#is feeling always unbalance

[kayime]

Whoever falls in love first, Loses...

[alchemiclee]

I hate that whenever there's a gay ship, people immediately het-ify it. people are so obsessed with making one the "man" and one the "woman" when that's completely unnecessary, because they are both the man or the woman. It's extremely annoying. these people will completely mischaracterize a character to fit into their stupid little het roles they force on them.

for example, you don't need to make one man the "wife" and feminized him to the extreme and fit him in a traditional "woman" role so the other man can be the big strong masculine manly man. they can both be masculine or both be feminine or both be both at the same time! they do NOT need to be gendered opposites to fit het roles. crazy, I know! it's like no one considers it a possibility! or sees how good it can be to have them be equals without gendered nonsense.

when there's a gay relationship, you have the perfect opportunity for the couple to stand on equal ground. they get to be equals who are just as strong and just as soft as each other. there's no faulty power dynamics where one is above the other (because let's face it, society unfortunately deems masculinity > femininity). one doesn't need to protect the other. they can protect themsleves, fight aide by side as equals. one doesn't do all the housework. they share that duty equally. one isn't weak and pretty, while they other strong and manly. they both are strong and pretty, or masculine and weak at the same time.

equal relationships are amazing and need to be explored more and appreciated. there can be more understanding and working together. i'm bad at explaining what I mean, but I prefer these equal relationships over forcing them into opposite roles to mirror het relationships, which are usually extremely unbalanced and unequal. especially because these not het relationships! so why must they look like one? they can and should look different! so why does literally every shipper and writer out there make them so het coded?

I don't understand why people do this. do they actually believe all romantic relationships must mimic het ones to exist and thrive and purposely force that on them? or have they genuinely just not fathamed that they can be different and dont need to follow the expected het standards?

I wonder, it feels like no one actually knows how non-het relationships are meant to be and how they could work, since het ones are always forced down our throats since birth. it becomes The Standard that everyone thinks they must follow. maybe it's all people know since they don't see any other possibilities. their preferred dynamics for their ships are what we are taught and nothing different, because they don't know it can be different. i also think people might be obsessed with that whole "opposites attract" trope. but that opposite doesn't have to be the traditional het-fueld feminine vs masculine or wife vs husband characteristics. it can be other personality things like one is loud and one is quiet, one is dumb and one is overly smart, one is rich and one poor, etc. it doesn't have to be masculine vs feminine!

BREAK OUT OF THE HET NORMS!!!!! TEAR DOWN HETERONORMATIVITY!!!!!!!!! FREE THE GAYS

(disclaimer, not saying masculine vs feminine ships are all bad/shouldn't be done ever. but it doesn't need to be 100% of the time either 😅 can't think of one ship people dont do this with lol)

[thisloveforyourmom]

Worst take ive seen about atla so far is "its better if iroh wasnt in the white lotus from the beginning because that means he's only dedicated to zuko and not feeding some opposed organization info behind zukos back :)" excuse me

[explicit-tae]

hii 😭 im imagining jungkook as a church boy who is so attracted to the reader that he thinks he’s sinning right before the lords eyes

honestly let's talk about it because now that you said it all i can imagine is...

Repent

Adventures of Jeon Jungkook and the new girl who attends the church retreat - and who is also determined to fuck him.

Warning: church boy jungkook, very shy boy, reader has ulterior motives of course, reader obviously has a corruption kink, dry humping, slight masturbation,

The first time Jungkook has laid his eyes upon you, he noticed there was a shift.

You weren't from here, Jungkook notes. He knows everyone at this church and has yet to know who you were. It only takes a quick word from you to know that this isn't what you usually indulge in.

Y/L Y/N was your name and you've volunteered simply because of your sweet grandmother - the same one who baked such delicious treats for all the children on this trip. She had introduced the two of you and you have given him a smile that causes his heart to jolt suddenly.

Jungkook had to stay away from you and that was his only option. To think that he - a man - had to stay away from you was absurd. However, it was true. Your presence causes an unbalance in his life.

The first unbalance had been when he saw you again. Again, you only volunteered because your grandmother insisted. It was summer and the church always went on a week retreat deep in the woods to be one with nature and naturally, it was hot.

And of course, naturally, your legs were showing.

Legs and shoulders.

Was this where Jungkook's life was going? Him being attracted to any ounce of skin that he had to physically remove himself from the situation entirely.

Jungkook grew up in this church, his parents attending every and any event there was. He was a religious person who stuck to themselves - even as he reached adulthood. That didn't mean he didn't have friends that weren't apart of the church - and as soon as he began to feel things, he called them.

Jungkook's friends had laughed at him. He always hated being the youngest one in said group. Jimin had teased him the entire phone call. Namjoon was trying to keep everyone at bay, but it was no use. "You're acting like a little virgin, Kookie." was Taehyung's words. "Act like you had pussy before, please."

Jungkook decides that his friends were going to be of no help. They didn't grow in the church like he had and had to constantly think about what God thought about his actions - how perverted his mind was going whenever he saw you. Like when you gotten on your knees to pick something up and his mind instantly flashed to you on your knees for him in a less than holy way.

"It's normal to feel these things. You're a man, Kook." Namjoon had assured him over the phone. He's unsure if he'd be able to stay the entire week if he had to keep seeing you and imagining filthy ways to have you.

"You're an artist...why don't you draw what you're feeling?" Yoongi had suggested - and that idea felt ludicrous. He was feeling aroused by you and the only way to release it, by his older friends' thoughts, were to draw it out?

Jungkook had - and at the end of it all he felt like a horrible human being. But once his pencil started to sketch, he couldn't bring himself to stop. While everyone else remained asleep in their respected parts of the cabin, he had been up drawing you.

The drawing started sweet - you smiling just the way Jungkook remembered. You looking out into the distance and even one of you eating one of your grandmothers' infamous cookies.

It went downhill when his mind flashes once more of you on your knees and his hand moves quickly, sketching out the perverse thoughts into his notebook. His mind thinks about what your body would look like underneath your clothes. He draws what he imagines your pretty face would appear if contorted with pleasure, your eyes barely able to remain open...

Before Jungkook knew it, it was morning, and his room shines brightly thanks to the sun. He had slammed his sketchbook shut and hid it deep in his suitcase, a part of his ashamed of what he wasted the entirety of his night on.

"Jungkook, right?"

Jungkook stiffens when he hears your voice directly beside him. He turns slowly, as if afraid. Doe eyes stare at you for a moment and it's only when you speak again does he answer. "Y-Yes. I'm Jungkook."

Jungkook thinks he could melt when you offer him a smile. "Can I see them?"

"H-Huh?"

"I was told you draw."

The color leaves Jungkook's face and he eyes you once more, unsure on who told you that.

"The kids," you turn to the table full of children doing arts and craft. "said Kookie is the best artist here."

Jungkook hearts beat outside his chest and slowly he nods. "I-I can show you." he says, swallowing his nerves. "It's in my room. I'll go get them-"

"I can come." you smile. "I don't want to burden you and have you walk all the way there and back."

Jungkook's heart is beating outside his chest at having you in his room. On the way there he had texted his friends about it, asking for any advice on not passing out - and all he received was vulgar things to do while the two of you were alone; they were never any help.

"These are nice." you compliment, flipping through the countless drawings he had - some of scenery and landscaping, some an assortment of flowers or even fruit. You're laying on your stomach as you flip through them, your legs swaying back and forth behind you. Jungkook thinks they'd feel soft if he ever had a chance to touch them. "Do you draw people, as well?"

"Sometimes." Jungkook's cheeks flush and he wonders if maybe you knew just how much of a pervert he was - why else would you ask these questions? Maybe he should apologize before you accuse him of anything.

"Can I see them?"

There it was - you were gathering evidence. Jungkook swallows thickly, unsure of what to say or do; maybe he should start praying as God would have to be the first to grant his forgiveness. He swallows thickly going through an internal battle with himself.

"Are you scared of me?"

Jungkook glances away at your question. He wants to say that he was - that you were far too beautiful for him to be too close to. Even now he finds it quite difficult to not stare at your legs and admire how femininely woman they look in your shorts. But then he would be questioned further and how could he tell you about the perverted thoughts he has? "I-I..."

"I'm not a very...religious person. I'm sure you know." you speak, closing the sketchbook he has given you that displayed his mild artwork. "I hope you don't think I'm a bad person." you continue, now lying on your back, eyes blinking upwards at him.

"Never!" Jungkook insist, snapping his head back to you quickly. "I'm...just...awkward around new people." he admits, not wanting you to think he didn't like you because of how you lived your life.

You smile at him, eyes unreadable to Jungkook. "So, you wouldn't judge me for what I want to say?"

"Of course not." Jungkook responds meekly. "You are entitled to say whatever you feel. Only God could judge us!"

"You are right." you nod. "Before the week is over, Jungkook..." you begin, eyes staring right into his dark curious ones. You now bring yourself up to a seated position. He waits for you to continue and he swears that he could hear a pin drop in his room. The suspense was killing him. "...I'm going to get you to fuck me."

You leave Jungkook there for the suspense, giggling to yourself at how wide his eyes were and how terrified he looked. His eyes follow your figure leaving his bedroom, his heart in his ears. He's humiliated that those words caused an erection that he couldn't get to go away for the following 15 minutes.

How couldn't you want someone like Jungkook? The boy was gorgeous and had a body and the face of a man that deserved to be the biggest, conceited asshole - and it made it better that he wasn't. He was a shy individual and appeared to avoid any contact from the opposite sex over the age of 18. Though, there wasn't any woman here that appeared to catch Jungkook's eyes, and yes, you've noticed.

Jungkook's wandering eyes were the reason you chose to wear the tight shirts and shorts, regardless of the disapproving glances from the other church go-ers. You've done anything you could have to make Jungkook talk to you - and when he hadn't after the second day, you told yourself matters had to be taken into your own hands.

"So...a hot girl wants to fuck you?" Jimin asks over the phone. "But you're blowing up my phone?"

"This is serious!" Jungkook hisses over the phone. He needed outside help on how to approach this. "What if this is a joke?"

"A joke?" Taehyung scoffs. "What more does she have to say?"

