#of course neither of them say a word because they want to keep you safe

[loveamongdragons]

The point about Iroh is so important.

That's pretty much it: over the course of the story Zuko developed more and more away from Ozai and closer to Iroh, and we can safely assume, I think, that the seeds that Iroh put into Zuko's character will grow further after the end of the series.

I get the point of op, however. Zuko does struggle with words sometimes, and he has been hurtful before when he didn't have his anger under control. Curiously though, this does not and has never applied to Katara. With her, he somehow was always able to express his thoughts and feelings pretty damn well, and offer her true understanding. Best case in point: him grasping that Katara's anger has to do with more than distrust, immediately offering to atone for the disappointment and hurt he'd caused in her - and then, most importantly, grasping that her anger has even deeper roots, that she is projecting, and managing to connect their argument to an old conversation where she'd shared her grief and trauma about losing her mother. That's complex shit, and he got it. He knew that he had to understand Katara's past to understand their relationship better as well. There are many adults that never show that level of insight, ever.

Zuko is very good with words in oddly specific situations. Basically, whenever he speaks from his heart. Have we forgotten his confrontation with his father?? That shit was communicated perfectly. And even the infamous "you rise with the moon, I rise with the sun" line screams of a person who has LOTS of beautiful words in him, even poetic ones, but keeps them bottled up most of the time.

I will say this: I do not see Zuko as a word-weaving, silver-tongued politician who always has some speech up his sleeve, neither do I think that he'd have an aphorism to share with everyone like Iroh - because imo, crucially, Zuko is only good with words when he fully believes in what he is saying (but then he is VERY good with them). He was terrible during his preparation for the speech for the Gaang because he was trying to be something he was not, he was downright hilarious during his silver sandwitch speech because he was trying to imitate Iroh instead of speaking from his own heart (but this in on itself circles back to my initial point - Iroh is absolutely crucial! Zuko wants to be more like him, and he will continue to develop in that direction, he just has to find his own way)

I have struggled with keeping Zuko realistic in my own fic, and have wondered whether I am making him too good of a talker - but I am also writing a Zuko at age 29, where he had plenty of time to settle into his personality, and to develop the seeds that had been sown in ATLA. He will never be just like Iroh. His wisdoms will always carry a hint of drama, or poetry, and will certainly be delivered with more force - maybe they will even be dry and angry in a no-bullshit way. But it does not mean he won't have it in him.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t know who the consent-pilled, emotionally available, and unerringly sensitive Zuko that’s been popping up in fanfic the last couple of years is. This dude is The Perfect Man (TM).

That’s great and all and I’m not trying to knock it, necessarily, but I see it going more like this:

Katara: Aang kissed me! Why would he kiss me? This isn’t the right time! I’m so mad at him! Etc.

Zuko, who never met a woman who couldn’t kill him on sight: Uh…is he okay?

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Bruh

I know he very likely would avoid it, but how would FL/Ajax react to Melusine Creator seeing him in human form? Would they be scared because he's a vision user, much like the ones that hurt him?

hehehehe Melusine Creator continues to be a favorite i see

see, you haven't entirely forgotten where you came from or what happened. it's something you'd rather not think about, pushing the memories to the back of your mind most of the time. Neuvillette recommends facing them only when you're ready, bit by bit, so you don't get overwhelmed- healing is a slow process, after all, both physically and mentally. vaguely you remember that Foul Legacy does have a human form, back when Teyvat was just a bundle of pixels on a screen, but you don't pay much thought to it, not when you have a wonderful Abyssal friend already here with you. it's only when his latest trip to the outside world goes several days over that you begin to worry, nervously skipping and pacing back and forth in front of your little shell cottage as you wait

you don't dare venture out of Merusea, but you're brave enough to check with Cosanzeana every day, and today, she's not alone, instead talking to a human with bright ginger hair and blue eyes as lightless as the deep sea

fear grips your heart as you scramble backwards, two pairs of eyes landing on your trembling form, the faint, glittery markings on your arms and legs and torso aching when you catch a glimpse of a Hydro Vision. but the human holds up his hands, an expression of concern written all over his strangely familiar face as Cosanzeana attempts to calm you

"Hey, hey, it's me! Foul Legacy!"

you pause, calming just enough to carefully examine him, the coppery hair and blue eyes and many, many freckles oh- oh! Ajax! Foul Legacy's human self! your antennae perk up as you run to him, tail waving as you curiously examine him from all angles, his gray Fatui uniform faintly familiar. Ajax grins as you shake his hand the same way you did for Foul Legacy, calling all your siblings over to meet him. soon he's completely surrounded by a crowd of curious Melusine, chatter filling the village. you have another friend- or is he the same friend, only different? he has a Vision, like their sister Sigewinne! is he going to stay? Ajax laughs, patting your head like Foul Legacy does and apologizing for being gone so long, the exhaustion of his previous mission sapping away the energy he needs to transform into Legacy. but you don't mind, he's still your friend! and you can hold hands with him much easier now, if you're both on your feet!

[kinzhae]

"Left Behind."

Gojo x Reader, angst with no comfort, reader and gojo drifts away as they enter jujutsu high, being left behind, reader sacrificing her life in order to keep gojo safe.

The first time Satoru left you behind, you brushed it off.

“Gojo Satoru is going to change the world,” you told yourself, smiling as you watched him walk off with Suguru Geto and Shoko Ieiri, his laughter echoing down the hall. His carefree attitude was infectious, and while you were happy for him, it hurt to know that you weren’t part of that laughter anymore.

It hadn’t always been this way. You and Satoru were inseparable once, bound by childhood promises and shared dreams. Back then, the world wasn’t complicated, and neither was he. The cocky smile he wore now was once reserved just for you.

But Jujutsu High changed everything.

---

You noticed the shift slowly. It started with missed conversations—whispers in the hallway you weren’t invited into, a glance over your shoulder to see him too far behind to call out to. Satoru didn’t mean to push you away. You knew that. But as his new friendships deepened, it became clear that your bond wasn’t the unbreakable connection you once thought it was.

Suguru was kind, brilliant, and calm—the perfect foil to Satoru’s chaotic energy. Shoko had a quiet wit that matched his sharp tongue. Together, the three of them felt untouchable, like the rest of the world could only stand by and watch as they carved their own path.

