#he feels nothing once okay he’s going to try again

[thundersoothers]

john price, his wife, and... the dog (derogatory)

who: John Price x wife!reader

what: inspired by this thought about john price being an absolutely softie for his wife.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of cheating but it’s NOT TRUE! you’ll see… just fluff that reallyyyyy makes me want to marry this man.

It’s 2AM on a Saturday in the summer when John Price thinks he hears his wife cheating on him. 

“Shhh!!  You have to be quiet, you’ll wake up my husband.” 

He opens his heavy eyes to see the TV paused at the end credits of some movie he can’t even remember the name of.  The screen reflects in the crystal of the empty rocks glass on the coffee table next to his feet, holding only a warm whiskey stone.  

He groans and stretches, his old t-shirt riding up to show a dark happy trail disappearing into low-waisted flannel pajama pants.  He has one sock on with a hole in the toe.  You told him to get rid of them and got him a pack of 20 of the same sock (he’s very particular about his socks), but he still wears these ones, anyway. 

“Stop moving, I’m trying to concentrate here.  Damn lock… can never— oh, shit.  Wrong key.” 

He can hear you muttering and giggling and the scratch of the key against the lock as you struggle to get it in. 

It’s your girls’ night and he likes to wait up for you to make sure you get in safely.  He saw you off around 8PM, pouring himself a glass of whiskey as you took a shot of tequila.  You planted a big kiss on his cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark that he didn’t bother to fully wipe off. 

“Sorry, I know you’re eager to get inside.  I bet you’re so cold, all naked.  Here, you can go in my dress, is that better?  Fu—ow!  Don’t bite my tit, Jesus!  Sharp teeth…” 

He suddenly feels much more awake.  He pushes himself up from the couch and starts to walk to the foyer. 

“This damn door… ah!  There we go.” 

The door creaks open and he hears you tiptoe inside in your heels (wearing heels and tiptoeing—are two actions that are mutually exclusive, especially when you’re plastered). 

“Remember, we have to be quiet.  My husband waits for me to get home, we don’t want to wake him up.  He’s very nice, you see, but he can’t know you’re here.” 

Apparently, you have gotten home safely—with an extra guest who just bit at your tit.  And you’re being more loud than your guest, who you keep telling to be quiet. 

“My husband is gonna be soooo mad.  He’s gonna be so mad at me, but once he sees how cute you are, I think he’ll forgive me.  He’ll understand.  I had to.  I just had to!” 

He hears rustling as he gets closer to the foyer, you fumbling around in the dark. 

“Stay there, don’t move, okay?  Stay, yeah?  You know that, don’t you?  Mummy will teach you if not.  Just stay right there.  Lemme get these damn heels off…” 

There’s an odd sound of something quickly clicking on hardwood floor that makes his eyebrows furrow, and then you gasp—

“Wait, don’t run—“ 

Bang! 

You groan loudly. 

Price flicks on the lights.

You’re lying face down on the rug.  You have one heel on.  The second heel is twisted around your other foot—what you fell over.  Your little dress is flipped up over your ass and your arms are outstretched. 

“You okay there, love?”  You just groan.  “Sounded like you fell pretty hard.” 

“I tripped,” you say into the rug, sounding very sad. 

“You hurt?” he asks.  “Anything broken?”

You shake your head and curl up a little.  “I’ll just sleep here.” 

He laughs softly.  “Come on, none of that.” 

“It’s so comfortable.  I’ll just—“ 

There’s that clicking sound again and he’s almost startled by the abruptness of your movement.  You push yourself up with one arm, stretch the other out and fucking snatch the quick-moving little brown blob that’s moving toward you.  You pull it to your chest and cradle it, shielding it from John’s view. 

He blinks. “What you got there, baby?” he asks after a second. 

“Nothing,” you say innocently. 

“Right.”  He crosses his arms, looking you over.  “Who were you talking to just now?” 

“No one,” you say quickly.  “Myself.” 

“Right,” John says again slowly. “Show me what you have.” 

You look over your shoulder up at him through your lashes, vision blurry.  “No.  You’re gonna be mad.” 

“Just show me.” 

“Promise you won’t be mad.” 

He sighs.  “I won’t be mad.”  You give him a look.  He sighs again.  You’re wasted—he can tell by your eyes. They’re unfocused and heavy.  “Promise.  Now show me.” 

You look down at whatever you’re holding to your chest.  “Okay,” you whisper (to your tits?), “you need to be very well-behaved, okay?  No biting, please.  Be very nice for Daddy so he will like you, okay?  Can you do that?  Yes?  Okay.” 

You glance up at John again over your shoulder and then turn yourself around in a very clumsy movement.  Then, as if presenting whatever it is like you’re Mufasa from the Lion King, you lift it up in the air toward your husband. 

It’s a puppy. 

It’s quiet. 

The little dog wriggles in your hands, wagging his tail so hard his whole body shakes.  He barks up at John, high pitched.  A small pink tongue lolls out of his mouth. 

It’s still quiet. 

You lower the dog a little so you can look up at John.  “You said you wouldn’t be mad!” 

“I’m not mad,” John says, sounding mad. 

“You look mad.” 

“I’m not mad,” he says again.  “It’s just… dirty.” 

You gasp.  “He’s not dirty!” you exclaim, sounding offended on behalf of the dog.  You pull him to your chest.  “He’s just a little mangey, you see.  But that’s okay.  It can be fixed.  You know—they have medicine for that.  Or lotion, or whatever it is.  He’s very nice, John, I swear.  I know he’s a little… skrunkly but he’s very cute and—ow!  That’s my hair, no biting Mummy, please.” 

“You’re already calling yourself his Mummy?” he asks, bemused, eyebrow raised at you.  Yep.  You’re fucking wasted. 

“Yes, and you’re his Daddy.”  You hold the dog up again, this time facing him toward you.  “I think you’re very cute, puppy. You’ll grow on Daddy.  Just be very good for him, you can do that, can’t you?  Yes, you can.”  You whisper, as if John isn’t standing right there, “We’ll wear him down. Don’t worry.”

“I thought it was something else,” Price says. 

“What did you think it was?” you ask, not looking away from the dog.

“Where did you find it?” he asks instead of answering. 

This is much better than what his traitorous mind momentarily supplied.  You, cheating? As if.

How silly of him to even think that. For a moment, his stomach twists with the guilt of doubting you. He should have known better. 

Of course it’s this.  What else could it have been?

A puppy. 

A puppy! 

“Oh, hello, there.” 

You crouch down in your dress and heels and hold out your hand to the little puppy emerging from the bushes by the side of the road. 

“What are you doing here, all alone?  Come here, love, I won’t hurt you.  Come on, puppy, come to me.  Yeahhh, there we go.  Oh, look at you.  You’re so cute.  You’re all mangey, though.  Oh,” you say pitifully, “you little baby.” 

You’re drunk as fuck at 2AM on a Saturday in the summer, in the middle of your walk home from the bar, squatting in the middle of a back road in England, about to cry while petting this puppy clumsily—but he doesn’t seem to mind.  He wags his tail and nips at your fingers. 

“Where’s your Mummy?  You shouldn’t be out here all alone.  No collar… oh, goodness, what should I do with you?  I don’t want to leave you.  I’m not sure what to do.” 

He barks at you, high pitched. 

You nod at him seriously.  “Oh, yes, good point.”  He barks again.  “Mhm.  Yes, yes.  I thought so, too.  Exactly right.” 

He runs in a circle around you. 

“What are you, a month?  You should be with your Mum, you shouldn’t be all alone.  Oh, you little baby, you must be so scared.”  (He’s wagging his tail.) 

“It’s so cold.”  (It’s summer.) 

“Maybe you can come home with me?”  (Your husband would be so mad.) 

“Yes,” you decide.  “You’ll come home with me.”  (Your husband is going to be so mad.) 

That’s how you end up stumbling home with a puppy in your arms, rambling to him about yourself and your life. 

“Well, puppy, my name is Mrs. Price.  I’m from around here.  I live in a nice three bedroom house with my husband, I think you’ll like it very much.  It’s very cute. He let me decorate it. He doesn’t understand feng shui, you see. You should see his office, puppy, it’s so bland. No taste for interior design.”

“Our house is only 10 more minutes away.  See that big tree there?  That means we only have 10 minutes.  I’m not great with street names, you see, so I go by landmarks.”  He barks.  “Yes, yes, you get it.” 

“Anyway.  So, I’m—stop wiggling please, Mummy’s going to drop you—I’m married to a very nice man named John.  I love him very much.  You’ll like him, too,” you tell him seriously, “he’s very likable.  I like lots of things about him, puppy.  Actually, I like everything about him.” 

“He says I can’t have a dog, though.  He says it’s for my own good—booooo. Boo! But maybe we can sneak you in.  What do you think, puppy?  Should we do that?  I think we should do that.  We’ll have to be very quiet, though.  Very quiet.” 

“John waits for me to get home safely—he’s so nice, he’s so kind to me, I love him sooooo much—but we have to make sure not to wake him up. This is one of them—uh, covert operations. He’s very well-versed in those. My husband is very talented, puppy, he’s a Captain. So we’ll have to be extra careful.”

And that’s how you end up trying to sneak into your own house and then trip over your shoe and fucking slam! your face on the rug. 

“Where did you find it?” John asks you as you sit on the floor after you presented the dog to him.

“On the way home from the bar, kind of my that big tree.” 

“By Notting Street?” 

You furrow your eyebrows.  “Notting Str—I dunno.  Maybe?  I just know the big tree.  The one with all the branches.” 

“The one with all the branches,” he repeats, nodding slowly.  “Right.” 

“But he was there all alone so I took him home.  I couldn’t leave him, John, he’s so little.  And he’s very cute, look at his little ears?  And his little feet?  His toes are soooo small.  His little teeth are sharp, though—like a shark.  Fuckin’ hurt, he almost bit my tit off.” 

“Yeah, I heard.” 

“You heard?  Oh.  I was trying to be quiet.  I didn’t want to wake you up.” 

He smiles at you.  “I know.” 

You smile back at him. 

“Give me the dog.” 

You frown at him.  “No.” 

“The dog, please.” 

“No.”  You hold him tighter.  “You’ll take him from me.” 

“Well,” he says, “yes.” 

You sigh.  “Be gentle.”  You hand him to John and he takes him in one hand and holds him out, frowning, as if it’s offended him. 

A puppy. 

“Can we keep him?” you ask hopefully. 

He glances at you and then back to the puppy and then back to you and then back to the puppy.  “No.” 

“Please?” 

“No.” 

“But…”  You trail off and he looks back down at you.  You’re starting to tear up. 

“Oh, love, don’t cry.” 

“He’s so little and soft and nice and he’s all mangey and he’s just a little baby and he’s all alone and…” 

“Okay, okay, baby, we can keep him.”  (By that, he means you’ll talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober, and by ‘talk about it’, he means, ‘no.’) 

“Really?!” you gasp.  

The way your face fucking lights up makes John pause.  For a second, he almost feels like he lost his balance.

“Oh, John, really?  Oh, thank you so much!  Puppy, did you hear that?  Daddy said yes!  See, he’s very nice, just like I told you, remember?  He’s very nice and kind and he’s very handsome and I love him very much, and I—“ 

“The dog can’t understand you.” 

“You don’t know that,” you say defensively.

“Right,” he says. 

You stare up at him, standing over you as you sit on the floor.  “How are you handsome even from this angle?”  You frown.  “Stupid face,” you mutter. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Let’s get you up.” 

“I’m so comfortable.” 

“Hand.”  He tucks the dog under his arm and extends his other hand toward you.  He crooks his long, thick fingers at you.  “Now.” 

You look between his hand and his face, and then slip your hand into his.  He fucking yanks you up and, in one movement that’s somehow graceful, bends down and throws you over his shoulder. 

He, naturally, slaps your ass and you squeal.  “Hey!!”  You kick your feet (still with only one heel on) and he laughs, resting his hand on your hip, heavy fingers digging into the plush of your butt, as he makes his way up the stairs with you on his shoulder and the dog in his hand. 

Gently, he drops you onto the bed and you fall back with an oof! and stare up at him. 

“Well,” he drawls, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

You grin.  “I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.”  He takes off your shoe (singular), your dress, and your makeup as you hold the dog, curled up, on your chest. 

“You’re so good to me, John,” you say, your eyes closed.  “I’m so lucky.  I don’t know how I got so lucky.  And, you, puppy,” you mumble, petting him slowly, “you’re so lucky, too.  You’re about to have the best Daddy in the world.  He’s so good to us.” 

“‘Puppy’ is asleep,” John says.  “And,” he adds, scooping him up in one hand, “puppy is not sleeping in the bed.” 

You just groan, too tired and drunk to argue. 

He holds the dog out in the air again, turning him around and upside down to examine him.  He yips and wriggles in his hands, but John shushes him.  “Hush now.  Your Mummy is asleep.”  He shakes his head and sighs.  “What am I going to do with you?” 

He takes the dog to the bathroom and puts him down on the floor. His paws slip a little on the cold tile. John puts his hands on his hips, staring down at the dog.  “I can’t believe this.”

He reaches over to turn on the heated floor (which he got installed for you) and says to the dog, “You are so, so damn lucky I love your Mummy.” 

In the morning, despite John Price’s best efforts to say no to you, you end up convincing him to keep the dog. He’s a military Captain but the pleading of his wife is enough to make him crumble.

The happiness on your face when he finally says yes, makes him wonder why he ever said no in the first place.

note: thank you for reading! this is my first time posting in years–and in a totally new fandom. thank you for your patience and your support. let me know your thoughts! merry christmas!

posted 12.26.2024. do not repost or modify any of my original words on any other platform. to masterlist.

[sirxlla]

On Your Period (Batboys)

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

Dick: You and Dick were out and about at the mall while you both did a bit of splurging, got lunch, made some Build A Bears for eachother...Dick saw blood on your pants as you bent over to check out the little trinkets in this next shop. He said nothing, just took his sweater off and wrapped it around your waist. Naturally, you turnd around gave him a questioning look so his whispered in your ear.

"Honey, you might wanna check your pants." His hands gently massaged your hips, he knew when cycle was every month so he had extra pants, panties and pads/tampons in his Jeep.

"Oh, my god." The embarressment shone in your voice but his hands on you hips helped soothe the sinking feeling.

"It's okay, let me pay for this and you head to the restroom. We can shop still if you'd like after." He spoke so sweetly and so kindly, Dick pulled out his wallet and picked up the item you'd been debating on wanting for the last half hour.

"Go...I got this, Sweet Girl." His blue eyes peered into the depth of yours with soft reassurance before you went to go check your pants.

Jason: You huffed and grumbled as he fixed his bike, handing him a torque wrench. You grumbled again and his green eyes shot up after hearing the noise over and over.

"Angel, what's got you huffing and puffing like a damn steam train?" He asks cause he's tired of hearing you groaning.

"I'm hungry, Jay!" You whined as you watched him tighten.

"I love you but quit bitching and get some food." You were hangry, he could tell. Jason grabbed his phone and handed it to you.

"Order something...and get me something too." He got up and washed his hands as you ordered food.

"All you had to do was ask to use my card, Babygirl." He came back over to you and hoisted you over his shoulder to carry you to his room. Jason placed you on the bed and plugged in your heating pad.

"I can do it myself, Jay." You felt bad for him doing all this and paying for your food.

"Shut up and relax." He demanded as his hands found your lower abdomen as he massaged the sore area, between his hands and the warm pad he had you feeling a lot better.

Once the food got there, the both of you scarfed it down, with food in your belly you were much less grouchy and much more tired. Jason laid with you and the both of you took a nap, he could use it from this tireless patrols and you for obvious reasons.

Strong and firm hands kept rubbing at your sore and angry abdomen as the both of you slipped off to a relaxing nap.

Bruce: Bruce wasnt good with periods and such. He often found himself in his own little world normally, saving Gotham and playing Billionare wasnt easy but he saw how much you shifted in your seat during the Wayne Enterprises board meeting.

Being his assistant was usually nice but right now it was hell listening to men talk about stocks and figuratively compare wallets to try to gain favor of the man you love.

He wasnt interested mostly in their shit and before you knew it, Bruce quietly excused you and quietly told you to get whatever you needed from the little period bag he had in his office, take ibuprofen and maybe a nap. You were about to disagree when he cut you off...

"Now, Mr. L/N." He demanded, Bruce was always formal with you when others were around due to being only his "employee." Bruce had to stay in the meeting as a formality, you knew that.

You were gonna disagree to his order but he wasnt gonna budge, plus your back was aching, your cramps could put Doomsday out of commision so you went to his office. Finding yourself heating up the warming bad then took pain meds and took a nap.

Bruce returned an hour later and covered you up with a blanket, his hands slipped to your heels and slowly took them off, his fingers moved to your waist and unzipped your skirt slightly at the top to relieve some pressure before he got back to answering emails and such.

Tim: You had got up and didnt even notice the blood you'd left on his sheets due to the feeling of blood in your shorts, Your eyes shot open as you bolted to the bathroom with embarressment to wash out the shorts and to hope blood didn't drip down your thighs.

Tim's eyes slowly opened and he noticed the blood. It was normal, he knew that so he started cleaning it up immediately after you got out of bed. Blood was blood and he wasnt squeamish in the slight. He'd had your spit and throw up on him, blood was nothing.

Tim popped on a pot of coffee for himself, got you new panties, sleep pants and a shirt cause changing fully sometimes just felt better and fresher, Pajamas of course. Tim knew every womans wants to be comfy during her period.

Tim knocked on the bathroom door and asked to come in, you said yes. He barely cracked it open to hand you clothes which made your eyes well up a bit because he did it without even needing to be asked, you hadn't even gotten the chance to think about needing these. He did it on his own... He closed the door and returned to the room where he stripped the bed and cleaned the previous, they were spotless by the time he was done.

He then got the stache of candy he had for you out of the cabinets, then the little plushie that went in the microwave for your cramps. Tim was always secretly prepared and swift in the way he tool care of you and did it like a cake walk in the park.

Damian: "Dami, Can you pick me up pads/tampons?" You had ran out and the period underwear you did have were overly uncomfy, you had meant to new pairs last month but forgot.

"Okay." He texted as he normally did when you responded but it was almost a automated reponse he had.

"Okay? You don't even know what size and brand etc." You asked via text.

"Okay." He texted back, he was clearly busy but you really needed pads or something so you called him.

"Hello?" He was out of breath and clearly punching and kicking someone.

"I need pads or something, please get some on the way home." You pleaded with him.

"Okay, Y/N." He responded as his mind was currently on something else...Of course he didnt buy any before coming home. You went out to him to get him cause these underwear were pinching you.

"What?" He noticed the look in your eye like you were looking for something and he didnt know what so he spoke in a confused tone.

"Pads, tampons, anything?" You were clearly so desperate and uncomfortable.

"Oh, I- Beloved, I got wrapped up in things. I can go out and get you some." He remembered you saying something but it went in and out his ears. Damian actually sounded sorry but you werent in the mood for Damian's apologies.

You padded down to Tim's room to ask for some, for Tim being more into dudes most of the time he sure was prepared for if he ever had a girl over. Damian broufht you home chocolate and flowers the next day and from then on always made sure the bathroom stayed stocked after that also he made sure to recheck his texts on his way home for if you needed something.

-> Masterlist <- -> Prompt List <-

[miniwheat77]

Co-Star. (Ghost x Reader.)

!NSFW, Smut, cheating, unprotected p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), sex coaching, proceed with caution, NO MINORS!

Merry early Christmas, please enjoy this pure filth! Love you guys <3

Unedited*

You smile sympathetically as you push his hips back. “I’m sorry Johnny, it’s not you.” You mumble. “I can keep going, doesn’t matter if I’ve… finished.” He mumbles. “No, it’s okay. I’m too sensitive.” You laugh. “You want me to try anything else?”

“No- no it’s okay.”

That’s usually how it went when the two of you were intimate. It didn’t matter how long Johnny lasted or what he changed, it never seemed to be enough. No matter what he did. He was frustrated with himself for not being able to get you there.

When he arrived home, he saw Ghost sitting on their shared couch. He was watching a show. Johnny knew about his reputation with women. He sighs.

“Something the matter Johnny?”

“No. Well… yeah.” He mumbles. He walks into the room completely and sits down. Ghost pauses the show. “What’s going on?”

“It’s awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… every time Y/N and I-“ he pauses. “Are intimate, I can’t satisfy her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Literally nothing I do will get her there.”