"She'll have to put her pussy on his face to get his dumbass to get the point." Hoseok grumbles, tired of hearing Jungkook and his made-up problems. "I say you give her what she wants. Fuck her raw and-"

"Can you all please?" Namjoon groans loudly. "You're not being supportive."

"Thanks, hyung."

Jungkook decides to listen to Namjoon and talk to you about it - later on in the night. Now you were helping your grandmother set up the food table with the meals she's spent hours preparing that would be served only after the service.

"Kookie!" one boy says, running right into him. "Take a picture of us!"

Jungkook nods, a soft smile on his lips. He was on photography duty and had to make sure enough pictures were taken. This will get his mind off of you, surely.

Jungkook snaps countless pictures throughout the night, making sure everyone was a part of it. In the back of his mind, you remained - your admission to wanting to...sleep with him was weighing heavily.

In the camera lengths Jungkook see's you, already looking his way. Slowly, he lowers it from his face and his eyes meet yours for the first time since this morning. You and here stood across the room but even he could see that you wanted him to notice you.

Jungkook glances away from you and to two more kids running past him. He sighs, stumbling out the way and when he looks back to where you once stood, you were gone.

This is his chance, Jungkook thinks. He could be a little late to the service today. He could never focus if his mind could only think of you.

Jungkook goes towards the direction of where your room would be, the hallway long and quiet. It's vacant as everyone is in the dining hall for service soon. His nerves are kicking his ass, and he contemplates if he should turn around now.

Jungkook stops outside your room door. It's cracked and a bit of light shines behind it. He goes to knock on your door when he finds you - only you were naked, your clothes sprawled on the floor. His breath hitches as you lay on the bed, your legs wide open for him to see.

Jungkook wants to run away and forget that he has seen you in such a vulnerable state, but his body doesn't move. His eyes are unblinking and solely focused on the way your fingers begin to play with yourself.

Your breast appears so full and he imagines how nice they'd feel in the palms of his hands. Your nipples are erect due to the slight coolness of the room this evening and his mouth salivates on just how he imagines his tongue circling them until they're swollen.

Jungkook was a pervert - he was going to have to repent after this. He finds that he cannot move from his spot, watching you play with yourself. One hand grips your breast while the free one begins to enter two fingers inside of you. Your moans fill the room and it's a melodic tune that he wants to hear over and over and over again.

Jungkook's pants are tight, his erection begging for a release from the prison that was his underwear.

"Kookie?"

Jungkook nearly jumps from his skin when you say his name, eyes staring at the cracked door where he stood in the darkness. Maybe if he didn't respond you'd think that he wasn't there.

"Come in." you say, lifting yourself from laying on your bed to sitting on it. "You don't have to be afraid."

"I-I'm so sorry!" Jungkook says from the door, not moving an inch. His heart is pounding and damn it he was afraid. You were becoming to much to handle and his friends were right - he was acting like some virgin teenager that didn't experience this with a girl before.

And truly, it was only a few times with a girlfriend he had that didn't work out. Maybe he should have listened to his friends and not propose to her at their young age; but what were they expecting a religious person like Jungkook to do?

You were going to have to initiate everything, you note. But that's okay - you loved the shy ones like Jungkook. You could only imagine the way he'll whimper beneath you.

You swing the door open, just as naked as before. Jungkook is frozen and his breathing increases. He tears his eyes away from you, dark cheeks. "P-Please don't hate me."

"You're so silly." you laugh. "Why would I hate you?"

Jungkook feels ready to explode when you wrap your arms around his neck. Your chest is against his and you're so close that he can smell a vanilla scent on your skin - he has a good nose, and he just certain it's the warm vanilla collection.

You're teasing him, your tongue poking out from your lips to lick at his neck. "Do you want me to stop?" you asks him - you weren't going to do anything to the man while he was crying the entire time.

"It's...this is fine." Jungkook murmurs meekly.

"You don't sound sure." you tease. "Do you not like me?"

"I-I do!" Jungkook is quick to say. "I just don't want to force you into anything."

You mentally sigh - he wasn't helping you not want him. You want to coo at how cute Jungkook was. To think he didn't want to force you into anything after you've gone this far.

"We have five days left of this trip." you murmur, tongue against his neck. It circles the nape of it. "You aren't going to keep me waiting, right? That wouldn't be nice."

Jungkook whimpers when he feels your teeth biting his neck and it does nothing but make you want to ruin the man further.

"I want you to take some pictures of me." you tell Jungkook, leaning back to look into his eyes. "Some pictures that are for...your eyes only."

Jungkook gulps, his cock jumps in his pants. "O-Okay." is all he could muster up to say.

You remove your arms from his neck and nod to the camera around his neck. "Then start." you tell him.

Jungkook's hands are trembling when he does as you ask him to. He snaps several pictures of your naked body, you are posing in such provocative positions that he's unsure if this is real or a sick, perverted dream of his.

"Now," you clap your hands. "I want to take some pictures of me in a different P.O.V."

Jungkook clenches the camera in his hands. "I-"

You pull him onto the bed, caging him between your things. Your pussy is right against his clothed erection, and he yelps when he feels you sit directly on top of him. "Take them."

Jungkook knows these pictures were going to be blurry. His palms are sweaty as he snaps a few more pictures of you directly on top of him. The sight is forever going to be drawn into his mind - naked body on top of his, breast on fully display as you look down on him with such a lustful look in your eyes.

"I-I can't get the right pictures if...if you keep moving." Jungkook clenches the camera in his hands. You were grinding against him and through the lenses he watches the way your pussy humps against him.

"Sorry," you murmur. "you just feel good."

Jungkook drops the camera at your words, and you could only snort, but you don't stop your grinding. Your eyes force his to watch you, hands clenching into his shoulders as you beginning to add pressure and speed to your humping. "I can't feel it enough."

Jungkook was going to die here - he's sure of it. One hand removes itself from his shoulder and you slightly lift yourself up so you could yank down his pants. You weren't going to stop there and before you know it, Jungkook's underwear's is yanked just as fast.

"I-I-"

Jungkook winces when he feels you sit directly onto him, your folds against the shaft of his cock. You're wet and warm - he's never felt anything without a condom on.

Your hips begin to buckle, grinding against his shaft. Jungkook's cheeks are bright red with embarrassment and his hands hover above your hips, afraid to touch you. "You're acting like you never touched a woman before."

Jungkook swallows, resting his hands onto your grinding hips. "N-Not one like you." he admits - someone so bold and beautiful who knew exactly what she wanted.

You giggle, then moan. Your hips circle around Jungkook's cock and wished that something so beautiful was inside of you - but you were patient enough to wait. You didn't want to overwhelm the boy more than you were already.

"Don't be afraid to touch me, Kookie." your mouth is so close to his that he wants to connect your lips. He could feel your breath against his face, tickling him as you moan.

Jungkook's hand roam your body, his palm vibrating with anticipation. He grips on the flesh of your ass, whimpering at how soft it was all the while you grinded against him. He roams them up past your hips and towards you back to them cast them down your sides to grip your breast.

"You're very beautiful..." Jungkook whimpers once more, body hot with pleasure. "...so so beautiful."

Jungkook's embarrassed that he can feel himself about to cum, but that was alright because you were determined to cum along with him. You take the initiative to connect your lips to Jungkook's in a needy kiss, your hips buckling with such need.

Humping usually wasn't what you settled for - but Jungkook was just too hot (and shy) to not tease and mess with. You're cumming all over him, creaming against his cock that he cannot help but do the same, hot cum falling all over his abdomen like a hormonal pathetic teenager.

"I can't wait to feel your cum in me." you murmur against his lips and Jungkook swears that alone could make him hard again.

PART 2 COMING SOON

Preview

“I’m sure we can be besties.” you wink at him, an action Jungkook finds cute. “That does other things.”

You connect the gap between you and Jungkook, pressing your glossed lips against his. Your lips are sticky but sweet, tasting like blueberries. 

Your hands are soft onto his cheeks, ensuring he doesn’t push himself away - and he doesn’t plan on it.

Jungkook is unsure where he puts his own hands and this allows you to help him. Your left hand removes from his check to grasp his wrist and place it onto your hips. You tap it slightly, giving him full access to whatever he wants to feel.

Jungkook is hesitant, but he follows your lead. His hands grip onto your hips, moaning against your soft lips. 

The soft kisses soon turn to a makeout session, your delicate hands roaming Jungkook’s broad chest.

Jungkook’s hands roam up your sides and around your back, wanting to feel more of you. Even now as the two of you were fully clothed and he technically saw you naked, the crave he has for you only grows higher and higher. 

You pull yourself away from Jungkook, snorting when you notice his plush lips are full of gloss.

“You said you’ve done things with other girls?”

Jungkook begins to nod. He was growing anxious at your question. He hasn’t done a lot - especially not with more than one girl.

“Hm.” you peck his lips gently. “What have they done to pleasure you?”

Taking a short breath, Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “Regular…stuff…?”

Once more, Jungkook is so cute to you. Knowing him, he hasn’t experienced foreplay. You recall hearing some religious people only experience sex to procreate and you truly hoped that was a lie.

“Hm…” you bat your eyelashes at him. “...I’ll show you regular stuff with me.”

Jungkook nodded his head, only a bit embarrassed how eager he was to see it. 

You decide to take things slow - for now. You peck his lips, then his cheek, down his jaw. You get to his neck, slightly inhaling the scent of his cologne. It’s faint and smells a bit earthy; a scent that does scream Jungkook. It’s subtle.

“You’re hard.” you state at the nape of his neck.

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak; to apologize for his behavior as the two of you were just supposed to be kissing, surely. “S-Sorry-”

“That’s a good thing! I need you to be aroused, Kookie.” you grin, pulling yourself away from him to bat your eyelashes once more. “It’s easier to suck your cock this way.”

Jungkook nearly explodes at your lewd words.

[florencebirdsong]

Wolf Hunt

Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: Rio needs to get out some of those animal instincts

Tags: primal play, biting, Rio has fangs and claws you’re welcome, strap on (r receiving), predator/play, wolf Rio, prey reader, 

Authors Note: I definitely didn’t make Rio a wolf because Death is a wolf in puss and boots. It was absolutely not a deciding factor. Ahem. Anyway, short and not so sweet

masterlist | ao3

You feel her before you see her. Her heady presence fills the small clearing and you eagerly look into the dark. The fire has ruined your ability to see far but the sound of shifting dirt points to where she’ll pop up. You resist the urge to get up when you can make out her silhouette. Being too eager means you’re more likely to get stuck away from the warmth of the fire.