You were no longer part of that world. You tried to let go, you really did.

Even as the ache settled in your chest, you told yourself it was enough to simply watch him thrive. If Satoru was happy, wasn’t that all that mattered? You repeated those words like a mantra, trying to ignore the sting when he barely noticed you anymore.

It wasn’t his fault.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault.

But the cracks in your heart didn’t care for reason.

One day, everything changed. You were heading back to the dorms after a long day of training when you overheard the conversation.

Two voices in the shadows.

One familiar, one chillingly foreign.

“Gojo Satoru. The Six Eyes... He’s too dangerous to keep alive,” hissed the first voice—a higher-up whose name you didn’t dare utter. “The balance he disrupts, the power he wields... If he continues unchecked, no one will be able to control him.”

“And what do you propose?” growled the second voice, raspy and cold. It wasn’t human.

You froze, your blood running cold as you peeked around the corner.

“I want him gone. Do it cleanly. I’ll ensure you have what you need—resources, bodies, whatever it takes. Just make it happen.”

The curse smiled, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. “Consider it done.”

Your world tilted.

They were going to kill him.

Satoru.

The boy who laughed too loudly, who stood by you even when the world felt too heavy, who once promised you that you’d always be by his side.

You had already been left behind. But you wouldn’t lose him. Not like this.

That night, you sought out the curse.

Its presence was suffocating, the weight of its aura pressing down on you as it materialized in front of you.

“And what do you want, little sorcerer?” it sneered.

“My life,” you said, your voice steady despite the terror clawing at your throat. “Take my life, my powers—anything. Just leave Satoru alone.”

The curse’s laughter echoed around you, harsh and mocking. “Anything, you say? Bold. And what makes you think I’ll honor such a deal?”

“Because if you don’t,” you said, lifting your chin, “I’ll make sure you regret it.”

A lie, of course. You were no match for it. But the curse seemed amused enough to agree.

“Very well. Your life for his. But once the deal is struck, there’s no turning back.”

“I know.”

As the curse’s claws reached out, you closed your eyes, picturing Satoru’s smile one last time.

You disappeared that night.

No one saw you leave. No one even knew why. You left behind nothing but questions and an empty dorm room, your name slipping further from their lips as the days turned into weeks, then months.

Satoru didn’t notice at first. You hadn’t been close lately, after all. But as time passed, he started to feel the absence.

It was subtle at first—a glance around the training field, expecting to see you standing at the edge, watching with a small smile. Then came the ache, the nagging sense that something was missing. He asked Shoko, then Suguru. Neither had seen you.

When he went to your room, it was stripped bare, as if you had never existed.

Satoru wasn’t the sentimental type, but the emptiness you left behind gnawed at him. He tried to brush it off—he was Gojo Satoru, after all. He didn’t dwell on things. He didn’t need to.

But late at night, when the silence grew too loud, he found himself thinking of you. Of your smile. Of the way you used to scold him when he pushed himself too hard. Of the way you had always been there, steady and unshakable, even when the rest of the world felt like it was slipping out of control.

He searched. Of course he searched.

But you were gone.

---

Satoru never stopped looking. Not really. Even years later, long after the grief had settled into something dull and hollow, he still found himself scanning crowds, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

He told himself it was guilt—guilt for letting you slip away, for not noticing how far apart you had grown. But deep down, he knew it was more than that.

He had left you behind.

And he would never forgive himself for it.

[yourfatherlucifer]

Our Aurora : Chapter 1

Ot8!Ateez x afab/female!reader

Summary: Attending university with your eight boyfriends wasn’t easy, neither was sharing a mansion with them.

Warnings: MDNI, this mini series includes tons of smut, slight violence, protective ateez, poly relationship, established relationship, mentions of mxm, choking, other smut themes.

WC: 2K

AU: University

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Nets: @newworldnet

Taglist: (open)

Note: GUESS WHOS BACK BITCHES!!!!! Btw please reblog 🤭

Series Masterlist

The greatest benefit of being rich and going to a very prestigious university meant owning your own mansion with your eight boyfriends. That was a lot of lovers but you didn’t mind and neither did they. Of course, there was always someone who’d called you a whore for having so many men to yourself. You would ignore them because you knew your boyfriends loved you, they took care of your every need.

Each man was different, Hongjoong is an art major. Seonghwa is a mathematics major, he’s the nerd of the school. Yunho is an English major, he wants to be a teacher. Yeosang is a cheerleader for the football team. San is a quarterback for the football team. Mingi is a music major but is part of the basketball team. Wooyoung is a dance major. Jongho is part of the soccer team on a scholarship.

One time, Jongho punched one of his teammates in the face for flirting with you in the middle of practice. You had just come from supporting San at his practice, wearing his letter jacket and one of the boys favorite skirts. You had looked so cute cheering on Jongho, he was always so happy to see you there. Though his face had turned sour when he saw his captain walking up to you, a pervy grin on his face.

Oh this infuriated Jongho. Everyone knew at this school that you were taken, yes the relationship was polyamorous but you guys weren’t welcoming anyone else into the relationship. You were happy with just the nine of you.

So to see this vile man reach out to touch you brought pure anger to him. Jongho had charged him, tackling him to the dirt ground. Jongho had broken the man's nose, his knuckles were bleeding. You had to jump the fence to stop your lover. He was nearly kicked off the team until you paid off the school to keep quiet about it. Which he wasn’t very happy about but he got to keep his scholarship so he couldn’t complain. But you rewarded his protective behavior with a blowjob when the two of you got home. Safe to say he got over what you did.

After that, you’d spend time alone in the university’s art room, alone with Hongjoong. You’d sit in his lap while he painted. This was his practice for his future designer line. He wanted his own fashion line but decided on being an art major to help with his goal. His free hand would dance along the inside of your skirt, around the plush of your thighs while his paint brush stroked the canvas in front of him. You’d have to work so hard not to squirm in his lap, else you wanted to be punished for screwing up his artwork. Today was no different.

“Beautiful, you really need to stop moving. You’re gonna mess me up.” He tutted, “You don’t want that, now do you?”

You lightly whined, trying to get off his lap only for him to pull you back down.

Hongjoong didn’t like that you tried to leave him, “You already want to leave me? I thought it was my day?”

