care of you instead.

your boyfriend opens the bathroom door and sees you cutely sitting on the toilet, fingers fidgeting with one another.

"cute baby" he snorts.

he parts your hair to the side, fixing it for you before pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. but your attention is paid to only one thing. the big fat dent on his pants and the big wet patch.

"kook, let me..." still drowsy, but you reach your hand to cup his rock hard cock through his sweats.

"mm, no, no, you're tired, sweetheart." he gently pats your hand away, then tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"but you're still hard..." you mumble.

"doesn't matter. i'll handle it myself. besides, i already came." he smirks.

"huh?" you were this close to falling asleep on spot, but your head shoots back up at his words.

"who wouldn't. i felt satisfied from your satisfaction. that's all what matters to me, hm?"

"hmmm..." you hum, nodding your head, eyes threatening to close. your head was leaning against jungkook v line as he caressed your head with a chuckle.

"hey, wait, don't tell me you're asleep?" he asks you, immediately waking you up from your 5 seconds of sleep.

"no! awake! me!" you shout.

"right." his nose scrunches.

jungkook hooks his hands on your armpits, hoisting you up to carry you out of the bathroom. since the bedsheets were ruined and there was no time left to change them, he decides to take the guest room instead. he takes you in there, gently placing his lovely girl on the soft mattress.

he goes back to your room, opening the closet to pull out one of those soft cotton white pajamas you wear. he goes back to the guest room to dress you up in the cute little pajama gown and granny panties.

he leans back, admiring his little cute girlfriend. chucking to himself, jungkook then gets in the shower. he was still hard of course, so he had to take care of himself. afterwards, he wears a comfy pair of grey sweats and heads back to the guest room.

the adorable sight of you sleeping on your stomach and now turned to jungkook's side of the bed with an arm thrown over it as well and lips in the form of a pout.

he chuckles in my mind, a bright smile on his face as he makes his way to the bed. jungkook gently lifts up your arm then slides under it to lay on the bed. he places your arm back, but this time around his waist. he makes sure to pull your comforters over both your bodies to keep you both warm.

you suddenly move on your spot, then snuggling closer to jungkook's chest to seek warmth.

you looked so cute and beautiful like this. fully passed out next to him with a bit of drool on your chin. he happily wipes it away though, then proceeding to press a little kiss on your forehead.

"goodnight. i love you."

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 11: The Innocent Can Never Last]

A/N: Below are your guesses…let’s see how you did!!! 🥰😘 Only 2 chapters left 🥳

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Wake Me Up When September Ends” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.3k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“You could have gone to California with them,” Rio says as he flips open the fuel cap of a black Nissan Frontier, parked in the driveway of a two-story brick house on National Avenue, not far from where Route 95 branches north of Winnemucca like an artery from a heart.

You squint up at the cumulus clouds to avoid meeting his eyes. You keep thinking you’re going to cry and have to suffocate it, drown it, slit its throat. “I didn’t want to.”

“Sure you didn’t.” Sweat runs in rivulets down his face as he slides in the semitransparent siphoning hose, the one with the little pump on it that Jace had when you found him in Iowa. Aemond gave this to Cregan; he kept the hose without the pump for himself. A small, curious sacrifice. You are fanning Rio with a magazine, Bow International. You had grabbed it thinking of Daeron, then remembered he wasn’t here to give it to. “Jesus Christ, it’s so fucking hot…”

“Djibouti was hotter.”

“Djibouti had a beach. And an air conditioning unit in every window.”

Cregan is waiting by the Tahoe and leafing through a guidebook he found at the Maverik gas station. Ice is lying on the ground and panting beside him, her shaggy grey coat filthy with dust and sand. “The town was named for Chief Winnemucca, who was born in the 1820s in what would later become the Oregon Territory. It either means ‘the giver of spiritual gifts’ or ‘one moccasin,’ depending on the interpretation.”

Rio says: “Damn Cregan, you can read?”

Cregan frowns down at the guidebook with feigned regret. “I really wish Trump had built that wall.”

Rio guffaws. “Cregan, man, I told you. I was born here!”

He continues: “Winnemucca was a stop on the transcontinental railroad.”

“Great. Let’s get that up and running again.” Rio groans as he squeezes the pump on the siphoning hose with increasing frustration. “Absolutely nothing. Not a drop.”

“We probably have enough to get to Denio Junction,” you say gingerly, knowing he’s suffering. It has to be over 100 degrees.

“Yeah, and what if there’s no gas there? How the hell are we going to get to Adel, Oregon?”

“We could walk if we have to.”

“85 miles? In heat like this?”

“In basic training we had to run—”

“We had water in basic training, Chips!” he snaps; and Rio never snaps. “And real food, and corpsmen for if we passed out, and also there were no fucking zombies running around eating people, remember that part?!”

You stare down at the dirt. You can’t cry; you can’t waste the liquid.

“Wait, no, no, no, I’m sorry.” Rio lifts your chin so you aren’t able to hide from him. “I’m…you know…I should already be there. I could be in Odessa in six hours, I could be with Sophie and the baby before sundown, and instead we’re stuck here in the desert and I’m thinking…what if what should take hours ends up taking weeks? What if when I get there, I’m too late?”

You nod, you understand. Out on the road, Cregan keeps his face buried in his guidebook, trying to be polite and pretend he can’t hear you.

“And, I’m also thinking…” Rio says, soft and low. “That I don’t want to be the reason why you miss out on a chance at happiness when the world could literally be ending.”

You gaze up at him, dejected, pathetic. “I can’t handle any virgin jokes right now.”

“I know. I wasn’t going to make one.”

“I didn’t want to go with them to California,” you lie. And then a truth: “And I would never leave you. I promised.”

Rio smiles. “You promised not to let me die alone, and I don’t plan on dying. You’ve gotten me most of the way already.” He glances towards the Tahoe. “I think Axe Boy would have rather stayed with them too. When he was asleep last night I heard him mumbling something about Helaena.”

Cregan? Helaena? Interesting. “Aemond doesn’t want me.”

“Oh, come on. You know he and his one eye are sobbing into a can of SpaghettiOs right now.”

“Be nice,” you murmur morosely.

“Why? He can’t hear me,” Rio says. “Look, Aemond’s fucked up. And of course he is. He went from learning how to save lives and deliver babies to watching his friends die horrible, preventable, completely meaningless deaths. That’s gotta suck. It sucked for me, and I barely even knew them, and no one expected me to be able to do anything about it. Aemond’s the one people trusted to protect them, and he couldn’t. So why would he be able to protect you?”

I never wanted Aemond to protect me. I just wanted him to take me away from here, even for a minute, even for seconds, one hushed stolen moment at a time. “I wish I had said something different back in Battle Mountain.” I wish I had told him I love him. But I didn’t, and now it’s too late.

“You deserve to have the whole wholesome normal family thing, the husband and the kids and the warm fuzzy holiday traditions. I know you’ve always wanted that.”

“If I choose the wrong person, I’m going to end up alone and miserable. And I’ll turn into a monster like my mother.”

“Hey,” Rio says, like he’s ready to fight you. And then he uses your real name, something he’s done maybe five times since you met him, just like you almost never call him Bryan. “You will never be like your mother. Okay? It’s not possible. You don’t have it in you. You’re not a parasite, you’re not mean.”

You want to believe him. “Okay.”

Then Rio chuckles. “Actually, you’re going to end up like my mom. Living in the middle of the woods, making your own soap out of goat milk, growing weed and knitting sweaters.”

You smile wistfully. “I have no idea how to knit. I want to build things.” Then you remember something from when you were fishing on Lake McConaughy in Nebraska. “Aegon said I look like someone who knits. Whatever that means.”

“It means you’re from Kentucky.” Then Rio asks, tentative: “So…what do you think about Aegon?”

This seems random. “He’s cool. I like him, obviously. He’s, um…I don’t know how to describe it. He’s so sad but so warm. It’s impossible to feel nervous around him, which is nice.”

Rio nods, giving you a teasing smirk. “Alright then.”

“Why?”

“Well I was just thinking that if he grows up a little more, he might be good for you.”

“Rio, he’s thirty.”

He bursts out laughing. “So give it another decade and he’ll finally be baby daddy material.”

“I’m sure he’ll be preoccupied with his drug dealing and brothel empire by then.”

“You aren’t even the tiniest bit intrigued?”

“I’ve never really thought about him that way.” And there’s another dimension to it that wouldn’t occur to Rio: Aegon is an addict. You know what it’s like to have to depend on somebody like that. You would never allow yourself to fall in love with him, not the way he is now.

Rio sighs and pivots. “You want me to give you a baby?”

Now you’re giggling. Of course, he’s not serious, just like he wasn’t serious when you were trapped on that transmission tower together back in Pennsylvania. “Stop.”

“I’m super tall and charming, and I was a great electrician back when electricity existed, and I have luscious curly hair that you can readily observe since the U.S. Navy isn’t around to make me shave it off anymore.”

“Sorry, I don’t reproduce with Enrique Iglesias fans.”

“You are so racist, and yet I’d still be willing to help you out with a sperm donation. I’d blindfold myself and struggle through it somehow.” He’s grinning, but his dark eyes are kind. “As long as I’m alive, you will always have a family. And Sophie gets that. Her parents were fuckups too. That’s why she’s so close with mine even though they’re insane.”

“They’re exactly the right kind of insane for the way the world is now.”

“Remember when my dad went through his ‘wifi gives you cancer’ phase and would only communicate with me via Republican-president-themed postcards?”

“The Ronald Reagan one was neat. So many eagles.”

“Truly an excessive amount of eagles.” Rio goes for the porch. “I guess we’ll scrounge whatever we can inside and check the rest of the cars on the street before we head north.”

“I ain’t seen any others without the fuel cap already open,” Cregan says from the Tahoe, dispirited but trying not to show it.

“If we end up having to walk, we’re going to need water or Hawaiian Punch or something. A lot of it. Maybe we can find some of that Pedialyte stuff Aemond got for Jace when he was sick.” Rio pounds one closed fist against the front door. “Hey! Anybody home? We’re looking for supplies. Not trying to cause any problems. If somebody’s in there, just give a shout and we’d be happy to keep moving.”

You’ve followed Rio up onto the porch. “If there’s no water inside, canned fruit will work. You can drink the syrup for hydration, and all the sugar gives you calories.”

Back by the Tahoe, Cregan is leaning down to pet Ice. She’s still panting hard, foamy saliva dripping from her muzzle. “Y’all, we gotta get moving,” Cregan says. “Princess needs to be back in the truck with the AC, and I don’t want to waste gas by letting it idle.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re working on it.” Rio kicks the door once, hard enough that you hear the wood split near the hinges, dry and cracking. He backs up to prepare to give the door another blow, which is all it will take. Then there is a muffled voice from inside the house.

“Get the hell off my property!”

Immediately, you are stunned by the boom of an explosion, shards of wood flying like shrapnel, the steel barrel of a shotgun jutting from the fresh hole in the center of the door. Rio is scrambling off the porch and dragging you with him. With your free hand, you grab your M9 from its holster and begin shooting before the man inside can fire again, before he can kill Rio or Cregan or you. Your bullets pierce through the blackness of the gaping wound in the front door. You hear shrieks of agony; you see flecks of blood painting the wood. Now there are people shooting from the second-story windows, and you feel the wind of bullets clip by as Rio pulls you towards the Tahoe. The engine starts; Cregan is already in the driver’s seat. You return fire until your M9 makes only small, hollow clicks when you pull the trigger. And by then Rio is shoving you into the truck.

“Go, go, go!” Rio yells at Cregan the second he crawls in behind you and slams the door shut. Cregan swerves away from the curb and barrels down the street, tires squealing, gunshots still ringing out from the house. Ice is barking franticly.

“Rio, I’m out,” you say, terrified.

“What?”

“Bullets. I’m out of bullets.”

“We gotta go,” Rio concedes. There are scratches on his cheeks from splinters of wood, sweat turning from clear to blood-tinged pink as it drips down onto his shirt. “We gotta get out of Winnemucca. If we have to walk, we’ll walk. At least there’s no one north of here to worry about for a hundred miles. Not living and not dead either.”

From the backseat, you glance over at Cregan. “Oh my God, Cregan, you’re hurt.”

“I know.” His right forearm is covered in blood. It’s a graze wound, but deep; when he turns the steering wheel, you can glimpse the white of bone as his shredded muscles open like a mouth.

“You need stitches!”

“Oh yeah?” Cregan replies as the Tahoe bumps over corpses in the street, bodies mummified by the wind and the sun. “And which of you two would be better at that, you think?”

“We’ll get supplies to patch you up,” Rio says, peering out the window, searching for someplace to stop. “And enough food and water to last us through the desert. Right there, hop on Route 95, and we’ll find a store at the edge of town before we’re in No Man’s Land.” Cregan jerks the wheel; the Tahoe veers onto Route 95 heading north. Boarded-up houses and graffitied overpasses and gnarled bristlecone pine trees and lifeless traffic lights and looted storefronts pass by in a blur.

You turn to Rio. “What if those people try to follow us?”

“It’ll only take five minutes.”

“Rio…”

“We don’t have enough to drink. If we get stranded in the desert, we’ll die. I’m not dying out there. I didn’t cross 3,000 miles to drop dead just a few hundred away from Sophie.”

He’s right. There’s no other option. North of Winnemucca is a wasteland, a boneyard. “Okay,” you surrender, helping him look for stores. “But we have to be quick.”

“I can be real quick, baby. You’d know that if you took me up on my very selfless sperm donation offer.”

Cregan raises his eyebrows; you can see his reflection in the rearview mirror. “Y’all have a mighty strange relationship.”

Rio is pointing. “Right there, Riverside Grocery & Liquor. Let’s give that a try. Cregan? You see it? By the Taco Bell.”

“Of course you’d be attracted to Taco Bells,” Cregan says as the Tahoe zigzags across the parking lot, but his voice is woozy. Blood pours from the gash in his arm. What if the bullet severed a major artery? What if he’s bleeding to death?

You ask: “Cregan, do you feel okay?”

“I’m alright. Don’t you worry about me, Miss Chips. You got enough worries already.”

“You don’t look alright.”

His eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror; they are fearful. “I think I need to get pressure on it.”

“We’ll take care of you, buddy,” Rio says. And as soon as Cregan shifts the Tahoe into park, Rio is out the door and striding into the small grocery store, his Remington 12 gauge in his hands. It’s unloaded, but still good for blunt force trauma. The glass of one of the front doors has been shattered. Rio steps inside, his boots crunching on broken glass. You are right behind him; Cregan lifts Ice with his uninjured arm so she can get inside without cutting her paws.