You tilt your head curiously as she stops outside of the firelight. Her hood isn’t up and the flickering fire light shows that it’s not her skull face. She smiles and you smile back. It takes you a moment to notice the shine of her teeth. Of the fangs poking past her lips. 

You freeze. Her smile widens. Your eyes drop to her hands which are now tipped in claws. You bolt like a rabbit. Her deep laugh echoes behind you.

Branches claw at you and roots try to trip your feet as you run. You can’t tell how close she is and you don’t risk looking back. A wolf howling behind you turns your racing heart into a gallop. You take a wild turn and then another. There’s a river that, if you can get across it, you might be able to use to lose her.

You try and zigzag your way towards it. Unpredictable moves giving you an edge in your race against Death. But they’re also a risk. 

Another sharp pivot puts your foot into a tiny shrub. You crash to the ground but use your momentum to roll and shove yourself up again. The precious seconds cost you. Huffing growls fill the air behind you and you try to force down the panic. She’s gaining with every step. Your shoulder catches the trunk of a tree and you stumble. She’s so close you swear you can feel her breath. You prepare yourself to hit the ground. The shock is always what does you in. It comes a second later.

She tackles you but you’re quick enough to wriggle out of her grip before she can cage you in. You think you’re free until her claws wrap around your ankle and you slam into the ground. Her hands are quick to find your legs and hold them down.

You try to kick her off of you but it’s too late. She kneels where her hands were. She slams your shoulders onto the ground. Her claws dig into your skin. Trying to shove her off is useless so you go for her elbows. They don’t bend. She growls and moves one hand to push your head back, baring your neck to her. Your hands move to her shoulders to get some leverage as you try and buck her off. Then you try to unbalance her by shoving her chin up. She growls and bites your fingers. You yelp and pull back instinctively. She huffs a laugh. You bare your teeth at her but stop when she does it back. Her fangs are so much sharper than yours. 

You grip her wrist to try and free your head but she pushes until you feel a strain and you have to stop. Your hands hover, unsure what to do next as her eyes run over your captured form. You decide fuck it and jab at her throat. She chokes at the feeling but Death doesn’t need to breathe. Your hands are forced down beside your head and she growls in your face. 

You growl back, but it turns into a whimper when she sinks her sharp fangs into your throat. You don’t attempt to push her off, knowing ripping her teeth out of you will only hurt worse. Your body goes limp. She growls in satisfaction. 

Her hips grind against you and you whimper. She’s got her teeth into you. There’s no escape now.

She ruts against you and the sharp ache in your neck makes it take too long for you to notice the hard thing hiding in her pants.

She finally releases your throat and you whimper at the fresh sting. She tries to pull your pants down and growls in frustration, ripping them open with her claws instead. You flinch but they don’t snag you. She lines up her strap and fills you with one thrust before her hand returns to your wrist. You hadn’t even thought to move it. There’s no thoughts now.

Rio doesn’t give you time to adjust or work you up. She ruts into you like the animal she is. Grunting and growling as you whimper and mewl below her. Her nose in your neck constantly nudging the wound on your neck, her hot breath doing nothing to soothe it.

You sloppily meet her thrusts as the stretch turns from painful to delicious, breathing heavy as pleasure floods through you. She bottoms out every time, skin slapping yours as she chases her own high. 

She grunts and bites you again, right above the first mark. A sign she’s close to coming. You whine and struggle against her hold. You aren’t close enough yet. Her jaw clenches tighter, her nails dig into your skin and her thrusts turn punishing. One hand leaves your wrist and finds your clit, pinching harshly. A high-pitched sound leaves your throat and you arch into her, sharp pleasure crashing into you. Her hips do that stuttering thing that shows she’s coming and you fall over the edge together. She’s no nicer, taking what she wants, but you’re too full to care. 

She stills, still inside of you, before laying down on top of you and nuzzling your neck. The movements zing along the lingering pleasure.

Panting, you lay there as the waves ebb out of you. Rio nuzzles and licks over her new marks, knowing it takes you longer than her to come down. You whimper when she hits a particularly tender spot. You can feel her purr. 

Her tongue pokes and prods until you’re limp under her. Satisfaction rolls off of her in waves. You won’t be about to run again and she’s marked you for all to see. You’re hers until the next hunt, when she’ll need to prove her claim all over again.

[just-more-pr0mts]

You have probably seen all the aus like danny gets adopted by batfam, Danny as damiens twin/older brother, Danny dating a member of the batfam, Danny part of the justice league, Danny as a gotham superhero and more.

But have we seen Danny Fenton as Batman.

Danny Fenton who was taken in by the original Wayne family, with Marta and Thomas Wayne. Taken in when Martha was not yet pregnant. They treated him as their own and raised him as such. When they discover that Martha is pregnant and go out to celebrate. When they take a short cut and danny is just a few seconds too late to save them.

The boy who lost his parents when he failed to stop Dan and for all he knows his sister is dead gone. Who was lost in the infinite realms for so long. Who got stuck in a foul city where the weak are crushed so only the strong prevail.

Danny, Who stumbled into the warm arms of the Wayne family. Who slowly opened up to them. Who never used his powers so he could have a shred of normalcy with them. Who realized they loved and cared for him as thier own. Danny who accepted he loved them in turn. Danny,the boy who lost another set of parents on one fateful eve.

Danny who lost-

Danny who

Danny

Bruce.

Bruce who takes in these lost stray children because he wants to look after them. But he doesn't know how to because he never had a normal childhood.

Bruce who puts up a front to protect himself as well as his family. Who lies to face of powerful beings to protect his family. Bruce who trains long and hard to protect his family from said beings, so much so that he ends up locking away his emotions, so that his children don't have to loose another parent -not knowing that they already had so long ago

Bruce who's so proud of his children, but just doesn't know how to show it. Who is so scared, so terrified they might fight the same battles as him...or something even worse.

BRUCE WHO WANTS to kill the joker. Who wants to hurt him like he hurt his CHILD and leave him there to die, but he knows better than that... he knows what a cruel joke it would be, the irony. He knows that it will just more horrible things to his children knowing they'll never be able to stop him. That's why he brought him back.

Bruce who as much as he tries is always two steps behind.

And now when his new dimension is at stake because of the very beings he left behind, he must choose between the life that he built for himself here or the one that he left behind.

A carefully weighted scale. With the future on the horizon, and choices to be made.

Will the scale stay true or will the choices made unbalance it all.

________

Hii my beautiful creatures of the day and night.

I sorta forgot about tumblr but if you like this piece let me know! Also I love hearing how I can improve and make my writing better.

Ps. If you have any suggestions on what I should write about feel free to ask! I'm so excited to hear about it

Ps.ps. if you have any cosplay blogs dm me! I'm trying to get into cosplau

[slvttyplum]

๋࣭⭑ under the sheets | satoru gojo

“let me make you feel good," he whispers in between your legs, your eyes going wide from the site.

what was going on, and why was he in your room? his light eyes were shining from the moon, creeping through the blinds.

“sa… satoru, why are you in here?” your voice softer than a whisper, his arms wrapped around your thighs as he looks at you with puppy dog eyes.

“you said you wanted this," he whispers, kissing your inner thigh, his warm breath itching closer to your core.

your mind racing trying to track back to when you said that, you just laid head to pillow a few minutes ago.

“… i don’t remember.” you say, your thighs trying to close, but his head gets closer to you.

a sly smirk on his face as he kisses your soft thigh, his breath hitting you. your thigh is sensitive.

“your computer.” his mouth right at your core, only an inch away from you, anticipation filling your body, warm blood boiling through you.

what does he mean? confusion was all that you had within you; you were not sure why your roommate was in your room in between your thighs.

your cheeks are getting warm from embarrassment as you look down at your crouch, remembering you didn’t wear any shorts to bed.

“stop bullshitting; get out before you get sexual assault charges.” that came out harsh, but you didn’t feel like playing his weird games.

a laugh erupts from his mouth, his soft, warm breath hitting your core and sending tingles throughout your body.

lightly pushing his lips together to stop him from laughing, your cheeks warmer from his reaction.

“oh? you’ll be right there with me. i want to ride him; he’s so fine; i wish he’d fuck me.” those words hitting you like a truck.

thats what he was talking about.

you quickly sit up, trying to push his head and move your thighs, but he’s not budging; he looks at you, letting out a light laugh.

“why are you going through my things?" you yell, your fists balling in anger. not only were you mad about the invasion of privacy, but you were also embarrassed.

“just let me give you what you want," satoru says, quickly sliding his hands up and hooking his fingers on the hem of your panties pulling them down.

his words make you tingle even though they shouldn’t. those words typed in your notes app were just horny venting, nothing more.

your hands unballing but your body stiff and not pushing him, his eyes not leaving you.

his eyes were soft; he was always attractive, but he looked better at night, with a little bit of light hitting him just right.

your body relaxing over the pillows prompted up against you, your eyes looking out the window, trying to avoid his gaze.

“good girl. let me do this for you.” his hand finally dropped your panties and got closer, a tiny stripe to your slit.

a shiver running down your spine, the warm, wet feeling soothing you as he takes another swipe after another.

the more swipes he takes, the more sensitive you get. his tongue slowly slides into your folds, lightly poking your clit.

your eyes are taking peeks at him, but not entirely. this was your fantasy, but this isn’t how you wanted it to happen.

“look at me.” he says, kissing your thigh and laying his head on the same spot, his eyes never once leaving you.

you hesitate to look at him, and you don’t know why, but your eyes land on his, a smile on his lips as he leans back down, swiping your slit.

“you get wet easily. you know that.?” his hand coming up to run your clit as he licks your inner folds, the intense eye contact making your stomach curl.

his tongue seemed to get wetter when he pulsed his tongue deeper inside you, a little moan sliding out of your lips.

his thumb is rubbing your clit in circles.

feeling pressure—a drop in your stomach when you feel the pleasure go to your toes.

it felt like you were about to cum, and that would be embarrassing. you clenched up, trying to hold on to the pleasure for as long as possible.

his tongue sliding out, closing his mouth and swallowing your taste, kissing your thigh, and still rubbing your clit.