“It is your day, Joongie, but, I..” You couldn’t even finish your sentence.

“What is it? Why can’t you stay?”

To answer his question, you dug your ass into his pelvis, “Because, Joongie, I can feel your cock against me.”

Hongjoong set down his paintbrush with a groan, “I really wish you didn’t notice.”

He pushed his wet canvas to the side and bent you over the table, flipping up your skirt, “You’ll let me fuck this pretty cunt, won’t you?”

His words made you quiver, legs threatening to give out beneath you, “Please.”

“Please what, baby? You want me to fuck you so hard that I’ll have to get one of the boys to come pick you up? Cause your brain can only think of my cock?” Hongjoong’s decorated fingers pushed the soaked panties to the side. Your cunt glistening in the light. Just for him.

The moment you felt his lips to your cunt, you let out a loud cry. This man ate out cunt like it was his last meal. He was one of the few of your boyfriends who would even do such a thing.

Your fingers dug into the edge of the table as Hongjoong’s tongue slithered inside of your dripping hole.

Your body lurched forward with his movements. His hands gripped your thighs to let you know he wasn’t letting you go anytime soon. Two of his digits pushed inside alongside his tongue, pushing and prodding against your walls. He had to free one of his hands to massage his bulge, the growing discomfort in his shorts.

Once his cock was freed from its confines, he moaned a sigh of relief. His lips peeled away from your cunt, just to rub his cockhead against your folds, “Baby, you’re so soaked, and it's all for me.”

Ah yes, Hongjoong was very cocky, he knew your cunt belonged to your other boyfriends as well.

As he slowly pushed in, your mouth fell open and your eyes widened, still not used to him, “Ah, Joongie, careful. Stretching me so much.”

Hongjoong dipped his fingers in his paint palette and marked your ass cheeks with color. The cold liquid gave shivers down your spine. The red and yellow contrasted beautifully in his eyes, he couldn’t wait for the day for you to let him paint your body like a canvas. His perverted mind thought it would be a great idea to paint your breasts someday.

He watched as his cock pushed into your cunt, the squelching could be heard quite greatly.

-

Your body laid limp on the table, Hongjoong’s cum flowing out of your cunt, “Well, as much as I wanna go for round two, you’re all spent. I’ll call Yunho to pick you up.”

When your tallest boyfriend arrived, he chuckled at the sight of your exhausted body, “Again, Hongjoong? How rough did you go this time?”

As he stepped closer he could see the paint streaks along your body, your eyes were barely staying open, “Yuyu?” You could hardly call out.

“Hi, my sunshine, I’m here to take you home.” Yunho fixed your clothes and lifted your body onto his back, “Mingi is gonna take good care of you because I can’t. I have students I still need to tutor.”

You whined at his words, “But..want you to be home, all of you to be home.”

He couldn’t help but frown as he walked the two of you out the door, “I know, sunshine, but you know how busy we are. Seonghwa and Mingi are at home. You know the rest have their sports practice, I’m not sure if Wooyoung is home or not, but if he is, you know he’ll cook you a nice meal.” He could feel your ruined panties against his back, he’d have to tell Mingi to change you.

Yunho gently sat you in the passenger seat, reaching in the back to grab a blanket, covering your shaking legs, “Oh, sunshine, he really put you through it.” He chuckled to himself.

“Yunho?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Shut up.”

Yunho looked offended before he went around the car to get in the passenger seat, “You know, as rich as you are, you seem to love to be spoiled only by your eight boyfriends.”

“Yeah well, the money doesn’t matter to me, all that matters is I have you guys. It would be very lonely in that mansion without you boys.” You sighed, fiddling with your fingers.

As the car rumbled to life, Yunho reached over the console to grip your blanket covered leg, “Sunshine, don’t worry, we won’t be going anywhere. We wouldn’t dream of it. You’re stuck with us and us with you.”

-

Yunho honked the horn a couple times and a very rough looking Mingi wobbled out of the front door. He must’ve been sleeping. His white hair was a mess, his black rimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. His shirt was wrinkled and his basketball shorts hung low on his waist. He wore his cute little flip flops too. You did spoil them with designer clothes but sometimes they liked to dress normal, and so did you.

His face brightened up when he saw you in the front seat. He was like an excited puppy as he opened the passenger seat, “Hi Yunho, hello my princess.” Mingi’s plush lips pressed against yours as he leaned into the car, his huge hand practically swallowed your cheek.

Yunho leaned over the console and smacked Mingi’s shoulder, “Come on, lover boy, take her inside and do what I told you, I gotta get back to lessons. I cannot be late.”

“Be nice, Yuyu, he’s just excited to see me.” You unbuckled your seat belt and tossed the blanket in the back. You tried to step out of the car but your wobbly legs nearly gave out on you, luckily Mingi caught you.

“Goodbye Yunho.” You both waved your goodbyes as he drove away.

He carried you inside, already dismissing your butler and cleaning servants earlier. He knew he was about to make you scream in the bathroom, of course he had to be careful, knowing you just had the daylight fucked out of you by one your shared older boyfriends.

He took you up the giant staircase, took a left and brought you into the main bathroom. The massive tub sat in the middle, it was a square marble tub. The inner lining itself was white and had jets hooked in.

After he sat you on the side of the tub, he slowly pulled off your shoes, your socks. His cheeks reddened when he saw the state of your underwear but continued on, removing your clothes.

“Just sit here and look pretty, I’m gonna let the bath run.” He leaned over to turn the hot water on, “Did you need anything else?”

“Do you mind staying with me, Mingi? I’m really sore and don’t want to be alone..I’ll let you clean me?”

Mingi grinned at that, anything for his princess, “Of course I can.” He threw his wrinkled tank top to the side, his glasses falling to the ground but he didn’t care. He was stripped within seconds, proudly standing bare before you.

You slowly sunk yourself into the water and Mingi sat behind you, his chest pressed against your back, “The warm water feel good, princess?”

You let out a moan in contentment, the water already doing wonders on your sore cunt, “Yes, Mingi, it’s amazing, thank you, big boy.”

Minutes after just relaxing in the water, the tall man’s hand slinked around your shoulder to wrap around your throat, “it’s okay, princess.”

You let out a whimper as you could feel his hardening cock from behind.