Harsh desert sunlight streams in bright enough that you can see reasonably well, dusk or dawn instead of midday. The air tastes like dirt and decay. The shelves of alcohol have been picked clean, but cans and bottles and cardboard boxes have been left strewn haphazardly around the rest of the store. There are several circular racks of souvenir t-shirts: horses, mountains, pine trees, I was a buckaroo on the Cowboy Corridor, #DesertLife, Straight Outta Winnemucca. You yank a white shirt with a rattlesnake on it off its hanger and tie it tightly around Cregan’s bleeding forearm, closing the ragged ends of his wound.

Ice is whining and nudging at Cregan. “There’s one in here,” he warns.

“Yeah, I got it,” Rio says. She staggers out of the stockroom hissing and growling, the flesh on her face almost completely gone, her exposed skull stained with clotted blood, her teeth chattering. Long strands of blonde hair hang in patches from the back of her head. She is wearing a red vest with a nametag on it. Once upon a time, her parents called her Jasmine. Rio strikes the zombie with his Remington so hard it is decapitated, and the corpse crumples to the filthy tile floor as its head rolls over towards the cash register. Then he slings the shotgun over one of his shoulders and begins shopping.

Cregan is tall enough to see the tops of shelves where items have been missed; he pulls down bottles of Snapple, Gatorade, Yoohoo, Jarritos soda and stuffs them into his backpack. You are on your hands and knees sorting through the debris on the floor, everything coated with a layer of dust and sand. You find cans of mandarin oranges, boxes of graham crackers, tuna pouches, and packets of Tylenol. Cregan will need them. He needs more than that, but you can’t give it to him. You’ve never been to medical school. You grab more souvenir shirts to use as bandages later.

Maybe there are doctors in Odessa.

Rio says excitedly from the other side of the store: “Chips, they got Cheddar Whales!”

Maybe there’s a life worth living in Odessa.

“Just hurry up so we can go.”

“Yeah, yeah…” He’s filling his arms with boxes and bottles, making a lot of noise. Ice is pacing and whimpering, panting like she can hardly breathe, drooling gluey strings of saliva. The grocery store is an oven. Cregan pops open a can of Arizona iced tea and pours it into her mouth to be gulped greedily down. Still, Ice’s yellow wolfish eyes dart around the room, vigilant, rattled.

“I think there’s another zombie,” you say, watching her. You reach for your M9 before remembering it’s unloaded.

Cregan replies: “Sure she ain’t just overheated?”

Somewhere close, less than a mile away: gunshots out on the streets of Winnemucca.

“Ready, kids?” Rio says, his arms overflowing, half a Slim Jim hanging out of his mouth like a cigarette.

“Yes sir,” Cregan agrees. The t-shirt you knotted around his forearm is splotched with crimson, but the bleeding appears to have slowed. Fragments of glass shatter as he crosses through the doorway and out into the parking lot, carrying Ice as she struggles and barks.

Rio pauses as he passes one of the other t-shirt racks, circles of metal that gleam like halos. He’s rearranging his supplies so he has a free hand to grab a shirt he likes. There are more distant gunshots outside, and the squealing of tires. In the parking lot, Cregan is starting the Tahoe.

You say distractedly, noticing an empty Twizzlers wrapper on the floor and thinking of Jace: “Rio, let’s go.”

“Hold up, this one has an elephant on it—”

The hand juts out from below the rack and seizes his ankle, claws up his legs, rips and tears at him, grey flayed flesh and screeches from rotting vocal chords, something that used to be a man or a woman and is now only a monster, half a body, nothing from the waist down but shred of black necrotic muscle, skin, intestines, too close for Rio to push away, already clinging to him like graffiti on concrete, like a pair of stainless steel dog tags hanging from his neck. Without thinking, without hesitating, you are across the store and trying to get it off him, screaming as your fingers rake through disintegrating gore, so deep you can feel the zombie’s ribs like rungs of a ladder, trying to get a grip on it, trying to kill it. Now Cregan is back with his axe and he’s hacking at the skull as best he can without hitting Rio, and Ice is barking, and Cregan is yelling for you to get away before you’re bitten, but you don’t listen, you don’t care; all your life you were homesick until you found homes with Rio thousands of miles from where you were born, and if he’s gone then so is the only place you’ve ever belonged. There is a surge of blood, hot and metallic, rot and iron in the air, and you don’t know whose it is.

He can’t be gone. If he’s gone, who am I?

An arm hooks around your waist and drags you backwards, so roughly you lose your breath for a moment and cannot fight them; over your right shoulder, you see a hand holding a Glock. Aemond pulls the trigger and the zombie falls to the floor, a mangle of decomposition and exposed bones, because wherever the others ended up they found bullets and gasoline…and then they came back for you.

Aegon is stumbling over the rubble that litters the floor to get to Rio. You can hear Daeron and Rhaena’s voices out in the parking lot, and the blasts of Rhaena’s Ruger, the revolver she once didn’t know how to use. Cregan is trying to help Rio up, but he can’t stand. He is slumped against bare shelves and holding a hand to his throat, where he’s hemorrhaging from a gaping, ragged wound, torn arteries and lacerated veins. He’s been bitten, but his transformation won’t take long. He’s bleeding out. His dark eyes are on you, and beneath the glassy sheen of catastrophic blood loss is disbelief and fury and grief. He will never see Sophie again; he will never meet his child.

Your voice is a whisper, a phantom. “Bryan…”

“It only takes once, right?” he says, weak and guttural, already fading, blood on his lips. Then his eyes drift to Aemond. “Get her out of here.”

“No!” you shriek as Aemond pulls you towards the door, his arms locked around your waist, his lips to your ear as he begs you to come with him, that you have to leave, that it’s not safe here, that Rio doesn’t want you to see what has to happen next. Aegon is sobbing as he touches Rio’s face. Cregan bows his head; but he’s already looking at the Marlin .22 that hangs by its leather strap from Aegon’s shoulder. “No, I promised, I promised! I promised I wouldn’t let him die alone!”

“He’s not alone,” Aemond tells you, and he doesn’t let go when you struggle, when you scream. Burning sunlight floods over you, and you are in the parking lot. Rhaena and Daeron are shooting down zombies as they lurch towards the grocery store, drawn by the commotion, the symphony of the dead and dying. Luke is using a siphoning hose to fill the Tahoe’s tank with the remaining fuel in the Ford Expedition. Helaena is moving their supplies into the Tahoe, weeping softly to herself, her long ghost-pale hair flowing in the desert wind.

The racks, you think, you remember. You can see Helaena shining the flashlight into your eyes like you’re back on a living room floor in Iowa. I forgot to remind Rio to check under the racks. And now he’s gone.

You’re screaming that it’s your fault as Aemond forces you into the Tahoe, and you don’t care what anyone says to you: Luke trying to tell you that’s not true, Rhaena swearing that you’re safe now. There is a gunshot from inside the grocery store. Your heart and lungs have turned to iron like the anchor of a ship, cold and still and heavy, unmovable, unbearable. You cannot breathe through your sobs; you cannot see, cannot speak. You curl up on a seat and wish you were dead. All your life you have been compelled by a blind belief that there are better places even if you cannot imagine them, that sometimes when it feels like the world is ending the only way out is through. For the very first time, you want to give up. You want to let all the poisons of this earth seep into your bloodstream until they stop your pulse and everything goes quiet, quiet, quiet.

Aemond is pouring bottles of water over you so he can wash away the blood and sand and gore. He is searching your skin for bitemarks. People are climbing into the Tahoe and a key turns in the ignition. The wheels are spinning; shadows fall over your face through the windows as you sail beneath overpasses. You hear voices but not words. You feel Aemond’s hands on you and do not flinch away.

Someone is putting pills in your mouth and telling you to swallow. “What is it?” you ask.

“Tramadol,” Aegon says. “It will take you somewhere else.”