“you just clenched around me.” his head going back down and his tongue sliding into you again, a bigger moan sliding past your lips.

the pleasure rushing from your clit to your toes, making them curl, your eyes still looking at his, making you arch your back.

your hand sliding down to his hair, sliding your fingers in between his fine, soft strands, your fingertips curving as you ball your fist.

his rhythm on your clit getting faster, and his tongue is sliding across your folds and into your wet walls.

your hips are bucking up from the pleasure, and your toes are curling so much that you’re catching a cramp, but the pleasure is canceling it out.

his thumb rubbing faster, your back arching more, and your hips rolling in pleasure, a tiny gasp as you feel the pleasure spike.

your eye twitching and your hand balling in a fist as you release, his tongue still pushing in and out of you.

his tongue clenched around you, your chest going up and down trying to catch your breath, his tongue finally retrieving.

“you did good. let’s try the other naughty things in your journal.” he says, kissing your thigh; your words are not coming out, but your reaction is enough for him to smile.

[iz-star]

About Zayne's loneliness.

Sometimes I wonder what an angry Zayne looks like? I mean, NOT angry at MC/you but maybe angry at Astra and/or his fate for putting him in such difficult and unfair situations.

Zayne loves MC deeply, with his whole being, but loving her makes him be 'selfish', to want something for himself, to seek his own happiness alongside MC when it seems that his fate was always to serve others before looking after himself.

It's like he himself said in Master of Fate's Myth: "When emotions and desires are involved, selfishness is bound to exist".

In Master of Fate, he's deemed as a Siming which in Chinese mythology, is a kind of deity in charge to allocate humans' life spans, and according to Wikipedia:

"Siming's special concern (and power) is the balancing of yin and yang (Hawkes 2011 (1985), 109). Of particular relevance here is the relation between yin and yang balance and human health, and the importance to individual human health of such balance, as articulated in traditional Chinese medicine. Siming has the power to balance or unbalance yin and yang, and thus to lengthen or shorten human lifespans, or to provide health or prolong illness".

Siming could decide to provide health to a person or to prolong illness, in that way, having an important role into deciding people's life spans. It's interesting cause Dr Zayne and Dawnbreaker pretty much do the same.

Dr Zayne does his best to cure and take care of people, thus stretching out their life span, while Dawnbreaker gives them a merciful death to avoid them to live as walking corpses, thus shortening their life span.

Unlike Master of Fate or Foreseer, at first glance it could look like Dr Zayne and Dawnbreaker have no God-like power, thus have no control over destiny or fate, yet they still do.

It's actually Foreseer the one who lacks some kind of jurisdiction about people's lifes and fates; he could still glimpse at their destiny, being aware of what awaits people but wasn't allowed to intervene in any sense and most of all, he wasn't allowed to glimpse at his own fate.

In any case, until now, all Zayne's lifes have always been about taking care of other's destiny but what about him? When describing gods, Zayne is actually quite humble, saying that gods maybe are just like humans, except that they had the chance to do a bit more.

Zayne is quite selfless. He's not the kind of man who would blame his destiny for all the things that have happened to him and yet... They're still unfair.

Foreseer once said: "My destiny is to disappear from the annals of history... For someone who wants to remember me, it certainly feels wonderful".

At some point, Zayne's duty isolated him in every life time. He lived alone and caged in a Tower in Foreseer's Myth, he lived alone in the Mountains as Master of Fate, and he lived totally alone as Dawnbreaker. His only companions were Jas/Bai but no other human being.

Dr Zayne is actually the only one whose duty has brought him some kind of recognition, admiration and appreciation (and well deserved, of course), and hasn't isolated him from society, but funnily enough, he has this condition with his evol that sometimes turns him into a treath, which makes him keep others at arms length, especially MC. As for Master of Fate? Foreseer? Dawnbreaker? They all have to move the threads behind backstage in a lonely duty, being Foreseer the most severe case. It doesn't help that in the Foreseer timeline, Zayne is even explictly prohibited to be with MC.

Zayne's fate was always to look after other people's fate but like I've said before, MC was always the exception of every rule in his book because she was the one who made him yearn for human warmth and closeness with someone else and because of that, he'd break the rules to ensure she lives a long happy and safe life, even if is not at his side... Unironically.

In Foreseer's Myth, it is said that Astra prohibited him of being with MC in this and his other lifes because Zayne was a tool. At first, Astra's severity at punishing Zayne looked more like a senseless tantrum of a prepotent god and while that might be true, it seems that Zayne not being able to be with MC in every life time is simply because she would never allow him to fullfil 'his destiny' and to make matters worse, she's a "variant" (We don't know exactly what this entails, we just know that is something threatening, I have some assumptions about it but let's keep it like this for now) . That's why, unlike Rafayel and the other LIs, it seems that he doesn't keep memories of his previous lifes or previous experiences with MC, yet he said once that if souls truly existed, then he was sure that his soul recognized MC before his memory did. MC is this person that always reminds him that he's not just a "tool", a means to an end, but an individual being that is also deserving of something better.

Zayne's love for MC often reminds me of that Córtazar quote: "You were always my mirror, what I'm trying to say is that, in order to see me, I had to see you"

I wonder if there's one life time where Zayne will be allowed to have happiness and company without having to pay a high price for it.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 348

(Been a bit since I did an Ennead AU or Prompt, huh)

They had been… Shattered, torn apart, barely developed cores ripped from still living bodies left spasming and rotting, consciousness frayed and trapped in the shards. Had been pulled apart further, warped until they could barely remember what they were before, flashes of separate memories coming together to form knowledge they did not like. 

They had… found each other, less alive and dead than before, only continuing to exist from the saturation of the surrounding ecto. Had cobbled themselves together, nine becoming four then two, then one singular core. 

One being of Nine, dripping blood, dripping gore and viscera of the living, hair still grasped in their claws as they dropped a head. They were many, yet one, all of them buzzing around each other like the circling of planets. 

Hands flex, the movement, feeling of living flesh novel to their senses. Senses that confirmed what they had long dreaded. They were the last- the others gone, dead, shattered beyond hope. They hope it was painless, even as they knew it was not. The scientists never cared about how much pain they caused, only that they got results. 

Where were their results now? Where were their weapons and torture that they were so proud of? It didn’t protect them, and the Nine that were One couldn’t help the laugh. What use was freedom when everyone was gone? When they could feel reality breaking apart from the unbalance that even their power was useless in correcting? 

The dead and the living, the living and the dead, always chasing after the other in an endless cycle. Now broken, shattered like them, yet unable to be put back together. 

They laughed, a broken, croaking, sobbing sound as they grieved for those whose names they could no longer remember. Who were now Nothing, no name to be whispered to the stars, no grave for a mutilated corpse to be lowered. Only chunks of gore tossed aside when their torturers were done, discarded like waste. 

What else is there to do, but Wail, to let out their fury and grief and anguish into the void even as the world crumbles around them? What else is left but to drift as the abyss trails ever-hungry. There’s no more Ancients, no more Humans, nor more Life, and no Death to claim them. 

So they are left adrift, tails lifeless, form shifting between Beast and Other as time escapes them. For there is no Time, no Space, not here, not in this emptiness where even the Infinite would not dare touch. How long they drifted, wandered, they did not, do not, know. 

Yet they know the moment something disturbs their aimless wandering, the fuzzy, sputtering feeling trying to wrap around a wrist. They stare, even if they see nothing, heads tilting and twisting as they whisper amongst themselves. What is it, they wonder, the sensation something strange and unfamiliar compared to the ever-starving feeling that had long since become normal. 

So they let it take hold, it would never have succeeded otherwise, and they open their eyes not in the Nothing, but to the Sun. 

(Been a while so have some of the art I did of the Ennead lol)

(In dragon form the main body goes from the head/neck colors to a black while the underbelly is iridescent- Also yes there's a torn opening on their chest like a wound or maw) (Humanoid form is about 15' and dragon form varies around 200' or larger)

[batchilla]

Fata Morgana Chapter Two - A Dance Earned

Content warnings of violence, death, and outdated views on women.

Sweat drips down Jason's nose, and his breathing is laboured. He cannot wipe it away, not without lifting the faceguard of his helmet. So, he lives with the discomfort, the sting of sweat in his eyes, the stink of it within his metal suit. His arms, one holding his sword, the other bearing a shield strapped to his forearm, ache. His head is pounding. His heart feels as if it may explode with how fast it beats.

He adjusts the grip of his sword to refocus himself. In the edge of his vision, tied to its hilt, the princess ribbon flutters gently in the breeze.

Centred, and reminded of his reasons, Jason levels his sword, and charges to meet his opponent.

The man’s name escaped him - it had been a long day. However his green heraldry told Jason the man likely serves the Queen family. Formidable archers were plentiful in their barracks. It was likely the bow he held had carried him to the final round more than the shortsword at his side. So, Jason would make it his priority to close distance, to force him to rely on melee skill.

He strikes out, his sword colliding with the breastplate of the other, trying to unbalance him, sending a loud clang of metal on metal, almost lost in the cheers of the crowd.

His opponent hurriedly drops the bow, draws his sword and hits back, making Jason grunt as he feels the opponent's sword collide with his dominant arm.

Jason isn’t so easily distracted though, he had fought far too many more deadly foes to drop his blade or allow pain to distract him in the heat of battle. He takes his shield, slamming it into his opponent's chest, sending the man colliding with the ground.

His victory is swift and definitive over the green clad man. In a real battle, he would have ended the lesser warrior with ease. It would be so easy. Something in his blood urges him to do it. A ruthless instinct that had kept him alive thus far. He puts the point of his blade to the defeated’s throat.

The roar of the crowd fades out. Morphs and twists into the screams of battle. Of that battle. Of the fields of Arkham. His grip tightens on his sword, and he looks down, not at the Starling knight, but at the face of a boy. He holds a pike, and wears leather armour that will do little to save him - that will not save him - that didn’t save him as Jason plunges his sword into his heart. He hears the boy cry, not a scream, a whimper. The last, trembling word that leaves his lips as he dies is a call for his mother. He looks up, to a field of bodies. A battle won at last, an enemy army slain… The field of battle soaked in blood, the smell of death mingling with the ocean air. And in this moment he knows himself a monster.