“I won’t fuck you with my cock because I know you’re hurting, but you can handle my fingers, right?” His husky voice reverberated in your ear. If it wasn’t for the water, you just knew you’d be wet right now.

“Mingi, please, don’t tease me and just touch me.” Your ass pressed against his cock and his grip on your neck tightened in response.

“I’ll touch you but you just can’t move, got it?”

You couldn’t even get out a word before his fingers went for your cunt, still stretched out from Hongjoong.

Your lips curled inward and your head fell back to his chest, “Mingi!” His fingers were already doing wonders.

His heavy breathing was so hard to focus on as his eyes were glued to the way your cunt sucked in his fingers.

Mingi’s fingers were so long they could easily touch your cervix, “I can feel Hongjoong’s cum inside of you, princess, seems like you need a good cleaning, yeah?”

You whined, “He’s your boyfriend just as much as he is mine, ah Mingi!”

His fingers squeezed your throat, “Doesn’t mean I can’t get jealous, this cunt is heavenly.”

His teeth latched onto your shoulder as he quickened his pace, the water was splashing everywhere. His fingers never slowed down. You could feel his calloused fingertips touching your walls. Those guitar playing fingers.

“Come on, princess, cum for me, cleanse that delicious cunt for me.” He let out a growl.

With your cunt still overstimulated, your orgasm came quick and flooded around his fingers.

He pulled out his fingers with a smile, watching as the water washed the cum from his fingers, “Oh, princess, seems you came a lot..” Mingi kissed along the crevice of your neck while you whined in exhaustion.

“Mingi, please, need..bed.” You could barely keep your eyes open.

“Sure, princess, let’s go get some rest in.”

[glossgojo]

hold me across every state line

joel miller x reader | 3.7k words

part 2 here

cw: 18+ MINORS DNI, age gap (obviously let’s be real), AFAB reader, fingering, slight pervy joel, pet names, multiple orgasms, choking, oral fem receiving, lingerie, porn with some plot, non-canon compliant, joel has feelings <3

you had been traveling with joel and ellie ever since philadelphia and as hard as you and joel had tried to ignore whatever was going on between you two, he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on you. you all arrive at jackson and feel like you can relax for a bit. it all comes to a head when you were changing and he caught a glimpse of fucking lingerie. joel miller feels like a teenage boy all over again just because of you.

a/n: def gotta a lil carried away, what can i say joel miller makes me FERAL. also beta version sorry i wrote this in a daze

it had been a month since you joined joel and ellie, you had grown fond of them both. your younger sister was ellie’s age before you lost her a couple years after the outbreak, it felt healing talking to her. ellie, in a lot of ways, was similar to you. unfortunately for joel that meant a lot more worrying than he admitted to. although he’d never admit it, he was quite fond of you and you were downright gone for the older man. it wasn’t like you had been single since the outbreak or before, but something about joel made your heart beat faster than ever and brought a smile to your face just from a mere thought about the grumpy man.

but you never labeled your feelings and neither did he, you both operated under a need to keep each other and ellie safe and that was it. ellie wasn’t dumb, she could see what was happening between you two. she also knew it was only a matter of time before you both gave in to whatever you were feeling. for now you three just acted out of survival instinct and that was enough. weeks morphed into months and winter was cruel to you three. you spent nights in joel’s arms, you both attributed it to feeling safer that way and for warmth of course. you never missed how sometimes you could feel his heart against your back, beating just as fast as your own. or when you would wake up before him and the sun shone down on his face, his expression would be relaxed and you could dream for a while about him looking at you like that. you hoped one day joel would let the pain he carried on his shoulders be lifted by ellie or even you.

when you all made it to jackson and joel reunited with his brother you felt like you could finally breathe again. although your body was always primed to fight and run, you couldn’t help but relax as maria treated you like a friend. she was kinder than anyone you had met since the outbreak, it all felt too good to be true. your suspicions were shared with joel and ellie. the three couldn’t relax even in the small condo tommy had given to you. maria had whisked ellie away to socialize with the other kids, saying how it would be good for her and far be it from you and joel to argue with her about it.

that left you and joel in a warm house with power and gas, feeling very out of place. the house had two rooms with two en-suite bathrooms, so naturally you and joel decided to share. joel was lying down on the bed, not fully asleep as he stared up at the ceiling planning the next steps in head. he had showered and changed into the clothes maria had dropped off, feeling like a new man. his mind raced at the possibilities of how to get ellie to the fireflies. you had spoke earlier about staying a little bit longer and collecting more information before setting out. he had disagreed, wanting to leave as soon as possible but you convinced him to stay, it would be better for ellie and especially him to spend more time with his brother and others. you also didn’t mind how relaxed joel looked when he was with his brother.

you were just getting out of the shower as you reached for a towel, drying off as you looked at the underwear maria had given you. you had blushed when you first saw it, clearly she thought you and joel were much more than friends after just a few minutes of interacting with her. you weren’t really sure why you decided to wear the lacy black panties and matching bra instead of the more sensible set, but maybe it was something about how maria had raised her eyebrow when you tried giving back the lingerie. you insisted it was nothing like that, but she had simply said, “are you sure because i think everyone else is?” instead of answering her you just snatched the clothes out of her hands and stalked back to the condo. you thought back about how you and joel interacted in front of her when you met.

“joel, say congrats.” ellie nudged joel in the elbow as you sat on the other side of him, making him move into your side slightly. joel looked to for you some sort of permission, you just nodded with a comforting smile on your face. you wanted him to know it was okay to be happy for his brother, that his brother still loved him and that his new life could have his big brother in it. joel’s hand that had been on your leg the entire dinner, squeezed your thigh in gratitude and as always you tried to swallow down the desire it shot through you. maybe you weren’t as successful as you thought in hiding the blush to you face, maybe maria had caught onto where his hand was and the reason behind your tinted cheeks.

you sighed and tried to shove the thoughts out of your mind, as you slightly opened the bathroom door and peeked through to see joel lying down with his eyes closed, a hand resting on his forehead, further obstructing his view. you took the chance to tiptoe to the closet and pick out some clothes to change into. unbeknownst to you joel had cracked his eyes upon the small creak of the floorboard and felt the air leaving his lungs at the sight of you.

joel had seen your body before, when rain made clothes cling to your skin or when you dipped into a clean river. but nothing compared to seeing your bare skin adorned in lacy black lingerie, a suggestion of fabric covered your ass and your breasts were pushed up as if to further torture him. joel felt all of his blood rush south and his heart beat pick up, he hated himself for silently peaking at you but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. he thought he was going a little bit insane when he watched you pull up a pair of jeans over your curves, jumping a little as they hugged your ass. his pants grew tight, his erection straining against the denim.

joel was on the precipice of losing his mind as you wrapped your arms around your chest and hugged yourself, your boobs pushing up and threatening his mental stability. joel had had enough at this point, his dick hard and heavy in his pants, aching to be touched. he sat up, making you flinch and wrap your arms around yourself tighter, not helping him much as you turned towards.