And it does, this poison he doesn’t know you are starving for; it erases the future and the past until you don’t exist, you never have, and this is a relief.

~~~~~~~~~~

Glimpses through fogged vision, disjointed flashes like dreams: Aemond cleaning and suturing Cregan’s arm, Helaena’s fingers threading through Ice’s shaggy grey fur, smoke from smoldering Marlboro Golds billowing from Aegon’s lips and out through an open window, coyotes watching the Tahoe pass from the shoulder of the highway, mountains and barbed wire, clouds and useless power lines, land that turns from flat and vast and vacant to steep hills thick with pine trees, so many they block out the sun.

You are dimly aware that the Tahoe is stopping frequently, long lulls to hunt for gasoline in small towns, one gallon here, three gallons there, discussions over which routes to take as Aegon scrutinizes his map. Aemond is always with you, coaxing you to take sips of Gatorade and nibbles of Ritz crackers, feeding you spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup straight from the can, and each night when you fall into numb unconsciousness in a dead stranger’s bed he sleeps on the floor in case you need him, and eventually you do. You jolt awake from a nightmare, not death but cursed immortality, a bite he missed somehow that turned you into a monster, into a murderer, your raw skin and muscles sloughing off your bones.

“You’re fine, you’re fine, look at your hands,” Aemond says, taking your wrists and holding them gently. “No bites. You’re going to be okay, I promise. Hey, hey…” He cradles your face, he pleads for you to believe him. “I swear to God, you’re going to be okay.”

“It should have been me,” you whisper in the red glow of the candlelight. “I don’t have a family that would miss me if I was gone.”

“Yes you do,” Aemond says fiercely; and it takes your drugged, horrorstruck mind a moment to realize who he means.

The next day the Tahoe runs out of gas, and you know this because Aemond wakes you with a palm resting lightly on your forehead and an apology sighed through your hair. “What’s wrong?” you murmur.

“We have to get out and walk for a while. Can you do that?”

You force yourself to sit up, blinking at him. “Where are we?”

“Kingvale, California. In the Sierra Nevada Mountains.”

“We’re going to the beach house,” you realize.

“Yeah,” Aemond says, smiling a little. “Yeah, we are. We’re going home.”

On Donner Pass Road, following in the centuries-old footsteps of doomed westward migrants, someone always walks with you as you shuffle along in a daze. Aemond tells you about California, Rhaena reads aloud from Mockingjay, Ice licks your knuckles, Aegon talks endlessly about golf and yachting even when you can’t respond. His burned leg is still bandaged, but healing, and he’s found a Converse sneaker a few sizes too big to wear on his left foot; Aemond treats and wraps his wounds each morning and night, and Rhaena observes and takes notes so she can learn how to do it.

One afternoon just north of Beale Air Force Base, Daeron sneaks a Marlboro Gold out of Aegon’s backpack when no one is watching and lights it as he lingers in the back of the group. Aegon smells the smoke immediately and whirls, runs to him, snatches the cigarette from between Daeron’s lips and stomps it into the pavement.

“You’re not going to be like me!” Aegon shouts at him in the middle of the road. “Goddammit, you’re going to be safe, and you’re going to be happy, and you’re going to know that people care about you because I’ll break your fucking arm if I ever see you smoking again. You don’t get to poison yourself. You’re going to live to be a hundred years old. Got it?”

“Got it,” Daeron echoes, startled, petrified; and then Aegon hugs him, hanging on for a very long time.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is midnight in Meridian, a miniscule town founded in the 1850s on the banks of the Sacramento River, a relic from a time when travel meant ferries and railroads and wagon trains. Here, well outside the state capital, there are no sounds except the breeze through the trees—blue oaks, sycamores, willows, white alders—and the hoots of owls. The house is old, built in the 1950s or 60s, creaking steps and a screened-in front porch where Cregan and Daeron are playing Uno while keeping watch. The moon is new and invisible. The stars are bright.

Aemond appears in the doorway of your room. You are on the edge of the bed and staring at the wallpaper, flickering candlelight and scenes of galloping horses. Aemond is not letting you have any more Tramadol. He’s also not letting anyone load your Beretta, although you saw a box of 9mm bullets in Helaena’s burlap messenger bag. Maybe he’s worried you’ll try to shoot yourself. Maybe he’s not too far off.

He closes the door, crosses the room, and sits down on the bed beside you. In the firelit quiet, Aemond says: “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to help you.”

“I can’t stay here. Take me somewhere else.”

At first, he doesn’t understand what you mean. Then you reach for him—for a life raft, for something to tether you to the earth—and the lines of your palm press against his scar, flesh he stitched back together himself, proof he can heal people, a reminder of how temporary any of you could be. Aemond lays his hand over yours and closes his eye, holding you there against his face, feeling your warmth and your forgiveness, your need to be close to him in a way that is suddenly so uncomplicated. There is no fear left in you. Perhaps there’s nothing left at all.

Aemond kisses you, and there are blooms of golden light through your darkness like what you call lightning bugs and he says are fireflies. You are entangled on the bed together, and all the sounds still ricocheting in your memory—screams, gunshots, bloodlust, hunger, anarchy—fade until they cease to exist. He is touching you, and you can feel lost pieces of yourself returning to you like rain soaking through parched earth, faith and resolve and desire. And now, and now…

Now Aemond is taking you far, far, far away, to bottomless blue water you can drown in, to where Diego Garcia lies marooned in the middle of the Indian Ocean, to the sun-glinting waves off the coasts of Chinhae, Corpus Christi, Key West, the Horn of Africa. He is between your thighs, and you want him through the pain, a razor-sharp fullness that seems so immaterial and so fleeting; and you lie to him over and over again because if he knows he’s hurting you he’ll stop, and in this world one cannot assume there will be second chances. Aemond stills once he’s inside you, giving you time to adjust but also overwhelmed by the intensity of it, his hands in your hair and trembling all over, kissing your face as the pain bleeds away and leaves a shade of craving you’ve never felt before, something deep and indistinct, something intangible like a spell or a myth. You move first, rolling your hips with a slow, cautious rhythm, and only then does Aemond follow you. It’s in his voice, in the reverence of his hands, in his iris like a clear secretless sky; you have taken him far away too.

“I love you,” Aemond says afterwards as his head rests on your belly, your fingers tangled in his damp hair and your skull hushed like calm seas. “And I can’t pretend I don’t anymore.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to.”

And in the morning, there is something different about the world: a hopefulness that makes you want to wake up, a radiance like moonlight on the wave crests of the Indian Ocean.

[annecoulmanross]

So it's been a while. But I couldn't let James Fitzjames Finding Day pass without some celebration—thank you Doug Stenton, Stephen Fratpietro, and Robert W. Park for giving us this wonderful and terrible knowledge. I've made an emotional playlist of all of us currently experiencing whatever emotion this is:

Selected lyrics for each song included below the cut!

Strange Ships | PHILDEL

Strange ships won’t let me sail out Passed by the ice and stone now

2. I, Carrion (Icarian) | Hozier

If the wind turns, if I hit a squall Allow the ground to find its brutal way to me

3. Howling | Wild Rivers

Howling out here for the morning light I can’t sing no more

4. The Yawning Grave | Lord Huron

I tried to warn you when you were a child I told you not to get lost in the wild I sent omens and all kinds of signs I taught you melodies, poems, and rhymes

5. Sax Rohmer #1 | The Mountain Goats

Ships loose from their grins, capsize and then they’re gone Sailors with no captains watch a while and then move on

6. Long Wave | Dessa

Starve the guard dog And see what hunger does It’s easy when we’re well fed To talk of love

7. Achilles Come Down | Gang of Youths

Throw yourself into the unknown, With pace and a fury defiant Clothe yourself in beauty untold, And see life as a means to a triumph

8. Eat You Alive | The Oh Hellos

I’ve seen the true face of the things you call life The song of the siren that holds your desire Death, she is cunning and clever as hell And she’ll eat you alive

9. My Ego Dies At The End | Jensen McRae

Leave my body and my ego early Kill it kind with a surgeon’s mercy Claim I put it out of its misery

10. Who We Are | Hozier

Darling, we sacrificed We gave our time to something undefined This phantom life sharpens like an image But it sharpens like a knife

11. Devourer | Aidoneus

Beams of light, show me how to feel Light the gloam, find my Achilles heel I will welcome my mortality—let me go

12. Sound the Bells | Dessa

Go lift your sails up For one last swell Go lift yourselves up To sound the bells

13. Your Bones | Of Monsters and Men

Said goodbye to you my friend As the fire spread All that’s left are your bones That will soon sink like stones

14. Wildflower and Barley | Hozier, Allison Russell

This year, I swear it will be buried in actions This year, I swear it will be buried in words Some close to the surface, some close to the casket I feel as useful as dirt, put my body to work

15. These Bones | Azrai, Momo O’brien

It’s a savage sea we’re made to roam Every tide can turn to haunt us But the ocean reaches past these ghosts And I will always sail for more

16. By Way Of Sorrow | Cry Cry Cry

You have come by way of sorrow You have come by way of tears You’ll reach your destiny Meant to find you all these years

17. Gracestone | PHILDEL

When I open my final door I’m gonna sail much wilder seas than your ships were built for I’m turning into dust across that cove You know, I have known enough to not feel owed

18. Glowing | The Oh Hellos

You’ll rise, like land, pulled up at the sound of some strange commandment A moon alight, reflecting fully And I guess it would feel like rebirth, out of some kind of dying To see yourself so glowing

[mockerycrow]

I DON’T WANT THIS NIGHT TO END (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

roommate!gaz masterlist

summary; Kyle would do anything to relive these moments with you. 881 words.

authors note; this is EXTREMELY rusty writing in my opinion, but roommate!gaz deserves another chapter before i have to leave. i hope you guys enjoy anyway and let me know how this is. also, the car is not the convertible gaz owns!! i just needed a pic lmfao

[WARNINGS; fluff, pining, gaz is a half oblivious idiot, and a half “i don’t want to face my feelings like a man”.]

KYLE ADORES HIS convertible, but he certainly loves how you look in his convertible more. You’ve both fallen into an accidental routine of taking late night drives almost every night you’re together whilst he’s on leave. Sometimes, all you get as a warning that he’s home is when he sends you a text—sometimes you want to ask him if he even considers spending his leave anywhere else, but you’re not sure if you want to direct his attention away from you.

He knows his eyes should be glued to the road. Kyle knows the rules of the road intimately, especially due to his job and what he has to do—stuff you would consider reckless behavior. But may whoever is above forgive him for his eyes wandering because the big ol’ grin on your face with the wind rustling your clothes and brushing against your face is a picture he would pay money to be framed.

Kyle keeps glancing between you and the dark road ahead, knowing how dangerous it is to look off the road, but holy shit.

“I love this song.” You murmur, reaching forward to turn his stereo up louder. You tighten the seat belt and raise your arms up, feeling the wind thread between your fingers and feel it beat against your face. The feeling reminds you of where you are—with your best friend in his convertible, riding down some random dirt road. “Do you even know where we are?” You muse, glancing over at Kyle. However, you’re not worried. You never are. You don’t doubt your safety with him for a second.

Kyle hums and glances around; honestly, he doesn’t. It’s a shitty dirt road with trees. The road probably has pebbles and sizable rocks, judging by how the car jerks around a bit, but the price of a tire replacement is the least of Kyle’s worries. “No,” Kyle shouts over the music, glancing between the road ahead and you. “But we’re safe, yeah?”

You glance around, your eyes darting around the darkness. You’re sure if you were alone or with anybody else but Kyle, you wouldn’t be agreeing, but you find yourself nodding. “Yeah.” You echo him with a smile, mumbling the lyrics to the song on the stereo. Your arms lower, one of them hanging out the side of your car door, the other resting comfortably against your own body with your fingers tapping your knee to the beat.

“I do wonder how we will get home, though?” You question, your voice just loud enough over the music. Kyle can hear the amusement in your tone. He huffs as his eyes struggle to stay on the dirt road ahead of you two, his fingers tightening on his steering wheel. “GPS, sweets.” Kyle shouts with a snort. “Is this a marked road, though?” You respond—which makes Kyle go quiet for a moment because goddamn it, why do you have to be so smart?

Can’t you see he doesn’t want this to end?

“True,” Kyle eventually utters out loud, nearly drowned out by the low rumbling of the music. There’s a forming ball in the base of his throat, an anxious feeling that remains stuck. He can’t help but let his eyes drift from the dirt road and trees to you—and God, every glance is like the first time. You’re grinning like an idiot and you’re having so much fun doing something relatively mundane with him. And you’ll never know how much that means to him.

Kyle’s fingers twitch with want—but he looks back to the road and sighs, taking a quick glance at the clock on his dash. It’s late, he knows he should slow down and find a way home. It’s getting a bit cold, and he can feel the tiredness seeping into himself. He can tell you’re beginning to feel it, too.

The ball in Kyle’s throat lodges itself in his chest instead, right near where his heart remains. He isn’t too sure what to make of it. How can he even consider driving home when you’re glowing in the faint light of the dash, of the moon? He is never sure when he’ll get another moment like this with you.

Kyle’s eyes flicker to his gas tank meter; he has a pretty good amount left. Without thinking, he utters—“Let’s stay up all night.”

His eyes glance to you, and you’re looking back at him with a soft, closed lip smile, contemplating his suggestion. You eventually murmur, “It’s 3:35, Kyle. Are you sure? You’ve been quite tired since you’ve come home.”

His chest tightens—home?—“I’m sure.” He responds with a firm tone, shrugging as he glances back to the road ahead of him. Kyle forces himself to relax, one hand on the wheel and his other arm hangs out the side of the car, mirroring you in a way. “Why not? We have the whole night and a full tank, hm sweets?” You can’t help the laugh, turning down the music a bit.

“I get to choose the music.” You negotiate, reaching for his phone, but Kyle’s already handing it to you without looking. “Always.” He responds in a soft manner, your fingertips brushing against each other. Kyle glances at the dash clock again; 3:37.

Please don’t let this night end.

🏷️; @kivino @soapybutt17 @microwavedcheetos @frazie99 @narcolepticduck @ch3rrykoolaid @kimdiedlater @glossysoap @thisuserloveshalloween @ornateorchid @missborntodiex @indefenseofkara @queen-leviathan @specter319 @theunplannedvariable @spacelia @1117sblog @talooolalolla @sstormyskyess @spicyspicyliving @nyushkawritesstuff @tipsykeen

this taglist is my overall taglist from here. if you are wrongly tagged or don’t want to be tagged anymore, let me know! no hard feelings.

[minhosimthings]

Gods and Monsters

Symphony Smut Series Day 1: Lana del Rey's God's and Monsters

Lyric: In the land of gods and monsters, I was an angel, looking to get fucked hard.

Pairings: Cupid!Minho × fem!angel of heaven, includes Yuna from Itzy in a scene

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), loss of virginity (reader), overstimulation, p in v, slight breeding kink, corruption kink, possesion kink, hair pulling, use of kitten and angel, Minho cumming in reader

A/N: alright, first day! I am saur excited for this series so we're starting off strong with my husba- I mean my bias Minho! This was heavily inspired by his WKorea photoshoot.

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

Gods existed. And so did monsters. But monsters didn't have a particular description, in Minho's opinion.

There he was, an angel, with the brightest wings of them all, holding metal tipped arrows in his hand, shooting all those who he believed deserved love, or worse, rejected love.

And yet, sometimes Cupid falls in love too. High angel of God never mattered to him much. Why would it? When beautiful angels roam the gardens of Eden, stroking their frocks and picking berries and flowers all day.

You were one such beautiful angel.

The prettiest of them all, according to Minho.

"Minho has his eyes on you again Y/N." Yuna nudged your shoulder gently, accidentally making you drop the berries you had in your hand. You rolled your eyes and picked them up again, quickly throwing them into your basket.

"Let him. Why should I care?"

"He's a high ranking angel Y/n." Yuna mumbled, adjusting her skirt, "They say he serves God directly."