Ghost goes quiet for a second, crossing his leg over the other. “You rub her clit when you fuck her?” He asks, tipping his beer bottle back and taking a swig. “Christ… uh. Yeah. Yeah I’ve tried everything.”

“I mean I can go down the line but it’s not hands on so it won’t stick.” He shrugs.

An idea suddenly comes to Johnny’s mind. “If I ask her and she’s into it… you think you can show me?”

Ghost immediately feels the pit forming in his lower stomach, arousal.

“You mean you want me to fuck her?”

“To show me how to.. make her cum. Yeah I guess so.”

“Nothing weird though, right?” Ghost narrows his eyes. Johnny looks at him. Ghost stands up, stretching. “Obviously. I guess I’ll talk to her. Thank you Ghost.”

“Course Johnny.”

Ghost has to go take a shower and relieve himself. The thought of being inside you after being teased by you multiple times a week is overwhelming him.

A couple days later when Johnny is at your house again, he’s unsure how to bring it up to you. He wants his step brother to fuck you so that he can take notes and then MAYBE he’ll be able to make you cum? It sounds crazy to him even, how he’s supposed to get you to agree is beyond him.

“Johnny, you okay?” You pause the movie. He’s been acting weird all night.

“Uh.. yeah.” He mumbles. “You sure? You’ve been acting funny all night.” You sigh. You sit up on the couch, you’d been laying with your legs draped across him. “I.. I was talking to Ghost about… how I can’t satisfy you.” Your eyes widen. “Johnny!”

“I know I know. It’s not your thing to tell others about our sex life but I just want to be able to make you cum.” He laughs. “But I have a really weird request.” You look at him awkward. “He agreed to help me. Because obviously I’m not going to learn just by what he says.” You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?” You ask.

He chews on his lip nervously. “I mean.. if you’re okay with it. He’s going to show me how to please you. Hands on.”

“What do you mean Johnny? How is he supposed to show you anything hands on without touching m-“ you cut yourself off, eyes going wide. “Woah! Woah. No way. No fucking way Johnny.” You stand up. “Look.. I know it’s a lot to ask. I know.”

“Of course it’s a lot to ask, you’re asking me to have sex with another guy! Your step brother of all people. Christ Johnny.” You sigh. “Look. It’s just once. Just once so that I’ll be able to make you cum every time we have sex. Just once Y/N.” You close your eyes. “One time for the rest of our lives together.” He smiles. “I’ll think about it Johnny.” You mumble. “Okay. Awesome.” He smiles.

So you do. For a few days you think about what he wants you to do.

Have sex with someone else.

Sleeping with Ghost was definitely not on your mind. You liked him of course, you got along well and shared a few of the same hobbies with him. But you were okay just being his sister-in-law someday.

Having sex with Johnny once was enough to convince you. It was so bad and you had no idea why.

So the very next morning you approached him about it.

———

“Are you sure about this?” You ask him. He’s just pulled into the driveway of his shared house with Ghost. He laughs, clearly seeing how nervous you’ve gotten. “Are YOU sure about this?” He smiles. You sigh.

“I guess so.” You mumble. You follow Johnny into the house and see Ghost sitting on the couch. He finishes off his beer and stands up, turning the TV off.

You cross your arms with a sigh as the three of you stand there staring at each other. “This is as awkward as it’s going to get, let’s get this over with.” You turn your back and head into Johnny’s room.

You start tugging your clothes off. Jacket and shoes coming first, Johnny and Ghost watch until you’re in your bra and jeans. “Alright. You two get started I’ll be back in like… 10 minutes to see what you’re doing wrong.” Ghost mumbles, heading into his bedroom just down the hall. The wall is shared and he rests up against it like he has before, listening to you. You sound so pretty.

But you don’t sound nearly as good as you could. He wants to hear you when you cum.

He listens for a while. He finally has enough, going in. Knocking at the door before he just walks right in. “Anything feel different?” He asks. You chew at your lip, shaking your head. Johnny sighs.

“Alright. I didn’t even need to see it to know you’re really bad at this, Johnny.” He snorts. Johnny rolls his eyes. “Move away, I’ll show you.” Johnny stands up, sliding himself back into his jeans. Ghost moves toward you, your nerves are completely shot as he throws the blanket off of you, revealing you to him completely. You’re nervous. He’s very blunt in his movements.

He wipes his lips with his sleeve, trying to distract himself from you. He grasps two pillows, sliding one under your head. “Raise your hips up.” He nods, helping raise your hips as he slides it under you. “It’ll help raise her pelvis so that you can go deeper.” He glances at Johnny. He nods his head. “Got it.. just. Do your thing.” He mumbles.

Ghost reaches for his waistband. You swallow hard, making eye contact with Johnny. You’re clearly very nervous. “S’alright, no need to be nervous. Just try to relax.” Ghost has exposed himself to you. He’s moved himself between your legs. “When people say that bullshit on TV about foreplay it’s true. It’s easier to cum the more turned on you are.” He mumbles, sliding into you. Your eyes widen, clutching at the sheets. He fills you up to the hilt, cock deeper than you’ve ever felt. “Does it feel better?” He asks. You swallow hard, nodding your head. “Y-yeah.” You breathe.

“Alright. Sometimes you have to adjust the way you’re angled-“ he moves a little bit and thrusts a couple of times, trying to get a feel for you. He lowers himself slightly, adjusting just right and thrusting. When he hears you gasp, feeling you tighten around him. “To find that spot.” He takes a deep breath. “Once you find it, don’t move or adjust and keep hitting it.” Ghost is thrusting, not too fast and not too slow. “O-oh god.” You breathe. Feeling yourself tighten around him. He clears his throat, turning to look at Johnny. He’s watching you intensely. Seeing that you’re obviously on the edge, as you’ve never looked like this before. “When she’s close, don’t move and don’t pick up the speed. If you do, you’ll lose your rhythm and overstimulate her without getting her there. I assume that’s what happens regularly.” He breathes. He reaches down between you, thumb pressing into your clit. “Not too hard now..” he breathes. Gentle touches and gentle circles.

Tears gather in your eyes, you’re right there. “Oh fuck!” You hiccup. “Go ahead, cum for me.”

Johnny’s cock is hard, the way you’re reacting is something he hadn’t ever seen before. Your eyes roll back, screwing shut as you reach your peak around Ghost. He thrusts a couple more times to ride your high out completely before pulling out of you.

He stands up. He wants nothing more than to kiss you. To help you come down from your high. But it’s not his place and he knows it. “You get the idea Johnny. Just.. take your time with her.” Ghost needs to hurry, he’s about to lose that high. He excuses himself quickly, hopping right into the shower. He realizes that he’d forgotten a condom completely. He’d just fucked you raw right in front of Johnny and nobody stopped him.

“You alright?” Johnny asks. “Uh.. yeah. Yeah. It’s getting a little late though. I have work tomorrow.” You mumble. You stand up but your legs buckle. Johnny laughs. “He uh.. really knows his stuff huh?” He jokes. You smile nervously. “Yeah, yeah he does.” You mumble. You say goodbye to Johnny, leaving to your apartment.

The way you feel isn’t good. You’re not sure what these feelings are.

———

A few nights later, Johnny comes in. He’s clearly frustrated. “Everything alright Johnny?” Ghost asks. “No, I still can’t make her cum. I do everything you showed me and it just doesn’t work.” He groans, sitting down. “You know what… I’m gonna go out for a drink. You wanna come?” He asks. “No, I’m good. Got drills early tomorrow.” He laughs. “Loosen up Johnny, you’ll learn.” He mumbles. Johnny leaves and right as Ghost is changing, he hears a knock at the door. “Damnit, forgot his fucking keys that fast?” He mumbles under his breath, opening up the door. “Uh.. sorry to bother you.” You mumble. “Y/N? You know you don’t have to knock right?” He asks. “Oh yeah- yeah I know.” You shake your head. “Is Johnny here?” You ask. “Nah he just left, come in.” He moves to the side. He’s shirtless. “He said things didn’t go well.”

You shrug. “He just- acts like he’s in a hurry.” You breathe. “Tonight he just.. got mad and left right in the middle. Said.. it shouldn’t take me that long.” You laugh, cheeks red. He rolls his eyes. “He’ll get it one day.” He mumbles.

Ghost knows that what he’s thinking about is wrong. Pushing you down and spearing you on his cock until you’re sobbing. He hates that he can’t have you.

“Do.. do you think that-“ you pause. “I know it’s wrong but, can you help me?” You look up at him. His blood about freezes at that question, words he never imagined out of your mouth in a million years. “Y/N…” he mumbles. “Johnny would be pissed if he found out.”

You laugh, looking down. “Yeah- yeah you’re right. I know.”

“I just can’t shake the way you made me feel. I’ve never ever felt like that before.” You breathe. “Thanks anyways- sorry for bothering you.” You mumble, turning to walk out the door. He sighs. Reaching out for your wrist. “Wait.” He breathes. “Just once, and we keep it between us alright?” You nod your head. Before you realize the severity of what you’re doing, he’s pulling you into his bedroom.

He’s got a pillow under your hips in just a few seconds and your heart races in your chest. The excitement you feel to cum like this again is near pathetic. “Try to keep up with me, I’m gonna be rough.” He mumbles. You nod your head. He slides into you and gives you a few seconds to adjust. You’re full once again, relishing in the way he feels inside of you. He feels so much different from Johnny, just the slightest bit difference and you’re falling over that edge.

He pins your hips to the bed, starting his bruising thrusts into you. He’d usually warm you up with foreplay but he knows with Johnny out for a while, he doesn’t have that kind of time.

You whine out, hands clutching his bedsheets. He can’t believe this.

He’s inside of you again. And not for another fucking lesson, just because.

Just because you want him.

“Oh fuck!” You gasp. Your moans draw him back down to earth. “Fuck- you’re so fucking tight.” He hisses. Butterflies overload your stomach, you’re already close to your high. He hadn’t even touched your clit and you’re already there. “Simon-“ you mewl his actual name. He didn’t even know that you had known it. It’s unexpected and something he didn’t think he’d ever hear out of you. You cum around him and he doesn’t expect it, the tightening of you around him sends him flying into his own orgasm. Gasping out as he reaches it. He lets out a string of curses and moans as he cums, body tense and shaking. It’s by far the hardest he’s ever cum. “Fuck- fuck. I came inside.” He breathes. He draws back from you. “Shit..” you mumble. “It’s- it’s okay I’ll pick something up for it.” You pant. He nods. “You okay?” He asks. Now, he can comfort you. He can’t kiss you, he knows it. But he can comfort you.

He lets you calm down in his bed until you’re ready to leave, but when you get out to your car, the dread sets in.

The fact that you had just cheated on Johnny with his step brother.

You drive home in shambles.

When Johnny comes home, it’s late. But Ghost hasn’t slept. He can’t.

“Thought you said you had drills?” Johnny asks. “Yeah, can’t fucking sleep.” He mumbles. Breathing out. “I did something stupid.” He breathes. “What? What happened?”

“I fucked another girl.” Simon’s eyes widen. “Johnny.. seriously?”

“Yeah.. I don’t know how I’m gonna tell Y/N.”

Ghost shakes his head. “That’s the end of it yknow?” Johnny swallows hard. “What?”

“Doesn’t seem like the kind of girl to put up with it, that’s the end of your relationship.”

Ghost picks a water up out of the fridge. “That sucks, rather liked Y/N, she’s a good girl.” He sighs. Walking back into his room. Johnny takes a deep breath. He hasn’t thought this through. The end, he hadn’t thought about it.

The next day, when Ghost comes home from work, Johnny isn’t home.

He’s not usually but this time, he wonders what’s going on. If the two of you will come clean or try to work things out. If Johnny will come right home and sock him right in the face, Ghost wouldn’t blame him. He kind’ve deserves it actually.

He hears him pull into the driveway, and he walks in with a box of his stuff. “So.. it didn’t go well?” Ghost mumbles. “Nah- it went alright.” He mumbles. “It did?” He nods. “Yeah. She came clean about something though.” Ghosts hair raises, he just knows he’s gonna have to fight Johnny off.

“She said that after that day- when you fucked her to show me how to make her cum, she caught feelings for you. Told me she forgives me but it wouldn’t have worked out anyways.”

“Wait- what?” Ghost mumbles.

“Yeah. So I gave her your number.” He laughs. “Would you even be okay with that?” Ghost is taken completely off guard. “I like Y/N, don’t get me wrong. I thought I’d be more broken up about it. But the intimacy just wasn’t there. She felt more like.. a sister than a girlfriend. I’m glad it’s going this way. Besides, I’ve seen the way you look at her. I know you like her.” Ghost takes a deep breath. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

‘Hey. Want to meet?’

Ghost doesn’t even need to ask to know who it is.

“Go get her, Riley.” Johnny laughs. “There’s no way you’re okay with this-“

“Ghost. Stop being stubborn. I’ve got a fox waiting for me at the bar, just go.” He laughs. He disappears into his room. Ghost swallows hard, typing back quickly on his phone.

‘On my way.’

He can’t believe this is happening.

He drives way too fast to get to your apartment. Knowing right where to go. He pulls into the parking lot and parks. Throwing the door open and slamming it shut.

He hurries up to your door, knocking a couple times. You open it pretty quick, you’d obviously been waiting. He leans on the frame, smiling.

“Caught feelings, hm?”

You roll your eyes. “So you’ve talked to Johnny, I see.”

He smirks. Stepping into your apartment and closing the door behind him. Locking it. “Yeah, yeah I did. You tell him about last night?” He asks. “I actually left that part out, so keep your mouth shut or else, Riley.” You mumble. “Ah- he’s busy with that girl from the bar. He doesn’t care.”

“Good.” You smirk.

He pushes you backward, lips finally meeting yours. He’s waited forever to feel your lips on his.

“How about I show you how I really do this, hm?” He smiles. He lifts you up by your thighs, walking into your bedroom with you. He lays you down on your bed, helping you get undressed. He takes his time with you. The drastic difference between him and Johnny is confusing.

He kisses you passionately, toying with your clit as he does. He’s working you up.

He kisses down your chest, he’s got you undressed and at his complete mercy. He moves down your body, worshipping you. When you feel his tongue on you, you go tense. Breathing out a jagged breath. “Deep breaths. Relax.” He breathes. You nod your head. He rests his hands on your thighs and you clutch them, moaning out as he starts again. Tonguing your clit. You pant out his name, trying to be as quiet as you can. “Oh fuck Simon-“ you shake. You clench your thighs together slightly, trying not to squish him. He laps at your clit with his tongue. Working you close to an orgasm. He squeezes your thighs with his arms.

His dick is hard and he ruts into the bed. Hearing you moan his name is nearly too much. He knows you’re his now, that he can fuck you and make you cum whenever he wants. He doesn’t have to worry about anyone finding out, or coming home. It’s just you and him together.

You let out a mewl when you cum, something so pretty. He can’t shake the way you make him feel.

He moves up the bed, not giving you much time to come down from your orgasm before he’s sliding into you. You gasp, but he kisses you to muffle it. He works his hips into yours. Grasping your thighs and lifting your hips as he fucks you. Screwing his hips into yours, his bruising pace is brutal. You can barely catch your breath. You clutch his wrist, feeling his muscles clench under your grasp. “Fuck! How are you so good at this?” You cry. He smirks. “Just a natural sweetheart. Focus on cumming for me.” He laughs, it’s taunting.

He slows down, taking in a sharp breath. “Let’s do it my favorite way hm? Can’t let you have all of the fun.” He moves you, forcing you up onto your hands and knees, moving himself behind you. He rests his hand on the middle of your back, pushing down. You arch your back, laying your head into the pillow. Ass up for him. He lines up with you, sliding into you. He lets you adjust, he’s deeper than usual and he doesn’t want to hurt you. It doesn’t take long.

He finds that spot, finding that pace. He’s got you crying into your pillow in just a few minutes. His hands grip your hips hard, sure to leave bruises there. You can’t wait to wake up and see them in the morning. He grasps a handful of your hair and forces you up, hearing you gasp. “How about you be a good girl and cum on my cock, hm?” You shiver at his tone. It’s unexpected. You whine out. He lifts you up until your back is flush with his chest. “Need some help darling?” He laughs. He makes you feel pathetic. He glides his hand down your stomach, moving lower. You whimper at the thought of him touching your clit.

It’ll send you right over the edge.

He brushes his fingertip over it, hearing you mewl. “Please- keep touching it.” You cry. “Ask nice baby.” He grits his teeth. “Please Simon- please keep touching my clit.” You’re nearly sobbing as you ask. He puts more pressure on it, circling it. You cry out his name again. He can feel you clamping down around him. About to cum again. “That’s it… atta girl Y/N. Cum now pretty girl.”

You fall forward but he doesn’t stop, finger still circling your clit and keeping his pace as he finishes you off. Tears escape your eyes this time, and you’d thought he’d made you feel good before, but this time was different. Your eyes widen when you feel him cum, feeling it this time. He cums deep.

You gasp as he takes one last thrust, feeling the warmth fill you.

You’re panting, eyes screwed shut. Your cheeks are flushed and wet from tears.

He laughs at you. How you’re exhausted and completely fucked out.

“Fuck you’re good at that.” You laugh. Sitting up. He turns your head, kissing you deeply. “I hope you know this means you’re mine.” He breathes. “Thank god, I can’t go through this again.” You laugh.

“Were you crying? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No- no not at all. You just overwhelmed me that’s all.” You laugh. “Scared me for a second, thought I was too rough.” He snorts. “Not at all.” You breathe. “Let’s get cleaned up. I’ll buy you dinner.” He helps you off of the bed, your knees buckle before you can take a step but he’s quick to catch you.

“Jesus.” He laughs. “Maybe I am really good at this.” He smirks. You roll your eyes. “Very humble of you.”

“Shut up before I make you cry again.” He pushes you forward to your bathroom.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

[ajellybee]

I am a firm believer that sex is NOT the only gift you should give someone as a gift HOWEVER...

imagine a full day of festivities on Christmas day with your husband, Nanami. You guys exchanged gifts almost feeling like you were trying to top each other with the next gift you watched each other unwrap.

You got Nanami the watch he showed some interest to -> he handed you the little wrapped box of the newest Vivienne Westwood drop

You watched him unwrap a new standing mixer -> he pushed a box towards you that contained your favorite perfume that was discontinued years ago.

Do you get the gist now? BUT!! you had one last card up your sleeve, after having a dinner full of giggles and laughs you stand up abruptly. Nanami raised an eyebrow but didn't ask where you were going.

"Could you clean up here, ken? I have one more gift I wanna give you" You smile softly at him, trying to look as innocent as possible

"Honey, that's no fair you're giving too much" he furrowed his eyebrows realizing you gave more than he gave you

"no no, it's okay, my love. It's something small don't worry" Again you give the same innocent smile and instead of questioning further Nanami sighs and nods, moving to clean the dining table. "Okay give me like 5 minutes" You run upstairs to your shared room and get to work. While in the shopping district, you ran across a small intimacy store. From the open door, you could see some of the lacy pieces so you decided to check it out, and it's a good thing you did because you found the sexiest set ever, dark forest green with intricate embroidery. It left nothing to the imagination and you knew it was going to be Nanami's favorite set.

after doing a once over making sure everything was perfect it was go time.

"Okay, ken- honey. I'm done" you called for him and right when you finished your sentence the said man opened the door, seems as if he was waiting for your go-ahead to walk in.

"Oh, my love..." In three big strides, he makes his way to you, large hands finding themselves on your waist, rubbing up and down. "Gimmie a spin yeah?" giggling you do as he asked slowly twirling in a circle so he could take everything in. "this is your 'something small'?" he scoffed. Because to him this was anything but. His favorite color looks heavenly against your skin. And the way it fits so snugly against you, highlighting all your soft curves, he was practically drooling. Nanami pulls you in for a kiss groaning as his hands roam down to cup your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. You pull away and make your way to the bed and set on the edge. Nanami watches as you spread your legs apart revealing what he wanted to taste most at the moment, and much to his surprise (and satisfaction) the slit in the middle of your lingerie exposed your glistening folds and he falls to his knees immediately ready to devour you.

"Merry Christmas, Ken"

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

small Christmas piece I wanted to do. Happy holidays!! and if you don't celebrate anything I hope you have/had an amazing day !!! <333

[hoe4hotchner]

Not worth the tears | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader | WC: 1.6k  | CW: Angst, no use of Y/N, mention of cheating, reader was dating a man, crying.| Summary: reader got cheated on - Hotch is there to pick up the pieces

The weight of your phone felt heavier than it should have in your hand as you stared at the screen. The text was still there, glaring at you, a brief, emotionless exchange that had just ended your relationship. You couldn't feel much, not at first. There was shock, a numbness that spread through your body like ice. Your partner had cheated— of all things he had cheated. And it wasn’t even a messy confession or an argument where the truth slipped out. It had been revealed so casually like it didn’t matter.