“how long does it take to choose a shirt sweetheart? do you need my help?” his voice was gruff and deep, you shivered at his tone noticing a clip to his voice. your heartbeat picked up as you raked over his expression, he looked more frustrated than anything else. and you didn’t miss how his eyes flicked between your chest and your eyes. it was now or never. you knew looking into brown eyes they were darkened by something you would see in your own.

“can you help me, please?” joel raised an eyebrow at your tone, like you were sure of yourself but still needed him. if joel were more confident in himself he would know that you were just as desperate for him as he was for you but he knew you could do better. you could definitely find someone younger and more suited for you. despite the rational part of his brain that knew better, he got off the bed and walked towards you. he didn’t stop until his chest was almost brushing against yours and he was towering over you. there was a slight flush to your lips and your breathing was fast enough to draw his attention to the rise and fall of your chest. he still let himself read into it, didn’t let himself dwell on the glossy look in your eyes or the way your lips were parted as if to take him in.

looking away from your gaze for a moment, joel pulled out a plain red t-shirt from the closet, meeting your gaze once again. you didn’t move to take it from his hands, just watched him expectantly and joel almost snapped the hanger in half from the hold he had on it. you wanted him to dress you. joel wasn’t sure if you were doing this to torture him or not but he sure as hell felt more desperate than he ever had. the last time he was this painfully hard from barely any stimulation was probably high school. he took your challenge instead, pulling the shirt off the hanger and flinging it to the side, he gently pulled the opening over your head, motioning for your hands to uncross and you followed quietly. you were practically drowning in the sensuality of being controlled by joel, exactly how you wanted. you had soaked through the thin fabric of your underwear as you gasped at the feeling of joel’s warm calloused hands against the soft skin of your arms. he pulled the shirt over your chest and you watched his darkened eyes travel over your body, his jaw clenching as he took in your curves.

“thank you.” you whispered, not wanting to disturb the air around you both. joel looked you up and down, as if assessing his work. he licked his lips as he remembered the sight from earlier, he felt himself leaking into his boxers, even more turned on from your small gasps and glazed eyes. you looked like a doe awaiting his shot, it drove him a little bit crazier. as much as you wanted to sink to you knees and take him into your mouth you wanted him to make the first move, wanted him to be as sure as you were that this wasn’t just one-sided. joel took one last look at your blown out pupils and glossy lips and decided that enough was enough, he had to make a decision right now.

“not sure about those pants though, doll.” your eyebrows knitted up from confusion, you looked down at them and back up at him. joel was endeared by the naivety in your expression, making good use of your confusion by looping a finger through the belt notch of your jeans and tugging you closer.

“i’d rather they were off.” he could see the words click in your pretty little head as the confusion was replaced by the desire he knew so well. you didn’t look away from his hungry gaze as you fumbled to undo the brass button of your pants. joel’s finger that was still curled into the notch, moved to cover your hand.

“let me, pretty girl.” you had to hold back a whine from his words, his gruff voice coupled with the pet name was grating against your sensibility, your underwear a complete mess from his words and presence alone. you were sure you would unravel if he touched you where you really needed him. joel undid your buckle with two fingers and pulled your pants down in one swift movement, causing you to yelp. he didn’t move as he watched you shiver from desire, he could almost laugh at how desperate you were. had you always been so gone for him? it wasn’t like he was much better though.

“j-joel please.” you choked out, you would do anything for him to touch you. you were on the verge of crying as he grinned at the pout on your lips.

“please what?” he stepped back, making a whine claw up your throat, you stepped towards without thinking.

“i need you.” joel nodded at the words, it wasn’t news to anyone, he needed you just as badly.

“come here.” joel moved to the bed, you followed obediently. when you sat down at the edge of the bed he pulled you by the hips, roughly moving you to lie down with your head on the pillows. he shifted himself to sit in front of your legs and your eyes widened as you realized what was about to happen. his rough large hands kneaded the soft flesh of your thighs, he took in the sight of your bare thighs and pretty cunt covered in lacy black material.

“did you wear these for me?” his hands were traveling up, parting your legs as they moved inwards. you loaned, back arching as you felt callouses rub your sensitive inner thighs. joel moved to sit down more comfortably, letting his thick thighs stretch you even more. he kept his hand on your left thigh, keeping you stretched wide. his other hand moved closer to your core, stopping when you didn’t answer his question.

“yes only for you.” you whined out, you had never sounded more desperate and foreign to yourself but you didn’t care you were completely lost to your desire. joel liked your answer, letting his hand tease the edge of your underwear, you twitched from his touch. he couldn’t help but scoff at how sensitive you were. he ripped a cry of his name from you when he pushed the fabric aside revealing glistening folds and a pool of liquid. he swore under his breath, wondering just how long you had been soaking through your underwear, sure enough he felt the fabric wet from your juices. joel wanted to deal this memory away, he knew he’d remember it any time his cock was in his hand. you squirmed from his gaze, whining for him to touch you, to do anything. joel snapped the band of your underwear against your skin, making you shut up.

“so fucking wet, is that all for me too?” joel didn’t think he could survive much longer without tasting you, moving to lay down between your thighs, you noticed immediately and it made you breath a little more rapidly.