"Nobody has seen God Yuna." You smiled gently at her. Even though she was older than you, by a few years or so, she was always the more mischevious one, always keeping an eye out for spotting your admirers.

"He is handsome, but we all know I have probably zero chances with an angel like that."

"Suit yourself then." She huffed, her mystical eyes scouring the dirt below your feet for more berries.

"Why are we picking so many berries anyway?" You questioned, adjusting the basket on your hip. Yuna shrugged her shoulders and made a face which clearly screamed confusion.

"I've hear a rumour though." Yuna whispered excitedly to you, toying with a mulberry leaf she has accidentally plucked, "Apparently Minho needs them for his monthly ritual tonight."

"The ritual?" You asked, "The one where he..."

"Takes an angel for his own, yes." Yuna completed your sentence, removing a thorn stuck in her wickerwork basket, "Apparently if he falls in love with any of them, he shall be promoted to a higher position, one where he can actually see God."

"But that hasn't happened yet has it?" You chuckled, the scent of honeydew plantations tickling your nose, as you saw some angels tending to them with their bare hands all pricked with thorns, "He's a Cupid. Cupids can't fall in love. Even though, I admit, he is dashing."

"Angels, may I have a moment of your time?"

A cold voice sounded like a gong behind your ear drums as you spun around (your skirt spinning with you), to face a cat-like face with bunny teeth.

"Minho." Yuna perked up, brushing her hair out of her face. Gosh, she really did like him. Like you, and every other angel in Heaven and Hell.

"How are you today?" " Fine as ever, Yuna." His tone was condescending, a weird one to use for a casual conversation such as this one.

"Y/N." He bowed to you, the eclipses of his soft hair falling onto his face as he did. "Minho." You answered, the neckline of your frock falling down as you bowed, revealing your cleavage, which Minho tried hard not to stare at.

"You look beautiful today." He complemented, his white teeth on full display, "as always." His addition at the end made you blush.

Was he this nice to every pretty angel?

"I assume you ladies are picking these beautiful berries for my ritual tonight?" He bent over your basket, examining all the black and red berries stuffed into it.

"We are." You cleared your throat, noticing how close Minho was to your bosom, "aren't they delicious looking?"

"We'll see tonight." Minho toyed with a blackberry, "When I drink them up."

Something about his tone scared you, as Yuna bowed him out of the garden, leaving you, tucking your skirt in a little more secure, and looking at the berries all arranged neatly in your basket.

Unexpected things always happen to humans, as you had heard. But sometimes they can happen to angels too. They can happen to anyone really. They just need time.

"Y/N." Minho caressed your cheek gently. The smell of crushed blackberries filled the room, as a bowl of red berries lay beside you.

Being chosen by Minho, hearing your name fall from his lips like an ill forgotten name of a God was shocking, as Yuna nudged you forward to the stand. All the angels looked at you with pity, as if you were a lamb going off for slaughter.

But you hadn't expected him to treat you so kindly.

"My angel...." Minho whispered, tucking a stray hair back behind your ear. "Why me?" You whispered back, as he kissed your knuckles gently, his wings fluttering gently behind him, as he folded them into his back.

"Why not you?" He chuckled, looking at you with bedroom eyes. Reaching his hand behind you, he picked up a berry from the wooden bowl and held it in front of your mouth.

"Be a good angel and open for me." He imitated an opening mouth with his own, "ah there you go, good girl."

The cherry was sweet, running with juices as you tasted it in your mouth, it's bitterness not bothering you. Spitting the seed out quickly, you looked up meekly as Minho's naked figure.

His jaw, lined with heavy lust, his eyes darkened as the night, and his muscles throbbing into your skin. You were wearing a loose robe of reds and whites, a show of the corruption of the pure.

"Oh don't worry darling." Minho caressed your cheek again, his thighs rubbing against yours as he laid you back on the silk ridden bed, "You'll feel nothing but pleasure tonight." "Minho I-Im scared." You whimpered, unsure of what to do. What if he didn't fall in love with you? What if you became another wasted angel?

"Don't be." Minho chuckled, "A pretty angel like you shouldn't be."

You sunk back into the mattress, his body over yours, a hand cupping your cheek while the other rested on your waist, stroking the skin there, exposed from your ridden up robe. your hands were in his curls, and you revelled in the way that you could shamelessly touch them now. He paused for a second, nose brushing yours, breathless and grinning down at you, a knowing smile that was so beautiful that it rendered you speechless.

You leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time, relishing in the moment. you were lost in him, thinking back to the very first time you’d locked eyes and how you never thought it would come to this. this, the way he was holding you, was the best surprise.

"May I?" Minho asked gently, toying with your robe. You nodded your head in a weak attempt of saying yes. His face, mere inches from yours rendered you speechless again.

And with that, the air changed, charged with a different kind of tension. Minho pulled you on top of him, hands firm on your body, the action itself gentle. you steadied yourself, hands on his shoulders, his resting on your waist.

he smiled softly, slowly peeling the material off of your body, up over your head and tossed carelessly onto the floor. he kept his eyes on yours, despite the fact you were now left bare, aside from the white cotton panties that separated you both. he pawed at your sides, kneading gently at your soft hips.

“we’re gonna start slow, okay? gonna take my time with you.” he muttered, eyes on yours before they trailed slowly down, across your face, neck, collarbone, further and further until he was taking all of you in. he began to stroke the underside of your breast with his thumb, watching the way your body tensed under his feather-like touch.

His kiss trailed further down your body, peppered in the valley of your breasts, and then you stopped breathing, the air caught in your throat because he was looking at you, really, truly looking at you, as his tongue found your nipple. you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, not when he was looking at you like that, not when he was making you feel this good already.

“oh, kitten, you want me so badly, don’t you? should’ve asked me sooner. m’gonna make you feel so good.” His hands were on your hips, guiding you backwards and forwards on him.

“it feels so- oh, god.” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his curls, back arching further into him as your thighs clenched around his. He licked over your collarbone oh so slowly, a shiver running down your taut spine.

“i want you to come for me like this first, okay? can you do that for me, kitten?” he cooed, bouncing his leg ever so slightly. “look at me.” And you did, somehow mustering the strength to pull yourself back up and find his darkened eyes.

You were a mess of curses when you let go, your body convulsing, collapsing into him as you came. You were throbbing on his thigh, one glance down at where you were grinding against him displaying your slick. His arms went around your body, flipping you onto your back so that you were resting against the mattress.

“you did so well, angel.” Minho crooned, resting over you on his forearms. you stared up at him in awe, blinking away the haze. “do you want more?”

Minho's hand slid down your body, searching for the band of your underwear. when he reached his destination, he toyed with the lacy edges, letting them snap against the pudge of your belly, teasing you. you bucked your hips, frustrated, and he used the opportunity to cup your pussy, feeling where you’d soaked through the cotton. the groan he let out was carnal, animalistic, almost needy. he could feel all of you, how you ached and dripped, how you needed the everything that you’d requested.

“you’re so fucking good for me, God.” Minho almost slurred his words, voice lower than you’d ever heard it. you keened at the sound, pushing your hips further into him.

“you still want all of me?” he breathed, his shaky breath fanning your face. Minho was obsessed with hearing you say it, obsessed with how you wanted him as much as he needed you.

“You’re so fucking tight.” lando groaned, an edge of excitement in his voice, and then he unleashed everything that he’d held back.

“ahh,” you moaned, trying to tilt your hips so he stopped rutting against your clit, but he was too heavy for you to move beneath him. You could feel another orgasm brewing and you squeezed your eyes shut, your brain fogged. “M-minho” you cried, not knowing if you could keep going like this.

Minho's erratic hips never faulted, “shh,” he cooed unsteadily. “you can take it.” 

You shook your head back and forth and mewled in your throat. Minho tried to reassure you, “m’almost finished, kitten.”

As wild and deadly as he was in the battles of Heaven , he was just as primal in the bedroom. Thee softness of your skin felt heavenly against Minho's sore body and against his calloused hands. he slid a hand into your hair, his fist grasping tightly. “this is the last time. i promise.” His deep baritone sent you over the edge. you cried out loud, your legs squeezing against Minho's body, your body shaking as he pummeled you through another orgasm. 

You could barely hear the way he was grunting and moaning as you clenched down impossibly hard around him. “gah, fuck,” he groaned.

Minho spilled inside you, your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt him fill you once more that night. You weren’t even sure how he still had more to give at this point.

His thrusts turned slow but remained powerful when he bottomed out, hitting you as far back as he could. you gasped with every rut of his hips hitting yours. 

His seed leaked out around his cock as he rode out his orgasm. you weren’t sure you could go for another round, hoping Minho was true to his word and this actually was the last time.

His hand aimlessly stroked your hair. he pulled back to look at you, smiling at the sight of your flushed face and disheveled hair. “see. knew you could take it.” he kissed the tip of your nose, regretfully pulling out of you. you whined at the loss—you had got so used to the feeling of him inside you, it was almost painful for him to leave. he marveled at you as he sat back on his haunches, looking between your legs and watching his seed gush out of you. 

"You're mine now." Minho whispered into your ear, looking at your cum ridden tummy, "all mine for the eternity of heaven."

As if to seal a charm, Minho kissed you on your neck, wrapping your weak figure into his arms, and running his fingers through your hair to cradle you to sleep.

"My angel."

[schrodingers-romy]

For a Minute in the Sunlight [Togame Jo x Tomiyama Choji x Reader]

Pairing: Togame Jo x Tomiyama Choji x GN!Reader Word Count: ~1100 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: A conversation between Jo and reader about Choji in the aftermath of the Shishitoren fight

Warnings: None, other than maybe one suggestive comment, no gendered pronouns or terms are used for reader, reader has known Choji and Jo for a long time and was a witness to their fights, written with aged up characters in mind but no real mention of their ages in text

Notes: I love their relationship and I want to snuggle them both. Tempted to make a sequel with choji in a speaking role. Title is a lyric from djo's Change

Series Page | Next

“Is it bad that I feel almost jealous of him?” you murmured.

The roof the three of you were sitting on had a beautiful view of the sky. Overhead, it was dark, but the horizon was still pale purple with the fading light of the sun. Even though you hadn’t done anything (other than white-knuckle your seat as you watched the others fight), you still felt a bone-deep tiredness. You desperately wanted rest, yet your mind was running too rapidly for you to even hope to sleep.

Choji did not share your troubles. After the physical and emotional stress of the day, he had started to wobble when the sun was still high in the sky; once you offered to let him lay his head in your lap, he drifted off in minutes to the gentle rhythm of your hand carding through his hair.

It was Jo who seemed to be in the same boat as you. His back had an even more defined slouch to it than normal, and his loose hair gave the air of someone ready to crawl into bed after a long day; but his eyes were still bright and alert.

“Of who?” he murmured.

“Umemiya.”

Jo let out an inquisitive hum, subtly prompting you to continue.

Your eyes broke from the horizon, turning instead to the boy in your lap as you collected your thoughts. Despite the scrapes and dirt on his face, Choji looked better than he had in a long time. At his worst, he slept for only a few scattered hours at a time; the lack of sleep did not help his erratic behavior in the slightest, but it was all he could manage with his restless mind. Now, he was completely relaxed, and looking all the brighter for it. Previously tight facial muscles had loosened, causing his face to melt into an expression that reminded you simultaneously of the Mona Lisa’s enigmatic smile and the face of a satisfied, sleepy cat. You allowed your hand to drift from his wavy hair down, until your fingers were barely tracing the bridge of his button nose.

“I’m so happy he’s back,” you started.

Jo let out a shuddering breath. “Me too.”

“I am so, so glad he’s happy again. But. I don’t understand. Why it had to be him. To get Choji out of his…gloom, I mean. I’m glad he did, but—I hate that it was Umemiya. I hate that we weren’t enough,” you breathed. “I hate that we were with Choji, this whole time, and we couldn’t do what Umemiya could do in one fucking fight.”

Jo called your name quietly, but you continued on.

“I am so jealous of him, because he was what Choji needed. And we weren’t. Hell, who am I fooling, it’s because I wasn’t enough. At least you were fucking trying. I couldn’t do a single thing for him. And look where it got us.”

You fell silent. Your eyes were becoming wet, blurring Choji’s face; your throat was starting to burn, a tell-tale sign you were close to sobbing, but you gulped it back.

Jo spoke your name again, this time in a firmer tone. When you didn’t acknowledge him, he reached out, pinching your chin between two calloused fingertips and turning your head towards him.

His normal lazy expression was nowhere to be found; instead, he looked desolate. His luminous green eyes were damp, his dark brows were furrowed, and his mouth was pinched into a frown. He had shown more emotions in the last day than he had in ages, and the realization made you start to sniffle.

“Don’t take all the blame,” he murmured, holding eye contact as he spoke. “You weren’t his right-hand man...you don’t have the blood on your hands. Even through all this you were still good. I wasn’t.”

“Don’t put yourself down to make me feel better, Togame Jo,” you warned. You gave him your best serious face, which likely was ineffective given the tears beading in your eyes.

He chuckled. “Ehhh, okay. I’ll stop. Just for you, then.”

You gave him a wobbly smile back. It was nice to see him laugh once more in a way that wasn’t cruel.

“I know how you feel,” he said, voice serious. “I’m angry I couldn’t give Choji what he needed. But there’s nothing we can do…except be what he needs now.”

He said the last sentence firmly; there was a glint of determination in his eyes that made your heart lift.

“Promise me then. That we’ll both do our best for him,” you said.

“Of course. I promise.” Jo paused. “And I’ll do my best for you, too.”

“I’m going to take care of both of you, this time,” you said softly.

His next smile was so wide it caused his eyes to crinkle shut. “I look forward to it.”

He moved closer, until he could wrap one long arm around you and pull you to his side. You froze, at first, before letting out a sigh and melting into his comforting warmth. When you laid your head on his shoulder, he tilted his head to rest it on yours. His hand (the one not trapping your waist) moved to where yours had once been and began to stroke through Choji’s sandy hair.

You were so warm; surrounded by both of the people you cared for the most in the world. You could feel your eyes begin to droop, and your body lean into Jo’s more and more.

“Y’know,” you started, voice slurring from your exhaustion, “There’s another reason I’m jealous of Umemiya.”

“What?” Jo whispered, so low you could feel his voice rumbling through your body more than you could hear it.

“I kinda wish I was the one Choji bit.”

Jo’s subsequent bark of laughter was so sharp it caused Choji to shift in his sleep. You both stayed silent and still for a moment, but Choji just rotated until his face was pressed into your stomach before letting out a small snore.

Once the danger of waking Choji had passed, Jo spoke. “Me too,” he whispered. “Although, I would prefer it if he bit us in a slightly different context...”

Your heart stuttered. “Us?”

“Well, we’re all a package deal, right?” Jo turned his head enough to press the lightest of kisses to the top of your head.

It seemed like such a subtle culmination of everything you had felt for them for years now; but the proof that your affections weren’t unrequited (at least on one side) filled you with more warmth than any movie-perfect confession would have. If only because it was him. “Yeah,” you breathed. “We are.”

 You knew the three of you would need to have an actual conversation later, but it could wait until morning. For now, it was enough to drift to sleep on an abandoned rooftop, snuggled between the men you loved most.

[mediumgayitalian]

“Oh, gods.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh, gods.”

Nico scowls, wrenching just eyes away from Will’s poorly-covered grin and shaking shoulders.