Your thumbs had moved faster than your brain, sending a few bitter replies before cutting off contact completely. Now, you sat alone at your desk, a dull ache blooming in your chest, your breath shallow. He had taken all the air out of your lungs and drained every bit of hope you had put into him. The thought circled through your mind—I tried. I tried for him. I gave everything, but it wasn’t enough.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly. The words blurred on the screen, and you blinked back the tears clouding your vision. That was it. It was over. You stared at the empty chat thread—his response was short, dismissive, almost as if what had happened didn’t matter. As if you didn’t matter.

You rubbed your hands over your face, trying to swallow the knot in your throat. You were supposed to be working—on a case, of all things—but the walls of the BAU felt tighter than ever. The world outside of this room, outside of the text that had wrecked your day, seemed far away.

As you leaned back in your chair, your thoughts spun—how long had it been going on? Did the moments you’d spent together mean anything at all? The memories felt tainted now, like ink smeared across a once beautiful piece of art. You'd done everything right. You tried to make it work. But it was over. And it was time to face that truth, even though it burned.

It felt like a punch to the gut, that revelation. He had betrayed you in the worst way possible, and all you got in return was a half-hearted apology and an empty text saying it wasn’t a big deal. You should’ve seen it coming, right? But you’d held on, hoping that things could change, that he could change, despite the cracks that had started to show months ago.

The pain was suffocating. You stood up from your desk, pacing the room, trying to shake off the weight pressing down on your chest. But it wasn’t going away. It was just getting worse. You'd loved him, believed in him, and he tossed you aside like you were nothing. He'd broken you in ways you never thought possible, and now you had to pick up the pieces.

Again.

Your thoughts spiraled as you stared out of the window, lost in a haze of disbelief and hurt. You wanted to scream, to throw something, anything, to just feel something other than this emptiness inside. The room felt too small, too confining, and your heart ached like it was splitting in two. Maybe it was. Maybe that’s what happens when you give someone everything, and they rip it all apart.

The glass door into the BAU creaked open, and Hotch’s presence filled the room before you could even look up. He stepped inside, his brow furrowed, as usual, a file in hand. His eyes scanned over you, a practiced intensity in them, as though he was ready to talk about whatever work issue had brought him here. But then, he stopped.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asked, his voice soft but carrying that steady authority. It wasn’t a question he asked often, and when he did, it was because he already knew the answer. He had this way of reading people—of reading you—like any of the case files that came across his desk.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, brushing a hand through your hair as you shook your head. You forced a weak smile, but your throat tightened, betraying the façade. “It’s nothing, Hotch. Just… work stress.” You waved a hand dismissively. But the lie tasted bitter on your tongue. The raw emotion in your voice gave you away, and you knew Hotch could see it. He always could.

He stood there, watching you closely, then set the file down on your desk without a word. It was the first time you'd seen him hesitate. “Something’s wrong. Talk to me.”

You wanted to hide it, to shove the pain down and pretend like you hadn’t just lost someone who wasn’t even worth the heartbreak. But this was Hotch—someone you trusted more than anyone. Your lips parted, and the words came tumbling out before you could stop them.

You felt your walls crumbling, the mask you’d tried to wear falling away as the weight of everything hit you all at once. Your chest tightened, and you tried to hold it in, but the pain surged forward, unstoppable.

“I broke up with him,” you said, your voice trembling. “He… he cheated on me.”

Hotch’s entire body went still. His expression, once concerned, darkened with something else entirely. His jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. It was as though he was holding back from storming out and finding the man who had hurt you. “He what?”

You nodded, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “I tried, Hotch. I really tried. I wanted it to work, but… it’s over. He didn’t even care.”

The room was heavy with the weight of your admission. You had never seen Hotch angry like this—at least, not for something personal. His dark eyes were clouded, and the controlled, calm leader of the BAU was nowhere to be found. But then, just as quickly as it had come, the anger softened, replaced by something much gentler, much deeper. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush the tears from your cheeks, his touch soft, careful, as if you might break at any moment.

“Did he tell you? Or did you find out another way?”

The look in his eyes was enough to make you swallow thickly. It was protective, fierce, as though he was barely keeping himself together. You hadn’t known it then, but Hotch loved you. And the idea of someone hurting you, betraying you, was enough to make him want to hunt down the bastard who had done it.

“He told me,” you muttered, looking down at your lap. “Like it was nothing. Like I didn’t matter.”

Hotch inhaled sharply through his nose, his hands flexing. For a moment, you could tell he was fighting the urge to walk out and do something rash, something you knew he would regret.

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly, and there was something deeper in his voice, something that made your heart skip a beat. “You didn’t deserve that,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place. “He didn’t deserve you.”

You sniffed, wiping at your face as you tried to pull yourself together. “I just… I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Hotch shook his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” his voice was firm. He moved to sit beside you, his presence somehow grounding in all the chaos that had filled your head. “This is on him. Not you.”

The conviction in his voice made your breath hitch. You stared at him, taking in the intensity of his gaze, the way he looked at you as if you were the most important thing in the world. Your heart twisted painfully. You had never seen him like this before.

“He wasn’t worth your time,” Hotch continued, his tone softening even more. “You deserve someone who will fight for you, someone who will never hurt you like that.”

You could feel yourself breaking down again, the tears coming back, and you didn’t fight them this time. You didn’t have the strength to. Instead, you let yourself fall, collapsing into Hotch’s arms as he caught you without hesitation. He pulled you close, holding you tightly against his chest, his hand stroking your back in soothing circles.

For the first time all day, you felt safe. The ache in your heart hadn’t gone away, but being here, with Hotch, made it bearable. He didn’t say anything more, just held you, and somehow, that was enough.

For a few moments, neither of you said anything. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, and he seemed to understand that you needed the silence.

“I wanted it to work,” you whispered between sobs. “I really wanted it to work.”

“I know,” he said softly, his hand soothing as he rubbed slow circles on your back. “You deserve so much more than what he gave you.”

As he held you, a thought crossed your mind—Hotch had always been there. He had always cared, always looked out for you. And as he held you now, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek, you wondered if maybe he had cared more than you’d realized.

You lifted your head slightly, meeting his gaze. There was something in his eyes, something soft and warm, but it wasn’t pity. It was deeper than that. It was understanding. It was… love.

You blinked, trying to process the moment, but the sadness and exhaustion weighed you down too much to explore it further. Instead, you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. Hotch didn’t hesitate.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure why.

Hotch shook his head, his expression tender. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, and for a moment, the world didn’t feel so broken. In his arms, you could breathe again, and maybe—just maybe—your heart wasn’t beyond repair after all.

Because even though everything had fallen apart, Hotch was there to help you pick up the pieces. And this time, you weren’t alone.

[peterm4rker]

(❆⋆.˚) little white lie !

🕸🕷✮⋆ [mark x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 2.8k w. cursing, lmk if you find any! fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

this christmas you were undoubtedly, royally fucked.

it had all started very innocently, a white lie to get your family off your back once and for all. but then it snowballed to create one big, ugly snowman to personally hunt you all through winter. it was because of him that you chewed at your nails nervously as you looked at the text that reflected on your screen, your cousin’s name adorning the top of the chat.

you should invite your bf to go christmas shopping with us! i'm sure k will be happy to have someone to talk to :)

fuck.

the text was nothing but friendly and well intended, there was just one tiny little problem. you did not have a boyfriend to invite. you tried to come up with an excuse, but you had unfortunately used every single valid thing that you could’ve thought of to get your nonexistent boyfriend off of all the family activities he was invited to.

“what are you making your fingers bleed for?” mark, your best friend, asked as he approached your body on the couch, holding two mugs of tea. once he placed them on the coffee table, he reached for your hand and moved it from your lips down to your lap as he always did to prevent you from harming yourself. 

“my cousin wants me to invite my boyfriend to celebrate christmas with my family” you groaned, your hands going up to rub at your eyes in frustration. 

mark’s eyebrows furrowed as he heard you speak “what boyfriend?”

and that’s when it downed on you, the fact that you had never told mark about your little white lie. you thought of ways to avoid the question, wracking your brain to find something to say other than “you actually, i've been lying to my family for months to get them off my back and they think you’re my very beloved and devoted boyfriend.” but you knew he wouldn’t leave it alone until he knew the truth, also, you had never been able to lie to mark.

“you” you muttered, face still behind your hands as you tried to pretend this wasn’t happening.

“huh?” mark asked incredulously, causing you to look from in between your fingers at his dumbfounded expression “come again?”

you took a deep breath before speaking again, finally moving your hands down and meeting his eyes. “a few months ago, at seollal i told my family i had a boyfriend because they wouldn’t stop pestering me about it and when they asked me who it was i couldn’t think of any other name but yours” 

mark ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at the knowledge that his name was the first one to pop into your head when you had to make up a fake boyfriend, looking at you with wide eyes “dude! that's like almost a year ago! why didn't you tell me?”

“i know! but it wasn’t supposed to last this long or be this important, you had no reason to know” you explained, notably stressed as you ran a hand through your hair “i’m sorry, okay?”

“what on earth are you sorry about?” he questioned, even more confused than before.

“i shouldn’t have used you like that” you muttered, your voice sounding way softer than before as you looked down to your hands, beginning to pick at the skin again.

mark’s heart shrinked about three sizes as he watched you, feeling guilty for making you think he was mad about that. “i’m not mad at you” he reassured, taking your hand in his to make you stop your nervous reaction. “i’m just saying that if you had told me i could’ve helped you”

you lifted your eyes to stare into his, eyebrows furrowing slightly “help me how?”

“i don’t know, i could’ve acted like your boyfriend or something,” he shrugged, smiling now that your eyes had found his.

“you would do that?” you asked, your lips forming a smile instinctively at the sight of his own.

“of course i would, bro” he squeezed your hands softly before letting go of them, trying his hardest not to show how difficult it was for him to let go. 

“would you want to come christmas shopping with my cousin and her boyfriend, then? if we go to that she can confirm you’re real and prevent my parents from sending me into a psych ward for making up a guy” you chuckled softly, a little nervous. 

“for sure, i wouldn’t want my best friend to be sent away like that” he joked and bumped your shoulder with no strength. “just let me know when and i’ll even pick you up”

“she said on the 17th” you couldn’t contain your smile as you jumped forward, enveloping him in your arms “thank you so much, markie”

the boy prayed that you couldn’t feel the way his heart was racing at the contact. even when you were always a touchy person, he couldn’t help but get flustered whenever your body came in contact with his. “of course, ynnie.”

…

“okay, let's discuss boundaries” you spoke as you got into his car. the day of your first mission (as he liked to call it) had finally arrived, and he had picked you up just as he had promised. “we need to make it realistic, but i don’t want you to be uncomfortable so i think no kissing is obvious” you presented as he began driving.

“sure, yeah” he agreed, deciding that telling you that kissing you would not make him uncomfortable at all would be a little weird.

“anything you want to add?” you asked as you looked at his side profile, a smile on your lips as you stared at him.

“nah, we’re good” he looked at you for a second before turning back to the road.

the rest of the drive was filled with laughter and chaos as always, you two only settling down when he parked the car at the entrance of the mall. you looked around for a few seconds until you found your cousin and her boyfriend standing by their car. 

“okay, they’re over there” you pointed out “ready, boyfie?” you asked with a humorous tone lingering in your voice.

“so ready, sweetheart” he smiled and got out of the car, moving quickly to open your door for you. you smiled and rolled your eyes in amusement at how hard he was trying before beginning to walk towards your cousin. 

you greeted her excitedly, then moved on to greet her boyfriend. you had known him for years, and were quite friendly with him. “guys, this is mark, my boyfriend” you smiled as you introduced them.

mark almost screamed at how being introduced as your boyfriend made him feel, even if it was fake “hey guys, nice to meet you” he smiled as he extended his hand towards the girl, shaking it politely.

time passed as you walked around the mall, your attention mostly on your cousin as you caught up after too long of not seeing each other, your respective ‘boyfriends’ walking a little behind as they carried your bags.

“she talks about you a lot, you know” yudai said as he caught mark looking at you adoringly, taking advantage of how you couldn’t see him.

“she does?” mark asked, tearing his eyes away from the back of your neck to look at the man walking next to him.

he nodded at his question, smiling at how the younger boy seemed so excited to know his girlfriend talked about him. “she always goes on about how much you take care of her and how funny you are, you make her really happy.” and right then and there, mark knew he made a horrible mistake when he said he would help you. there was no way his heart would come out untouched.

before he could open his mouth to answer, you stopped walking and settled by his side “what are you two talking about?”

“nothing, don’t worry about it,” mark smiled, hugging your shoulders and bringing you closer to him. the action took you by surprise, but you settled on his side anyways.

… 

“my parents want to meet you,” you told mark as you sat in front of him in a restaurant you had gone to for lunch. “they got jealous because my cousin met you first.”

mark chuckled softly as he finished eating, shaking his head at the comment “and when are we supposed to meet them?”

“we could go to their house for dinner today, get it over with so you don’t have to keep pretending anymore, if you’re okay with missing hyucks contest, of course.” you shrugged, trying to act disinterested as you tried to figure out why those words didn’t sit right with you.

“uhm, yeah sure” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes like it always did.

“everything okay?” you asked, tilting your head curiously. “we don’t have to miss it if you don’t want to”

“no, it’s okay, i’m just kinda nervous to meet your parents” he shrugged, attempting to not show the disappointment it caused him to think of your whole charade being over.

“don’t worry, markie, they’ll love you” you gave him a reassuring smile and suddenly all the negative feelings left his mind.

a couple hours later, mark stood next to you in front of your parent’s door, extremely nervous. it didn’t matter to him that he wasn’t your actual boyfriend, he really wanted your parents to like him.

“It's okay, they’ll believe the whole thing” you attempted to reassure him, only making him worse at the reminder that you had no reason to be nervous. you were planning the fake break up already anyways. his thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of fingers tangling with his “they’ll love you.”

and the way your eyes looked at him with such sureness that he couldn’t help to feel like everything would be okay as long as you stood by his side. 

he waited for you to let go of his hand as the door opened, but it never happened. he squeezed it softly as he greeted your parents, making sure to shake their hands with his free one, wanting to hold on for as long as he could.

the night flowed perfectly as your parents practically fell in love with the boy you had brought home. it was weird, really, to be sitting there as mark told them a story about how he got lost at a mirror maze once and ended up at the hospital. he looked so pretty, smiling away as he used his abilities to charm your parents.

but you couldn’t be thinking of that, because it was all fake. he was just doing you a favor, and you couldn’t forget that for a single second or it would be bad.

“anyways, your daughter here made fun of me for about three months straight” he said, swooping your hands to lace his fingers with yours.

“i took care of you, though,” you retorted, laughing softly as you tried to defend yourself.

“true, you did,” he smiled as he brought your hands to his lips, leaving a kiss on the back of yours before diving right back into his conversation.

damn, he was a really good actor.

“you should come to christmas dinner this year” your father suggested as the four of you stood on the doorway.

“i don’t know if he can, dad, he has plans already” you said “right?” you looked at mark, silently hoping that for some miraculous reason he would say no.

“i do” of course “but i’ll gladly cancel them if you want me to be here.” oh?

you looked at him with confusion written all over your face. was he really willing to cancel his plans to play pretend boyfriend with you in christmas?

“let’s talk about it later, yeah?” you asked, looking at him breathlessly. had he always looked at you like he would be willing to give you his world on a silver platter?

the boy nodded before turning back to your parents, greeting them politely before you walked towards his car. the ride back to your apartment was silent, the only sound coming from the radio.

“you don’t have to come, you already canceled on your friends today” you said, voice barely above a whisper as you broke the silence.

“i don’t mind, i’ve spent every christmas with them since i was fifteen.” he mumbled back, afraid to speak too loud in the ambiance you had created. 

“and you would rather break that streak to be with my family?” you questioned, your heart racing slightly at how soft his voice was.

“i would rather break it to spend it with you.” he retorted, and you felt your heart miss a couple of beats as he pulled into the driveway.

“i’ll see you on the twenty fourth, then” you smiled, doing little to hide how endeared you were to his words.

“i’ll pick you up, sweetheart.” he smiled back, nearly making you giggle as you got out of the car.

…

it was finally christmas day, and mark was terrified as he waited for you to walk out of your apartment building so he could drive you both to your parents’ house where he would meet your entire family as your (fake) boyfriend.

“oh, wow” he muttered as he finally saw you. the cozy winter outfit you wore nearly made him faint “you look beautiful”

you bit your flustered smile back as you looked him up and down, taking in how handsome he looked. “you don’t look too bad yourself.”

he thanked you before opening your car door for you, something he had picked up on those last few weeks of pretend dating, allowing himself to look at you for a couple more seconds before closing the door.

“i have to say, with the amount of gossip i’ve heard about your family, i think i'm extremely prepared for tonight” he bragged as he drove towards your destination.

“shut up and drive,” you laughed, rolling your eyes.

the night had gone by better than you expected. your entire family was mesmerized by the boy, and you couldn't help the pride that made your chest swell at the sight of him laughing with your uncles on the other side of the room.

“you really were whipped, aren’t you?” your younger cousin asked as he sat down next to you.

you looked at mark for a couple more seconds before tearing your eyes away from him “yeah” you said, almost breathlessly “i am”

the boy made a disgusted expression, eliciting a soft giggle to tumble past your lips. “he is too, he told me”

wait, what?

“he did?” you asked, unable to hide the surprise that coated your voice. 

“yeah, why are you surprised?” the boy judged “haven’t you been dating for like a year?”

“yes, it’s just a little surprising still” you chuckled awkwardly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“it shouldn’t be, look at how he looks at you” he pointed towards mark, making you look his way. your eyes caught his immediately, betraying the secrecy of his loving stare.

your breath hitched on your throat as mark didn’t look away from you. “sorry, i´ll be back in a minute” you muttered before standing up and walking towards mark. “mind if i steal him for a minute, thanks” you smiled as you grabbed his hand and dragged him away to an empty hall.

“hey, ynnie, whats up?” he asked as you stood in front of him. there was a lovesick smile adorning his face, along with a look you recognized from the night he met your parents.

“maki told me you told him you're whipped for me” you blurted out, and mark’s smile only widened.

“i did” he assured.

“because it would reveal our act if you didn’t” you stated, more for yourself than for him.

“or because i am” he commented, a hand coming up to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“what?” you asked, astonished at the words that had just left his mouth.

“look up for me really quick, will you?” he asked, his voice sounding like honey and only confusing you further. you still looked up, heart stopping at the sight of a mistletoe hanging right on top of you.

you looked back at mark, at his beautiful eyes and his even more beautiful smile and you just couldn’t take it anymore. your hands found place behind his neck as you stood on your tippy toes, joining your lips together in a kiss you both had waited a little too long for.

mark’s hands made their way to your waist, pulling you closer as he felt relief all through his body.

there was no way this was fake.

★ blue's corner ;; i couldn't make a series and not put mark in it, we all know this. this is part of the love actually series that i'm doing with both of my blogs ! ★ taglist ;; @neozon3nha @winwintea @spacejip @dudekiss3r @yizhrt @lyvhie @morkiee @astrasng ★ back to the masterlist. ★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!! ★ divider by @fairytopea

© peterm4rker, 2024

[kayla-and-the-moon]

baby, it's cold outside-! ᥫ᭡.

❄️plot: it's christmas eve and peter just really wants you stay, is that a crime?

❄️pairing: gn! reader x tasm!peter parker <3

❄️tw! : nothing just peter being a sweetpea/ best bf ever / darling dork. (dunno if minimal smooching counts as a tw-)

"god it's storming out there."

in your defense when you'd walked over here, the snow had been light, but now it seemed like the entirety of the world behind the window was a turbulent flurry of white. you'd come here to drop off some Christmas cookies your mom had baked, the problem was what was supposed to be a quick visit had turned into a couple hours.

of course you had one person to blame for that.

peter was practically engulfing you, his arms winding around your midriff and his face burying in your shoulder. you can feel the bastard's evil little grin against your sweater before he gives a hum of faux innocence.

"geez, that's really unfortunate", he tuts, his chin propping up to look at your unimpressed roll of the eyes in the window reflection, "I guess that means you'll have to stay huh?"