“you drive me crazy joel, it’s always because of you, i’m yours.” you sat up on your elbows, looking at how his face was now hovering your hips. your words itched the part of joel’s brain that wanted you to be all his. he wasn’t proud of it but he wanted you to be his forever. without much warning, joel weaved his arms under your thighs and pulled you forwards, your cunt colliding with his nose. the small friction of his large nose against your clit made you moan out his name again. joel thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard, he loved how his name sounded coming out of your mouth. he wanted you to own it, wanted his name to be yours, he felt more possessive of you than ever. he rubbed his nose against your clit, breathing in the sweet smell of you, his lips and nose getting a bit wet just from your underwear. he kissed your cunt, ripping a strangled noise from your throat and he decided he wanted much more of those sounds as he pulled your underwear down, finally letting himself give in to his need to taste you. you were practically screaming his name as the cool air hit your clit.

joel didn’t waste time in spreading your legs wider and making them ache from the stretch, pulling your ass slightly into the air as he planted his lips right onto your core. his tongue licked one stripe from your clit down to where your arousal pooled. you tasted like peaches and heaven, and joel pulled you impossibly closer, he could barely breathe through his nose but it didn’t matter not when you tasted like everything he’d ever wanted and your ichor was painted on the back of his teeth. as much as he drank you in, the more you bloomed for him. you were squirming and screaming his name, begging for him to stop or keep going you weren’t sure. you could only think of his name, only feel him and only breathe him. his mustache and beard grated against your most sensitive parts, making you clench around him. joel’s tongue was inside you drinking you in like you were water and he was stuck in the desert for days. the sounds his mouth produced were obscene and they did nothing but drive you closer to your orgasm. you were rocking on his tongue, never having felt this good before. as you got closer, joel pulled out, his tongue still on your hole as his nose ground your clit. you cried at the feeling, fingers interweaving with his hair and tugging him against you. joel got the idea and brought his hand up to tease your clit as he went back to feasting on you. you felt yourself grow close, pulling his face against you, as you whined out his name. you came undone on his tongue, twitching into his mouth and joel drank in the wave of arousal it produced, never being satiated enough. finally when you were too sensitive for his tongue you tugged on his hair. joel removed his mouth with a pop and a string of your cum and his saliva connected him to you. his beard and mustache were glistening with your ichor and you felt arousal wash over you all over again, you still wanted to taste him, wanted his lips against yours and so you wove your hands around his neck and sat up to meet him halfway. joel climbed up, you wove your legs around his hips. joel’s lips were rough against you, but they tasted like you and you moaned into his lips. joel kissed you fervently as if he had not just tasted you, like it wasn’t enough and his facial hair rubbed against your skin. your cum was coating both of your faces by the time you pulled back for air. joel put more of his weight against you and you felt his clothed hard on press against your core, making you whine and grab at his shirt to pull him closer. “joel please, want you inside.”

just from what you felt pressed against you, you knew he was big and you salivated at the feeling. you were getting wet just thinking about having him inside you. joel watched your fucked out expression and puffy lips and decided against his urge to fuck you even dumber. he told himself he had time, you weren’t like the others, this was different you wouldn’t just disappear.

“next time, doll, can you come for me again?” you nodded, tears welling in your eyes as desire mixed with your need to be close to him. joel moved off of you, drawing a whimper from you, he interwove his fingers with yours, calming your nerves and you sighed contently. joel didn’t know how you could be so damn endearing and seductive at the same time. with his free hand he pushed you up the bed by your hip, until you were sitting up with your back against the bed-frame. he found his home between your legs, spreading one with his hand the other still holding yours. he used his knee to press against the inner flesh of your thigh, pinning it there and stretching you wide open. you whined at the feeling, although he was the one between your thighs you felt caged in. he was towering over your frame as your back pressed against the cold metal frame. finally when the whine left your mouth, he let go of your hand moving it south as he looked you in the eyes. his hand teased the seam of your cunt, he chuckled at the feeling of you so wet all over again. there was a bead of arousal at your opening, ready for him to please you all over again. he couldn’t get enough of you. without any warning he pressed two fingers into you, plunging them deep and feeling you clench around them. Your breath came out in a huff as you looked up to him with desperation in his eyes. joel curled his fingers facing his palm upwards as he felt for the spot that made you unravel and when he did you struggled against his grasp and pushed against his knee to close on his hands. you gasped out his name and joel laughed at the tears forming in your eyes. he plunged into your soaking cunt again and again. setting a brutal pace and just when you felt close enough he slowed down, he shut up your babbling with a harsh kiss to your mouth. it was teeth and tongues clashing against each other, but the desire and desperation you felt was reciprocated in the way he kissed you. you kissed until your lungs screamed for air and when you were about to pull away, joel plunged three fingers into, you gasped into his mouth. pulling away as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and joel littered your neck with kisses and bites. he marked you as he wanted, made sure everyone knew who you belonged to. you were gushing around his fingers, he added a fourth finger and you screamed his name. if the blooming marks on your neck weren’t enough, the whole community would hear your screams. you started begging when he abused the spot that made your mind go blank, all you could feel was intense burning desire and all you could say was “please joel.” like it was a prayer.

your prayers were answered when his thumb ground against your clit and you came on his hand. you slumped forward, joel catching you as he moved his hand from your thigh and brought his soaked fingers up to his mouth. he wanted to memorize your taste, licking his fingers clean before pressing a kiss to your lips. you let him kiss you, you were spent now and your mind numb from pleasure. joel helped you lay down and cleaned you up as much as he could, he put your underwear in his pocket, he had to deal with his hard-on after you fell asleep. joel combed his fingers through your hair, as you relaxed into the bed. you fell asleep breathing in the scent of his shampoo on the pillow-sheet and the feeling on his fingertips scraping your scalp.

[bestreadfanfic]

Landscapes

Summary: Johnny and Simon are both done with their military service and now live in the English countryside. However, Johnny's time in the military left him disabled and with a lot of unresolved issues. You and your boyfriend moved into their sleepy town and Johnny just knows you need saving.

Pairings: Ghoap x reader

Warnings: Domestic abuse, Soap has PTSD, Violence

A/N: So, I was supposed to writing part two on my other story, but I got writer's block. This just popped up in my head.

Johnny wasn’t a creep. Majority of people that came across him would describe him as a good guy that's just a bit intense. In fact, Johnny was such a good person that he risked and was willing to sacrifice his life for his country. While his time in the military didn’t kill him, although sometimes he wished it did, he did lose a leg and got some brain damage. The point is that Johnny sacrificed enough to indulge himself once in a while.