It’s not that bad. It isn’t.

Sure, the complete lack of lighting except Greek fire torches makes the cabin look like a little piece of the Underworld, right here on the surface. But that’s comforting. Honestly. Nico knows the Underworld. It’s — familiar.

And, yeah. It would, probably, be pertinent to have some furniture, or something. At least somewhere for him to store his clothes, because he has more than one set of those now, and maybe a shelf, or something. And, admittedly, the obsidian altar could take up a little less space than it currently does.

But it’s not that bad.

“Are those. Coffin shaped beds.”

The tone of Will’s voice is unlike he’s ever heard it. He turns back to face him, slowly, and finds him biting his fist, hard, every muscle of his body tense as live wire.

“I was twelve godsdamn years old,” Nico snaps. “Forgive me if interior design wasn’t my passion.”

Solace loses it.

In his defense, not that Nico is too worried about defending him, he does appear to try very hard to not lose it. When the first giggle slips out of his lips, he clamps his jaw shut tighter. When his whole body begins to shake with the force of repressing his laughter, he curls inward, as if making himself smaller might reduce the chance of a lapse in control.

But then he glances back inside and looks, really looks, at the dreary, stone walls, the lone skeletons standing guard, and the plush, teakwood black coffin bunk beds, and he collapses to the floor.

“I’m going to open a chasm beneath you,” Nico threatens. “You are going to fall and crack your spine into a million pieces on the bank of the Styx, rotting there with every other forgotten hope.”

“You are a Black Parade lyric personified,” Will wheezes.

Nico doesn’t know what that means, so he kicks him. Unfortunately, he only laughs harder.

“I mean it, Solace. It’s a long way down to the Underworld. You will spend the entire fall petrified with the knowledge that nothing can save you.”

For added effect, Nico makes the floor under the medic’s body shake, makes the tip of a skeleton hand peek out from the earth.

Ironically, this stops Will’s laughter, but not for the reason Nico was aiming for.

“Hey!” A bright blue flipflop-clad foot darts out and collides With Nico’s ankle, sending him sprawling. “I said no spooky magic for the next two months! Put that skeleton away!”

“Fuck off, Solace! It’s barely half a bone! You are so annoying!”

“That’s my specialty.” Will pushes himself upright. He waits until Nico sits up, too, so he can catch his eye before his face splits into a dazzling grin. Actual sparkles seem to flicker beside his face. “And you are ever so easy to annoy.”

Nico stares, unimpressed.

“Anyways.” Will coughs. “You can’t stay here, Neeks —”

“Don’t call me that.”

“— it’s straight-up too depressing.” He peers inside. “It’s also cold, and, like…borderline unliveable? So. As your doctor, I can’t allow it.”

“You’re a medic,” Nico says, raising an eyebrow, “first of all, not a doctor. Second of all, you can’t tell me what to do. Third of all — where am I supposed to sleep? The woods?”

“Hm. Good question.”

Will gets to his feet, brushing the dirt off his shorts and offering Nico a hand. After a second of hesitation, he takes it, allowing Will to haul him up.

“C’mon!”

Nico snatches his hand away, face burning. (Gods. Why does Will have to be so…touchy-feely? And why does it always do weird things to Nico’s stomach?) But it hardly takes a look over Will’s shoulder before Nico’s feet are following after him, without his permission.

“Where are we going?”

“Well, my dad’s kind of a hoe,” Will says matter-of-factly. Nico chokes. Will’s grin widens. “And our cabin was built with that in mind. I know we’ve got an extra bunk or two for ya. Hurry up!”

This…cannot be allowed. Nico doesn’t have a ton of Camp Half-Blood experience, or anything, but as far as he knows, Hermes is the only cabin that can really do that. He doesn’t want to incur the wrath of Apollo, or whatever, by staying in his cabin uninvited.

Well. Will’s inviting him, technically. And there’s a confidence to his offer, like maybe this isn’t the first time he’s done it.

“What if I don’t want to live in your stupid sunshine-y cabin,” Nico grumbles, trying to cover up his nerves. “Holding hands and singing about how much I love being alive isn’t really my cup of tea.”

Will snorts. “Oh, di Angelo,” he says dramatically, shaking his head, “you are in for a world of discovery. Welcome to the Cabin Apollo. Take your shoes off at the door and remember that Kayla bites.”

———

Living in the Apollo cabin is strange.

Four days in, and Nico is only just starting to get used to it. He’s not entirely unused to sharing space with people — he’s had two sisters — but the Apollo kids argue like they enjoy doing it. One minute, Will and Kayla will be screaming at each other at the top of their lungs about touching each other’s shit, then they’re teaming up to pull Gracie off Yan’s face for the exact same argument, only now they offer sage advice on respecting boundaries and compromising. It’s bizarre.

(Austin is pretty chill, actually. Nico has noticed him starting quite a few fights — it was he, in fact, who moved Will’s shit and then gracefully framed Kayla — but he has a very powerful eyebrow raise and a very powerful image as Unproblematic. He has quickly become Nico’s favourite.)

He’s only just barely beginning to understand how they work together, and the struggle comes in because everything is so chaotic. When Nico spent time with Hazel in New Rome, she was in the barracks. He never really had to worry about squabbling over counter space in the bathroom with her, because she had her own little toiletry caddie like everyone else, and bathrooms were public. With Bianca — well. There’s no one alive who knows this about her, but she was bossy. She was sweet and wonderful and self-sacrificing and brave and kind and the centre of Nico’s life, but by the gods, did she take her authority as a big sister seriously. She ordered Nico around all the time. He never had to worry much about when he would have the chance to use the bathroom they shared at the Lotus, or who got the T.V. remote, or who go to sit on the bus instead of standing, because he was not the one deciding. He could stick his tongue out and whine all he wanted, but she was boss. He knew that.

The Apollo kids are not like that.

As well as Nico can figure, it’s kind of a free-for-all. You want first shower? Either wake up the earliest — a strategy only Will every manages to employ with any success — or manage to jab an elbow in someone’s rib and sprint. You want whoever’s humming to shut the hell up so you can sleep? Make sure your threats are quick and believable, or just straight up start throwing shit until they finally stop. You want the coveted middle of the bench spot at breakfast? Well, tough shit on that one, actually. Nico has yet to make that one happen for himself.

He won’t admit it, but he has kind of learned to enjoy it. It’s annoying, and the Apollo siblings do indeed sing at all hours of the day (although the content usually skews more towards diss tracks and delighted insults, if not straight-up curses), and it is so godsdamn bright in there, seriously, is it a gimmick or what, but there’s something to be said about the fact that he’s so surrounded by people and chaos that he hasn’t even had the chance to feel lonely. Not even at night, panting to himself after a nasty nightmare, because all it takes is a particularly loud snore from Will one bunk down to remember where he is. To remember that he’s safe — by demigod standards, at least.

But, still.

He kind of misses his privacy.

“Will,” he whispers urgently, on his fifteenth day of rooming with the Apollo weirdos.

The medic hums noncommittally, attention very focused on the test tube in front of him. Nico has been fighting the urge to try and launch a piece of dust inside it for forty minutes, just to make him explode.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Sounds good, Nico.”

Nico narrows his eyes. “You’re ignoring me.”

“Uh-huh. Agreed.”

“I can say anything I want right now.”

“Sure. Maybe double check with Austin.”

“…I’m going to put a colony of ants in your pillowcase.”

“Good idea.”

“Then I’m going to douse your hair products in gasoline and set them aflame.”

“Baller.”

“After that I’m gonna read your super secret diary to the entirety of camp at singalong tonight.”

“You betcha.”

“And then I’m going to shadow travel to Russia.”

Will blinks, frowning. “Hey, no shadow-travelling. What’s this I hear about shadow-travelling?”

Nico rolls his eyes. “Nothing, stupid. You were just ignoring me.”

Will smiles guiltily. “Aw, I’m sorry, Neeks. Got focused on this. I’m finished in twenty, then I’m all yours?”

“…Don’t call me Neeks,” Nico grumbles, furious with himself for how quick he’s relented under wide blue puppy-dog eyes.

“Sorry, Neeks.”

Huffing at Will’s quiet laughter, Nico slides off the nurse’s station counter and wanders around the empty infirmary. Things have luckily finally cooled down in here, nearly three weeks after the end of the Giant War. Some of the exhaustion has faded from Will’s features now that he’s had time to sleep properly.

Not that Nico has noticed, or anything.

“Okay,” Will says a few minutes later, holding his hands up protectively in front of his geeky little setup. “I just gotta do this last step, so long as I calculated it right, it should be fine…” He squeezes a drop of something into the liquid bubbling over the burner, freezing immediately. One, two, three seconds pass and nothing happens, so Will relaxes, sighing in relief and turning to face Nico fully. “Okay, we’re good. What was it you wanted to —”

The text tube contents explode in his face, dousing him in slimey green goo.

Nico bursts out laughing.

“Great,” Will says darkly, swiping the stuff from his eyes. “The one day I don’t wear goggles. Great.”

Nico gasps, sides aching. “Oh my gods —”

“Feel free to help, di Angelo.”

“— you look like a cartoon! Your face!”

It takes Will twelve cloths and seven whole minutes to clean himself and the nurse’s station off of the goo. Nico cackles at him the whole time, and tastefully does not mention the many globs of goo that remain caked in his hair.

“Whenever you’re done.”

Will is very, very bad at being stern when he doesn’t really mean it. And he doesn’t really mean it now, because every time he tries to glare at Nico, his mouth twitches.

“I’m good,” Nico finally wheezes, forcing his face back to normal. “I’m good, I’m good.”

He very pointedly does not look at Will’s hair.

“Dick,” Will huffs, fondness bleeding into his tone. “What did you want?”

He must notice the change in tone at his asking, because he clears the bench fully, hoisting himself on top of it and patting the spot next to him. Nico hesitates for half a second, then crawls up, sitting criss cross applesauce, knees touching.

“I need to move back to my cabin,” he manages, finally.

Will’s face betrays no judgement or emotion. “Oh?”

“Yes.” He picks at a loose thread in his jeans. “I need — space.”

The thread loosens, allowing Nico to tug on it. A hole begins to unravel along the seam as he pulls and pulls and pulls. He stops himself before it gets too wide, tearing the thread off and winding it around his fingers.

“I can tell everyone to tone it down,” Will offers softly, eyebrows creased. “We’ll be more quiet, we’ll —”

Nico places a hand on his knee, cutting off his sentence. “It’s not about that, I promise. You guys have been great.”

A wounded look still pulls at Will’s strong features, as much as he visibly tries to pull his face back to something more supportive. “It’s not?”

“No, no. It’s just —” He frowns, trying to articulate the tangled mess of his thoughts. “I have my own cabin.”

“So?”

“And I can’t stay in yours forever.”

“I mean, you could.”

“Chiron’s been giving me looks, Will.”

“So what! I’ll — write you a doctor’s note, or something!”

Nico snorts. “A doctor’s note letting me sleep in your cabin?”

Will nods fervently, although he seems to acknowledge the ridiculousness of his suggestion, if the grin on his face is any indication. “Yes! For medical reasons, you know.” He mimes writing. “‘Patient’s cabin is dank and sad. To avoid bouts of misery, patient must sleep in the presence of the coolest and best and prettiest and most uplifting people in camp.’”

“Hm. Not sure Chiron’s gonna buy that last part. Not sure I buy that last part, actually.”

“Hey.”

Nico dodges Will’s shove, chuckling.

“Seriously, though, Will. This was never a long term solution, right?”

“I know. You’re cabin just — sucks so bad, man. No offense.”

“I take great offense to that, actually. My cabin is art.”

“Sure, Eddie Cullen.”

“I don’t know who that is, so that’s a horrible insult.”

“Travesty, honestly.”

Outside the open infirmary windows, Nico can hear distant, triumphant screaming, laughter, and the clang of metal. Today’s a good day. The weather’s balmier than usual, for late August, and some of the gloom that’s hung over everyone’s head for the bast few weeks seems to have lifted.

“You can’t go back to your cabin like it is,” Will says into the silence, startling Nico, “but —” he grins when Nico begins to protest, holding up his hand. “We can definitely change it up.”

He slides off the bench, botching his landing and almost sprawling on the floor. He holds a dramatic hand out to Nico when he rights himself. Nico ignores it, rolling his eyes and getting to his feet by himself.

“C’mon,” Will says, grabbing his hand anyway. Sparks shoot up Nico’s arm. “We need to go ask Chiron for the van keys and approximately five hundred dollars.”

———

Three hours is too fucking long to be in a vehicle. Especially when Will is driving, because all he does is play nonstop country music and let everybody cut in front of him.

“I’m driving us back,” Nico informs him as they (finally) get out of the stupid van, snatching the keys from his hands.

Will shrugs. “Sure.”

Nico had expected more of a fight, honestly. But he supposes neither of them are legally allowed to drive, age-wise, and besides, Nico technically has seventy years of driving experience on Will.

(…The Lotus had a racetrack.

Nico was very, very good at it.)

“What is this place, anyway?”

“This place,” Will says grandly, throwing an arm over his shoulders, “is essentially the mortal version of the Labyrinth, minus, you know, the soul-sucking terror.”

“Okay. All that’s telling me is that you have horrible ideas and we should leave immediately.”

Will rolls his eyes. “It’s a furniture store.”

“Well, then —” he punches Will’s shoulder, huffing when he only laughs. “Say that, then!”

“But then what would I do with all the drama in my heart?”

“Choke on it, hopefully!”

Ikea is weird.

Since Will did not tell him what the plan was, he didn’t draw up any plans. Luckily, Will has the dimensions of his cabin — although where he got them, Nico does not ask — so they spend an hour or so in the cafe drawing out a plan.

“You need more than two beds, Neeks.”

“Uh, no I don’t. Unless my father has something very important to announce to me, I need a bed for me, and a bed for Hazel.”

“What if I want to sleep over?”

“You can sleep on the porch.”

Mostly, they wander around the sets. Nico isn’t really sure what he wants his cabin to look like — he has to remind himself that yes, actually, he cares about the space he’ll be spending at least the next three years of his life in. It’s a startling reality, to have control over his own space. He must’ve had some say in his childhood bedroom, but he has no memory of it. He spent the most time in his and Bianca’s room at the Lotus, but that was already furnished when they got there, and besides, it only felt like they were there for less than a year. It always felt like a hotel room, never his room. Westminster was no different. His room in his father’s palace had already been designed, too. In fact he’d based his cabin on it.

What does Nico want his bedroom to look like, without someone else deciding for him?

“I’m not getting a fucking Lightning McQueen bed, Solace.”

“But it would be so sick! And look — it’s got little cubbies!”

“I’m going to ditch you, and shadow travel back to camp,” Nico threatens. “And I have the van keys, so you’ll be stuck here for real.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Will looks at him sternly, hands on hips. “No shadow travelling for you, Death Breath. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fade into nothing on my watch.”

“I’m joking,” Nico says, exasperated, but cannot deny the warmth that fills him up at Will’s concern.

In the end, he decides on a pretty normal bed. It’s bigger than Will’s bunk (“Or anyone else’s bed,” Will grumbles, “you lucky asshole.”), but not ridiculously designed. He picks a similar size for Hazel, only the frame is white, not black, and the bedspread that comes with it is a soft, coral pink that he knows she will like.

“Wanna see if they’ve got a Mythomagic bedspread for yours?” Will teases.

That would be the coolest thing ever in the entire world, Nico thinks, and is so embarrassed that he shoves Will, shrieking, into a giant basket of pillows for making him think it.

“Obviously I don’t want that.”

“You are such a turd! I’ll get you, di Angelo!”

He does not. Nico is way too sneaky for him, and after the fifth time Nico manages to give him the slip, he gives up, sulking in a display for a bedroom of a nine year old girl.

“Fitting,” Nico teases, gesturing to the princess wallpaper. “You drama queen.”

“Buzz off.”

Next, they look for furniture. It’s pretty easy — Nico doesn’t need much, and he’s not too concern with cut or style or anything. He quickly picks out two dressers, one to match Hazel’s bed frame, and one to match his, and then a couple bookshelves.

Four hours into their trip, Nico is exhausted. They have a three hour drive ahead of them, they’ve been out all day, and he wants to go home.

But Will stops him before they go get all the boxes for their furniture.