"pete, my dad would murder you."

"i think he'd murder me if I let you go out in this weather. so eitherway it's a death-death outcome, sweetheart."

it's honestly unfair how the nerd could turn you to all disarmed and smiley with a simple, dopey wisecrack of his. you have to stifle a snort of laughter before you turn to him with a brow raise. peter isn't deterred, but maybe even more motivated, and only just continues to look at you like you hung the moon itself.

"what? i'm just looking out for my girlfriend" he shrugs, but the stupid grin on his face belies those innocuous brown eyes of his.

you're almost persuaded to stay, but there's that niggling pinch of responsibility at the back of your mind, and you're once again looking outside as if your stared hard enough the sky would clear. no such luck, god, you wished the universe loved you enough to put its snowy tantrum on pause.

"it's not that bad, and my mom might get worried," you try reasoning, already picturing your mother's hysteria wondering if the multiple thugs lurking in new york's alleyways had taken you prisoner ,"really I should go-"

"you'll get pneumonia," he simply states with a pointed quirk of his brows, "plus we can always call."

"you know as well as I do that the cell service is unequivocally wrecked right now."

"then we'll call in the morning, your mom probably knows you're here," he counters, his fingertips drawing a path over your arms, "plus, I think she's caught on you're Spiderman's personal favorite civilian"

this brings a chuckle to slip from you, shaking your head at him.

"you're very pushy, peter parker" you roll your eyes, your arms crossing stubbornly over your chest.

peter can see right behind your facade though, and in all truth, he's feeling giddy as ever. he thinks he's the luckiest guy on earth when you grace him with that sweet smile rivaling sunshine.

"i'd just like to call it opportunistic," peter beams, the satisfaction evident in the glimmers of golden lamplight in his gaze.

"c'mon baby, don't make me beg here" he implores. lord, it should be forbidden for peter parker to call you that, since you have very little faith that your knees wouldn't buckle right that moment.

his hands find the curve of your waist and before you can even whisper the hint of another weak protest, he's dragged you to his bed, letting you fall on his chest with an unceremonious thump. you can't really bring yourself to tell him off, because peter has a way of making you all soft, and sticky with lovesickness. instead you just lean in to press a kiss of cinnamon sugar to his lips, and it's your turn to grin as he chases you after you pull away slightly.

your fingers toy with strands of his mousey brown hair at his nape as you give a theatrically defeated sigh, "okay fine, if you insist."

it's then you wish you could steal peter's camera just to capture the glow in his eyes, at your words, because truly you wanted to save that view forever. his palms rest on the apples of your cheeks, as he gives a low breathy laugh, his nose bumping to yours.

"that took a lot of convincing."

a/n: so this may be kinda rushed, so mind the quality, BUT i miss my tasm ! peter parker ,and i rlly rlly wanted to put out a christmas eve fic, and miss idina menzel and michael buble started this war (frank sinatra too, so blame them). eitherway, hope you liked this tiny lil fic, happy holidays ❄️🎅💕 !!

[bokutos-babyowl]

The Fall to a Thump

Fernando Alonso x Reader! Sainz

Content includes: 18+ MDNI,

Word Count: 1199

Summery:

It was never planned to fall for your brother's best friend or hurt the Pact of the Spaniards, but when things start to get rough, will you get caught?

Masterlist

It started rough at the Brazil Grand Prix, with all the crashes, and the rain; it was 50 shades of clusterfuck on the race week. Your brother Carlos is not having a good time this week at all, with Crash in Q2, the rain pouring, and to top it off, starting from the pits. You don't blame him for locking you out as you try to comfort him, hoping that being with him would help you not worry about Nando still on the track. But when you arrive to make sure he is okay, he slams the drivers' room door into your face. Turning around, you see the tense faces of the Ferrari crew but do nothing but walk out, heading to Aston Martin; your brother would be too busy to notice your absence.

Walking to Aston Martin was nothing new; you knew to go through the back that Lance leaves cracked for you to walk to Nando's room. Finding his room, you find the headset and your small cubby of blankets as snacks, your second home on the grid known to only a few (not even your brother knows where you go). Headset on, you listen to the rest of the race, drivers complaining about red flags and the whole clusterfuck of issues. Knowing that in your position you can't be out worried for Nando outside of his room, hoping that he makes it back safe. Falling asleep from the anxiety, you wake up to your ringing a text from Lance saying that Nando finished safe but needed help to get out of the car and would miss media duty. Waking up and putting your things away, you get ready for a hurt Nando, laying out his massage table and grabbing the salves to make him feel better, knowing he was going to once again sleep and not take care of himself. Throwing your phone aside on silent, you were ready to get him feeling like the rookie he is.

Walking in, he was not expecting you to be in his room, knowing that your brother had a rough race. Looking around, he finds what you had set up for him, then you sit on the bed with the skirt he loves and the red tank top. Walking over to you, he takes off his driver's suit. “Amorcita,” he says, pulling you off the bed and giving you a kiss. “Strip Nando, let me take care of you. I heard about how hard it was to get out of the car.” He winces as you bring that up, his back giving away his age. You start to help strip him of the sweaty clothes and turn on a hot shower for him. “Go wash up and then lay down on the massage bed for me, papi,” you say with a wink.

A few minutes later he shows back up with his towel on. You walk to guide him to the massage bed, helping him lay down and get comfy. “Stay right there.” Grabbing the salve, warming some in your hands, you start at his lower back, taking the tension from his hips as well. Nando gives a loud moan as you work out a knot in the middle of his back, moving your way up. “Fuck Amorcita, what would I do after a race without you?” he says with a huff. Moving up to his shoulders, you whisper into his ear. “I would probably always hear the complaints when hanging around you and Carlos yet never act to make you feel better.” “It pays to be your brother's hero; I think about that every time and thank him when I see you,” he huffs out, letting out the tension. “Turn around, Nando; let's start on your shoulders.” As he turns around, you notice you can't get everywhere you need to from the side.

Kicking off your shoes, you climb on the table, straddling him. Looking up to you, he has a glint in his eyes before shifting elsewhere, one that you choose to ignore for now. Straddling his hips, you give him some friction to his lower region; his hands grab onto your hips, trying to keep the friction going. Stopping your motions and pushing off his hands, you give him a glare. “Let me finish my job, Fernando, you say as your hands start massaging his chest; you can feel him losing it with how much he is pushing against your core. Working your way down, you slowly start to get him out of his pants. “Merde Amorcita,” he says as you slowly start to stroke him. “Patience Nando,” you say as you blow against the redhead, looking into his eyes before licking the precum off. Pulling you up with him, holding your hands, he places you right above him; moving your skirt aside, he slowly brings you down onto his cock. Moaning into his neck, you can feel every vein sinking into your walls. “Amorcita, you are so tight, my perfect cunt, made just for me.” Nodding your head, you start to slowly move yourself so he knows you are ready.

Nando takes that cue and slowly starts to tip you towards your first orgasm. Hips snapping back and forth as you muffle your moans into him. You can feel him start to stutter as you are about to read your own. Leaning back out of his grasp, you ride him until you both cum. Climbing off of him, you start to clean him up with your mouth. Until you are moved off of his cock. Lips popping off with a small pop sound, “You need to get ready for Amorcita; I will not be holding back,” he says with a wink.

As you both get ready to be presentable for the public, you see your and Nando's phones with missed calls and texts from Carlos and Lance. Tumbling through the door, you see Lance, running from a fuming Carlos. You make eye contact with your brother, knowing you are royally fucked… Walking to Carlos to calm him down, he walks past you straight to Fernando. “WHY OUT OF ALL PEOPLE DO YOU HAVE MY SISTER?” Fernado looks at him with a straight face. “What do you mean she came here after you of all people locked her out? Calm down, Carlos, she is safe with me,” he says with a wink. “See, your princessa is safe, no? Nothing is out of place, not a hair, he replies to himself, looking you over. “Fine, but next time answer your damn phones and keep her away from Lance next time he is up to something.” Carlos replies, looking Lance up and down as a threat. “If that's all, I will return with Carlos. See you later at race dinner,” you say to Fernando, walking out behind your brother, swaying your hips.

“She will be the death of both of us if you don't tell him soon; these walls aren't as soundproof as you seem to think,” Lance says, looking at Fernando, trying to be serious.

“The death of me she will be,” he replies, thinking about what is to come tonight after dinner.

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 24

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

NOAH

"It's important to stay well-hydrated, eat properly, and maintain a good sleep routine. It’s not like this feeling will disappear overnight, but a lifestyle more focused on your well-being might help…”

My attention was fixed on the hourglass on his desk, the sand sliding down into the lower compartment at a slow rhythm. If I said I was paying attention to anything, I’d be lying. Ever since I walked into this room, I’d been high on intravenous medication and completely oblivious to what was happening around me, slouched in a position in this chair that would surely give me a backache once I returned to my senses.

I didn’t know it was possible to feel even more apathetic.

“I can refer you to regular sessions with a professional—what do you think?” he pressed, trying to regain my attention again. “Your tests didn’t reveal anything I should worry about, but if these symptoms persist, it would be wise to seek a second opinion. It could help, considering your physical reactions are becoming increasingly severe.”

I let out a scoffing laugh without looking at him.

“Do you think I’m losing my mind?”

“I think your body is sending signals that it needs care. That’s common when patients are going through difficult times or even under pressure.” The deeper he delved into the topic, the more nausea churned in my stomach. I sighed as though trying to reclaim air in a near reflux. “Have you experienced anything like that? Feeling trapped in a state of excessive melancholy that seems to take longer to pass with each episode?”

Absolute silence.

“Do you think I’m planning to kill myself?” I asked with irony. “My contract doesn’t allow that.”

“I think it would be wise to take some time off to rest.”

I had a flight with the band in two hours, two festivals over the span of a week in different countries. Resting was only an option in my dreams—and even then, there was a risk I’d be working in them.

“Can I ask you something?” I finally shifted my attention from the hourglass to the man in a lab coat with graying hair behind the desk.

“Of course, Noah.”

“The girl who brought me here—she’s still in the hospital?” I asked carefully, biting down on my lower lip.

The doctor looked at me for a few seconds as if reading my microexpressions or whatever the hell I carried in my eyes. I felt a faint discomfort, but it wasn’t greater than the curiosity clawing at the inside of my skin.

“I can’t say for sure, Noah, but there’s a girl listed as your contact in your file. I’m just not sure if it’s the same person we’re talking about.”

I hated how my body reacted immediately, as though erasing the entire conversation about the studio and clinging solely to the fact that she might still be here—with me. Nothing else seemed to matter, none of the other things I was feeling, because somehow, she managed to give me the false sense that my heart was at peace again.

Like at the studio, when the touch of her hand silenced the chaos in my mind, even if it was just a fleeting truce, since everything came back threefold the moment she moved away.

I must have been losing my mind. I no longer had any awareness of my actions or control over them. I couldn’t filter my feelings, making them even more confusing each time I smothered them with some new, unrestrained emotion.

As I exited the consultation room, I saw nothing but other patients waiting to be seen. Gradually, I let my shoulders drop while I walked, scanning the reception area with slow steps when I didn’t see any sign of her around. What passed through my head wasn’t disappointment—certainly not.

A sudden jolt from physical contact made me turn sharply, my brow furrowing as I saw a girl greeting me with a hug I didn’t reciprocate, keeping my arms stiff at my sides. I blinked a few times before looking down and seeing the fiery red hair on top of her head.

“Scarlet?” I asked, confused.

“When I returned to the observation room, they told me you had woken up and gone to see the doctor. How are you feeling?” she asked sweetly, frowning as I moved her away from me by grabbing her arm.

“What are you doing here?”

“Are you disoriented from the meds? I received you at the hospital on behalf of the record label’s team and have been accompanying you ever since, silly!”

“But…”

Had I been mixing things up? As far as I remembered, it wasn’t Scarlet who had been with me when I arrived here or when the medication knocked me out. But was I coherent enough to argue? My head was beginning to throb again, and my thoughts were as tangled as the sequence of events.

I definitely didn’t remember this particular cut.

“How about lunch? There’s a restaurant nearby that—”

“I just want to go home.” I interrupted while craning my neck to look around.

“Alright, I’ll drive you!” she replied with unshakable enthusiasm, and I let out a deep sigh.

“Isn’t there anyone else who can do that?”

“Noah, you don’t have to be so hard on me, okay? I know you’d rather have someone else in my place, but there’s not much I can do if she didn’t want it that way!” Scarlet’s tone was almost offended as she shrugged. “Let me help you—I promise that’s all I want.”

Meeting her bright green eyes as she fluttered her long lashes, I just turned around and started walking toward the exit. Scarlet sighed in satisfaction behind me, following like a duckling trailing after its mother.

On the way to the car, I tried to pull as much as I could from my worn-out mind, demanding myself to recall the route from the studio and my time in the hospital, but it felt as though a gaping hole had formed in my memory.

“I have good news for you!” she said, tapping her fingertips together as she closed the driver’s door.

“I don’t like people beating around the bush. Be direct.”

“Well…” Scarlet cleared her throat awkwardly. “Bryan has to miss the band’s trips this week, and I’ll be replacing him as the photographer. Isn’t that amazing?”

I was still searching for the “good” part of the news.

“Since when do you need to take band photography jobs?” I asked, perplexed, shifting my gaze to her. “That makes no sense when you make triple the amount from a single modeling gig.”

“I haven’t had as many jobs lately. This opportunity came up, and since you guys already know me from photographing the band’s collection, I took it!”

“Does everyone know about this already?”

"I thought I only owed explanations to you."

"I'm not a solo artist, and changes need to go through everyone in the band first!" I tried to moderate my tone as I turned back to the dashboard.

"Well, my hiring was cleared by Gerard, and now you're being informed about it. I don’t think anyone else is left on my list." She concluded with conviction after adjusting the rearview mirror to see her own reflection.

The girl lowered her sunglasses and started the car, keeping a moderate speed and playing some generic pop music that scratched at my ears.

I was about to open the door and throw myself onto the road at any moment.

At home, I barely had time to sit and breathe before being bombarded with calls and messages about being late to the airport. Moving at the slow pace I was still processing things, I threw a few pieces of clothing into a backpack and called a taxi to meet up with the band as quickly as possible.

"Hey, man! How are you feeling?" Folio greeted me at the entrance with a light slap on my arm.

"I'm fine," I replied, forcing some enthusiasm into my voice as I followed him. "You seem excited to travel."

"And when am I not?" he said as if it were obvious, raising his hands in the air. "I thought we were all eager to get back on stage after some time."

"You're right..." I felt like I couldn’t say the same. "I am, too."

In the boarding line, I bit the inside of my lips as soon as her perfume arrived first in the air, infecting everything in the blink of an eye as if it wanted to suffocate me. From the corner of my eye, I saw her stop behind me, wearing sunglasses and focused on a piece of paper she was holding, her long black-painted nails adorned with rings she rarely took off.

"What are you doing here?" I heard her voice and turned to see she was speaking to Scarlet, who had taken a spot behind her.

"Didn't Noah tell you?" the red-haired girl replied with raised eyebrows. "I'll be accompanying the band as a photographer."

"No, Noah didn’t tell us..." She smiled slowly and turned to look straight at me. Every word she spoke to Scarlet didn’t require the slightest eye contact—she directed her harsh words while fixing me with a furious glare. "I didn’t know he was hiring just anyone to keep his girlfriend around."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, lowering my voice as if each word pierced my brain, my headache still relentless.

"Listen here, girl, you respect me because I am not just anyone!"

She laughed, covering her mouth with trembling fingers before recomposing herself and gliding her lipstick-coated lips together.

"Thank you so much for the info, sweetheart! Good luck keeping an eye on him backstage."

Like a furious storm, she delivered her acidic words while brushing past me, heading toward our friends up ahead.

"I find her so rude," Scarlet muttered with a dissatisfied grunt. "No wonder if she's high, acting so full of herself."

"Why don’t you just shut up?" I snapped, cutting her words short with a cold sideways glare. "If you found a way to insert yourself into the band through work, then do it. Pretend the rumors about my personality are true—don’t talk to me, don’t sit next to me, don’t ask me for anything, and definitely don’t meddle in my life. I sincerely hope I don’t have to hear your voice until the plane lands, or I’ll ship you off to an island in New Zealand."

"But Noah—"

Before Scarlet could say anything else, I turned my back on her and followed the rest of the team. Fortunately, I was so exhausted that the rest of the trip seemed to promise immediate sleep.

On the plane, however, my mood worsened even more when I realized I’d been assigned the worst seat possible: right behind Ruffilo and the others, who were laughing loudly and joking incessantly with her.

Ruffilo’s loud laugh cut through the air, and something inside me pulsed with growing irritation.

"Could you all keep it down?" I snapped, sharp enough to silence them. "I’m trying to sleep."

"Sorry, Noah..." Ruffilo apologized, pulling an exaggerated pout. "We were just trying to distract her."

I rolled my eyes. "Her fear of flying will only ease if you let her sit by the window. Acting like clowns won’t help. Now stop bothering me."

An awkward silence settled momentarily, soon replaced by careful movement in the aisle. She swapped seats, taking the one by the window. The light filtering through the clouds bathed her face with a softness that, against my will, held my attention for a few seconds longer than it should have.

Her expression was tense, her brow furrowed, almost in agony over something as she looked outside, her delicate fingers tapping quickly against the seat’s side. Her scent lingered in the air—subtle, but impossible to ignore.

I caught myself inhaling deeply, without realizing it, before quickly averting my gaze and leaning my head against the headrest, trying to ignore the silent chaos she caused in me.

The landing was turbulent, both literally and emotionally, as I still struggled to fall asleep. The uncomfortable silence during the remainder of the flight was replaced by the team’s bustle during disembarkation, everyone busy gathering their belongings. I, on the other hand, kept my distance from Scarlet, even when she was just a few steps behind me.

We arrived at the hotel, unfortunately crowded with other teams and bands participating in the festival. The marble lobby reflected the golden light of the chandelier, creating an environment that felt suffocating after such an exhausting day.

Ruffilo led the small line at the reception desk, collecting room keys and handing them out. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until Scarlet cleared her throat loudly, drawing everyone’s attention.

"And my room?" Scarlet asked, crossing her arms, visibly annoyed.

Ruffilo hesitated, glancing at the receptionist before turning back to her. "You… didn’t book a room?"

She rolled her eyes. "I thought someone on the team would do that for me."

My patience, already frayed, was about to snap. "And no one thought to tell you that you needed to handle it yourself?"

"Don’t start, Noah," she shot back, her cheeks tinged slightly pink but her tone sharp. "I can stay in your room."

The suggestion—or rather, demand—made my head turn in her direction so fast I felt tension in my neck. "Absolutely not," I replied, my voice firm as contained thunder.

Scarlet raised an eyebrow, defiant. "Oh, what's the problem? I'm not asking for much."

"It's not happening," I emphasized, gesturing toward the group. "Why don't you share a room with the only other woman here?"

The suggestion was logical but caused a pause in the room. Scarlet looked at me as if I had just gravely insulted her, while the girl chewing gum and inspecting her nails smirked faintly, almost imperceptibly.

"Great idea," she said with false cheerfulness, a lightness that contrasted with the tension in the air. "I don't mind sharing a room with you, Redhead."

Scarlet turned to her, clearly indignant. "You must be joking."

"She's not," I interrupted, more firmly than I intended. "Problem solved."

Scarlet huffed, shooting a final look of displeasure before grabbing her things. I watched her walk away, the sound of her footsteps echoing on the marble as she reluctantly departed.

"Did I mention how much I love your grouchy old-man spirit today?" Ruffilo commented under his breath, barely holding back a laugh. "It's rarely this entertaining."

"I just want to figure out what the hell that girl is doing," I muttered, cutting off the joke as I grabbed my key and headed for the elevator.

"Replacing Bryan, right?"

"That's what it seems…"

But I had a feeling Scarlet's presence was more than just coincidence.

After settling into my room, an uneasiness began to consume me. The hotel was too dull, and the day's tension lingered in my head like an endless echo. I decided to head out in search of something to eat—anything to get me out of that oppressive atmosphere.

I called a taxi, and as I waited at the entrance, the cold night air brought momentary relief. As soon as the car arrived, I opened the door and got in, giving the driver an address I vaguely remembered seeing in a travel magazine. Before the taxi could leave, the opposite door suddenly opened, and a familiar figure climbed in without hesitation.

"Of course," I muttered, already exasperated as she settled in beside me with a mischievous smile.