Reality fades back in, and Jason is not looking at the seaside battleground of Arkham, but looking up at the royal box. At her. At his Princess. The princess, he reminds himself - not his.

She looks … beautiful. She always does, in his humble opinion. Today, however, he feels his breath catch at the mere sight of her.

She’s worn red. But not just any red, his red. The same velvet fabric as the ribbon tied to his sword - surely something she had done deliberately. She had planned this for him. He gulps, grateful that no one can see his expression due to his faceguard.

Her gaze trails down to his opponent, still laid on the dust. Yes. Right. The other knight.

“Yield.” Jason demands, his arm flexing as he ever so slightly presses the sword in further to make his point.

“I yield.” The other man says, a little too quickly. Jason sheaths his blade, and offers a hand to bring the man to his feet.

Jason takes a deep breath as he removes his helm, and locks eyes with her.

You are going to die.

It should be illegal, frankly, for Captain Todd-Wayne to look like that.

He offers his hand to his defeated opponent, and you near swoon. To see such an honourable act after witnessing him put the realms warriors to shame all morning near stops your heart.

His hair is stuck to his face with sweat, his face flushed with the effort of the fight. His chest, you imagine, is heaving under his plate. Mentally, you imagine that paired with his half tied shirt from the night before, and are forced to pull out your fan to cool your face.

Your lady in waiting, Lady Stephanie Brown, leans down to whisper in your ear over your shoulder. “Are you quite well, M’lady?”

“Hm? Ah. Yes. It is simply… the heat.”

“But of course.” She replies, in a tone that from anyone who wasn’t a dear, dear, friend, would have you asking if they were daring to imply your dishonesty.

“You there!” She calls to a servant “fetch the princesses parasol!”

Then, turning back to you, she whispers once more “The heat?”

She echos playfully. You swat her arm.

“Hush.” You chide, and in response she wiggles her eyebrows.

You watch Jason leaving the arena, watch him splash a ladle of water over his head from a nearby barrel, and doff his gauntlets to take from an adjudicator a plush pillow, on which rests the crown of roses.

You smooth your skirt and carefully arrange yourself to appear adequately surprised when he approaches. Certainly you knew that as much as your heart was his, that crown was yours - but it would not do well to be too obviously aware of his affections, nor display your own.

Sure enough, you watch as he approaches, bowing deeply to your Father, your Mother, your younger brother, and finally, you.

Jason lifts out of his bow, meeting her eyes and trying not to appear as nervous as he felt.

He knew, of course she would not deny him.

It was testament to her charity that she indulged his annual request, similar to giving alms. A single moment where he could pretend he stood a chance at being anything more than her guard dog.

He knows that should you not wish to allow him this, you would not have given him a favour. Still, his hands, hands that have ended countless lives, calloused and rough from a life of hard, violent labour in her fathers name, but for her sake, shake slightly as he takes the crown in hand.

“Your royal highness.” He holds the crown out, and she bows her head obligingly.

Jason places the roses among her locks, trying not to linger on the sensation of her hair under his fingers. She looks up at him, her eyes wide and so filled with…

Love. His soul whispers. Wishful thinking, he knows. Affection, perhaps. Fondness, even. But it would be prideful to the point of insanity to think she loved him. Certainly she looked at him as if she did… but it could not be. Surely.

He steps back, taking her in the sight of her in his crown, knowing that for a few minutes that evening, he would get to hold her in his arms.

The dress you’d laid out on the chaise for the ball tonight lays forgotten. Not Jason’s red - it would be too overt to wear such a colour twice in such swift succession. So, something close, but something that inspired innocence and femininity. You had risked much in sneaking away from the palace to his tent, much more in wearing his colours. Tonight, you must be the picture of what your father wished of you. Mindful, Demure, even.

You pace the length of your rooms as the sun sets, running a hand down your face in distress.

“And you are quite certain?” You ask, turning to Stephanie, who stands beside the gold coated four poster bed you’ve slept in since childhood.

“Do you think I would tell you this if I had doubts?” She counters, shaking her head. “My source is good. Your father has been made a… rather generous offer by the Earl Sionis in exchange for your hand. A significant portion of fertile farming land.”

You nod. You had always known it would be your fate to form a political alliance, since the birth of your brother had taken the kingdom from your grasp. You were not even particularly opposed. Many such marriages were tolerable, and realistically once your husband had his son, you would only need to see him on formal occasions, and enjoy a life free of strife and hard labour.

But Earl Sionis? You had heard nothing credible of course, at least to the courts. Only rumours. Only the claims of his survivors, few as they were. Chief amongst them, in your mind, being Stephanie. You knew not exactly what he had done. But mention of his name filled your closest friend with fear and that was enough for you to think the lowest of him despite being unintroduced.

Still, you understood at least the political mechanics of how the match came to be. In the divying of the spoils of Arkham the Sionis line had been richly rewarded. Rewards that may well have been due to Captain Todd-Wayne, had he not been thought dead. Between the peasants, lands, and spoils he had taken, the Earl would have resources enough to make your father amenable to the match.

You sigh, your shoulders falling in defeat, in helplessness. You feel Stephanie move closer, and her arms wrapping you up in a hug. “I’m so, so, sorry.”

She whispers in your ear as you allow yourself to rest your head on her shoulder, and take a deep, shaken breath to fight tears. It would not do well to be seen to have been crying, especially if you could not explain how you had come to know of your inevitable engagement. You take a hankie from your pocket and dab at your eyes.

“Fret not. I… I will be safe while my father lives. He will not risk the Kings ire. I have till his death to endear myself to him.” Your lie tastes of ash on your tongue. But Stephanie seems cautiously comforted by your words. You were, after all, a talented liar. You may well have been a talented mistress of whispers in another life.

This is not that life though, and rather than a mistress of whispers, you are a princess. A helpless, beautiful flower blown by the winds of fate. You are not a talented spy. You are property of the realm. Privileged and pampered property, though property all the same.

You take another, deeper breath and withdraw from Stephanie’s arms. “Well. I have a ball to prepare for and I daren’t be late. I presume the Earl is in attendance this eve?”

“He is.” she confirms, as you ring a bell to summon your handmaidens to help you dress.

“Well then, we must make an impression.”

You did wish to dazzle, of course, but not your potential husband. If this was your last chance to dance publicly with Captain Todd-Wayne? You intended to look your very best.

Jason was not a scared child. He was a seasoned warrior. He was not skulking. He was simply scouting the ballroom's perimeter. The rooms' grandeur, while beautiful, lead to many nooks and crannies for an assassin to take refuge in. He was most certainly not hiding from his adoptive father.

Take for instance the pillar he stood behind. 12 of them lined the walls of the ballroom, made of marble and polished till they shone. Anyone could be using them as cover. The polished tiles with their elaborate design and the way they made voices and footsteps echo and carry to create the most lively atmosphere could conceal whispered threats in their manufactured noise.

Technically he had the evening off. Though when it came to her safety, he refused to let the matter fall into another’s hands. Especially after West’s embarrassment last night, letting her escape. Honestly, she had never tried to flee his company, and couldn’t understand why his brothers in arms struggled so much in containing her.

She was a menace, more often than not. Take last night. He was a man of honour, or at least he would always portray himself as one in the presence of a lady. Perhaps a little less than honourable was that he had given the minstrials a heavy coinpurse to ensure the song that opened the ball was a long one. No harm was caused by his deception, but he felt a treacherous liar all the same.

He reluctantly steps out from behind the pillar, before anyone could dare to accuse him of anything so childish as avoiding the Duke. Besides, the royal family would soon be announced. Traditionally, she would enter with them, but as the crown of roses was hers, she would enter after, as tradition dictated.

Sure enough, The King, Queen, and the young Prince enter, and as he often does, Jason’s eyes rake the crowd, looking for any sign of an unordinary reaction from the gathered peerage. True he bore the King no particular fondness, but a threat to her family was a threat to her.

Jason observes the Earl, Roman Sionis, who uplifts his glass to the King in a smug gesture. It … was no crime. Nothing he did in public was. Nevertheless, it set his bones on edge. He didn’t care for the look in the Earl’s eyes. Then again, something about Roman Sionins had filled him, since his return, with great unease. Nothing the man had done seemed to earn this, beyond the many rumours… what Jason felt was more visceral. But a feeling alone is hardly grounds for an accusation if he did not have a crime.

But then, with an eruption of trumpets, your name is announced. Like a doomed sailor, Jason turns to her. She is his gravity. She is … his everything. She looks radiant. Her dress is a soft pink, like a sunrise, with white underskirts that shimmer ever so slightly as if made of woven starlight. She has worn the rose crown, and jewels fine enough to likely feed half the country for a week.

He moves towards her, A moth to a flame, he cannot look away as he extends a hand. She takes it, and Jason kisses the back of her hand, momentarily despising whichever handmaiden had put her gloves on this eve. “My lady.”

He whispers against the fabric of the glove. He rarely said it. Only when he forgot himself.

She smiles at him, and Jason … can’t help but to notice it doesn’t seem sincere. Well. Her performance of affection had been impressive thus far - he could hardly fault her if her facade wavered.

The nobility move back, clearing the dance floor as Jason leads her to its centre. He places a hand on his waist, the other behind his back. She places a hand on his right epaulette. She stands a slight distance from him, and Jason ignores the desire to pull her closer, flush against his starched black military uniform with it’s red sash and the array of medals pinned to his chest.

Jason guides you by your waist in a series of slow, sweeping circles, before taking your hand and spinning you, first away and then close. You have to stop yourself from colliding with him as you are pulled back by placing a hand on his chest. You feel him tense, which, unlike plate might, allows you to feel the raw strength he possesses. You breathe deeply. Now is not the time for depraved thoughts.

“You fought well today.” You whisper to him he takes your hand from his chest with the one that had been behind his back, lacing your fingers together as you move into a more traditional waltz around the room.

He shakes his head in self deprecation “I was… motivated, my lady.”