“This is still pretty bare bones,” he says quietly, then grins at his own accidental pun. Nico shoots him a venomous look, warning him against making it more obvious, and for once he actually listens. “You know, we’re still under budget. We’ve got around $200 left — we can get a motel, stay the night, then we don’t have to drive back right away. And tomorrow, maybe we can check out some other stores, look for smaller decorations and stuff. And if we don’t have to drive back tonight, we’ve maybe got another hour in here, if you wanted to get a couple more pieces.”

Nico opens his mouth to refuse — that’s way too much effort to spend on one person’s cabin, c’mon — then pauses, thinking about it.

Chiron hadn’t even thought about it before handing them the money. Will had barely gotten the words out before he’d started counting out the bills.

“I want you to make a home here,” the centaur had said, touching his hand. There was a pain in his kind eyes, stopping any protests. “I made a mistake, Nico, the first time you came here. In another life, you felt welcome enough to stay the whole time. Take what you need.”

What does he need? What does home look like, to him?

“There was a beanbag chair, in our room at the Lotus,” he says, pushing the words past the lump in his throat. “Me and Bianca used to fight over it.” His voice shakes. A tear gathers at the corner of his eye, and he blinks it back. “It wasn’t real fighting. When I called mercy she’d — scoop me up and throw me on it and squish in after me, and we’d sit together and play video games. Or read. She liked to read.”

Will squeezes his trembling hands. “We can get a beanbag chair.”

“And I — don’t like the blackout curtains. The dark makes me think of — the pit.”

“Okay. They sell lotsa lamps here, too. Might be nicer than the Greek fire.”

Nico nods. There’s — more, far more ideas, now, flooding his brain; Hazel crowding over him on a rug-covered floor, shrieking as he teases her about Frank; a desk tucked in the corner where Will sits, mouthing along to his textbooks as Nico sharpens his sword; Jason running his fingers along rows of books on a big, cluttered shelf; Reyna with her fist curled around her mouth, studying a chess board across from him, hair shining under the natural light from the window.

He can have that. He can have that.

Thankfully, all their stuff fits in the back of the van. Despite his insistence earlier, Nico hands Will the keys, and he drives around until he finds a shitty motel with a vacancy sign flashing out front. He pulls into the farthest corner of the parking lot, killing the engine, then waits.

“You okay?”

Nico shrugs. “I’m…not sure.”

“That’s okay,” Will assures, pressing a fleeting touch to his shoulder. Nico grabs his wrist before he moves away, tugging down his hand and linking their fingers together.

For once, it doesn’t make him feel all sparky. The warmth of Will’s hands is grounding, and so is the gentle squeeze, the smile he feels pointed in his direction.

“C’mon. Let’s check in and sleep, huh?”

Nico’s exhaustion compounds in the walk from the car to the lobby, so by the time Will is speaking quietly to the host, he’s half asleep, leaning on Will’s shoulder. He vaguely feels it when Will shifts his weight, sliding a hand around his waist to hold him better. He blinks and they’re standing in front of a door.

“Almost there, Death Boy,” he murmurs. “Hold on a sec.”

It takes him six separate tries to make the keycard work. He gets huffy when Nico snickers tiredly at him.

“Finally, yeesh.”

He guides Nico in, dropping the backpack he brought somewhere near the door. As soon as the bed is within Nico’s sights, he makes a beeline, barely remembering to shuck his shoes and jacket.

“Please do not sleep in your jeans.”

“Mmmfuck off,” Nico groans, already sliding under the covers. He’ll regret it in the morning, but whatever.

“Goober.” Callused hands brush through his hair, resting lightly on his forehead. “Goodnight, Nico.”

Nico’s out before he can even think to respond.

———

He wakes up, in the middle of the night, scream caught in his throat and heart pounding in his ears. The air smells like smoke and fear. The rushing of the Phlegethon is so loud it’s overpowering.

A loud snore knocks him back to reality.

Crawling desperately towards the source of the sound, he hangs over the bed, eyes adjusting rapidly to the dark to see a curled lump on the floor, head resting on his own hands. A quick glance behind him confirms the other half of the bed has been left untouched.

“Stupid,” he mumbles, tiny smile chasing away the last of his fear.

He tugs the blankets off the mattress, pulls off the two pillows, and joins his dumbass, selfless friend on the floor.

———

“Question,” Will asks, swallowing the last of their disgustingly delicious greasefest of a breakfast. “Were you alive when Walmart was invented?”

“I was alive before your great grandmother was.”

“No, I mean — were you out and kickin’. Have you strolled the endless aisles of corporate soullessness, basking in the wonder of American overconsumerism?”

“…You’re such a weird, particular person.”

Will looks delighted. “You’re a Walmart newbie!”

He pulls into the dead, cracked parking lot way too happily for this hour in the morning. Nico would even say he takes the nearest exit to get to the store gleefully. He is embarrassed for him.

Walmart is…underwhelming.

As stupid as it is, Will had hyped it up so much that Nico was almost a little excited. It just looked like any other basic superstore. Will, for whatever reason, seemed delighted by that fact.

“I do not like this store,” he explained when Nico asked, expression not matching his words, “it just means so very much to me that you are joining me in the misery of having experienced it.”

They spend more time than they mean to just dicking around. At one point they nearly get thrown out by management, because Will finds a pair of NERF guns that some child dug out of its packaging and no words need to be spoken. They gear up and scamper off, hunting each other through fluorescent-lights hell.

“Please just get your shit and leave,” says the very tired looking manager, and they have the good gall to at least appear embarrassed as they mumble, “Yes, ma’am.”

It doesn’t take long when they have their head on straight. They get some fairy lights, a couple cool posters, dorky little trinkets that Nico probably doesn’t need, per se, but what was he supposed to do, leave the little plastic crow skeleton behind?

Unlikely.

With his own money, Will buys several cans of paint and a CD. He explains neither of these purchases. The look on his face gets steadily more infuriating as they make their way through the line, and Nico really, truly considers leaving him behind.

The purchase of the CD becomes very obvious very quickly. Even though Nico is driving, and therefore Nico should get music control, Will pouts and pleads until Nico gives in and lets him play his stupid country album. He justifies his decision in his own brain by noticing the radiance of Will’s smile as he belts out the words, badly, at the top of his lungs. He then spends the rest of the drive back to camp convincing himself not to be embarrassed for having said thoughts.

They get back to camp about lunch time, and Will destroys any attempt for a subtle reentry by whistling the second they cross the property line.

“Austin! Kayla!” he hollers, making Nico jump. “Come help us unload!”

“We coulda done it ourselves,” Nico grumbles.

Will pats his head condescendingly. “It has been twenty-four long, long hours since I’ve bosses my siblings around, Neeks. I need this.”

It does go by quite a bit quicker with Austin and Kayla’s help. Lou Ellen, Cecil, Yan, and Gracie come to help, too, but Gracie’s too little to carry much more than a small desk lamp. Instead, they lay down the biggest box — Nico’s bed frame — and let her climb on top of it, carrying her like she’s a queen atop a throne back to Nico’s cabin. She has the time of her life, giggling to herself like a madwoman.

By the time everything’s unloaded, a couple hours have passed, and the Hades cabin looks like a clusterfuck.

“Maybe you stay in Apollo a couple more nights,” Will suggests.

“Might have to,” Nico agrees. Will looks inordinately pleased with himself.

All in all, it takes about two days to disassemble the old furniture, get rid of it, and start putting together the new stuff. Will helps for most of it, but he has a few shifts in the infirmary, so Nico ends up trying to do a fair bit on his own.

“May the wrath of Zeus come down upon this fucking piece of shit, no good, poorly designed garbage-looking idiotic mother fuc —”

“Maybe time for a break from furniture assembling?” suggests a voice, accompanied by a quick knock in the open door. Will leans on the doorframe, grinning, box propped up on his hip.

“Will, thank the gods,” Nico sighs, relieved. He angrily shakes a tool in his direction. “Allen wrenches are fucking useless. I’m three seconds away from throwing this through the window.”

“Definitely time for a switch, then.”

Will’s smile is wide and crinkles his eyes. He’s got dimples, too, Nico is now noticing, and then very rapidly un-noticing then because gods above that is a dangerous path.

“Did you and Rachel get into another prank war?” he asks, praying the flush on his cheeks goes away.

Will glances down at his paint-spattered clothes. “Nah, this is just my painting outfit. Why ruin more than one set of clothes, you know?” He sets down the box in the middle of the room, then heads for the half-built furniture sprawled all throughout the cabin, tugging it all towards the middle. Nico inches towards the box, curious, and finds it full of dozens of paint cans and brushes, including the ones he got at Walmart.

“I didn’t know you painted.”

He flashes another grin in Nico’s direction. This one has a little mischief to it, a little teasing. His stomach swoops.

“Gotta have at least one artistic talent or my dad would disown me. Help me tape down this tarp, will you?”

It takes them twenty minutes to prep the room, protecting the floor and the furniture. Once everything is ready, Will jogs over to the CD player he gave Nico a few days ago, flicking through the stack of CDs and choosing one at random. Soft opera music begins to float around the cabin.

“Okay,” he begins, clapping his hands, “first we need a base coat. Get the white paint and the rollers.”

It takes them the rest of the day, painting until dinner, then waiting past sunset for it to dry. Nico follows Will back to his cabin that night — he wouldn’t let him sleep around the paint fumes — and the two of them return the next morning, re-donning their paint-spattered clothes. Will braids his hair, this time, tucking the little pigtails behind a kerchief. It makes Nico smile every time he looks at him.

As much as he’s in painting clothes, Nico doesn’t really do much of the painting. He stays in the centre of the room, half assembling furniture, half watching Will bring his walls to life with more colours than he’s ever seen in one place.

Will doesn’t ask what Nico wants him to paint in his murals. Instead, Nico watches as the streets of Venice begin to unfold on one of the walls, bright and blue and exactly as he remembers, even though he knows for a fact Will has never been. The shining fruit of his stepmother’s garden is next, with a notable absence of the pomegranate tree, and then the hills of New Rome, the sunflower field in rural New York Nico used to visit, the Chinese mountainscape from the first big shadow travelling jump he ever made. Even the poplar forests of the Underworld, looking much kinder and livelier in Will’s rendition than in real life, with Mrs. O’Leary and Cerberus chasing each other through the flickering leaves. Beautiful, colourful, breathtaking scenes; Nico’s favourite places, Nico’s many homes.

“I get a lot of dreams,” Will admits, dragging a smear of rich purple near the ceiling. “You’re in a lot of them. These are the places you’re smiling, the most.”

“They’re beautiful, Will.” Nico’s throat is drier than any desert he’s ever been to. “Gods, they’re more beautiful here than they are in real life.”

“Liar,” Will teases, although his smile is shy.

Nico has never seen him smile like that. He’s seen a lot more of Will in these past few days, actually; his softness, his kindness, his love.

He has only knows Will for a little over a month, he thinks. But Will loves him. That much is obvious.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

His eyes are still trained on his work. He is on his tiptoes on a step stool, one leg extended precariously, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. The curve of his brush is careful, meticulous. Only the best for his friends, for Nico. That’s Will.

“Hey,” Nico says again, more urgently. He steps forward, wrapping his fingers around his wrist.

“Just a sec, Neeks, as soon as I’m done we can —”

Nico pulls until he loses his balance, falling into Nico’s arms. He stares into wide, blue blue eyes, for one second, two, then presses their lips together. Will’s squeak of surprise is swallowed by his mouth, hands sliding up his arms to cup his face, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh,” he sighs, eyelashes ticking Nico’s cheeks as they flutter close. “Oh.”

He melts into Nico’s hold. There’s a thunk and a crinkle as his paintbrush falls from his loose fingers, splattering onto the tarp, and paint-wet hands tangle into his hair. Nico finds he doesn’t mind.

“You love me,” he murmurs in between breaths, lips brushing Will’s with every word.

“Yes,” Will breathes. He kisses Nico again, and again. “A lot.”

“Good.” He’s not sure if it’s the paint fumes making him lightheaded, or the odd, slightly uncomfortable position, or the intoxicating, delirious feel of Will’s warm skin. He’s not sure if he cares. “Good.”

It’s not quite an I-love-you-too. The words won’t form on his tongue, so instead he tightens his hold, sending them that way, and presses closer, closer, closer.

Will smiles into the kiss.

He understands just fine.

[rainbowolfe]

Chaos

*cracks knuckles* finally, some fucking lore.

Here's the song for those who haven't heard it yet.

All of my time spent scouring for and trying to interpret symbols... trying to interpret the tarot cards... a conspiracy board of connected dots. It all pays off now, with this album. MY TIME HAS COME.

Before I get into analyzing the lyrics, I wanted to call attention to the tarot cards that appear in the music video.

True Sight, Strength From Within, Diseased Heart, Death's Door, Divine Curse, Hands of Rage, Gift From Below, Ambrosia, Weeping Moon, and two cards that haven't appeared in the game (yet).

I will make an in-depth analysis of what I think these cards mean for Leshy's fate in another post, cause it's gonna be huge. I also wanna see what cards the other Bishops get, as many of the tarot card's reference each other and have meanings that depend on the context from other cards.

But some quick surface level observations based on the notes I already have about the cards:

-whatever "it" is, it starts with the Blood Moon Ritual.

-Either Leshy or his demon were wounded, metaphorically or otherwise, putting him on a path towards corruption.

-Leshy has large reserves of Fervour. His demon receives strength/power from the Sun.

-He almost dies. A deal is struck to exchange something (or someone) for a boon.

-He was eating Gods for his immortality. A specific type. More on that some other time.

-Leshy is the receiver of a gift (of extra life)from TOWW.

The two remaining cards that are still unknown may relate to Leshy's eventual fall.

ON TO THE SONG.

Enough interpreting vague pictures and cryptic lore text. It's time what I've been hungry for. DESPERATE for. Very plain and straightforward text about what a character's been up to.

So there are four entities singing in this. There's the demon who starts the song off, the Green Crown, Leshy, and a fourth being related to the Green Crown.

The demon is marked by a specific, deeper (almost whispery? Dare I say... hissy) voice. We don't hear it again after it says it's peace.

I am the demon growing inside of you. I feed off all your fears and lies. It's so true. I can't wait to hunt you down, capture, and do the horrid things I must do to survive this.

This could very well be the creature that is literally inside of Leshy, visible only in his Eldritch form. But it could also be Leshy's heart. At the core of all the Bishop's actions was fear, and something had to be feeding that fear. Resulting in hearts cast in vile, impermeable, unrelenting terror.

Or it's Shamura.

It also plays off of what Leshy says to the Lamb. "I hear your lies and I smell your fear."

We then transition into what seems to be Leshy finding his Crown (while burrowing) and emerging from the dirt.

I claw my way out, My feet on the ground This horn atop my head... ...is my Crown.

We can know this part is Leshy's because the summoning circle that appears in this section is the one found in Darkwood. Thus, based on the summoning circle in the next section being the same one used by the Red Crown Snake, these lyrics are the Green Crown speaking. ((I would even posit. It's the Crown's original, intended owner. Someone had to put it in the dirt, and it surely wasn't on accident.))

I won't stay in line (I won't stay in line) I'm destined to die (I'm destined to die) The thunder rages on (The thunder rages on) (as night forever falls) As night forever falls

While it's Leshy's voice, they aren't his words. These words belong to the second voice echoing him which slowly reveals that it isn't repeating after Leshy. Leshy is repeating after it. As the 'secondary' voice gets ahead of the 'primary' voice.

The night falling means both an eternal nighttime and the literal "Night" falling. As in, dying. If the Light is the Sun, then the Dark is the Moon. And the decorations in the Heretic's pack would greatly suggest that the moon is dead (if not, then heavily injured).

The eternal night is a reference to the Old Faith, more on that later.

Next section!

True Name vs True Moniker. Moniker does technically mean name, but it's more in the sense of your "brand". Here I'm sure it's being used as a "nickname".

We know him as Leshy, he's representative of chaos (his ""brand"" lmao) and thus is known by that title. But he's not Chaos itself. Something I've pointed out before is that he's "he of havoc" and not "he of chaos". Havoc is not synonymous with chaos.