"How lucky for me," she said, feigning enthusiasm. "Sharing a taxi with the devil himself."

"Seriously? Can't you take another one?" I asked, already considering opening the door and getting out.

"I'm already here; there's no way I'm letting a ride pass by," she retorted, fixing her hair as if that would end the argument. “Besides, I’m looking for a place to eat. What a coincidence, huh? Hey, where's Scarlet?"

"Perfect," I muttered sarcastically, leaning back against the seat and looking out the window, trying to ignore her.

The ride was silent—on my part, at least. She seemed quite pleased to tease me with remarks about the city, the driver, and even how I always seemed grumpy.

When we finally arrived at the address, I got out quickly, eager to rid myself of her. But, unsurprisingly, she followed right behind me, the sound of her boots echoing on the sidewalk.

"Why are you getting out?" I asked, turning to face her.

"Because I decided to eat at the same place as you," she replied with a challenging smile.

I rolled my eyes and started walking, but soon noticed something strange. The address I had chosen… didn't seem right. There was no restaurant in sight, just old buildings and poorly lit streets.

"Are you sure this is the place?" she asked, glancing around with raised eyebrows.

"Of course I am," I lied, though the discomfort was evident in my voice.

"Oh, then where's the restaurant, genius?" She crossed her arms, tilting her head at me with a look of fake patience.

"Maybe it's around the corner," I replied, pointing randomly and starting to walk, even though I wasn’t certain.

"Or maybe you just have no idea what you're doing," she quipped, following me.

"You didn’t have to come," I shot back, spinning on my heel to face her.

"And you didn’t have to get us lost," she countered with a shrug.

The argument escalated quickly. Our voices echoed through the deserted streets as we argued about whose fault it was—mine, for choosing an address without checking, or hers, for insisting on tagging along.

"You think you know everything, don't you?" she exclaimed, shaking her head.

"And you think you have the right to meddle in everything," I retorted, pointing at her.

She opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a distant sound—something metallic, like a gate slamming shut. We both fell silent immediately, the atmosphere now much quieter and stranger than before.

"Great," she muttered, glancing around again. "Now we're lost on an empty street and probably about to get mugged."

"If you’d stop complaining for a second, maybe we could find the place," I replied, trying to ignore the growing unease inside me.

But deep down, I knew she was right. The night was only getting worse.

The sky began to shift slowly, the bluish tones giving way to a deep orange that soon turned into an oppressive darkness. What once looked like deserted streets now carried an unsettling aura. The buildings and sidewalks disappeared, replaced by empty lots and sparse trees. The silence was broken only by the sound of our footsteps, which seemed louder with every second.

"What’s the matter, Noah? Afraid of the dark?" she teased, wiggling her fingers, though her voice trembled slightly, betraying her growing discomfort.

"Stop being pathetic!" I snapped, forcing sarcasm to mask the anxiety creeping over me.

The real trouble came when my phone vibrated one last time before dying completely.

"Perfect," I muttered, holding the lifeless device in my hand.

She glanced at her own phone and made a face, letting out a dry laugh. "Mine’s almost dead too. We’re out of GPS, no taxi, and no idea where we are."

"Oh, so you’re just now realizing this was a terrible idea?"

"You brought me here!" she shot back, arms crossed like she owned the moral high ground.

The argument continued as we walked, but the energy was draining along with the daylight. The jokes and taunts gave way to irritated grumbles and, eventually, to an uncomfortable silence. The cold began to set in, making her rub her arms and mutter something about how much of a waste of time this all was.

That was when we spotted a structure in the distance, partially hidden by the trees.

“Is that a house?” she asked, her voice tinged with doubt.

“Sort of,” I replied, eyeing the weathered, timeworn structure. It was small, with cracked walls and windows boarded up with planks.

It looked like it had been abandoned for years, but at least it offered shelter.

“I can’t believe I’m going in there,” I said, taking a step back.

“Great. Stay out here and see how much you like the freezing wind,” she shot back before pushing open the slightly ajar door.

The inside was no more inviting than the outside. The wooden floor creaked with every step, and the smell of mildew and dust filled my lungs. There were only two rooms: one that seemed to be the main living area and another that might have been a bedroom. Unlike me, she was enthralled, poking around at everything from the walls to the furniture and even amusing herself by sniffing the abandoned food in the fridge.

I hated how she could turn any situation into a joke.

“Do you think it’s safe?” I asked, following her hesitantly.

“No idea. But it’s better than staying outside.”

I scoffed, glancing around with disdain.

“So, what now? Are we setting up camp here and waiting for sunrise?”

“Maybe. Did you bring a tent? Because there’s only one bed, and I’m not sleeping with you, Mr. I-Snore-All-Night.”

“Funny,” I said mockingly, throwing a dusty pillow at her. “I don’t snore anymore.”

The tension between us kept building, every word dripping with irritation and exhaustion. My heart was pounding harder—not just because of the situation, but because of her presence, so close yet so infuriating.

“I feel like you planned this just to get some alone time with me!” she accused, her eyes gleaming with anger. “At the very least, I expected a less exotic location.”

“Disappearing your body behind this house at sunrise is still an option.”

“I definitely deserve more than being dumped in the middle of nowhere!” she declared haughtily.

“I can’t believe I have to spend the night under the same roof as you! I’d have preferred being mugged outside.”

“Then go back out there, Superman!”

Our bickering echoed off the empty walls, the anger making the discomfort almost palpable. Yet, in the midst of our insults, a sound from outside cut through the tension.

A low rustling, like leaves being stepped on.

We both fell silent immediately, our eyes darting toward the open door. The air grew heavier, and for the first time since we left the hotel, I felt something close to genuine fear.

“Did you hear that?” she whispered, her voice finally stripped of sarcasm.

“Yes,” I replied, my gaze fixed on the darkness outside.

Something was out there.

And, for the first time that night, our argument ceased to matter.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lacy1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline​ ; @just-randomm-stuff

[livi-in-digital-circus]

That one time when Ragatha (surprisingly) got jealous

For day 1 of Bunnydoll Week 2024 - Jealousy

It was the day a new character arrived at the circus. And unfortunately for Ragatha, it was a strangely cute pinkish rabbit. Dressed in pastels and ribbons, Mary Sue was the prettiest figure in the entire Digital Circus. But it was not her looks that the rag doll was jealous of.

After combining everything they remembered from their past lives, a conclusion was formed that Jax had in fact dated Sue in high school. Usually, girls lose their feelings for their boyfriends after they haven’t seen them for a few years, but this particular case was different. After being reunited with the ‘love of her life’, Sue wanted to make sure their relationship was still possible, but even though she seemed sweet and innocent, she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

The problem was that recently Jax was currently dating Ragatha and there was no way he was going to break up with her.

Right?

The first adventure Caine prepared for Sue also worked to Ragatha’s disadvantage. It was to be a treasure hunt throughout the circus, including the bedrooms. The team was divided into pairs and one trio, which was Ragatha, Gangle, and Kinger. All groups had about thirty minutes to find all the items to get a grand prize, which surprisingly wasn’t a feast.

Terror washed over Ragatha as she remembered something Jax had left in her room the night before. The thought of someone finding it under her bed made her dizzy, as their relationship was still a secret she shared only with Pomni. Mostly so as not to scare Gangle and not to make Zooble think badly of the rag doll.

Once the details of the adventure were explained, Caine snapped his fingers, and random valuable items spawned in various locations. There was no map or clues as to where to find them, which was to be expected from the ringmaster. His adventures weren’t supposed to be easy after all.

As they wandered through the main area, Ragatha heard a giggle coming from another side of the circus and she could swear it was Sue. Unfortunately, she was paired with Jax and was probably trying to convince him that they should continue their relationship. And that made Ragatha’s non-existent blood boil.

In all the years she was trapped in the circus, Ragatha never felt jealous of anyone. She had her own opinions about each character, which differed slightly from what she said she thought about them. But no matter how bad or good they were, jealousy was something unknown to her.

Until now.

Even though Jax had promised Ragatha a thousand times that he had no interest in cheating on her, Sue's presence made her anxious. She glanced again in the direction the sound was coming from, but saw nothing. That didn’t help at all, as Ragatha felt her fists clenching.

She didn‘t care about the girls Jax was talking to because they were their friends. But this was his former girlfriend and that was a problem.

“Ragatha, are you okay? You’re shaking all over.”

“Huh?” The rag doll was pulled out of her thoughts by Gangle, who looked at her with a worried expression. “Oh! Yeah, I’m fine! No need to worry!”

“You always say that when something is wrong…”

Ragatha let out a deep sigh and moved her non-button eye to the ground. What was she supposed to say? ‘Oh, I’m just pissed off because this Mary Sue turned out to be Jax’s girlfriend from the real world, and by the way, me and Jax have been dating for quite some time’? No way.

Instead, she just kept walking until they reached the bedroom area. The first room they decided to check was Pomni’s, but Ragatha quickly ran to hers. She had to calm herself down before she flew into a rage, grabbed Sue by her bunny ears, and threw her out of the circus.

She sat on the bed and thought about what to do. What if Jax had already broken his promise and cheated on her? Ragatha felt her eye water. She had to find out. But before she could do anything, the door opened and none other than Jax entered the room. The first thing he noticed, of course, was the rag doll.

“Quitting the adventure? That’s not your style, Raggy.” He sat down next to her, expecting to hear some sort of complaint from her, but all he saw was her tears and trembling. The smile faded from Jax’s face. “Alright Dollface, what’s going on?”

“I… don’t like you hanging out with another girl, especially if she’s your ex…”

Jax’s eyes widen at those words. He had never seen Ragatha jealous before, so it took him by surprise. But it was a sight to behold.

“Awww, you poor little thing. Remember what I promised you? [BEEP], Sue doesn’t even have romantic feelings for me anymore, she just spends a lot of time with me just because she wants to be friends again.”

Ragatha looked at him as if he had just said that he had drowned Caine in the Digital Lake. She felt a huge embarrassment and hid her face in Jax’s chest. She hadn’t even had a chance to get to know Sue better and was already making assumptions based on her and the rabbit’s past relationship.

Jax put a hand behind her head and slowly ran his fingers through her yarn curls. He wasn’t angry with her for being jealous. In fact, he found it quite impressive.

Ragatha also had no idea that her boyfriend had noticed her strange behavior and the way she gave Sue a death stare. What a cutie.

Yes, she should be jealous more often.

Thanks for reading!

[kamechan98]

Octavia is a seventeen year old girl who has little to no connection to the outside world that we know of. Stolas is the one positive relationship she has and that has become more and more strained over the years and especially since he slept with Blitzø that first time. And so she's been caught in the middle of her parents' drama, her mother's abuse hitting a new peak, her father finally standing up for himself which changes the dynamic as well, her mother moving out and also trying to pursue a relationship with Blitzø, which definately is a lot to deal with for anyone, especially a kid.

But, let's face it, Octavia does come across as pretty self-absorbed in a lot of ways. Which I do not blame her for at all, btw, we are all self-absorbed when we're young and especially in this awkward teen years. And dealing with a divorce is going to be rough on the kids, it's common for kids to feel like their parents not loving each other and staying together is somehow their fault.

But with that said, that immediate jump from "my dad's taking anti-depressants" to "is it MY fault that he needed these? Was he only staying with us and keeping himself miserable because of me?" Which, while mostly true, is a bit of a oversimplification of the situation. Yes, Stolas stayed with Stella and put up with her abuse so Octavia could have a normal, happy life, but if he had not met up with Blitzø again, him wanting a divorce and finally standing up for himself probably wouldn't have happened. Blitzø made him realize that he could choose for himself and find happiness, but if he hadn't, he'd probably would have just stayed in that relationship until he died if it meant keeping Octavia happy. And Stolas is a big People Pleaser so he probably wouldn't have rocked the boat too much if he hadn't found that strength in Blitzø.

People in bad, unhappy or abusive relationships have often been convinced that things can't get better, that this is all you're gonna get so it's better than nothing, and part of escaping is learning that things can indeed get better. And once you realize that, it's very hard being okay in those bad relationships or situations, which is shown as Stolas stands up to Stella, goes through with the divorce and tries to pursue his own happiness.

But back to Octavia, this of course is hard for her as her whole life and world is crumbling around her and as Stolas is her only positive relationship, she's terrified of losing him. As well as, while her life may not have been 100% happy or good, it was one she was used to and grew to either love or tolerate. And since Stolas is the one who pulled the plug on it, it is easy to point the finger at him saying he ruined everything. Kind of like how it's easy to blame anyone who blows the whistle for disrupting the status quo that everyone has grown used to because now they have to settle to something new, rather than happy someone finally did something to try and fix a problem and in the long run could make things better.

And since teenagers are a bit self-absorbed and dramatic, it makes sense for her to feel like Stolas has ruined her life and that he chose Blitzø over her, and not as Stolas trying to find a healthy relationship with someone else that can make him happy in ways she can't. That it isn't as black-and-white as she makes it out to be, that loving Blitzø doesn't make him love her any less or him being miserable and needing anti-depressants is because of her and him taking the first out of their family that he could find because he was just that unhappy. That in her mind it makes sense that Stolas just stayed with her because of obligation and the second he could leave her and Stella behind for Blitzø and can't see the whole picture yet.

That Stolas isn't choosing Blitzø over her, but rather choosing Blitzø over Stella and her abuse. That Blitzø isn't trying to steal her dad from her but maybe give her a happier, healthier family dynamic than the one she has. Right now she can't see thatm she only sees her father choosing to die for his affair partner and was willing to leave her alone with her mother. And more or less saying he should have let Blitzø die so Stolas wouldnt' have left her behind. Which is unfair and cruel to say, especially to someone who's already depressed and broken, but I'm willing to bet you money that if someone sat her down and had a calm, gentle conversation with her about it, asking if she really thinks her father should have let Blitzø die, she'd probably say no, if a bit reluctantly. But these are the kind of emotions you go through during tough times and we all say things we don't mean when we're upset, hurt and angry but once we start unpacking them we're able to deal with them better and see them in black and white.

After all, hurt people hurt people

And the sad thing is, all it would take is one long, probably painful but long overdue conversation between Stolas and Octavia for her to understand, or at least understand his perspective better. Maybe not the whole thing, as she's right in the middle of abuse and growing up around it has made her grow used to it. It would probably help to talk to an outsider who's able to see the abuse for what it is. But once Octavia realizes this, sees how truly terrible and evil her mother is and how she tried to have him killed, she will turn on her, no doubt about that. And once she's also given some love and compassion from others, the way Stolas has started to, she will go through the same kind of journey her father is currently going through.

Both Stolas and Octavia have hurt each other and both have good reasons for why they did what they did or feel what they feel, but I 1000% believe they'll find their way back to each other.

As much as i can understand where Via is coming from, and her feelings are valid, she doesn’t see her dad as a living person outside of just being her father. And that isn’t right. It’s especially not right seeing just how many people feel absolutely no empathy for him.

“She was just a child having to endure all that!!” Okay, and how old was Stolas when he had to marry an abusive girl and have a kid of his own, exactly? At least he gave Via a chance to have a good childhood, he didn’t have one. He didn’t have anything except for his duties to carry out.

And while it’s heartbreaking that Via sees herself as an obligation, that’s literally what she was supposed to be. Though that doesn’t mean that was how he saw her. She was what saved him, what made him endure all the abuse, what kept him going.

But sometimes that’s not enough, he had NO ONE to confide in and couldn’t put his frustrations on his own kid (because he’s a good father, despite what some of you would like to believe, clearly you didn’t grow up with a parent trying to guilt you by traumadumping when you can barely understand it), so he also NEEDED the pills.

The thing is, i also had that mentality towards my mom for dealing with depression UNTIL i started experiencing it myself. Because it’s so hard to realize that your parents are also human beings, since they’re supposed to protect you, they’re supposed to have everything figured out, to be the shoulder you cry on.

But if i see another dumbass claim that he CHOSE to leave and made the wrong decision in Mastermind, i need you out of this fandom. The whole point of that was that he had no choice, was he supposed to throw away the man he fell in love with, his first friend, his first time that wasn’t for procreation, and the one who liberated him? Stolas is allowed to care for more than one person, and he deserves to be loved romantically by someone.

You’re being too harsh on Stolas because for whatever reason you hate an abuse victim finally having a say in how to live for once in their lives, adding on top of that the weird, underlying homophobia in some of your criticisms for him.

Also i have a bad taste in my mouth from Via only seemingly hating Stolas, despite having SEEN how shitty Stella is. Sure, she doesn’t know the full extent of the abuse, but she’s heard the yelling, she’s seen the throwing, the ridiculing, the insensitivity. And most likely that woman neglected Via as much as possible, because she also didn’t choose to have her, but unlike Stolas she didn’t give a fuck to take responsibility regardless. (Reminding you of the “You get up” comment from Loo Loo Land). This was all happening before the cheating, so that’s not an excuse for her behavior (not that the cheating was, but at least Via would have been able to reason with her reaction to it).

It’s a complicated situation and it’s so shitty to put all the blame on Stolas, he tried so much for his family, but it was never going to be enough, because he’s gay. I’m glad he got out of that marriage.

Honestly, had i been given all those responsibilities at his age in a loveless marriage, i would’ve gone insane. I wouldn’t have been kind to my child, the cause of my shit life. But he never saw her as a weight on his shoulders, he has so much love for Via.

[koshkamartell]

Hello my loves.

This is it. The final chapter of No One But Me. I'm sorry it took so long to write; there was so much emotion and energy involved in this final part that it took longer than I expected. I hope you all enjoy it.

Thank you to my little group of faithful readers who have showed their support and love throughout this journey. I have appreciated all your comments and reblogs so much. It gives me alot of joy to hear that my story has been a source of joy and entertainment for someone.

I haven't added a warning list to this part in order to avoid spoilers. Please leave me your thoughts after you read.

The sound of the gunshot reverberated throughout the clearing surrounding the cabin, stirring birds to flee from the forest treetops with the loud flapping of their wings. You only managed to run a few yards from the porch before the gunfire caused you to come to a halt.

Your boots skid in the icy snow as you whip around in search of where the shot was fired from. Your eyes scan the surrounding woodland for any shapes or movement between the trees. You imagine a man - another raider - just as tall and ugly as Lyle, stalking through the forest clutching a hunting rifle, on his way to kill you. The thought drives a spike of fear through your guts and makes your full bladder ache.

You search around, vigilant and alert, subconsciouly holding your breath in your lungs. You pause and wait, trying in vain to keep your body from shaking. You wait for but nothing happens. No sign of danger presents itself, neither in the form of an infected or an unknown, ominous figure holding a gun.

You inhale a gulping breath of the bitterly cold winter air and a visible puff of cloud escapes your lips when you exhale.

Was it Joel who fired the shot? He must be absolutely livid with you, crazed with fury at your repeated insolence, your second attempt at escape in less than two days. He must have fired a warning shot when he saw you had gone, as there's no way Joel would miss a target, not with all his weaponry prowess.

You look back to the cabin now, your whole body still shivering with fear, expecting to see Joel standing on the porch brandishing a gun in his large blood covered hands. But Joel is not there.

Your eyes then fall upon the figure laying on the ground.

You had been so startled by the sound of the gun shot that you hadn't realised Oscar was not next to you. Your stomach sinks when you see that Oscar had not made it as far as you; he had fallen to his knees just a few steps from the cabin.

"Oscar!" You shriek with panic. Your own voice sounds muffled as your heart beat continues to thrum inside your head and inbetween your ears. You pace back to meet him, gasping in sharp breathes of the cold morning air as your legs work to carry your exhausted body.

You drop to the ground infront of Oscar and bring your trembling hands up to cradle his face, the stubble along his jaw pricking your palms. His skin feels cool to the touch and beads of sweat are dotted across his forehead. "What happened? Oscar, what is it?"

His eyes screw shut and his eyebrows knit together in a grimace of pain. He sucks a sharp breath of air through his clenched teeth. "I...I gotta lay down."

"O-Okay," you murmer. Oscar plants a hand on the ground behind him and begins to recline back. You splay one of your hands against the middle of back, your other still holding the side of his face. "Let me help you, go slow."

Oscar tries to shift his legs out infront of him but his limbs move too quickly, as though they are uncoordinated and weak; he plops down onto his backside with a thud, hissing with pain at the way his body jostles. You coo sympathetically and urge him once again to take it slow. He grunts and lays down flat on his back, pressing a hand to his lower abdomen.

You notice the motion straight away. "What happened to your stomach?"