You try to fight your smile and your sorrow, which work in a strange dance of their own.

“I am only sorry that this shall be our last.”

Because it would be. While Captain Todd-Wayne was of high enough rank and respectable enough standing he could petition a space on your dance card at many a ball, he did not. Would not. For reasons unknown to you, despite your brazen affection for him, and his for you, you had danced only those four Fata Morganas. And now that was all there would be.

“What?” He asks, his voice pitching higher than you’d previously heard it. It was a risk to tell him, but you trusted in his ability to be discreet. He deserved to know, you figured, that this was in many ways goodbye.

“I suspect myself soon to be wed.” You admit, fighting to keep your voice appropriately light. You needn’t concern him with the worst of the news yet, needn’t ruin the night utterly. You feel his grip on you tighten, and see his expression become mournful.

“Well.” He says, his voice tight and forced.

“I suppose it was a day always on the horizon, Congratulations my- Your Royal Highness.”

You hear the music end, but can’t quite bring yourself to step away from him. Can’t look away from his eyes, the bluest, most beautiful in all the land, you were sure. Neither of you move as you look at each other, as you squeeze his hand back, and fight the desire to tell him you love him before the chance is lost to you forever.

You hesitate too long. Perhaps you will always regret it.

An imposing, stately man approaches. You have never met him, of course, but you know him at once. From his suit so fine it borders on the garish, to the smug and self confident smile on his face. Earl Sionis bows to you, seeming to ignore the Captain entirely.

He speaks your name in a manner far too familiar. He smiles, and speaks with the charm of a cat toying with a half dead mouse. “My Lady, your beauty was not exaggerated in the tales that reached me. Might I have the honour of your hand… For the next dance?”

The deliberate pause is not lost on you, though you pretend it is. He is goading his perceived rival, you figure.

A ridiculous notion. There is no rivalry. Captain Todd-Wayne… Jason, would win the contest for your heart with laughable ease.

But you are petals in the whirlwind of fate, and so you smile, and say you’d be delighted. You do not look back at Jason… Captain Todd-Wayne. It would surely kill you.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Back again with the swooning series! Here’s some Warriors and my first attempt at writing anything resembling happiness. thank you to my lovely wife, @trippygalaxy for proofreading!

Previous parts are not required to understand this one, they are all standalone.

Part 1 Four

Part 2 Wild

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Between any form of fable, tale or mythos, there is one trope that has embedded itself within the scribes and writers throughout time. That the gods had made everyone inherently flawed. That no matter who you were, what morals you stood for, there would be some fatal flaw to strike you down.

Heroes are not exempt from this.

In fact, Warriors is keenly aware that he is quite deeply flawed. That he as a person and as a weapon was chipped and cracked. He was alive in all its imperfections.

And yet he was not good enough.

Warriors had to grapple with this vagueness. He was only loved or sought after for his skill, or his ability or his potential. Never anymore was he simply just Link. Or, at least, not Link who clung to his mother’s skirt and awed at all the knights. Now, he was one of those knights. There was no room in the eyes of anyone for anything else. He’d never be enough— for even himself.

So, he adapted. He pushed harder and trained longer. He learned and memorised the paths of monsters and how they collaborated and in tandem how to arrange counter attacks and defence with his own arsenal.

His body was broken and remade anew. A was good enough in the eyes of the people.

He was not in his own.

It never caught up to him, though. Not in some karmic matter of being struck down or his body finally giving in to the weight he bears.The war ended, and another began.

He had a new team to memorise and a new opposition to attack. They were the standard to his life, minor adjustments.

The terrain was, too, a challenge. Ever changing and always a mystery, the battlefield was always unfamiliar. The matter of his situation became more pressing, and he rose to meet his requirements.

When you’d fallen upon the crew, unfamiliar to Hyrule as a whole, he was sceptical. It was impossible for him to fully comprehend. You were something other entirely.

You couldn’t be human.

You couldn’t be.

You were far too alluring to simply be ‘standard’ and yet you insisted.

He kept his distance. And don’t be fooled, it’s not due to any standoff. He yearns to be in your company, to share your laughter and bask under the approval of his gaze.

But he fought himself.

He fought the scared within him. That you were, in fact, too good to be true. That in some way you would turn on him and his brethren.

He fought the desire within him. That you’d cause him to stray from what is polite and expected of someone knighted. That his courtship would be declined.

It was such distractions and unbalance in his mind that threw him off track long hours past his hazy dreams. And it showed in his fighting.

The shadow had swamped them with wave and wave of foe. Everyone was battered beyond any use. Potions were passed around to everyone after the fact as they stumbled into the closest Inn they could possibly find. He didn’t care to check who he roomed with, favouring to curl up in bed and rest.

He woke up with blurred vision and a swimming headache. The candlelight was too bright for his aching head as he tried to keep down the pain.

“Woah, alright. You’re alright, lay back down” Gentle hands press him back into divinely warm sheets.

“You’re safe, Link. Your wounds have been taken care of. You just go on and sleep” Immediately he’s tugged back to the edge of sleep. Not focused nor worried about the fingers in his hair or the palm on his cheek. Life is good right here, in this odd moment suspended in time. He’s good here. He’s the most calm and content he’s been in a while. And for once he feels as if he’s loved. Not for any service he’s provided you, as you don’t go searching him out for anything other than company. Not for any gain you could get, you hardly even understand the concept of one of them being a hero (let alone all of them). Not even as some sick joke to play with his feelings.

You make him feel like himself again. After so long of still hiding behind a name or a title, he feels as if once again he’s just Link.

[medicinemane]

Nice! That's honestly really cool

I know I'm already a bit of a "have you considered playing a different game" kind of guy (and I actually kinda like D&D! It just sucks that a lot of people who play it seem to hate what the game actually is!) but I'm going to evolve and become even more that guy but always recommend Rolemaster specifically.

[jayjj7]

chapter 17. realization

prev. | next | masterlist

after receiving the news from haerin about your whereabouts, you get off the bed you’re on.

“shit!” the first step you take is into a bucket, your second step you take to try and balance yourself is supposed to be the floor but you step into another bucket knocking it over. this unbalance causes you to trip onto the floor with a loud crashing noise due to the…5..? buckets around the bed..?

you groan from the pain and that’s when you notice the throbbing headache you have but before you can get up from the floor, the door swings open.

“y/n?” danielle walks in with a first aid kit in hand. a panicked look is on her face as she expected you to be on her bed but instead are on the floor.

“oh my god y/n! are you okay? do you feel like throwing up? are you too hot? too cold? do you want-“ danielle rambles as she squats down to your height to help you lift yourself up from the floor. this is when you notice you’re not wearing your scrubs, you’re wearing a grey hoodie with black sweatpants. as hard as you try to remember, you don’t remember changing out of your scrubs. the last thing you can remember is being in danielle’s car.

“what? no dani i’m fine, seriously” you look up at danielle to see subtle eye bags on her face.

out of instinct you grab her face, tracing your thumb underneath her eye. “you didn’t sleep did you?”

“no i was so worried about you. come i made you breakfast” she brushes off the fact she didn’t sleep much last night way too quickly as she grabbed your hand to lead you out of her room.

danielle had served you some warm stew and scorching hot ginger tea. it was at this moment you realized how…orange…her hands were..?

“thank you dani i really appreciate it, you didn’t have to do all this really” you thank as you blow on your soup to cool it down.

“this is all my fault y/n i have to fix it” her voice is sad, probably exhausted because of how little sleep she got. danielle sits down next to you on her dinner table, tired, one arm is posted up supporting her head.

“no it’s not, don’t beat yourself up for that please” you look at her with a smile to try and cheer her up but her expression is serious.

danielle can only sigh, “i made a doctors appointment for you. it’s in a couple hours” she avoids eye contact, fidgeting with the zipper of her sweater.

“you what?” you drop your spoon in your soup.

“dani is hate the doctors” you whine, covering your face.

“but y/n, you’re a doctor?” danielle has genuine confusion painted on her face.

“but not for people!”

yes you’re veterinarian but you were always scared when you had your bi-yearly checkups at the doctors. ironic you became a vet knowing how anxious being near a hospital made you. there wasn’t anything that prompted you to be so scared of the doctors or anything, no bad experience as a kid, just a phobia.

so there you were: sitting in the waiting room, awaiting your name being called, danielle next to you, trying to call you down with pictures on her phone, explaining the story behind each picture. danielle’s almost motherly demeanor helped you ease up a bit, laughing quietly every once in a while. leaning your head on her shoulder and closing your eyes helped you feel grounded. that was until your name was called by a doctor who had walked out.

“y/n?” the doctor calls out after looking down at her clipboard.

suddenly your calm state was erased and anxiety filled your body as you froze. heat rising in your body, unsure if you should run away or not. thankfully danielle was there to assist you. she was the first to stand up and help you up by holding your hand and rubbing your back. she treated you as if you were unable to move properly but in reality you were just scared shitless.

as you and danielle walk up to the doctor to follow behind her, she interrupts.

“oh sorry only relatives are allowed to be let in with the patient” the doctor holds her hand hand in front of danielle as a ‘stop’ motion.

panicked at being left alone, you say the first thing to pop in your head to counter this obstacle.

“she’s my s-“

“i’m her wife” danielle smiles as she rubs your back.

“my mistake, come on in” the doctor instructs as she lets you both in. your face heating up as you follow the doctor into a room, danielle taking a hold of your hand.

taglist : [ @modanisgf @greenniee @milfcr @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @urwyf3 @flolio @imahallucination11 @pandafuriosa60 @kaypanaq @nnewjeansstuff @haerinkisser @brocoliisscared @starrynini05 @l-e-e-woso @kimminjiswife @herlv3r ] taglist is open !! comment to be added !