No, no. Chaos is the one on the other end of the Crown. Because the Crowns are just conductors of devotion. We even see with Narinder's Crown that there's something we make sacrifices to that gives us/the Crown power in exchange. And unless Narinder's hiding tentacles under those robes, it's not him. There's someone/thing higher.

The Old God. Maelstrom. Or Turua, they're both red-coded.

Know him as Leshy, the vessel of chaos. But the second voice (the one influencing Leshy without him realizing it) demands you worship him as Chaos. And only Chaos.

And the "me" here is strange but maybe it'll make sense after hearing the other Bishop's songs?

An important side tangent though. As this is "The Goat" album, there is of course going to be a slight difference in what's being described in this song and what actually happened in Lamb's reality. And that difference lies in the names of the songs.

It's Chaos, and not Leshy. I suspect it's a lot like how Narinder stopped being Narinder, and became The One Who Waits. A being his siblings regard as something indistinguishable from the Red Crown. Maybe even something more severe, as he eventually gets to go back to being Narinder it seems.

Daylight will come undone; as we eclipse the Sun

What I assume is going to be Kallamar's song was previewed in the Goat trailer/teaser, and that too makes an explicit mention to killing a representation of the sun. (or someone adjacent to it)

I said before that the Old Faith represents an eclipse. That's why those specific, but incomplete moon phases appear on all their stuff. They are the omen. They are the punishment for someone's misdeeds towards a higher power.

Destruction wastes at noonday.

[peachsukii]

fem!reader has a hard time coping with the current situation. 『 ♡ - k.bakugo x fem!reader 』 tw/cw: mentions of hospital equipment, grief, angst ⋆ ˚ʚɞ — I can go anywhere I want - anywhere I want, just not home. And you can aim for my heart, go for blood, but you would still miss me in your bones. And I still talk to you when I’m screaming at the sky. -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist 

Walking along the pathway of the riverbank, you listened to the soft sounds of the water lazily flowing by while finding a spot in the grass. You lie back with your hands behind your head, gazing up at the sunset in the sky. The clouds were painted with beautiful streaks of peach, lavender and fuchsia, swirling into a perfect blend of tropical bliss. The colors offered a semblance of comfort after a long day of patrol - 14 hours, to be exact. The current condition of your hero suit was more than enough evidence of the grueling day. If it could talk, it would be begging to be washed. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out your phone to check the time. 5:47pm The exhaustion was creeping along your aching muscles, warning you to head home before you lack the will to do so. There’s one thing you came here to do - that you needed to be here to do.

You tap the lock screen of the phone and swipe to your contacts. In the favorites list, you click on your favorite name in the whole world.

“ 💥 Katsuki 🧡 ”

The line rings a handful of times before it goes to voicemail, beeping in your ear. Taking a deep breath, you begin to speak excitedly.

“Hey ‘Suki. Today was a busy as hell - sorry I didn’t get a chance to call earlier. I had the sweetest little girl thank me today for helping her and her mom bring their groceries to their doorstep. She came running over to me and asked for help, I couldn’t resist. You should have seen her cute little cheeks, Kats, covered in freckles around her precious blue eyes. It was only six bags, the mom was so embarrassed! I kept telling her it was no trouble, that’s what heroes do. And then…,” you pause.

“Sorry, I’m rambling again. I must be picking it up from Izuku. Anyways, I’ll be heading home in a bit. I needed to clear my head after a long day and swung by our favorite spot by the river.”

A shaky breath escapes your lips, unable to hold back the tear rolling down your dirt stained cheek.

“I’ll be stopping by to visit soon. I’m sorry for not coming by earlier this week, you know how it is with our line of work. I'll be sure to grab your favorite flowers, too. Tiger lilies, right?”

You bite your lip to swallow the sob lodged in your throat.

“I miss you…more than you could ever know. I love you, Katsuki. I’ll talk to you later.”

You click the “End Call” button with trembling fingers. A picture of Katsuki, smiling ear to ear with your face squished up against his cheek on a sunny day, appears briefly as his contact picture fades to black.

“You’re going to wake up, I know you are,” you murmur to yourself through broken hiccups. “You’re not gone…you’re going to wake up, Katsuki. You have to.”

The reality of the situation weighs on your shoulders, but that didn’t mean you had to live in said reality…not yet, anyways.

Until the faint droning of Katsuki's heartbeat monitor was silenced, he was alive.

He's just resting.

i've been listening to "my tears ricochet" too much and the 'just not home' lyric always reminds me of not being able to return to someone you love, or somewhere you loved :( ** i ended up reposting/reworking this to be fem!reader instead of bakudeku cause it just didn't feel like it worked? i like this way better lol

You can read part two here!!

[it-came-from-an-orchard]

Wonderland! Bunnydoll

It's secret to nobody that @endomentendo Wonderland AU has been spreading the same way an invasive root does in a garden (Don't tell Queenie) What some might NOT know, is that the Bunnydollers have successfully bullied them with love and pretty art to make the ship part of their canon Heck, Ragatha's mood allignement change! I call that a major victory!

So to commemorate the change and because @kookies2000 has infected half of the burrow with the WonderBug, I present thee with a small little something.

Its not very good but I had fun. And I think that all Wonderland its about

Leaves fall, birds chirp.

Twigs snap, Branches shake.

The grass crumples, dirt and sand raises in the air. 

The sounds of idle laughter chimes in, carried by the hollow whistle of the wind. Empty steps mark the ground.

The sensible response is to shake your head, turn around, and go back from wherever you came from. 

The sensible and logical thought that pricks at the mind and tells you ‘There’s nobody there’. 

So stupid and wrong. 

Out of all the creatures in the forest to find, those that find you first are probably some of the worst, and by the very nature of their bodies, this one is the most dangerous of all, as they dont get found out if they don't wish to be. 

The laughter echoes around, and if you were to close your eyes— Well, you would be really stupid, because nobody should do that in a forest. Who knows where you could trip going around blind like that? 

But if despite better judgment, you still close your eyes, or at least, the one working eye, it's almost like if windchimes were all around the forest.

Such a pretty laugh.

How can people say Chesires are bad when they laugh like that? 

“Jax! I’m not supposed to wonder this deep in, you know that!” Little Pretty Red Locks and a smile, you are not angry or mad, yet you try “At least tell me what are we looking for!”

The empty, dusty steps wave off the dirt path, leaving purple prints instead as they go up the trunk of a mighty tree

“Seriously? I have to climb? In this dress?” Only mad people talk to themselves, so this really isn’t that weird of a sight, that is, if there was anyone else with Pretty Red Locks and a smile. “Mother is gonna be upset at me if I return to the party with tears on my dress…!” 

She could have chosen not to climb, stay down on the ground, but then the enchanting laughter knew she wouldn’t. Too many a year had passed, at least he thought so, since they first started to play this game. A Cat and a Mouse. 

Why would a little mouse be in pursuit of a cat, you ask? Probably to ask for some milk, or to share a cookie. 

But there is no cat or a mouse in sight, just Pretty Red Locks and a smile. 

Climbing trees is easy, it barely takes a breeze, yet the doll struggles getting around the branches, silly girl, your dress is on the way, Why did you ever think that was appropriate clothing to go tree climbing? Mad idea, indeed. 

Leaves fall, branches creak, and the laughter is no more. A low hum bouncing around the canopies of the trees. A nameless tune that has no lyrics, and even when it does, their meaning is meaningless. Still, Pretty Red Locks tries to sing it, no matter how many times she gets it wrong. What a crazy thing to try

“Are we there yet?” She huffs and puffs the lack of air in her lungs, settling in a big sturdy branch. Yeah, they were there. That’s as good as it could get “I know I’m not a kid anymore, but you could try and give me a hand still!”

“Now, why would I do that?” The voice of nobody speaks, much mirth and much mischief in the way they sound. Just like the laughter from before “You got yourself up here without my help! If you couldn’t, why try?” 

“You told me to follow you, then disappeared and got me here!” Still airless, still amused. Are you not afraid of being this high up? 

“If I disappeared, you got yourself here” Fight a disembodied voice about semantics, if you weren’t mad before, you will be after.

“Well, We’re here-- Or *I* am here now. So what's the surprise?” 

“What surprise?” 

“I’m not going to start that with you”

“Start what?” 

Laughter again, but it's not the voice of the nobody, Pretty Red Locks laughs. 

It’s a pretty laugh.

“The view is nice from up here” Again talking to herself, because there was no other voice to answer her “You always like to be somewhere high, don’t you?” Talking to oneself means nobody answers you, but Pretty Red Locks and a smile didn’t seem to be bothered by that, her lips splayed in a wide smile for the empty space right beside her on the branch “I guess it's part of your nature”

The hollow wind carries the small hum of a melody. Down below littles colorful dots dance around unhearable music. It wouldn’t be long now until they realized the missing person among them.

“Having fun on your regular birthday?” The voice of nobody spoke, though it was lacking a bit of that usual charm. Wonder where it had gone

“What other types of birthdays are there?” The doll only got silence as a response, right, she was answering a question with another question “Yes, it’s very fun. I’m glad you came by”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the end of the world~!” 

Swinging her legs over the void of the fall, the doll swallowed the rest of the questions she wanted to ask, her conversation partner wasn’t in a responsive mood and talking to herself wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, even if she did it more often than most

“I’m gonna give you your gift now” The disembodied voice spoke and the doll felt her insides tickle as if full of loose flower petals

“Does that mean I can see you n-” Ragatha wanted to say something dumb, because she was about to answer a statement with a question. A dumb and also rude thing to do

Thankfully, she was saved from the embarrassment by a pressure over her mouth. Her lips. It felt… Warm. slightly moist, a bit fuzzy. 

Such an odd feeling

Not only was her mouth covered by something, Ragatha blinked once and she was sure something was holding the sides of her arms. It was firm yet kind, the way she always felt when dancing atop the roof of the castle, or balancing over the railing of the balconies or now, over at the top of the trees. 

She pursed her lips and that pressure moved. Ragatha realized now that she couldn’t quite breath with this strange block against her mouth, but just before she could start to worry about running out of air, the pressure left her mouth. The one around her arms remained.

Blinking once, twice. Ragatha notices her eyesight worsening. Just a second ago she could see the party below with perfect clarity, now everything seems to be warped and fuzzy. Like trying to see through an empty glass.

Something invisible in between. 

“Jax?” She called to the nothing around her. “Did you do something just now?” 

Pretty Red Locks got no answer from the empty air around her. She blinked again, the fuzziness went away, and so did the hold around her. 

She missed it already. 

The familiar humming of a distant tune came back, and while the sound bounced around, Ragatha’s gaze stood firmly ahead. The emptiness in front of her slowly filling up from the bottom up, stripes of purple and dark blue hues swirling, tangling and knotting among themselves. Forming limbs, a torso, a tail, ears and finally. 

Two big yellow eyes and a smile. 

“Happy regular birthday, Ragatha” The voice of nobody came from the mouth of this funny looking guy, but Ragatha already knew that. She have known this funny looking man for a long time now

“Happy not-birthday, Jax” She returned the gesture, smiling, not as widely but almost so as the man floating over nothing in front of her. 

“Oh! You remembered! How thoughtful!” The colourful man squinted his eyes slightly as his smile broadened even more, making most of his face “Anyway, Ready to go back?” He extended an open, gloved palm to the pretty doll with red locks and a smile, he was, admittedly, a bit surprised that she didn’t immediately take it.

“Jax, My aunt will freak out if she sees me ‘Floating’ down back to the party!” “Not let anyone see you, got ya!” Jax reached out and claimed Ragatha by the arm to himself, pulling her with him into the nothing void. 

Most people would freak out, scream, cry. To be so carelessly thrown into no ground at all, especially at such a height. 

Ragatha just giggled, barely holding on to Jax as they took step after step, moving slowly, closer to the ground. 

“Aren’t ya afraid to fall?” Jax held got tighter to her and she let go even more, slightly annoying. She should be holding onto him as if her life depended on it. What, was she mad or something?

“Are you going to let me fall?” Pretty Red Locks and the gall you had, trusting your life to a cheshire. 

“Not unless it’s funny” 

They eventually made it back to the ground and Jax lost himself in a puff of color. But Ragatha knew him to be close by. Call it a ‘Womanly intuition’. She just had a gift for this sort of thing. 

In truth, watching the scenery from up high and float back down with Jax was something she was really used to, she could quite understand what about that was supposed to be her gift. 

That feeling she got around her lips though…

She hoped she could ask Jax about it the next time they got to meet for tea. 

She enjoyed it very much

If only a feeling such as that one had a name.

[lilacstro]

pac: messages from universe

back with another pac, trying to post as much ideas I had last week haha. choose between two piles today, i felt to do two instead of three irdk why, sincerely hoping it resonates.

paid readings are open :)

pile 1 pile 2

support me on ko-fi :)

Pile 1

"discontent" with wherever you are currently it seems. Very simple and clear messages coming through. I feel you all are holding on to something, some mindset, some unaligned person or something like that, which could be holding you back. I feel there is lack of appreciation for what situation you are in currently, you all are very out of touch with your higher inner self, your feminine and receptive side, trying to "justify" wrong feelings and things. The message for you is to go back to home. The lyrics coming up "home, let me go home, home is wherever I am with you", and you here, is yourself pile 1. dont be so caught up and hurried that you disconnect yourself from yourself and being. Don't be hurried to start something new, go to your destination skipping beats, worried and in a haste about the future or the thoughts that you are behind. No you are not. You are where you should be, and you will go through your destination through a journey, which will help you grip on the things you have been asking for. Universe is literally lending its hand to you, guiding you through your purpose and desires. Take inspired actions, talk to your loved ones, and embrace the season you are in, it wont be the same in a while. A manifestation for you is about to come true. If something was removed from your life or your life feels empty, you are about to receive what you have always wanted, the one that aligns with you, universe is making space for it in your life. Have a hold of yourself for now, try not to sulk if you are, and i promise you, you will be rewarded for putting your trust in the universe. A message coming through is a quote from buddha, "the dirt of the mind settles on its own", i heard a knock on my door as im writing this, something/someone is about to show up for you soon! also, consider going out, sitting in the sun. i also had a feeling you are struggling to make a choice of sorts, you are likely to get advice from someone, or as i may say, please take an advice from someone you trust.

Advices: 1. Stop and let it grow around you for a while. 2. anything you want, its out there somewhere 3. Make space for it 4.Rest, be gentle with yourself. 5. Content with what i already have 6. You are always shifting, and you can shift mountains too <3

I hope it resonated, all the best <33

Pile 2

The energy in this pile is so scattered, i mean different possibilities coming through. A possibility im getting for some of the people reading this pile is something changed overnight, something came crashing down. As soon as I was trying to comprehend this, my sister started singing, "you think, you'd never find another so pure, it ain't true, ain't true, ain't true, ain't no crying in the club hey hey, let the beat carry the tears as they fall baby" this is crying in the club by camilla cabello

another set of people seem to be doing relatively good, some of you might also be working on their goals and purpose with sheer determination.