Oscar gives a slight shake of his head but doesn't open his eyes or say anything. You slide your hand down from his face to where he clutches his stomach. You curl your fingers gingerly around his and try to gently pry them away from the area. At first he resists, but after you whisper a tearful please he relents and uncovers the spot. You gasp when you see that his whole palm is covered in blood.

Oh my god oh my god oh no

There's a ragged hole at the bottom of his jacket. You quickly fumble for the zip and yank it downwards, sweeping the panels to the side of his torso. Oscar allows you to do so without protest, his eyes still tightly closed, clearly battling against the internal agony that has been afflicted upon his body. You grab the bottom of his sweater and hurriedly tug it upward. You are desperate to see the hurt hidden underneath his clothes, desperate to see just how bad the damage is.

When you find the source of his pain, you cannot contain the strangled cry that claws its way up your throat, raw and ugly. There's a small round black hole etched into the left side of his lower belly, just above his hip. It is a clean cut bullet wound with the flesh around it still firm. A thick pool of deep red blood puddles inside it, overflowing into a trickle that spills down to his groin.

It's a gunshot wound. When had he been shot?

"How?" You whisper brokenly, tears springing to your eyes. You grab hold of his bloody hand and squeeze it, wanting to reassure him of your presence, that you're still right next to him.

Why don't you remember?

Everything leading up to this moment is a blur within your memory. You don't have the capacity to realise just why, though. You don't know that while trapped within the chaos inside the cabin, your conscious had been overridden by your will to survive. You don't know you had dissociated, brain detaching from a reality you couldn't cope with. You hadn't remembered Lyle shooting Oscar because your mind was protecting you.

Oscar groans and squeezes your hand in his shaking one. "W-w...what can I do?" You stroke his forehead tenderly. "How do I stop the bleeding?"

"I'm okay, honey," he mumbles, his beautiful dark eyes flickering open to stare up at you. His little round glasses sit crookedly on his face and you gingerly fix them to perch straight on his nose. He offers you a weak smile in return. "Just...just stay right here."

"I'm here," you promise him, stroking over the curls on his temple. "I'm here."

The sound of a gun firing stops Joel's fist from connecting another gruelling punch to the raider's already gruesome face. It is like he's being snapped out of a trance, suddenly propelled from a hellish nightmare back to reality. His vision blurs as he struggles to focus on the scene before him, and it takes several seconds for him to remember just what had transpired within the last ten minutes.

Joel glances down at his hand curled tight into a fist. It's completely coated in blood, and although his knuckles are raw and stinging, he knows the blood doesn't belong to him. His eyes descend to the lifeless body laying underneath his straddling thighs. He sees the grisly wreck of the man's head and it prompts a wave of nausea to lurch in his stomach. He has to quickly swallow the bile that rises in his throat, the bitter acid burning his oesophagus.

Joel can't remember the last time he lost control like this. Maybe a long while before he started living in Jackson. It must have been, for Joel had to learn to hold back on dishing out beatings when he arrived in town. Despite wanting nothing more than to slap the shit out of some of the insubordinate young men around the town, he had quelled his temper with all his might for the sake of Ellie. He had masked so much of himself, of his true nature, all for their chance to carve out a decent life together in the safe community.

But that savage beast of wrath had lain dormant inside him for all this time, waiting for a reason to rear its barbaric head and fight. There had never been a legitimate reason for this vicious part of Joel to show itself while they lived in the haven of Jackson. But then again, nothing had evoked such an intense fury inside him as when the raider threatened your life right infront of him.

You.

His mind panics instantly, your name falling from his chapped lips with an edge of desperation. His head jerks around to where you were left beside the bed. You're gone, the leftover rope hanging limply from the bed frame, the ends frayed. A pocket knife lays on the floorboards where you were sat, its blunt looking blade glinting against the lone ray of sunshine pouring in through the window.

Estrada, the mother fucking prick. Did he really come all this way to get you? And you're gone, but who fired that shot? Are there more raiders out there? That pussy can't keep you safe. He needs to get out there and get you right now.

Joel shoves himself off of the raider's body and staggers to stand up. The bones in his back crack as he straightens upright. His whole body is an aching fucking mess but he refuses to think about pain. He can't. He's got to find you.

He grabs Lyle's gun off the floor and then hastily pulls on his boots, ignoring the blood his smears on every surface he touches. He storms out the bedroom to the front door, his footfalls striking heavily against the floorboards with each purposeful, formidable step. You can't have gone far; Joel knows you can't ride a horse and he's pretty sure the raider shot Estrada, so he's willing to bet you're still in a quarter mile radius.

Fuckin' Estrada. He'll blast the useless son of a bitch to pieces. He'll make you watch, force you to see how no one will ever come between you and he. Finally get it through that head of yours that you only belong with him.

Joel stalks out through the front door, resolution and determination catapulting him forth on his long legs. He's going to have to do something a little more drastic, he thinks, in order to cement his ownership over you, so you and everybody else in this world can see you're his, that you can't run away. Maybe a fucking brand on your skin.

Joel's boots only just meet the snow before he abruptly halts at the fringe of the cabin deck. It turns out you didn't even get past the boundary of the clearing, didn't even get 20 feet from the cabin. Instead you're here kneeling on the ground, Oscar laying down beside you on his back, his head in your lap. It appears intimate, a private moment he has stumbled upon, and it makes his stomach twist with burning possessiveness. He scowls, flexing his hand around the grip of the pistol, the raider's blood already drying and crusting over the broken skin of his knuckles.

Joel calls your name, his raspy voice loud and harsh, cutting through the air like a master commanding his dog. Your head snaps back to face him instantly; wisps of hair cling to your tear stained cheeks, your eyes wide with distress, your nose tinged pink from the cold air and all the crying you've done. You stay kneeling and Oscar remains on his back, which somehow pisses him off even more.

What the hell is going on? And where'd that gun shot come from?

"Goddamn it," Joel growls. He stomps over to you, jaw clenching and unclenching. He's going to drag you back inside by your hair after he kills Oscar. He'll strip you of your clothes and smack your ass until it's black and blue. His anger is palpable, radiating from him like a furnace, and the terror on your face amplifies with every determined step he takes.

"Joel, please," you plead, "don't touch him!"

"Get up and go back inside, right now!" Joel snarls. He'll do as he damn well pleases, and if that includes beating the shit out of Estrada like he did the raider, then so be it.

Joel bends down to grab you by your collar but your hand shoots up and grips around his wrist, your fingernails sinking into his skin. Your red rimmed eyes stare up at him, frantic and imploring.

"Joel, wait, listen to me!" You gasp shrilly. "He's hurt! Look!"

Joel's gaze falls down past your face to where Oscar lays beneath you. He's startled by the change in Oscar's appearance, so unexpected and pitiful that it actually dampens the anger and jealousy seething from his core.

He watches Oscar stare up at you and Joel, brows pulled together in a pain filled wince, a dull quality to his brown orbs. His pallid skin has a waxy sheen to it and there is a blueish tint to his trembling lips. His breaths come out in long stuttering gasps. Joel's eyes trail down to where Oscar's shirt in bunched in your hand and he sees the bloody hole sitting at the bottom of his belly.

You are right. He's hurt. The raider did shoot him.

"Joel, what d-do we do?" You sniffle, tightening your grasp around his wrist. "How do we treat it?"

The internal damage is difficult to assess, but judging from the location of the wound and how Oscar currently looks, the bullet has likely hit some organs, Joel silently deduces. It's dire, and with how Oscar's shivering right now he's not sure how long the man will survive for. Joel has seen his fair share of people die from all different kinds of ailments and wounds. He knows the signs well.

His gaze shifts back to you, jaw ticking as he deliberates his answer. You look so hopeless, so desperate for some kind of confirmation that you can actually do something to remedy the situation. It isn't your fault you're so naive, he reminds himself, and being kind is just part of your nature, so ofcourse you care. Ofcourse you care that Estrada is currently bleeding out in your arms. But God, does he fucking hate that you still care so much about this prick.

"Can't do much for a gunshot wound," Joel delivers the words matter of factly. "Not without all the surgical stuff in Jackson."

"What?" You whisper, your face contorting with disbelieving anguish. You relinquish your hold on his wrist as if the touch of his skin has become too uncomfortable to bear. "No, no. Surely there's something we can do now. We can get the bullet out, right?"

Joel tucks the gun in his pocket and descends down on one knee beside you. He avoids Oscar's eyes, instead training his gaze on the pool of blood seeping inside the wound on Oscar's lower abdomen. He can't soften the blow. It's not that he wants to purposely be cruel, but there's no use lying to you. He scratches the side of his cheek and sighs heavily.

"It's deep," Joel clarifies softly. "Not sure if the bullet hit an organ, but it looks likely. Can't do nothin' for it."

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, contemplating his words, and then your eyes suddenly light up with childlike hope. "Let's go back to Jackson," you blurt out. "Dr. Amber can do it, we can go now."

Joel pins his gaze back to you, keeping his face impassive. He's never seen you like this before - so naive and deluded with optimism, denying the obvious reality of the situation. His heart unexpectedly aches for you.

"It's too far," Joel whispers, schooling his tone to be firm but not unkind. "By the time we get there...he won't make it."

"But we've got to try! Or, or maybe we can get the bullet out ourselves," you ramble in desperation.

He sighs, trying hard to not let his impatience overtake his already limited empathy for your feelings. He places his hand on your shoulder, a sympathetic attempt to ground you, for he takes no pleasure in your current state of misery. "Just told you, we can't do much. Where he got hit...it's too...it's just about impossible..."

Your brows saddle together in defeated despair and you shake your head, fresh tears pooling at your waterline. There's a hint of emotion in your face, dancing within your watery irises and on the curl of your mouth, something that he cannot quite place; amidst the clear pain and grief is something firey, almost wild. Like hatred. Resentment. Blame.

A croak comes from Oscar, prompting you to turn back and dip your head down to his. He's trying to talk but his voice is so muted that Joel cannot hear a word of what he's saying to you. You let out a small whimper and seem to whisper back a reply. The private moment between you two resumes, a confidential bubble that makes Joel feel like an outsider, pathetic and excluded. He clocks the way Oscar's hand clutches yours, the delicate brush of his thumb over yours, and he can't help the envious irritation that rears inside his chest once again, searing hot and bordering on painful.

Joel clears his throat and speaks your name to garner your attention. "Don't know where that gunshot came from. Could be more raiders just around the corner. We gotta go back inside."

You jerk your head back to face Joel again, your features twisted into a glare, distrust and scorn evident in your eyes. "I'm not leaving him," you state defiantly.

"It ain't safe here," Joel bites back. "That shot was close by and it ain't gonna take long for whoever it was to find us."

"I don't care!" You spit out harshly. "You go."

Joel feels as though he has been slapped. How dare you defy him like this? He's trying to protect you, to keep you safe from the potential threat of another raider, yet instead of obeying him you're openly challenging him.

No, there's no way he's leaving you behind with Estrada while the poor fuck bleeds out.

Joel scowls, jaw clenched tight, and leans his head close to yours so that you are forced to look at him. You reflexively flinch away but keep your stare locked on his, bold and obstinate.

"Get up." He orders, voice low and loaded with danger. "'Fore we get killed."

"No!" You argue. Joel glares back at you, harsh breaths huffing through his nostrils. His jaw ticks once, then in one sudden move he's grabbing your arm and roughly hoisting you up on your feet. You squeal and yell at him but he just drags you away from Oscar like a predatory animal lugging its prey toward death, overpowering and tyrannical.

He drags you several yards but stops abruptly when another gunshot suddenly blasts through the air, loud and resonant, unmistakeably closer this time. A mixture of other noises soon follow it, carried along the wind that rushes through the trees, sounds that quickly become more and more clear with each passing second.

Men's voices.

Horse hooves galloping.

Dogs barking.

And then a prominent voice calls out, masculine and commanding.

"Joel!"

Joel's blood runs cold. He knows that voice; he knows it better than anybody else still alive in this world, and to hear it right now makes his stomach churn with anxiety and resentment. He slowly twists his torso around, keeping his grip on your arm tight.

There, at the edge of the small clearing by the south-west woodland, is Tommy. Joel swears under his breath. He is pertrubed at the unexpected sight of his younger brother. Did he really travel all the way from Jackson to track you and Joel down? He's made it all this way out here, and by the sounds of it he has a fucking rescue team with him close by.

Tommy trudges through the snow with a gait almost identical to Joel's, his barrel chest heaving. The expression on his face is one of profound sadness and grave concern, a look that Joel knows well; Tommy was always the more self righteous brother, the bleeding heart, able to make Joel feel criticised and condemned with just a single look.

Joel stays standing where he is, his hand still tightly gripping yours while he keeps his eyes locked on his brother. Tommy closes the gap between you in a series of long, laboured strides, his warm breath conjuring puffs of visible cloud from his lips.

"Jesus, Joel, what did you do?" Tommy rasps in panicked disbelief when he catches sight of Oscar's prone form. "Oh fuck, please don't tell me you killed Oscar."

"I didn't touch him," Joel sneers. "And he ain't dead. We got ambushed by a raider but I took care'a him."

"Oscar's hurt, Tommy," you interject, taking a step forward to try join him. "We need to get him help."

Joel shoots you a disapprovingly glare before he clears his throat and gestures vaguely in Oscar's direction. "He got shot - by the raider, not by me."

Tommy drops down on one knee besides Oscar, hovering his hands over the man's body uncertainly. "Fuck," Tommy whispers as his doleful eyes survey the grievous state of Oscar's belly and the bullet wound. He leans down and brings his gloved hand up to carefully cup Oscar's cheek in his palm. "Hey, Oscar, buddy, can you hear me?"

Oscar blinks slowly up at Tommy and hums softly. "Hey, Tom," he manages to croak out. "Yeah....I can hear you."

"Got yourself in a bit of trouble, looks like," Tommy murmers, trying his best to sound light-hearted. "But don't worry, I'm gonna get you back to town and we'll get you fixed right up."

"I'm dying, Tom," Oscar whispers. Tommy sniffs sadly and shakes his head, melancholic denial swimming in his eyes as he stares down at his friend.

"No you ain't," Tommy whispers back, his voice faltering.

"It's okay...," Oscar coos, "just get her back...please, take her back home. Promise me you will."

You can't hear the hushed conversation between Tommy and Oscar, no matter how hard you strain to listen. You wish you could drop to your knees beside Tommy and be a part of what's going on, to hear Oscar's soothing voice assure you that he will be okay, that it isn't as bad as it looks.

But you can't. Your freezing hand is still enveloped in Joel's possessive clutch, anchoring you to the stop next to him. He isn't interested in watching the interaction between his brother and his rival. He keeps a vigilant watch on the woods around you all, slowly turning his head left and right to scan each direction, no doubt still on guard for any possible raiders or infected.

When Tommy eventually rises from the ground and drags his feet back to you and Joel, your heart skips a beat. You wish Tommy would smile at you and confirm that the wound actually isn't that deep, that your dear Oscar will be able to return to Jackson and get stitched up and everything will turn out alright. You peer up at him, expectant and hopeful, but Tommy's morose expression just about crushes any scrap of optimism left in your weary heart. He comes close to you and takes your free hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze, totally ignoring Joel beside you.

"Sweetheart," Tommy sighs, "I ain't gonna lie to you. He isn't lookin' good...I don't know....you needa talk with him."

"Why?" Joel cuts in, pulling you back from Tommy and cutting the physical contact between you.

"For God's sake, Joel!" Tommy explodes with exasperation, curling his hands into fists. "You know why! Give her that atleast!"

"Bleedin' heart 'til the day you die, huh Tom?" Joel mocks bitterly, glaring at his brother. Tommy meets his gaze head on, unflinching and firm.

"Doin' what's right, Joel," Tommy replies tightly. "It's time you did, too."

You look between the two of them, too overcome with dizzying emotion and fatigue from the trauma you've endured to properly comprehend the gravity of what's being said. You're fighting to stand on your feet and all you want to do is lay down with Oscar.

"Fine, let's get this over and done with," Joel huffs, releasing your hand. Sensing how you're feeling, Tommy wraps his arm around your back and gently guides you to Oscar, carefully helping you to sit down in the snow.

Your hand automatically slips into Oscar's to give it a delicate and comforting squeeze. He looks even more pale and you notice the way his stomach barely rises and falls with his short, shallow breaths. You bring your other hand up to brush back a curled lock of his hair that sticks to his forehead.

His skin feels so cold.

"Honey," his silky voice husks from between his blue lips. There is a film of tears swimming within his eyes as he stares up at you but his gaze seems more sharp, more focused. You feel as though he's looking right into your soul, his love and adoration piercing directly through your heart, and in this moment you're completely overcome with the intensity of your own love for him.

Oscar is so beautiful, so pure. He came to save you. He risked his own life to rescue you, your own knight in shining armour, and now he lays here wounded and bleeding out. The guilt slices into you sharp and searing, you burst into a sob, lowering your head to his chest. "I'm sorry," you weep. "I'm so sorry."

"Shhh, honey," Oscar rasps, slowly raising his hand up to stroke your hair. "It's okay."

Joel growls and moves to grab you and intervene but Tommy is quick to block him. Tommy stands inbetween you and Joel and grips his shoulders firmly. "Back off," he commands sternly.

Joel rips his little brother's hands off him and huffs angrily. "Go fuck yourself Tommy," he rumbles. Despite his hatred for what's happening, Joel turns away and retreats a few paces, unable to bear watching the scene. Tommy follows him, allowing you privacy; neither can hear what is whispered between you and Oscar.

Your nose drips from the cold, intermingling with the tears leaking from your eyes. Oscar's hand swipes the hair from your face as he continues to sshhh you gently.

"I love you," you hear his voice purr from within his sternum. "Always...have."

You lift your head to gaze at him, your face inches from his. His brown eyes project the same palpable sincerity that he has always embodied, even amidst the depth of his suffering. There is a tranquil kind of energy swirling within in his irises that you can't quite work out the reason for.

"Always will..." Oscar whispers, slowly tucking a tangled strand of hair behind your ear with an air of reverence.

"I love you too," you mumble through tears. And you do. You truly love him. "I want to go back with you, wanna go back home with you, Oscar." And you do, more than anything else in the world, so much so that your desperation blinds you to the painful reality of Oscar's predicament.

"I can't." Oscar admits in a breathless whisper. "Elvie is waiting for me..."

Elvie? You're confused for a second until your brain kicks into gear. Elvie. The realisation of what Oscar means lands a punch right in the middle of your guts and a strangle gasp falls from your lips. You bring your face to cradle Oscar's cheeks and you lean down to place a kiss on his soft, wind chapped lips.

"Please...." you whisper against his lips, a tear rolling down your cheek and falling to land onto the hollow of his throat. "Don't go..."

He breathes your name ever so delicately. "I love you...."

And then, like a flickering flame of a candle being extinguished in the breeze, the last breath within Oscar's lungs drifts from his mouth and his soul slips away from his body.

A ragged scream rips from your throat, full of anguish and sorrow. It startles Tommy and Joel and they both whirl around to where you kneel on the ground by Oscar. You are slumped over his dead body, forehead pressed to his chest and your balled fists clinging to his clothes.

Tommy hastily springs back to you and crouches down to bracket your shoulders with his hands. He understands the reason got your distress immediately. "Oh, sweetheart," he croons sympathetically. He slips his arm across your clavicle and carefully pulls you into him. "I'm sorry."

You lean back into his chest and let out a howl of anguish. Joel thinks it is just about the most tragic sound he has ever heard. He stands back and watches the scene with the the corners of his mouth downturned in somber silence.

The magnitude of sorrow you express spurns something inside of him that makes his stomach clench and his breath hitch in his throat. When the initial shock dissipates he is left with a severe ache in his chest cavity that threatens to bring him to his knees. The realisation of why comes

Your grief reflects his own.

It reminds him of the day when his world was torn apart, when he had lost the most important thing in his life.

Except the reason for your grief isn't an inescapable cordycep apocalypse; it is Joel himself. He may not have fired the bullet that fatally wounded Oscar but it was the consequences of his actions that led to the man's demise. Joel shakes his head to himself, trying to dislodge the thought from his mind. No, he thinks, it isn't my fault. It isn't.

He bows his head and stares at his boots, unable to face the sight of your despair any longer. You wail and bawl for what seems like forever. Tommy keeps you close to him and murmers an occasional hushed I'm so sorry. It continues until you can produce no more your tears and your body lurches with exhausted dry retches. Your cheeks are puffy and splotchy, the rims of your eyes red and swollen.