[johnslittlespoon]

plsssss can we talk about bucky getting his revenge and edging gale

gale edging john post | yes we cannnnn !! eta: ykw. i need to just turn this into a proper oneshot since this ended up being over 1k words. new wip created </3

john may be a man of little self control, but after that incident, he decides he can be at least a tiny bit patient so he can catch gale off guard with it when he gets his revenge. because the next few times they're fooling around, gale's expecting a retaliation, john can see it in the way he tenses up and glances at his face before he comes like he's waiting for it, but john never follows through with it. he wants gale to let his guard down, and that he does.

so a week or so later when john's kissing him and feeling him up and asks ever so sweetly if he can tie gale's wrists behind his back, gale doesn't think anything of it. john likes to take control occasionally and gale sometimes likes the feeling of not having to worry about making decisions, getting to let john call the shots, and john always puts extra time and effort into the way he touches gale when he's restrained because he likes to watch his darling blondie squirm.

john has him sit in his lap facing him, letting gale lean against his shoulder to take the pressure off his legs while john works him open on his fingers, already riled up from the pretty gasps gale's making against his neck but reigning himself in because he's gonna need to have some self control for once.

he sweet–talks gale through it, telling him how good he sounds, how well he's doing as he sinks down on his cock, guiding him with hands on his hips so he doesn't unbalance himself without the use of his own hands where they're tied behind his back with a belt. he stays still at first, letting gale ride him slowly, keeping his hands loosely on his waist while praising him and talking him into that foggy needy headspace until gale's thighs are trembling and john takes pity on him (and frankly is so hard he doesn't have the patience to keep his own hips still anymore).

so he runs his hands down from gale's waist to his ass to hold him in place while he rolls his hips up into him, watching the way gale's eyebrows pinch and his pretty lips fall open in a silent oh as john angles himself in a way gale couldn't with his own movements. lets his mouth run as he slowly picks up his pace, all the coos of "so pretty", "you're taking me so well", "you feel so fucking good", loving how reactive gale is to every word and every thrust.

he moves his hands to gale's hips to get a better grip, can tell gale's getting close because he gets noisier, losing his filter and letting out breathy little "fuck"s and "john"s, head rolling back on his shoulders to bare his neck, rocking his hips down to meet john every time he fucks up into him. and then just as he gets the warning of "close", he pulls gale down by his hips to bury himself deep in him and stops moving completely.

the whine of desperation that tears out of gale's throat when he lifts his head has john knocking his skull back against the wall, cock twitching hard enough inside gale that he's sure the blond can feel it. he watches gale's biceps flex when he instinctively tries to get his hands free, feels his hips try to squirm out of his hands to keep moving, but he keeps him pinned firmly down, dizzy at the way he clenches down around him.

a plaintive "john" pulls a groan from him, but he composes himself, lifts his gaze back up to gale's face and lets the corners of his lips quirk up, purrs out a "yeah, sweetheart? something wrong?"

laughs at the way gale cusses him out, a rare sight of his little spitfire with a mouth on him, though the effect is a lot closer to being hissed at by a kitty than actually being convinced to move. john lets him run his mouth, murmurs a "cute" once gale's done, and then promptly hammers his hips up into him just once, swearing under his breath at the way it punches an open–mouthed moan from gale. rocks his hips up into him a few times before going back to a quick and rough pace, the sound of skin on skin getting both of them flushed.

it only takes a minute before gale's hips are twitching into his hands and whispered pleas are falling from his mouth and john thinks he's never had to use as much self restraint in his life as he does when he forces himself to stop moving again, once again yanking gale down against him, holding him still in his lap.

gale really fights it this time, enough so that it's a merciful distraction for john from how close he himself is (trust his idea to backfire as he ends up edging himself along with gale, he thinks) when he has to use proper strength to keep him in place. any blood that might've still been lurking around his brain rushes south the moment he sees gale's eyes getting shiny with frustration, cheeks all pink and lips red and flushed from biting down on them.

"not so fun, is it?" john taunts, but his voice comes out a bit more raspy than he would've liked, evident how much the stop and start is getting to him too. it's probably karma, because he knows he's being more mean than gale was to him, but he can't help it; those blue eyes look so pretty when tears are threatening to spill over when he's desperate and needy like this.

gale wriggles in his lap the best he can, still furiously chasing his orgasm, head finally falling back in frustration before he lifts it again, looking john in the eyes, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and letting it go. he whines quietly and whimpers out the sweetest "please, johnny," almost crying in his impatience, and fuck.

john doesn't mean for his hips to twitch up at that, but they do, hard. gale sobs out a broken sound at the way john's cock hits just where he needs it to in his accidental movement, and gale spills over his stomach completely untouched, just like that. john swears and drives his hips up into him in an attempt to quickly amend his slip up, moaning loud at the wrecked noises that immediately start bubbling up out of gale as he fucks him through his orgasm.

he tips over the edge himself from the desperate sounds the blond starts to make as he crosses the line into overstimulation, feeling gale's hips jerk frantically in his hands, fighting to get away from the incessant rhythm of his cock inside him as john shudders through his own orgasm, fingers digging into gale's sides.

he slows down to a gentle grind of his hips when gale collapses against his chest, face pressed to his neck, shivering at the slow drag inside him and whining pitifully when john eventually pulls out, settling him down on his thighs while he reaches around to undo the belt and free his hands. his heart bursts at the way gale instantly wraps his arms around him, clinging to him as they both catch their breath, john petting his hair and showering him with praise.

he eventually huffs out a laugh, murmuring a "sorry buck. payback's a bitch, but that was an accident, i swear." gale groans against him in complaint, lightly nipping at his shoulder in retaliation, too tired to fight back, but john's sure he'll pay for it eventually.

it's confirmed with the "better watch your back, darling" that he gets when they're both pulling their clothes back on, but to john, that sounds less like a threat and more like a good time, and he shoots gale a crooked grin to let him know as much.

[shitouttabuck]

playing with the hair and "you sure this is ok" sounds so soft aaaah I hope you'll find inspiration, I love your writing

got a little sappy with this <3

bed-sharing prompts: person A idly playing with person B’s hair while they’re asleep + “you sure this is okay?”

the sound of love astounds me

Eddie’s man-behind today. Bobby tries to be fair with it, not constantly relegating the probies to the job no one really wants, and today it’s Eddie’s turn again.

He’s grateful for it—he slept badly last night, and that’s probably why Bobby made him stay behind in the first place, taking pity on his dragging feet and muffled yawns not one hour into their shift.

They’re past the 18-hour mark now, late night blanketing the firehouse in a thick, heavy quiet. The rest of them have been out on a call for a while, a three-alarm factory fire at the edge of their jurisdiction. Eddie’s itchy about it, always is when it’s a more serious call and he’s not there alongside his team. Not there alongside his partner.

Buck’s a big boy, and Eddie knows, he knows him not being there isn’t going to unbalance the dynamic of their team so dramatically something goes wrong, but. He’s supposed to have Buck’s back, and as much as he trusts the rest of the 118—with his life—no one else is Buck’s partner. Not the way Eddie is.

The sound of the engine backing into the station catches his attention and he gets up from the couch, leaning over the loft railing as everyone stumbles out the rig, sooty and sleepy. Hen looks up and gives him a tired smile, Chim bumping into her shoulder as he blows Eddie a kiss before heading to the showers.

Buck’s last out the engine, exhaustion written into the slump of his body. He doesn’t look up at Eddie, seemingly lost in his own thoughts as he shuffles slowly after everyone else.

Eddie reheats dinner, serving it all up just as the rest of his team flops into chairs around the dining table. Still no Buck.

“Did you cook this?” Ravi asks, poking suspiciously at the casserole with a fork.

“I’ve made my peace with food poisoning, I’m so fucking hungry,” Chim says, mouth already full.

“Hey,” Eddie protests mildly. “I followed Bobby’s recipe exactly.”

“Really?” Bobby asks, examining his own plate in surprise. “Oh, uh, no, of course. Looks good, Eddie, thank you.” He takes a very deliberate bite, making a big show of chewing amidst noises of approval.

Eddie sighs and turns to Hen. “Where’s Buck?”

“Still showering,” she tells him. “Rough one today.”

Eddie’s heart sinks. “Did you lose someone?”

Hen shakes her head, setting down her fork. “No, no—sorry, didn’t mean it like that. He got stuck carrying two guys out on his own, though. And one of them was in pretty bad shape. Think his whole body is feeling kinda tender.”

“Oh,” Eddie blows out a relieved breath. “Okay.” He smacks Chim’s hand away from the last corner of the casserole. “That’s for Buck. You can have some more garlic bread.”

Chimney pouts at him, and Eddie ignores it in favour of covering the casserole dish and sticking it back in the oven to keep warm.

One by one, everyone wanders to the bunks, drained from the day. Eddie hangs behind, clearing up the kitchen and waiting for Buck to show up. There’s no sign of him by the time the counters are sparkling, so he flops back down on the couch with his book. If it’d been a bad call… Eddie’d like to think he knows what Buck needs, usually. And sometimes that’s just a minute to decompress by himself, washing off a weight of weariness rather than an intangible hurt.

Sure enough, he hears the quiet padding of Buck’s footsteps come up the stairs not much later. Eddie cranes his head over the back of the couch, smiling upside-down and wonky when Buck comes over.

“Hey,” he says. “You okay?”

“Mm,” Buck hums. His eyes are droopy with exhaustion, cheeks ruddy from being under the hot spray of the shower for so long.

“Dinner’s in the oven,” Eddie tells him.

Buck exhales heavily, giving him a small smile. “Not so hungry.”

“Sleep, then,” Eddie says, nodding in the direction of the bunks.

Buck grimaces. “Everything aches.”

“All the more reason to sleep,” Eddie presses.

Buck looks at him, blinking tiredly. “Okay,” he says, suddenly amenable, rounding the couch and climbing onto it. He drapes himself across it, settling on his back and shoving his head into Eddie’s lap with a contented sigh. Eddie sits frozen, book in one hand and the other hovering over Buck’s chest.

Buck cracks open one eye to look up at him consideringly. Eddie smiles down at him automatically, can’t really help himself, and gently lowers his forearm to rest across Buck’s broad chest.

“This okay?” Buck asks, slightest note of hesitancy in his voice.

“Better if you were asleep,” Eddie says, flipping the page of his book. He lets the hand curled around Buck’s torso squeeze gently, reassuringly, even as he goes back to reading.

Buck huffs an amused breath, wriggling a little as he settles more firmly in Eddie’s lap, turning his head to get comfortable. This angles his face so that it’s basically pressed into Eddie’s crotch, tip of his nose brushing the fly seam of Eddie’s pants.