Regardless of your situation, your message is clear, "your hard work will be rewarded, and everything would be so happy and joyous, it will be better than expected". if someone here was working for a family related problem or for their family, you guys would celebrate the good times coming together, its victory for you!! I definitely think there is a lot of love and harmony from the angels and higher deities you believe in, as if they are looking over you, and if you are not there yet, I see your angels will guide you through, helping you achieve the happiness you deserve. I see some of you could be meeting a partner sent from divine, something your guides would orchestrate for you. If not, then someone, maybe friends or family coming together for a celebration of some sorts, If you are even feeling stuck at the moment pile 2, its extremely short lived, this will blow out much faster than you think. If you are afraid about some important communication coming through, be assured whatever happens will happen for your highest good. I hope you all can keep on hanging in there, don't make a mess out of confusing yourself, stand firm in yourself and take actions you feel you need to take. An opportunity for travel coming through, for others, you are closing out cycles, and going to something new in your life. Release the old baggage that you don't need then, and resolve all your feelings. An advice for you is to connect with earth, maybe walk on soil and grass barefoot, maybe sit in a lotus pose and do meditations on ground. Happy times ahead for you<3 universe is just preparing you for that it seems.

Advice: 1.Ride the wave, see where it takes you 2.Find balance 3.Make the best of it 4.You have support, trust and release 5. Listen quietly 6. Its okay to feel feelings :)

I hope this resonated for you pile 2, i love you.

[novaeverse]

To a Life of Lights, Stage, and Silk

Song Lyrics: Enchanté by Dirt Poor Robins

Introducing Lesaodrym, the crystal drow! Ringmaster and aerial acrobat, known for their captivating stage presence and extraordinary performances.

——

So this is one of my bg3 tavs! First one actually, though they’ve gone thru a lotttt of changes. But I’m so happy with how they’ve turned out, and this drawing makes me so happy hehe

Here’s a bit of lore for those who care:

Lesaodrym (Sao) was born to house Vandree in Menzobaranzen. They lived there for years before leaving with the “love of their life”, Kurlei. She was a captive duegar their house enslaved.

They run away together to the surface, where Kurlei attempts to make more allies via crafting guilds. Sao ends up meeting a little pixie (called Rubellite) and they become best friends. Together, Sao and Rubellite start a circus because Sao has meet many odd people, and they’ve always liked attention. Rubellite is just down for some fun. Kurlei has little choice but to join them.

Rubellite uses her magic to enchance the circus. She brings more of her fae friends, and they become a huge part of the acts.

Eventually, Rubellite goes missing. Kurlei manipulates Sao into thinking the circus members will turn on them for the magic’s disappearance, so to avoid violence, Sao fakes their death again.

Lesaodrym becomes a dungeon delver. They find pretty gems because… money? Whatever. It’s fine because they’re totally over the circus and do not miss it whatsoever.

Eventually Rubellite returns, and she is eager to see the circus. See, through mysterious means, she became an Archfey! So she wants to make her circus even better and—

Lesaodrym refuses to return. Rubellite was gone for years, and in that time, they’ve become bitter—to scared to return.

It comes to the point that Rubellite has to choose the circus or Lesaodrym. She chooses her best friend, but hopes they change their mind someday… Cue the events of Baldur’s Gate 3!

[atiny-for-life]

Ateez's Full Storyline Explained - BONUS

Masterlist

WORK

Based on the GOLDEN HOUR Intro which was released prior to the first teasers and is all about Atiny and Ateez's journey thus far, plus the lack of storyline queues in the music video itself, I believe this is one of those instances where the MV simply falls outside the storyline, much like Turbulence and The Real

I believe this time, it's because they were invited to Coachella and simply didn't have as much time to prepare for the album and get access to the sets they'd need to tell the story visually the way they wanted to which is something I talked about more here

However, let's still dive in and dig up some easter eggs and other fun little moments strewn throughout the video so we can appreciate it better!

Kicking things off is "maknae on top" Jongho buried in the dirt, playing the flute (which sounds like a clarinet) while the others stand around him, four out of seven holding spades and shovels

And it's not just that they felt justified in burying him with extra holes for his hands so he could play the flute, they also felt the need to do it right outside a motel in the middle of the desert

Giving the meaning of this album, this starting from a dirt-hole in the dessert setting could be a reference to Pirate King and Treasure which were both shot in the dessert way back when

If that's the case, it'd also make the red car more meaningful since Yunho also had one during Wave

From here, we move on to a roadside diner/shack situation where our boys are working the counter, preparing counterfeit money burgers

Inside, we can see a bunch of Ateez's awards (bragging rights), including a MAMA award, the Billboard #1 plaque and more, with TYUdeongi and Mito (the two little plushs) front and center

Next up, we've got Seonghwa rolling into town on an ostrich, carrying the flags of some of the countries they visited during last year's world tour while Yunho, San, and Yeosang are counting their money and drinking around a table outside the motel

The next clips show us Yunho reading a burning newspaper with the headline proclaiming something along the lines of "Anonymous Philanthropists Change [...]", likely referencing all the money they've been handing out at their diner

The scene is accompanied by the lyrics "Breaking News popping up no matter where I go" which is very reminiscent of 'Matz'

Wooyoung's vibing outside with a Mariachi band and Flamenco dancers (don't ask me why... I guess they're having a Latin American phase right now - let's see if they end up fluent in Spanish or Portuguese some time soon)

Up in the mountains, we've got them mining for gold far away from any visible mining shafts, and singing about geese laying golden eggs in Spanish (giving Aesop's Fable), followed by a line about building towers 24/7 in Korean (giving Billionaires' Row in Manhattan) before San eats the gold nugget he'd been holding (the effects of eating gold are not well studied, please do not attempt at home)

Next, we've got Yeosang cutting out counterfeit money with a large pair of scissors (we're already struggling with inflation, put those scissors down) while singing about being an introvert

He's in the same office Yunho was in earlier when he was reading the burning newspaper (I'm glad the place didn't burn down)

Moving on, we've got Mingi in the parking lot dressed very Willy Wonka-esque (Gene Wilder version)

He's sporting two pins on his coat - one which looks like a painter's palette and the other looking like a cross, somewhat reminiscent of the Maltese Cross (shoutout to Malta, I feel like no one ever talks about you) or the Iron Cross (popular in early 20th century Prussia)

Everyone's partying, it's raining counterfeit money, we've got car hydraulics in the back (it's been 70 years, I didn't think these were still popular) and our Flamenco dancers are back before we cut to Jongho in his hole, and back to Seonghwa on his ostrich which is now joined by some very talented, head bobbing, CGI chickens

Moving on, we find Hongjoong dancing in another parking lot, surrounded by his members and some strangers on golden bikes, all wearing sunglasses

In the lyrics, he's referencing The Real which strongly matches the vibe they're going for in this sequence, both in terms of costumes and with the general setting

Within the same rap verse, we also see Hongjoong in first parking lot where Wonka-Mingi was kicking off the party earlier

Here, he's dancing with two kids in costume (a chicken and a wrestler), while looking super delighted, just all around happy to be here, much like the guy on the bike we can see in the back (it's very wholesome)

We briefly cut away to a shot of a lone massive golden egg stranded on a deserted hill surrounded by some dry shrubs. Keep it in mind. We'll come back to it later.

Back in the office, Yeosang's happy with his robot chicken (Brian) which seems to be capable of laying golden eggs, going by the tall stack of them presented on his desk

While Yeosang's hogging the office, Yunho's off in some basement, taking the term "money laundering" far too literally as he pulls a stack of bills from a washing machine

Seonghwa, once again on his ostrich, now enters a gas station where Wooyoung fills up the bird by inputting a fuel pump in its side. We can now definitively confirm that this alternate universe is weird as hell.

Moving on to a miniature city, we've got our two main rappers attacking a money-monster with some ray guns ( because, on this ship, we're anti-capitalism)

They're wearing fur coats to match the lyrics, which may also be a throwback to Say My Name

Returning to the diner, we've got Jongho building a money burger abomination with some added CDs because, clearly, that's his favorite breakfast

And over in the kitchen, we've got head chef Hongjoong cooking up some hellfire concoction which is literally on fire but he doesn't care - he's still just making a noot-noot face and giving us a straightforward reference to Bouncy by cutting in some more green chili peppers

Honorable mention to Mingi's GTA reference

From there, we get some shots of Ateez gathered around the camera (Don't Stop End Credits style), a short scene of Seonghwa in the hydraulic car, many people's favorite clip of half-topless San twisting a valve or something near some desert oil rigs, and more, before we finally move on to Jongho in front of a food truck

The truck seems to go hand-in-hand with Ateez's roadside dinner since it also offers their famed money burgers

Next, we've got Yunho and Yeosang carefully watching an extra large golden egg in their office

After a few more super quick scenes flash by, it begins to crack before we return to the lone massive golden egg in the desert we saw earlier which now busts open and out pops Seonghwa

There are some Korean folktales about men being born from eggs, all of them rulers which were used to keep the myth alive that kings were picked by a higher power, not born the conventional way - I assume that's what's being referenced here

[velvateen]

it’s always you - zoro x reader fluff!

warnings: mention of blood a little teensie weensie bit, all fluff!

you and zoro are in denial. structured around a chet baker song! listen to it for best experience!!

word count: 1,200 ish, not proofread i’m lazy

words in italics are lyrics!

song: “it’s always you” sung by chet baker (link to the song on spotify)

Whenever it’s early twilight, I watch til the star breaks through

Funny its not a star I see,

its always you

The light from the deck casted a gentle purple glow onto Zoro’s face as he yawned, his night watch finally almost over. He leaned over the deck, arms crossed as he admired the view unfolding in front of him. The chilly night breeze was giving way to the pleasant humidity of the sea spray warmed by the rising sun. This was the best part of night shifts for Zoro. Not only was it the prettiest part of the shift, it meant he could go to sleep soon.

He shifted where he stood, resting his cheek against his hand, squinting to try and catch the first peaks of sunlight over the horizon.

A glimmer of light snapped his eyes towards the waves. The first light of the day. He let out an amused laugh as he thought out loud.

“Man, they’d love this.”

What?

Since when did he start thinking things like that?

He shook his head and resumed his watch with more intensity than required, he didn’t even think about how he wished the sunlight on his arms was your touch instead.

He didn’t think about that at all.

Whenever I roam through roses, and lately I often do

Funny its not a rose I touch,

it’s always you

Tending to the garden was something you had gradually found comfort in. I mean, there really wasn’t much else to do on the long stretches of days out at sea, so why not try and soak in all the nature you could?

The flowerbed on the ship was always your favorite, there was always something to tend to. Weeds would peak through the dirt no matter your efforts, and you found serenity in the tedious task of picking them one by one, shaded by the tangerine trees.

In your dull daze of tedious weed pulling, your hand strayed a bit too close to the rose bush, the back of your hands taking the damage. You hissed and pulled it away, frowning at the trickle of blood running down from your knuckle.

Little cuts like this always hurt like hell, and you wondered how Zoro takes blows and cuts way bigger than this all the time without even being phased.

Not that you thought of him all that much, you just wondered if he’d even react to a cut like this, so trivial.

You stared at your hand, thinking of how Zoro’s was so big in comparison. This cut would probably look like nothing on him.

After a moment, you felt that your face was burning, cheeks hot. You shook the smile from your lips and returned to work, making sure you had your gardening gloves on from here on out.

If a breeze caresses me, it’s really you strolling by

If I hear a melody,

it’s merely the way you sigh

It was your turn for night watch. Wrapped in a blanket as defense for the chilly ocean weather, you fought sleep valiantly with all the strength you had in you. But you’ve been fighting for so long, you thought.

Your head bobs as you’re lulled by the warmth of your blanket and the rock of the ship. A breeze passes, movement alerting you awake. The bench your sitting on shifts as he sits across from you, and passes you a mug.

“What’s this?” You ask, taking the cup into both of your hands, reveling in the cozy sensation.

“Figured you were cold. And bored, probably,” Zoro responds, avoiding eye contact and taking a sip from his own mug. You smile.

“Didn’t know you even knew how to make tea, I’m kinda impressed,” you laughed, blowing on it and feeling the steam lift your eyelashes.

“I learn some stuff to keep that idiot cook humble.”

You grin, taking a sip from the cup. You hum in contentment. The grip on Zoro’s mug tightens, he prays you don’t notice.

Wherever you are,

you’re near me

You dare me to be untrue

The crew always ended up at some kind of bar while docked for any significant amount of time. The privacy that crowds offered was always so appealing, and you liked getting to meet people from different islands.

Your appreciation for bars was always matched, although for a different reason, by Zoro. He would go for the drinks, you’d go for the people. It was a good dynamic, you always had someone to escape with if any marines showed up. Plus, Zoro hated talking to people, so you served as his defense.

The bar at this island wasn’t remarkably different from the countless others you had visited. Dark sticky wood countertops, peeling leather seats, shady regulars, the works. It was fun, especially when you had the pleasant dulling buzz of alcohol in your system. As you chatted to different people in the bar, Zoro followed you. He swears up and down that it’s just to keep an eye on things, to make sure no one pulls a weird move on you or anything. He swears that’s the case.

It can’t be the way that you’re a bit more touchy when you’re drunk, or that he gets to stablilize you when you stumble or sway. That cannot be the reason.

Walks home from the bar are always pleasant, the moonlight guiding your way back to the ship. You have to drag Zoro towards the right direction, even as he holds your elbow and hand in an effort to keep you upright. As the walk progresses, you get sleepier, more dependant on his strength to keep you moving. You lean against his shoulder more, eyes drooping steadily closed.

His heart used to beat normally. Ever since you came around, he’d get a strange dropping sensation and his heart would race. He’s starting to get used to it, to miss it.

It means you’re near.

Funny, each time I fall in love,

It’s always you.

His hand was outstretched.

The motion caught you off guard as you snapped your head away from where you gazed leaning over the deck.

In his hand was a bouquet. A measly one, at that, only a handful of flowers. You smiled, taking them from him in bewilderment. He was avoiding your gaze, opting to stare stoically towards the setting sun. You noted the slight scowl on his brow, the breeze threading through his green hair.

“Are these roses from our garden?” You observed.

“Yeah. I thought you might wanna keep some near you to put in a vase or something, you know, since you’ve worked so hard to make them grow.”

You looked down at them and tucked them into the crook of your elbow.

He leaned next to you against the rail, not bothering to move away when your arm brushed his. Looking down, you grabbed one of his hands that was folded towards you.

“What are all these cuts!?” you asked, picking up and twisting his hand that was covered in small, thorn sized scratches.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he remarked, tracing a finger over the line where your cut was healing.

Your hands lingered, neither of you daring to pull away. The sun casted warm light on your faces, bringing a blush to the surface. It was definitely just the sun.

It might be something else.

a/n: HELLO IM BACK (for a limited time, like outback’s steakmas). school and life were kicking my ass but i’m here now for at least a bit. maybe i’ll post more, maybe i’ll continue being an enigma, who knows! i don’t. should i write a sanji or ace fic next? and should it be fluff or smut lmk bc i have no ideas everrrrr. or or should i write levi from aot since that’s popular rn and he’s sexy?

i have kofi help me buy a zoro figure pwease. link in masterlist.

okay bye everypony *.•