A long time passes before Tommy manages to persuade you to stand up. He hauls you up and keeps you tightly supported you against his body. You cling blindly to his jacket and nuzzle your face into his chest, finding a small degree of comfort in his warmth and kind commiseration. Another blurred period of time elapses where you allow Tommy to hold you and a quiet falls over the three of you.

Joel doesn't look up until he hears your voice address him, hoarse yet full of venom. He lifts his head and sees you staring at him, your face twisted into a wretched mask of heartache and wrath.

"You," you hiss accusingly, "it's because of you!"

Joel frowns at you and shakes his head, unable to formulate words in a response. He's totally bewildered by your anger.

"You brought me out here! You forced me here and Oscar came to save me!" You snarl. "He would still be alive if you hadn't!"

You struggle against Tommy and he loosens his hold on you. You launch yourself at Joel, half stumbling into him, your fists beating against his chest with all the strength you can muster. Joel's hands cup your elbows so you don't fall over but he does nothing to stop you from unleashing your anger. He let's you punch his chest and slap his face, the impact of your hands leaving no more than a light sting on his cheeks.

He could easily subdue you with nothing more than a solid shove or a quick slap but he doesn't. He stands still, patiently accepting your punishment, waiting until you eventually tire and end up collapsing against his front. You heave and sob with despair, fragile body wracking with the force of your cries, and Joel carefully wraps his arms around you and presses you firmly into him.

"'M sorry," Joel whispers truthfully. And he is. He's sorry that you're heart broken.

"You aren't," you sputter, "you've never been sorry, you don't care!"

You struggle to escape his embrace but he holds you tighter. "I am," he asserts firmly.

You screech and thrash, incensed with anger at the way he seems to lie so easily. "He's dead because of you!"

Joel relinquishes his hold on you just enough to pull you back to look at your face. He is momentarily disturbed by the way your eyes smoulder with hatred and disgust, but he presses on, determined to make his point.

"He's dead because of that raider, not me," Joel argues, "and it was me who killed that son of a bitch."

You shake your head vehemently, detestation written clearly on your face. "That raider could have killed us all! He was going to hurt me and you did nothing! Oscar saved me from that raider, not you!"

Shame heats the back of Joel's neck. He cannot deny that the raider was going to do unspeakable things to you and that he had basically offered you up to the man while he tried to formulate a strategy. It both shames and emasculates him that it was infact Oscar who saved you both from the raider. Joel may have beaten Lyle to death, but it was only because of Oscar that he was able to do so.

He feels like he has failed you.

Just as he failed Sarah. Just as he failed Tess.

"I was gonna---"

"I don't care!" You yell, flinging yourself backward to escape his grasp, but Joel just tightens his hands on your shoulders to keep you close.

Joel has to battle the deeply ingrained instincts that urge him to slap the shit out of you to shut you up. He allows you to be angry and sad, to unleash the emotions you are rightfully experiencing right now, but his patience is wearing thin. He's also aware that Tommy still stands just a few yards away, so he needs to placate you enough to keep control of his temper and to somehow get you alone.

He narrows his eyes and rubs soothing circles over your shoulders with his thumbs. "Let's go back inside the cabin," he drops his voice low in an effort to mollify. "Talk about this when you've calmed down some."

"Talk about what, Joel?" You spit out, fresh angry tears trickling down your cold cheeks. "About how you got Oscar killed? About how you raped me and beat me and then kidnapped me?"

"Christ almighty, Joel!" Tommy exclaims, shaking his head and staring in disbelief at his brother. "Is....is that true? You...you did those things to her?"

Joel doesn't acknowledge his brother; he's so intently focused on you that he can hardly register Tommy's voice. All that matters is you and making you stay with here with him.

"I said I was sorry," Joel swallows the lump in his throat. "I tried, I tried so hard to do right by you. I brought us here so we could start a new life. So you could forgive me."

"What you did to me, Joel...," you whisper, your voice laced with embittered sadness. "That's different. But Oscar....he died because of what you did. And I won't ever forgive you for that."

"But I love you," he murmers, his voice becoming husky with emotion and his eyes blurring with tears. "I didn't...I love you."

"And I loved you once, too, Joel, but how could I after what you've done?" You shove at his chest to punctuate your point. "I hate you!"

The impassioned vigour in your tone and your words cuts through Joel's heart like a knife. It reminds him of Ellie, how angry and betrayed she looked just a few nights ago. He knows you're stupefied with emotion right now, too wrapped up in misery to properly think or follow his commands. But he also knows you aren't lying.

You do hate him.

Just as Ellie does.

The truth fucking crushes his heart into fragments.

Joel's face crumples and he stares at you with crestfallen dismay. His hands release you and he takes a staggering step backward. You stare him down like a feral cat ready to fight, your shoulders raised and your nostrils flared. Tommy steps forward to intervene in the face-off, standing half infront of you.

"Joel...It's over. Let her go," Tommy commands softly, almost pleadingly. "I'm takin' her back to Jackson. I gotta rescue team just over the clearing there."

Joel faces his brother with tears brimming at his lashline. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" Joel hisses angrily. "This ain't any of your business, Tommy! I don't give a fuck who you got waitin' in the wings!"

"She doesn't wanna be with you," Tommy emphasises, his voice measured and stern. "And you're my brother, Joel, so this is my fuckin' business. I ain't about to let this girl or anybody else get hurt because of you."

"I love her, okay? I fuckin' love her, Tommy," Joel confesses brokenly. "I'll do anythin' to keep her."

"You hurt her, Joel. Jesus, you ra....you...," Tommy has to stop himself from choking on the weighted words that seem lodged inside his throat. He runs a hand through his black curls and shakes his head as he collects himself. "That ain't love."

Your fingertips curl around Tommy's bicep, prompting him to stop from saying anything more. Like a hawk, Joel observes the movement and watches with bated breath as you step out from behind Tommy. He sees that you are no longer crying and that you no longer look angry. Instead, you now look composed. Bold. You stand upright, your body radiating self assuredness, chin tilted upward to meet Joel's eyes head on.

The last time he had witnessed you like this was the time you confronted him about raping you. He sees the same stoicism in your face now - and he can see just how deadly serious you are.

"If you really loved me, you'd let me go," you speak up, your tone smooth and placid despite the challenging significance of your words.

"No," Joel croaks out. His brown eyes, large and glassy, swimming with tears as he gazes at you. "I need you. I need you with me, here."

"I can't stay here, Joel," you say softly. "I can't stay with you."

"I-I can't let you go," he rasps desperately. "You're mine, baby. I can't be without you."

"I've got nothing left to give you, Joel." You shrug with blunt weariness. "You've taken everything from me."

Warm rivulets of tears begin to trickle from Joel's eyes and he sniffs. "I'll give you whatever you need, I'll...I'll make it up to you. Just....please."

You watch him intently, your chin raised with stoic determination, unmoved by his show of emotion. "It's too late."

"No," he pleads, taking a step closer to you. "No, it ain't. It ain't too late."

"I spent too much time letting myself be hurt and unhappy. People like Oscar, like my parents...they don't have the chance to start over. They don't get to try. And I owe it to them to keep going. I owe it to them to be happy."

"You can be happy. You can be happy with me," Joel asserts, his voice wavering with heartache. He reaches out to touch you but you take a step backward. You shake your head gently, your gaze never leaving his.

"No, I can't. You need to control me, Joel - you need to hurt me. How can I be happy like that?"

Joel opens his mouth to speak but no words come. He is at a loss for what to say. He cannot argue against the points you make as they are true - he does need to control you, he does need to hurt you. As much as he could try justifying it as expressions of love and care, it is still the confronting truth of your relationship. He is defeated.

He stays silent for a minute, then forces out a quiet mumble, "give me another chance. Please."

"No, Joel. I won't let you take the chance of happiness away from me," you respond matter of factly. "I'm going back to Jackson with Tommy. Goodbye, Joel."

You turn back and walk over to Tommy, where he stands looking at his older brother with concerned sympathy. He knows Joel won't return to town, knows it would be impossible for him to integrate back into society in a place where his foster daughter and the woman he loves will be absent from his life.

Tommy slings his arm tightly around your shoulders and gingerly guides you away from where you stand. You give Joel once last fleeting look before you turn away and begin moving your feet to follow Tommy.

Joel watches you both trudge through the snow toward the clearing at the edge of the forest. He stands frozen in place, paralysed by the internal dialogue raging within his mind.

She's leaving.

I can't stop her.

She has to go.

She hates me.

She doesn't love me.

This is the right thing to do.

Joel shields his eyes with his hand, unable to bear the sight of you walking out of his life. He hangs his head and heaves out a weighted, heartbroken sigh. The constrain on his emotions quickly cracks and soon he begins to weep. Fat tears pour from his eyes and roll down the bridge of his nose. His weeping escalates into mournful cries that make his shoulders shake and his stomach churn, and he feels his heart squeeze so painfully that he thinks he's on the verge of a heart attack.

He cries now more than he has cried for the last 20 years. Not since the day Sarah died has he cried so much. The repressed emotion he has been habouring throughout all these years is set free and laid bare, and he allows himself to finally feel it all; the heartbreak for his daughter, Sarah, the undying unconditional love for Ellie, and the everlasting yearning for you.

Joel's legs buckle and he collapses onto the snow on his knees. The ice stings the sliced skin on his bare hands but he isn't even cognisant of the pain. All he can perceive is the devastating emptiness now residing within his soul; all that is left now are memories and nightmares, and the agonising regret and grief of losing you.

tag list- @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp-blog @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows @puduvallee @gossipgirl-03 @oldenoughtoknowbetter @mandoloriancookie @missannfairy @bean-security @missannwinchester @mrszdjarin

[sofa-king-lame]

Nanny!Buck AU snippet

Hi all, and Happy Holidays! Whether or not you celebrate anything at this time of year I hope that the universe is kind to you and you are able to do something that makes you happy with people you love.

Here's a little holiday treat from me - another snippet from my Nanny!Buck AU I'm slowly working on. It's currently at 4.6k words and still in the early stages.

--

“I trust you,” Eddie replies easily and Buck’s cheeks flush pink, a small smile gracing his lips. “I am a little behind on laundry. The hamper is in the bathroom.” 

“Done. And please feel free to check in as often as you want – I promise I won’t judge you. It can be really hard leaving your little one with a complete stranger.” Buck seems to clock Eddie’s shaking hands, but kindly doesn’t mention them. Eddie knows Chris will be safe with Buck, but that isn’t making this that much easier. 

“Okay,” Eddie breathes out in a rush. “Thank you. I’m just gonna check on him once more then I really need to go.” 

“Of course,” Buck responds softly, and Eddie knows he understands. He quietly opens Chris’ bedroom door, comforted by his steady breathing and mop of curls against the pillow. He looks so small in his ‘big boy bed’, and Eddie has to physically stop himself from climbing in and going back to sleep. He (painfully) drags himself back to the front door where Buck is waiting, holding out the coffee and bagel with a warm smile on his face. 

“Thank you, again,” Eddie laughs gently. “I’ll hopefully be back around 6:30 tomorrow morning.” 

“No worries. And I mean it – call or message through the app as often as you want. I won’t take it as an insult,” Buck assures him and Eddie takes a deep breath, nodding. He can totally do this. 

“I’ll try to cap it at three check-ins,” Eddie sighs, looking around to make sure he has everything (or maybe to put off leaving for another thirty seconds). Buck raises an eyebrow when he catches his gaze. “Fine, five.” 

“Okay, Eddie,” he laughs a little. “Go, you don’t want to be late.” 

“Yep, okay,” Eddie breathes. He takes his breakfast from Buck’s hands and steps through the front door (that Buck opened for him), turning around and desperately trying to think of an excuse to step back inside. 

“Be safe out there,” Buck says, obviously sensing Eddie’s hesitation, “and we’ll see you tomorrow morning.” 

“Tell Chris I said goodbye.” He has to go – he really has to go, because he’s cutting it close as it is. Buck assures him that he will tell Chris that Eddie loves him and said goodbye before he left, leaving Eddie with nothing to do but get in his car and drive to work. So he does exactly that. 

--

Tags under the cut. Please let me know if you'd like to be added to or removed from my tag list.

@playinginthunderstorms @inbucksbusiness @elvensorceress @singitforthegirls @sonofatoasterwaffle 

@wrongfulruffian @crose84 @carolinahope @heartsfromeden @shealwaysreads 

@lookforanewangle @eddiedisasterdiaz @my-brain-soup @mari-lwyd-crytid-blog @mattsire  

@oddgreyhound @namesnamesandmorenames  

[inawickedlittletown]

All I Want For Christmas Is You (BuckTommy) - 6/8

Summary: When Buck and Tommy pick each other for the 118's Secret Santa, they both realize they know nothing about each other. That changes very quickly. Words: 3.1k Rating: M Read on Ao3 Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

-

Chapter Six

The next week was different. Buck wasn’t sure if anyone even noticed, because Tommy had just reverted back to just kind of ignoring Buck unless it was work related. They were never alone despite Buck trying to catch him on his own. When Buck had tried sending him a text it sat unread for days and then when Tommy did respond it was just to decline Buck asking if he’d want to go see a movie together. 

Buck knew when he wasn’t wanted. He knew when it was better to just cut his losses and move on. It happened to him often enough. There was just something about him that made people think they could do better, or that he just wasn’t worth all the trouble after a romp in the sheets. Tommy had come to that conclusion and Buck couldn’t fault him. So, he stayed away. There were more fishes in the sea and all that. 

At the very least, the time they’d spent together had given Buck a few options when it came to Secret Santa. Although, a part of him — a petty part — wanted to just go out of his way to make the present as mundane and useless as anything. 

He couldn’t quite convince himself to go that route. But, it wasn’t like Buck knew what he would get him. The one thing he was certain of was that once Christmas had come and gone that would be the end of it and he would stop letting his mind drift to thinking about Tommy yet again. Buck would go out and find someone else and just move on. It was what he did and it was what he was good at. 

When the week was over, Buck gave in to the impulse to just go out to a bar and see if he could do something to get Tommy out of his mind. He was barely there a few minutes before he left and wound up at the mall instead. 

Buck had a little over a week left and at least being as alone as he was did mean that Buck really only had to worry about getting something for Tommy. The worst of it was walking into a store and pinpointing things that would have worked perfectly to give to Chim or Hen or Bobby. Not so much for Tommy. 

Eventually, Buck wound up just going into a cafe to pick up some coffee and a snack. It reminded him of Tommy’s excitement for the cookies the other day. He had a feeling he was going to wind up just getting one of those chocolate gift sets as impersonal as it felt. At least Tommy would like that for sure which was something.

When he pushed the door to the cafe open on his way out, he almost ran right into Karen. 

“Oh. Karen, sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” she said with a smile. “Fancy seeing you out and about.” 

“Secret Santa,” Buck said. “I still haven’t even figured out what to get so I’ve been browsing the mall.” 

Karen chuckled. “That’s right. Hen already has hers ready to go. Actually, I’m pretty sure she finished all her shopping. Clearly, I’m not done. I was thinking of going into the bookstore to see if I could find something for Hen. Want to join me?” 

“Yeah. Sure. Maybe something will pop out for me there,” Buck said. 

He ate the muffin he’d picked up at the cafe on the way, but was still holding his coffee when they arrived at the bookstore. 

The whole place had been decorated for the holidays. The window had a display with a small ceramic village complete with a tree and a train that went around the whole thing on a track. Lights and garland covered the shelves and on the door was a wreath made out of tiny felt books. 

At first he and Karen perused together. The store was not just books. They had a stationary area and a shelf full of travel mugs with quotes that probably came from books and next to that a rack that held tote bags. 

The shelves were arranged with signs and Buck wound up heading in the direction of the nonfiction. His first thought was to see if there was anything on art. Or, flying. He pulled out his phone to look at the picture he’d taken of Tommy’s bookshelf. No books on art, but a lot about flying. On closer inspection it looked like they were flight manuals rather than books on planes or helicopters. 

The bookstore did have a few books on different famous artists. DaVinci. Van Gogh. Picasso. Monet. Khalo. Buck couldn’t have been able to say much about any of them and he didn’t think that Tommy would actually have any use for biographies. So, Buck wandered the shelves. A LGBTQ+ section caught his eye. 

Buck had always considered himself an ally. He’d gone to LA Pride the year before. He never had a problem with anyone that identified differently be it their gender or sexual preferences, he just had never looked at himself and thought he could be more than the default. 

On the LGBTQ+ shelf there were plenty of novels, but some non-fiction as well. Self-help and essays and history. 

“Hey,” Karen said suddenly at his elbow. “Find anything?” 

“Oh. No. I don’t think a book is the right way to go.”

“But these caught your eye?” Karen asked. “Wait, did you get Hen as your Secret Santa? No, don’t tell me. I can’t know.” 

“I don’t have Hen,” Buck said. “I just—”

Buck had told Connor. Tommy knew, obviously. He hadn’t told anyone else. Karen though...she seemed like a safe bet to tell and yeah it might make it back to Hen, but Buck didn’t even really care about that. It might mean he didn’t have to say anything to Hen outright. 

“I’m bi, Karen,” Buck said. “It’s…um, it’s new.” 

Karen’s smile didn’t falter. “Wow. Thank you for telling me.” 

Buck took a breath. “I kissed a guy and it was like…like I realized I hadn’t been whole my entire life until then. I’ve always been an ally and now it’s…I guess I’m more. I’m bi.” 

“You certainly are, Buck,” Karen said. “Does that mean you’re seeing someone, then?” 

Tommy flashed in his mind. After that date and the glorious afternoon spent in Tommy’s bed they hadn’t spoken outside of work and Buck knew it was over before anything had even begun. Buck felt dumb for thinking that it could be more and that Tommy might give them a chance. He should have known better. 

“No,” Buck said and then grabbed a book at random. 

The cover was pink and it was apparently a romance novel. He put it back. He could feel Karen watching him. 

“I kissed a guy and we had sex a few times and I never told him that he was the first guy I was with and he basically ghosted me after that,” Buck said. 

It was mostly the truth. 

“Oh, you jumped right on in, then. Hen’s told me stories, but most people don’t do things at your pace.”

Buck hummed. “I guess not. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It’s over and I don’t think I’ll find anything in here for him.” 

Karen made a noise, but she started coughing. 

“I’ll pay for these,” she said.

Karen paid for the four books she’d picked up and Buck waited for her. 

“Hey, Buck, this does get easier and less confusing.” 

“I hope so.” 

-

He’d sketched Evan into the better half of a sketchbook. His hands. His face. A very rough one of his body while Tommy had been riding him. Other things too, Evan’s smile. His birthmark. Abstract things that were a reminder of Evan. He was clearly well rooted in Tommy in a way that would be hard to shake. Shake him, he would. 

The days following their date had been a little awkward. Tommy had even seen Chim and Hen sharing glances because Tommy had gone from talking to Evan a bit more and including him more to ignoring him again. 

“Did Buck do something to you?” Hen had asked one afternoon between calls. 

“No. He’s still the same impulsive kid.” 

“He’s definitely grown a bit,” Hen said. 

Tommy was glad when they had a call to get to. He wound up sitting next to Evan and was stiff the whole ride there. When they arrived on the scene Bobby paired them together he didn’t even blink. Evan had caught on by that point, at least, that Tommy wouldn’t talk to him. So, he didn’t try though his baleful glances struck Tommy to the heart. 

He and Evan went up the ladder that was extended out to the roof of the house, neither said a word and it felt like a blanket of tension had been laid atop them both. The man they were helping had injured his leg while putting lights on his roof. Even he seemed to sense the tension in the air as they helped to get him on a backboard to transport him down. 

Maybe it was unfair to freeze Evan out, but Tommy didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t get attached to Evan. He couldn’t be what Evan needed and there were already too many complications that would arise most because they worked side by side. It was better this way. He did hate the kicked puppy look that Evan got when Tommy pointedly ignored him, but Evan would get over it. Evan would go out and find himself some younger guy to get his rocks off with. That or some girl. Maybe a whole plethora of them if that was what he wanted. Tommy would always be the guy that helped him realize that he wasn’t straight, but that was about it. 

One day, they might even laugh and talk about it. Not any time soon though. 

Tommy did still call the guy with the wood carvings and asked about seeing his pieces again. Apparently the Christmas Market was still going, so Tommy drove over on his next day off. 

“Hey, I’m Tommy. We spoke on the phone.” 

“Right. Right. You were interested in something for a friend?” 

Tommy nodded and took a look around. A lot of the bigger pieces were way past the $50 limit but he did find a carving of a dog with a firefighter’s helmet. It was perfect. 

“This one,” Tommy said. 