Eddie swallows, positioning his book a little higher to cover any change in expression his face might betray, because—it’s Buck, and this isn’t sexual, but God, Eddie hasn’t had this kind of intimacy in his life in a while. He’s less worried about popping a boner from his best friend’s face so close to his dick and more concerned Buck’ll take one look at him and know just how badly Eddie wants him this close, all of the time.

Whatever. If everyone had a friend like Buck, everyone would be a little insane about loving him this much, too. It’s not an Eddie thing, it’s a Buck thing.

Buck’s breathing evens out, deep and steady, and Eddie reads until the words start swimming on the page. He yawns, putting the book down and wondering if he can catch some sleep like this, because he’d rather be trapped on a desert island with his parents than wake Buck up right now.

Buck’s snoring lightly, warm puffs of breath Eddie can feel even through the fabric of his pants. His hair is curling messily from his shower and—there are bits of… something in it? Eddie sighs, knowing Buck probably just zoned out under the spray for half an hour without actually scrubbing his hair at all.

He runs his fingers through Buck’s hair, dislodging flecks of indiscernible airborne debris from the fire. He cards through more purposefully, combing it out as best he can and scratching his nails gently against Buck’s scalp.

Buck murmurs, nuzzling into Eddie. The hand closest to the back of the couch scuffles along the cushion till it finds Eddie’s, wrapping around it and tugging it to his chest with such strength Eddie blinks in surprise, astonished that he’s still asleep.

Eddie goes back to sorting through Buck’s hair one-handed, discarding tiny pieces of detritus lodged in his curls. He gets a little lost in it, something calm and hypnotic about the repetitive motions: stroking, cleaning, brushing through, over and over and over.

He’s startled from it when someone clears their throat softly. He just about manages not to jerk in his surprise, and Buck remains slumbering peacefully. Hen’s standing a few feet from the couch, eyebrow cocked and mouth quirked with amusement.

“There a reason you’re grooming Buck like a monkey picking nits off her baby?” she whispers.

Eddie flushes, removing his hand from Buck’s curls. “He has a bunch of shit in his hair from the fire,” he says defensively.

Hen bites down on her smile. “Okay, okay,” she says soothingly, like she’s talking to a spooked horse. “He forget to actually wash it during the longest shower known to man?”

Eddie sighs, fingers resuming running through Buck’s hair almost unconsciously. “You know how he gets when he’s this tired.”

Hen hums, and Eddie looks up at her again. “Why’re you up? Can’t sleep?”

She shakes her head, inclining it towards the bathrooms. “Just needed the toilet.” She makes as if to head back down, then pauses, looking at him assessingly.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Nothing,” she shakes her head again, smiling softly. “Just—I don’t think there’s anyone other than Karen and Denny whose hair I’d pick through voluntarily. And any other kids of mine, I guess. Family.” With that, she turns and disappears down the stairs.

Eddie swallows. He looks down: Buck, face pressed into Eddie’s stomach; Buck, hand clutching Eddie’s arm to his chest; Buck, curls wild and springy from where Eddie’s been running his fingers through them, cleaning him, grooming him, taking care of him. Hen’s not dropped a bomb of any sort on Eddie; Buck’s his family, he knows that, Buck knows that, he’s fairly sure anyone who’s ever met them knows that.

But he thinks yeah, there isn’t anyone other than Chris and Buck whose hair he’d pick through like this. And maybe that’s a different, more specific kind of family than he or anyone else realised. Maybe that’s a different, more specific kind of love.

Buck snuffles discontentedly in his lap and Eddie scratches his scalp soothingly, heart settling as Buck settles.

So maybe the reason Eddie wants him close all the time is slightly different to what he thought. This remains true: if everyone had a friend like Buck, everyone would be a little insane about loving him this much. That’s a Buck thing. But maybe, if he’s open to it, Eddie can make loving him this much, every day and in every way, an Eddie thing and exclusively an Eddie thing.

Buck shifts on the couch, tugging Eddie’s arm a little higher up on his chest, and Eddie splays his palm over Buck’s heart, feeling the steady thump.

When Bobby wakes them both for breakfast hours later, Eddie leans against the table to stretch the crick in his neck from sleeping sitting up. Behind him, Buck reaches a large hand out to massage the junction of his shoulder gently, and Eddie melts into his touch.

“Would you pick nits out of my hair?” he asks before his brain comes fully online.

“Sure,” Buck says, not missing a beat. “D’you have lice?” He leans forward to inspect Eddie’s hair and Eddie swats him away.

“No,” he says, slightly offended. “I do not have lice. Just—hypothetically.”

Buck yawns. “’Course, Eds,” he says. “Your lice are my lice, and all that.” He serves himself a heaping of scrambled eggs and ambles off to the kitchen to grab orange juice from the fridge.

And maybe Buck is just the kind of person who, unlike Eddie and Hen, would comb through anyone’s nasty hair. But your lice are my lice is more romantic than anything Eddie’s ever heard, even in his own wedding vows, and when Buck knocks his knee against Eddie’s under the table before stealing a bite of hash brown, Eddie thinks maybe this love between them is equally cared for, a two-way street in every sense of it, a Buck-and-Eddie thing.

(more bed-sharing prompts)

[yourstingrey]

Luke X Daughter of Kymopoleia

Reader has constant mood swings which is understandable due to her heritage of being the daughter of the goddess of violent sea storms and sweet BF Luke always helps her out/calms her down and doesn’t let her feel bad about herself because of it since she can’t help it ( also please can you mention Clarisse as like a side character and readers bestfriend )

Calm After the Storm

A/N: EEEEE I was actually kinda so hype for this request cus ive never seen anything similar and its actually a cool like character I hadnt thought about in the pjo universe! I hope this is good anon i tried my very best!! This post was really helped me with kymopoleia so it might be helpful to read before this but you dont have to!

Warnings: threats of fighting someone?

Description: An annoying loss, an annoying Chris, and a very patient Luke!

The sun was shining, and a warm dancing breeze fluttering around camp on what should have been a beautiful day was being ruined by Chris droning on about being a sore winner. Gloatingly of course. We just had our capture the flag the night before and as usual, we lost. We would have been so close to winning this time Clarisse and I had it all planned. Last time we learned last time trying a seduction tactic did in fact not work so this time we decided we would target their weak which to us was Chris. Not to say he was a bad swordsman by any means but up against me and her we knew he wouldn't stand a chance. A perk of dating Luke was also he forgot that he shouldn't spill his capture the flag plans. Soooo we also knew for a fact it was Chris guarding the flag. 

We snuck through the woods with ease no one tried to hunt us down they knew we'd get to them first, Chris was practically sleeping while he sat in front of the flag entirely spaced out we moved from behind and started to grab the flag of course a single shift of my chest plate was enough to break him out of his daze and turn towards us and of course start to scream to his team like a little girl. We got caught pretty quickly. We may be strong but not take on 20 campers strong and it wasn't long after we heard the cheers of the Blue team already at the river.

So now of course, as I tried to relax Chris decided it was the perfect time to gloat at me “I mean what a stupid plan no offense” I drowned him out a little too busy clenching my jaw so I didn't practically spit venom at him, Chris continued now laughing as he continued “-I mean really I can't believe you thought I couldn't take you both on bahahaha!” A real knee slapper to him. I finally unballed my fists from my sides to get into Chris’s face, backing him into a tree my voice laced with annoyed anger “We could take you on idiot! You just had to scream for your team to save you!” Chris stuttered before coming up with a weak rebuttal putting his hands up in defeat “UH- that's not even true i just had to get them so they would watch you after the fight but they got there fast pfft I could have easily taken you” I grab a hold of Chris’s shirt “Oh really let's do it now then. No crying for anyone else this time.” 

In the background, a crowd had not formed but anyone working or sitting close by paused to watch not swarming in case Chiron were to notice and break up hopefully a really funny fight (funny as all campers knew the outcome) Even Clarrise sitting back with her siblings let out a little yell of “Get his ass Y/N!” But One of those campers mainly Luke, who quickly made his way over forgetting he was supposed to help campers make friendship bracelets he had to make sure his girlfriend was okay bracelets could wait, and that she didn't shred his best friend into pieces. Jogging over he quietly grabbed his girlfriend's hand that was gripping onto Chris. I let out a quiet breath before meeting his eyes, in an instant looking into his soft gaze I dropped my hand not before I quickly gave him one last dirty look and stepped back “C’mon let’s go” Luke said as he grabbed my hand leading me away.

He leads us to sit in front of the creek as I sit I absent mindedly throw rocks at the water watching it ripple and splash. Turning back to face Luke he already gives me a knowing look to tell him why I wanted to maim him. I took a deep breath before I word vomited it out “I mean ugh! I know he's your best friend and all but sometimes he's such a dick! Saying ‘I could take you guys’ But he literally starts screaming out ‘Luke come save me she's here!’ or or ‘Guys come back Clarisse is gonna eat me!’ as if he wouldn't even enjoy that too ugh! He's just so- so ANNOYING!” Luke's hand grabbed mine again to stop me from getting heated again, his eyes flickering back to the creek to see me subconsciously making a creek look like a raging ocean. He threw his back laughing at my rant about Chris, as he calmed down he just looked down at me rubbing slow circles onto the back of my hand. 

His hands were rough and calloused but it didn't matter because when he held onto me I could feel warmth practically spread from my fingertips to my head and toes. “I'll make sure to lock him out of the cabin, he can sleep out in the cold. How bout that hmm?” He joked, craning his neck to look at me. I cracked a small smile “Maybe I'll pray for my mom to storm a bit too…” His hand let go but just to sneak behind my waist and pull me closer leaning my head on his chest “I'm sorry I got mad at Chris I know he is your friend..” I mumbled out against him I could feel him shrug against me before looking back down at me “Nah don't be sorry honestly I should have let you at him he deserved it butttt I wouldn't want my girlfriend to have to be cleaning stables all of next week” 

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head and started to start up about what he was doing before he had to save Chris. “Wait doesn't that mean you should be helping those kids now..?” A bit of panic dawned on his face as he tugged us both up and pulled me with him as he walked (more like speed walked) “Actually uh were both going to help now!” I laughed as he tugged me along with him..