It’s not like he was causing you any harm. No, he was just keeping an eye on you. Despite the fact that he’s only ever really seen you from afar and never even spoke to you he felt this overwhelming protectiveness over you. He knew that your boyfriend was no good. 

Boyfriend

Not your husband. Neither of you two wore a ring. Not to mention that when the two of you moved into the small house down the road and Johnny and Simon went to introduce themselves he very pointedly said that his girlfriend lives with him as well. Johnny didn’t have the chance to speak to you then. It’s not like he really wanted anyway. 

Your boyfriend wasn’t a very pleasant person to be around. It only worsened when he found out that Johnny and Simon were in a relationship. Johnny figured that only a woman that was as unpleasant as him was able to put up with. But they say that opposite attracts. 

It was nearly a month after meeting your boyfriend that Johnny finally saw you. In that month Johnny had plenty of interactions with your boyfriend. None of them that Johnny enjoyed. 

Every morning Johnny would go for a walk. At first Simon would walk with him, but Johnny needed to go alone. It’s not that he didn’t love Simon. He did with all his heart. But he needed the freedom. Needed to prove that he was capable. Even if that meant going for a walk by himself.  

Johnny knew that the only reason Simon allowed him to go on these walks was because they lived in the British countryside. Crime rarely ever happened in their small town. Johnny also knew that despite being in such a safe town Simon would follow him on these little walks. Of course when he first figured this out he was furious, but Johnny had lost the will to fight over most things. He needed these walks for his sanity. If the price to pay was having Simon follow him from afar he would gladly take it. Besides he sacrificed way bigger things before.  

He often zoned out of these walks. That’s probably why he didn’t notice you at first. It was your sobs that brought him out of his daydreams. You were sitting on the side of the road in front of your house just bawling your eyes out. It took him a while to register that you were that asshole’s girlfriend. 

By the time that his foot started to move towards you the front door to your house swung open. The loud noise caused him to stop in his tracks. He hated loud noises now. It caused him to freeze and retreat back inside of his head. His comfort space. He could still see and hear what’s going on around him. He just couldn’t process it. 

He saw your boyfriend stomping outside of the house right up to the two of you. He heard your boyfriend yelling at you and then at him. But he couldn’t understand the words that were spewing out of his mouth. He couldn’t move his foot. His crutches seemed to be buried into the ground keeping him glued to the spot. He wanted to move so bad. Or at least tell him to stop. But he couldn’t. 

His unresponsiveness only seemed to make your boyfriend madder. So mad that he came up to Johnny chest to chest. Johnny was taller but he was in no shape to fight. When your boyfriend lightly shoved Johnny's chest he toppled over like a domino. 

Although that only served further paralyzed Johnny it put you into motion. You put yourself in between Johnny and your boyfriend begging. Johnny couldn't understand what you were saying but did understand that you were attempting to defend him. 

It wasn’t needed however, because in the next 30 seconds your boyfriend was flat on the ground with Simon on top of him pounding his face in. You knew better than to get in between Simon and your boyfriend so you just stood to the side begging him to stop. 

Simon turned his head toward you and for a second Johnny was sure that you were next. But he knew that Simon wasn’t one to hit women. Instead you and Simon exchange a few words. Johnny didn’t understand he could see your mouth move and hear the words, but his brain refused to translate the words.  

Johnny groaned in frustration causing the two of you to snap your heads towards him. The rest was a blur. When Johnny came again he was in his bed. The whole ordeal was a mess but Johnny came out of it with a strange fascination with you. 

He was more aware of you. For someone that he’s never seen around before you seemed to be in a lot of places. He never approached you though. Simon had warned him to avoid both you and your boyfriend at all costs. 

However, Simon never said anything about watching you. It’s not like he was stalking you. No, it just so happens that the two of you rarely had anywhere to go and often enjoyed taking walks through the English countryside.

[plasticferal]

keeping score | matt & chris sturniolo.

prologue: 'they say love is the sixth sense that destroys all other five senses’

authors notes: 1.9k, explicit language, reader discretion is advised. welcome to my first series, please enjoy the ride.

they both want you. the only way matt and chris can agree to settle who wins is through competition, one where you’re the prize. your own heart is torn between the two brothers. the thing is though, love doesn’t keep score.

they have two very different experiences to offer. two sides of the same coin. a coin you refuse you flip and settle on.

matt is the first to catch your eye in any room. he makes you nervous. butterflies, awkward laughs, stuttering over your words. all of it. you like him. you’re unsure if he feels the same toward you.

however, you also like chris. the compliments he showers you in, the subtle flirting, the way he softens his tone around you, how giving he is, the way he’s so shamelessly himself. the list goes on. he’s different. 

it’s a weird triangle of intrigue and unrequited feelings that lingers and is never acknowledged.

you’re already convinced it’ll never happen. with either of them. you’d be putting too much at risk considering how deeply you value your friendship before anything else. the fear of falling in love, and losing them both. 

which might just be your karma for being into both brothers. 

they occupy the living room. you’re upstairs, using nick’s bed to take a nap while he showers, and he takes long showers. he’s always given you a safe space in the house, to make it feel like home. 

you love to annoy chris and matt by stealing their clothes, blankets, soft drinks out of the fridge, tagging along to every late night drive and fast food pick up. 

they share everything with you, but you designate yourself in nicks’s room as to not stir up any terrible, rash decisions on your accord.

being fast asleep and tangled up in crisp, cold, silk sheets, it’s a deep sleep. completely escaping into your dreams.

you’re left unaware of the chaos that’s about to ensue in the living room between the two brothers who occupy your mind. chaos is the score in which reality is written upon.

“you like y/n, right?” matt asks chris. 

you’ve had a strange feeling for a while now that matt is trying to set you up with his brother. which, as flattering as it is, it’s bittersweet. 

matt is sinking lazily into the lounge while scrolling through his phone, on the furthest left. chris is on the furthest right with his feet kicked up on the coffee table. 

they’re in direct view of each other on the L shaped couch. not in a literal sense, just in proximity. neither brother is actually looking up from a screen of some kind.

“what?” chris snaps his head toward matt, diverting from the television for a moment. 

“just answer the question.” matt huffs.