It wouldn’t be enough, but Tommy had the start of a plan for the rest of Evan’s present. It might even serve as a way to break the ice between them again and put them on a path to being friends. He hoped. Otherwise, it might be awkward at work forever. 

“Thank you,” Tommy said when he was handed the wrapped package. 

“No problem. Hope your friend likes it.” 

He took a quick walk around the rest of the market, found himself buying cookies and this time a hot chocolate at that booth and then he found a tent that he and Evan hadn’t gotten to the last time or that hadn’t been there at all. A rainbow flag stuck out and Tommy found himself smiling a little. 

At one point in his life, he’d abhorred rainbows and everything they represented for him. He’d never wanted to be attached to it, to claim it for his own. Had believed for the longest time that he didn’t deserve the community it provided. Hell, Tommy had never even gone to a pride parade. It happened sometime when he started painting again, where a rainbow had snuck into a painting and then he was adding them where they worked, especially in a painting that was devoid of other color. It felt like finally allowing himself to be more open about himself, a way to accept that he was gay and nothing and no one could change that. 

He approached the tent and found a smiling man behind a small table that served as a counter. There was a display of different colored flags that Tommy couldn’t begin to assign, books on a small bookshelf and novelty t-shirts and tote bags and mugs. 

“Hello,” the man on the other side of the table said. “Looking for anything specific?” 

“Huh, not really. I’m buying for a Secret Santa. The guy I got just recently realized he’s bi.”

“Oh,” the man said. “Well we don’t have a welcome to being queer pack or anything, but you could give him one of our mugs or a book on queer history. There’s some informative ones, some funny ones. But, you know, just because he’s bi doesn’t mean his gift has to be about that.” 

Tommy could tell that there was a level of condescension in the tone and Tommy got it. He got what he looked like and how he passed for straight easily, that he’d leaned on that for a while, maybe so much that he never could be perceived otherwise. 

He picked up one of the mugs. It was cute and a quote he’d seen in a few places, “Harold, they’re lesbians”. Tommy chuckled and put it down again. A few just had a big rainbow going around them, some with gay or lesbian or bi or queer or trans written on them. Then, he saw one with each line in pink, purple, and blue: “Both. Both Is. Good”. On the other side it said: “Chaotic Bisexual”

“This is perfect for him,” Tommy said with a smile. 

Then, he spotted one with a cartoonish rainbow and “Yup, woke up GAY again”. 

“I’ll take this too,” Tommy said. 

The guy raised an eyebrow. 

“For myself,” Tommy said. 

He saw the man behind the counter nod, lips pressed tight. He was the type of guy that fit the stereotype. Someone that could never have hid his sexuality unless he was really trying and maybe he never had found himself in an environment where hiding was the best option. Some people were that lucky. 

He went to the books next. Several of the titles caught his eye including the flashy looking The LGBTQ+ History that told him Evan would have a kick reading. Then, he saw Bi The Way. He wound up picking both. Over the time he’d known Evan, he knew that Evan liked to deep dive into research about pretty random topics. He mostly did that online. The likelihood was that he’d already gone through every possible site on the internet, but these books would be quirky and fun.

“These too,” Tommy said. 

The man nodded. The mugs he’d put in individual boxes. He added everything into a small bag, but didn’t hand it over. 

“What?” Tommy asked. 

“I’m sorry. I just…I assumed you were just—”

“Just some cis straight guy,” Tommy said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I forget sometimes that the queer experience looks different for everyone. I hope your friend who just came out is glad he has you to help him along the way.” 

Except that Evan hadn’t actually needed that much help from him when it came to the discovery of his sexuality. He hadn’t asked Tommy a single question about being queer or about Tommy’s own history. It was a little unusual, that was for sure.  

He bought a gift bag at another tent and then when he got back home put every component of Evan’s gift inside. He left it right by his tree and he was almost sad to be done with it. His own mug he took into the kitchen. He placed it inside his cabinet and it looked out of place, but Tommy loved it. Maybe one day he would have another mug in there that belonged to someone that fit into Tommy’s life. He didn’t think it would happen, but it was possible. Maybe. 

He tried hard not to picture the mug he’d gotten Evan. That was definitely not going to happen. 

-

“Looks like someone was up all night,” Chim said. 

Buck didn’t even realize Chim was talking to him, but of course he was. And Buck had been up all night. He’d gone down a research spiral. It had started with him looking a little bit further into bisexuality and what it meant for him, but he’d started thinking about Tommy and then that had led straight into Buck just researching art supplies. 

Apparently there was a lot to learn. Not all paints and colored pencils were created equal. That went for brushes and pigments and clay and so many other things. Buck had seen Tommy’s art room twice and he’d noticed that Tommy had a lot of acrylic paint, brushes, and a cup that held pencils. Considering his sketches were all done in pencil, he didn’t think it’d be a bad idea to get him a set of good colored pencils. And so, Buck had gone on a research spiral, but he’d also managed to order some colored pencils and a few different sketchbooks. 

It didn’t seem like enough, but Buck figured with Christmas drawing closer it was better to have something ready to go than not. 

“You do have bags under your eyes, Buck,” Hen said. “Did you get any sleep?” 

“Some,” Buck said. “I’ll get a nap later.” 

Chim nudged his shoulder. “How hot was she to keep you up all night?” 

Buck felt his cheeks go warm. “There was no girl.” 

“Sure,” Chim said. 

“There wasn’t,” Buck said again. 

Tommy walked into the locker room. “What’s happening?” He asked and didn’t look in Buck’s direction. 

Buck felt the avoidance down to his bones. The worst of it was that Buck had never gotten stuck on someone the way he’d gotten stuck on Tommy and they hadn’t even gone on more than a single date. For a second Buck had thought maybe it was that it was a guy and new, but he knew deep down that it was Tommy. 

“Buck is being surprisingly mum about what he got up to last night,” Chim said. 

“Oh,” Tommy said. 

“Nothing. I got up to nothing but shopping for my Secret Santa,” Buck said and he turned so he could look directly at Tommy. “That and a bit of research. That’s all.” 

Tommy turned away. “We all know we would know all the details if Buck did hook up with anyone, wouldn’t we.”

“I did hook up with someone last week. Really hot,” Buck offered. 

“Yeah, I don’t want to hear about that,” Hen said. 

Buck caught Tommy’s eye and he saw Tommy roll his eyes. Buck turned away and finished getting dressed. He didn’t say anything to any of them as he left the locker room and made his way up the stairs hoping that he could actually get a nap on the couch before a call came in. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Oh, should i request it again then?

Damian pining after a male reader, its like his first big crush, its like their first patrol and damians all like "should i confess or nauh..."

Damian didn’t do feelings, or at least he liked to say he didn’t but in actuality he was raised by those who felt that emotions hindered his potential, his progress and thus installed the idea that the moment he started to feel something; he was bound to become a dead man.

So when he realised that he was developing a crush on you- a fellow vigilante- Damian knew he was a man doomed to fall upon his sword because he felt as though he needed to keep you safe, despite knowing well enough that you were capable of taking care of yourself if you managed to stay alive as long as you had.

However main couldn’t help but notice how vastly different you both were from one another. He had rough edges, a sandpaper like surface that felt like thousands of sharp teeth like fangs, he wasn’t exactly a welcoming presence to others; unlike you as you were the exact opposite of him. You were soft yet firm, strong enough to be able to give other kindness, and wielded a will power of pure iron and unyielding strength to push through any and all adversity.

A true reason for people to hope for a brighter future in comparison to him, but as Dick told him once, opposites attract and it was only natural for Damian to feel pulled towards you that he couldn’t explain. He still couldn’t explain it and it sent him mad at most times, but now that he was here with you on patrol, he couldn’t help but feel that things were becoming clear to him now as your presence tended to clear the fog within his head and help things seem clearer then before.

Now Damian faced a completely different challenge, should he confess to you of his innermost feelings, or remain true to what he was taught and keep the emotions within his chest until he -or they- died. This conflict raged even more within poor Damian as his shoulder brushes yours ever so slightly, causing his breath to hitch and his body to straighten upon instinct, all the while you only smiled at him and Damian damned his heart for speeding up at the sight of such a small thing.

‘You okay dami? You seem a little more brooding than usual.’ You said teasingly.

‘It’s nothing.’ He replied straightforward, his eyes firmly locked on the city you both swore to better, to protect and change.

You furrowed your brows, concerned. ‘Are you sure? If you don’t feel up to going on patrol with me I can always get dick to-‘

‘No.’ Damian almost shouted at the idea of having to deal with his brother talking his ear off about how he missed his opportunity to confess to you tonight, and how he’ll have to try and find another way to set you and him up on a mission. ‘I’ve just got a lot on my mind, I’m sorry if I come off as snippy or rude.’ You smiled and rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing as all Damian could do was get lost within your gaze, words that he wanted to say died on his tongue as his mind blanked everything out but you.

‘Good, I wouldn’t want my Damian to get bored of me now.’ You joked as you patted his shoulder twice before letting your hand drop to your side again before choosing to overlook the city yourself. Unaware that Damian’s eyes had long shifted to you in the process. He hated how you made him feel but didn’t want to live in a life without it either, it was the most frustrating thing he’s ever felt but yet the most beautiful and he wanted to explore it deeper, it reminded him of how he often had issues with how his art came off a times to the point he had to redo the entire piece all over again.

‘Bored? You’re the only person I can wilfully tolerate on patrols.’ Damian found himself saying upon instinct but thankfully for him, you didn’t think more of it other than him being blunt.

‘I’m glad because I’m staring to like you Damian.’ You admitted.

Damian wondered whether you knew what you were saying and the way they made him feel half of the time, but at least you were more open with your emotions then him, so when Damian went back to the thought of confession to you he decided that tonight wouldn’t be the night; he still had time to do so and besides Damian didn’t fell it would be appropriate to confess on a patrol, perhaps an outing with his dogs would suffice instead?

[nickgurl4life]

✦PAGES✦ chapter two

CW: pure fluff, tutoring, a confession, and a first kiss!!! (note this takes place about a month of him tutoring her)

Summary: nerd!matt finally gets the guts to tell popular!reader He likes her during a tutoring lesson. Will she feel the same? (CHAPTER 1)

Announcement: no announcement, but I hope you like chapter 2! If you have any requests on things to happen during this series, the inbox you shall go. Just a disclaimer, ik its happening fast but I promise this'll still go on till at LEAST 6 chapters, nothing less.

Word Count: 2.4k (only words)

Today was the day—Matt had finally decided to confess his feelings for you. His stomach churned with nervous energy, his hands clammy as he tried to muster the courage to speak his heart. Sure, he was the nerdy one, always buried in books and equations, but he wasn’t oblivious to the way you’d smile at him, laugh at his jokes, and lean in just a little too close during your tutoring sessions. You’d been flirty—at least, he thought you had—and it gave him hope. Maybe, just maybe, he had a chance. You were perched on the edge of his neatly made bed, a familiar routine at this point. His room smelled faintly of mint and cedarwood, a comforting scent that matched his calm but focused demeanor. The walls were adorned with a mix of posters—some for indie films you’d never heard of and others showcasing complex mathematical formulas you pretended to understand. Matt stood by his desk, the hefty textbook open in front of him, flipping pages with a practiced ease. "Okay, so we went over this section yesterday, but I think we should review it again," he said, glancing up at you with a nervous but hopeful smile. You nodded, mirroring his energy, and leaned forward slightly, resting your chin on your hand as he began to explain. You caught a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, a subtle shift in his voice, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was really on his mind.

As the session went on, Matt’s usual confidence with the material began to waver. He stumbled over words he knew by heart, his hands fidgeting with the edge of the textbook. You noticed it almost immediately; he wasn’t the type to get tripped up by something as simple as a definition. His cheeks were tinted pink, and he kept avoiding your gaze, his eyes flicking between the book, his desk, and the floor like they held the answers to his turmoil. It was endearing in a way, watching him struggle with emotions instead of equations for once. “So, um,” he began, voice quieter than usual, “about this example problem…” He trailed off, his fingers nervously tapping the corner of the page. You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head in curiosity. “Matt, are you okay?” you asked, your tone softer now. He swallowed hard and let out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Totally fine,” he lied, clearly not convincing either of you. The air between you grew heavier, charged with unspoken words. He finally set the textbook down, the thud breaking the silence. His eyes met yours briefly before darting away again, his resolve visibly crumbling under the weight of whatever he was about to say. “Actually,” he muttered, almost too low to hear, “there’s… something I need to tell you.”

You sat up a little straighter, your curiosity piqued. Matt wasn’t one to beat around the bush, so whatever this was, it had to be important. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers now gripping the back of his chair like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. You waited patiently, giving him the space he clearly needed to collect himself. “I, uh…” He paused, exhaling sharply as if trying to expel the nerves threatening to consume him. “This isn’t exactly easy to say, but I feel like if I don’t, I’ll regret it forever.” His words hung in the air, trembling with vulnerability. You blinked, unsure of what to say, so you stayed quiet, allowing him to continue. He finally looked at you, really looked at you, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity you hadn’t seen before. “You mean a lot to me,” he began, his voice steadier now but still soft. “I know I’m probably not your type, and maybe I’m way off base here, but… these past few weeks have been amazing. Getting to know you, helping you—it’s been the best part of my day. And I just…” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair, his nerves momentarily breaking through again. “I like you. Like, really like you. More than just a friend or your tutor.” He let out a shaky breath, his words finally out in the open. “I know I’m not the smoothest guy, but I had to tell you. Because if there’s even a small chance you feel the same way… I’d kick myself forever if I didn’t take it.”

The room felt charged with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. Matt’s confession hung in the air, vulnerable and raw, and for a moment, everything seemed to stand still. His cheeks were flushed, his hands trembling slightly as he awaited your response. You could feel the weight of his words pressing on you, the quiet tension wrapping around you both like a thick fog. He was looking at you, waiting for something, anything—just to know if what he had put out there had a chance of being returned. You were popular—always surrounded by friends, the center of attention at school, the one everyone noticed. Matt, on the other hand, was quieter, more reserved, the kind of guy who spent his time buried in books. You’d never really thought of him as more than just your tutor, but there had been moments—moments when his shy smiles and the way he made you laugh without even trying made something shift inside you. You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. Matt had always been the reliable one, the smart guy you could count on, but this... this was something different, something that had the power to change everything. “Matt…” you said softly, your voice uncertain. The way his name slipped from your lips felt heavier than usual, as if carrying a weight you hadn’t realized was there. His face, which had been filled with hope, seemed to waver, a flicker of disappointment passing through his eyes as he waited for the rejection he was sure was coming. You could feel the eyes of the world on you, though no one else was in the room.

You knew what people would think—What is she doing with him? Why would someone like her want someone like him? The pressure was suffocating. You were expected to be with someone popular, someone who fit into the life everyone thought you should have. But in that moment, all those expectations felt like noise—distant, unimportant. “Matt,” you repeated, your voice firmer this time, “You don’t have to apologize for how you feel. It’s just… I wasn’t expecting this.” You stood up, crossing the room to where he was standing. The air between you seemed to crackle with tension, but you felt something else too—something that wasn’t fear, but something like curiosity. You saw him look at you, his eyes full of uncertainty, and your heart gave a small lurch. You had always prided yourself on having control of the situation of knowing what people expected and delivering. But with Matt, that control slipped away, and for the first time, you let yourself wonder about the possibility of something different. “I don’t know what this means yet,” you said, your voice softer now. “But maybe we should find out, together. No pressure, no expectations. Just… us.” For a moment, it looked like Matt didn’t believe you—his eyes were wide, his mouth parted as if he were waiting for the punchline of a joke. But then, slowly, a smile began to creep across his face. It wasn’t the nervous smile he’d worn before, but a genuine one, the kind that made his eyes light up, and in that moment, you felt your own heart flutter.

You’d never thought you’d find yourself in this situation. But maybe, just maybe, the kind of person you thought you should be with wasn’t the one you really needed after all.Matt’s smile, tentative and full of relief, made your heart race. The uncertainty that had clouded your thoughts earlier started to clear, and you realized something: You’d been afraid. Afraid of what people might think, afraid of how your life might change. But more than that, you’d been afraid of your own feelings—feelings you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge, not fully. As Matt stood there, his nervous energy slowly being replaced by a hint of hope, something inside you shifted. You had always been the girl everyone expected to have it all together, always confident, always in control, but in that moment, none of that seemed important. All that mattered was what you were feeling right now, standing in front of him. And maybe for once, it was okay to let go of the mask you wore for everyone else. You took a deep breath, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, and you moved closer to him. His eyes followed you, uncertainty clouding his expression again, but you could see the faint glimmer of hope there, too. You knew he was still waiting for you to say something more, something that would make this real.

“Matt,” you began, your voice steady but softer than usual, “I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t expecting you… or how I’d feel about you. But I guess that’s the thing, isn’t it? We go through life thinking we know what we want, who we’re supposed to be with, and then—” You paused, trying to find the right words. “And then something happens. Someone happens. And you start to realize that maybe it’s not about fitting into the mold everyone expects. Maybe it’s about feeling… this.” You stepped closer, feeling your pulse quicken as the distance between you both closed. His eyes widened as if he were still trying to process what you were saying, but you could see the shift—the recognition in his gaze. “I’ve been scared,” you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Scared of how this would look, scared of what people would say. But then I realized, I don’t really care about that anymore. I care about how I feel when I’m with you.” Matt opened his mouth as if to speak, but you gently placed a finger on his lips, stopping him. “I like you, too, Matt,” you said, your voice quieter now, but filled with the weight of everything you hadn’t said until now. “I really like you. More than I thought I could. And maybe I didn’t see it before, but I see it now. I want to see where this can go. With you. No more hiding behind what I’m supposed to be, or who I’m supposed to be with. Just… us.”

The air around you seemed to still, and for a heartbeat, you both stood there, staring at each other, letting the magnitude of what you’d both just confessed sink in. Matt’s expression slowly melted from disbelief to something softer, warmer, his lips curving into a smile that made your heart skip a beat. And then, finally, he spoke, his voice low and full of wonder, “Are you sure?” You nodded, a small, genuine smile spreading across your own face. “I’m sure.” The tension between you both felt palpable, the silence heavier now, as if the world was holding its breath. Matt stood in front of you, his eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes, his body slightly tense. For a moment, he seemed almost unsure, like he was still processing everything you had both just admitted. He cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I…?” he began, his words hanging in the air. He hesitated, unsure if he was pushing too far, but his gaze never left yours, waiting for you to say something—anything. You could see the vulnerability in him, the way his lips parted as if he was bracing for rejection. Your heart softened, and without thinking, you reached out, brushing your fingers over his arm in reassurance.

The contact seemed to ground him, and slowly, he leaned in, his hand gently resting on your cheek. You nodded, your breath catching in your throat. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice a little unsteady. “I want this too.” At that, Matt closed the remaining space between you, his lips meeting yours with the gentleness of someone who was savoring the moment, careful and deliberate. It was a kiss that felt like a question at first, a soft exploration of what you both had been too afraid to admit until now. And when you kissed him back, just as softly, it became the answer—a quiet, perfect confirmation of everything that had been building between you.As you pulled away, the world slowly came back into focus, the air around you charged with the weight of everything that had just happened. Matt’s forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing a little heavier, the quiet hum of your shared moment still lingering. His hand remained on your cheek, tender and warm, as if making sure you were still there, still real. You met his gaze, searching his eyes for the same thing he was probably looking for in yours—reassurance, certainty.

So... what now?” Matt asked, his voice soft but filled with that familiar, hesitant warmth. His smile was small, but there was something different about it now—a quiet, genuine confidence that wasn’t there before. You couldn’t help but smile back, the uncertainty that had once filled the space between you both now replaced with something steady, something unspoken. “Now?” you echoed, your voice light but full of meaning. “Now, we’re... together, I guess.” Matt’s smile widened at the simplicity of your words, his hand slipping to your side as he pulled you in for a brief, comforting hug. “Together,” he repeated, as if testing the word on his tongue. “I like the sound of that.” You stayed there for a moment longer, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside fading into the background. For once, there were no doubts, no expectations—just the quiet certainty that you had taken a step forward, together. Matt pulled back slightly, his eyes soft with a quiet joy as he looked at you. “This feels... right,” he said, his voice filled with relief, and you couldn’t help but agree. The weight of everything that had been left unsaid was gone, replaced with the simple truth that you were no longer just two people in a room—you were something more, something real.

I TRIED TO MAKE THIS AS DETAILED AS POSSIBLE LOVES 🤍🩵

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