“of course i like y/n. she’s the closest person in our life besides like, nick” chris shrugs, going to look back at the screen again. 

matt groans in disappointment at his response. 

“you know i don’t mean it like that.” matt sits up slightly, readjusting his position and posture.

“god here we go again.” chris runs a hand down his face, fearing his brother's next words. 

“how do you really feel about her?” matt pries. 

unusual for him. out of character even, chris is usually the one who needs to know everything all the time, and is never afraid to ask the hard hitting questions, as annoying as it may be. but not with this topic of conversation.

the difference is, chris does it because he’s genuinely curious. matt asks questions for his own selfish reason, to chris’s oblivion. 

chris needs reassurance that he’s making the right decision in not pursuing you. matt needs to know if or when he’s going to have to compete. little does he know that time is nearing. 

“man, i don’t know. i just- i like her. can’t we leave it at that?” chris’s tone is anguished. 

“you’re avoiding the question-”

“i answered your question!” chris cuts matt off before he can fully form his sentence, and matt’s jaw tightens. 

“fine, whatever.” matt waves his hands in the air with defeat before diverting back to his phone, leaving chris to linger on his words.

“i’m never gonna make a move. i know how you feel about her, too.” chris huffs, as though he’s annoyed at the response he’s had to give.

“what’d you mean?” matt gives chris a glare, like he’s daring his next words.

“you know exactly what i fuckin’ mean” chris scoffs, shifting in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling the sleeves of his gray hoodie past his knuckles.

matt takes a loud inhale through his nose and exhales through his mouth 

“we can’t just keep pretending that we both don’t want her.” matt drops his phone onto his stomach face down, being slightly slumped. 

“i’ve been fine pretending” chris throws the hood of his sweatshirt over his head to hide his eyes more from matt, a natural reaction to not enjoying the grilling. 

“well if you don’t make a move, i will.” matt’s tone is serious.

“you wouldn’t.” chris deadpans, a sincere tone of disbelief seeping from his lip that he’s now biting the corner of.

“you’ve been saying you’re gonna make a move forever and haven’t done shit."

he knows it’s not nice, but there’s something about the lack of passion from chris despite the obvious crush just makes matt's skin crawl. if someone is going like you and not do anything about it, matt is more than willing to shoot his shot, give you what you deserve. 

“that’s not fair” chris twists his face, glaring at his brother. 

"i think it’s more than fair play at this point, kid.” matt scoffs.

if looks could kill, matt would be dead.

all those times you’ve perceived matt bringing up chris to entice you have just been a ploy to gauge how both of you feel. he knows it’s manipulative, but no harm, no foul.

the worst part is, chris isn’t actually even sure he wants a relationship. he’s infatuated by you, undoubtedly. matt on the other hand would marry you with a paper ring. 

they’re both scared of their own feelings, and the intentions that might come along with them. they don’t ever want to hurt you, but their carnal desire is misleading their moral compass.

“alright then,” chris starts, matt’s words hitting a nerve for him. he slaps his hands onto his thighs and sits up in his spot. 

“how do we settle this? who gets her?” chris continues, staring at his brother intently now.

“i don’t think we get to make that decision.” matt shakes his head, bringing his hand to his mouth as he begins to bite his nails, which muffles his words.

“you’re right, we don’t. but we’re gonna have to compete for it to even be an option.”

“compete” matt repeats chris’s words with a sour huff, a slight arrogance in the sense that he doesn’t view his brother as a threat. 

not when it comes to you, and there might be a small part of that statement that’s correct. you have a sweet spot for matt, which fires up chris even more. he is conscious that he’s the underdog, as much as you try to show an even amount of attention to the both of them.

“what’s wrong? you scared you’ll lose?” chris taunts. 

“that’s the least of my worries.” matt scoffs, his mind traveling down every possible path this terrible idea could go down. 

“fine, then you won’t be afraid of a little competition.” chris says nonchalantly, pushing back with the same energy matt’s been giving, turning the tables.

“what’s your plan here? we just tally up the moments we get with her until someone wins? to boost our own egos?” matt speaks with his hands.

“i do love to have my ego stroked” chris grins to himself, the thought of you crossing his mind as the words leave his mouth. his train of thought tends to wonder easily.

“seriously, chris, how do we plan on settling this?” matt rubs his hands together, like the action you do when you’re trying to stay warm. 

“i think there’s only one answer to that.” chris responds, in a “duh” tone, without explicitly sharing what’s on his mind.

their sixth sense of being able to unpack each other's minds sparks like an electrical fault in the moment. of course, neither of them hate the thought of getting you in bed. they just hate the thought of you being unaware. 

somehow it’s more challenging than falling in love, or securing a relationship. betting to sleep with you is actually the hardest challenge of them all, let alone covering all the bases in order to attain it. 

the intimacy, the intensity of it all. it just seems so unattainable. it requires them, and you, to be completely and utterly vulnerable. 

“that seems kind of, objectifying.” matt shifts his demeanour, ironic considering he sparked the conversation. 

“it wouldn’t be a competition without a challenge.” chris acknowledges, and unfortunately for the both of them, he’s right. 

“this sounds so fucked up” matt says, running his hand through his scruffy hair.

“first brother to five points takes all. all of her.” chris speaks, confidently setting up the challenge. 

essentially their plan is to see who can get the closest to you, and let the other brother suffer in watching it happen. which occurs points. loser has to back off of you completely. unless someone gets to you first, in which case all their hard work flies out the window. they won’t be making it easy for each other.

“points won’t matter when i get her into bed first.” matt’s smug, knowing it’ll make chris go insane. 

“so i take it that you’re up for the challenge?” chris ignores matt’s words with a prompt, because if he doesn’t disregard it, he’ll lash out. 

matt considers it. at least he acts like he does. he knows his answer. if he wants you, if either of them do, they have no choice but to compete. neither of them are sure if it’s love or lust, but they’re about to find out. 

they are certain of one thing though. they like everything about you. the way you look. the way you smell. the way you sound. they know exactly why they want you. it’s the first time ever someone has been able to grab the attention of both brothers. hence the severity of the agreement.

“when do we start keeping score?” matt responds, and that’s all the reassurance chris needs in his brothers answer. 

as if on command, you trudge down the stairs in a sleepy state. their eyes snap toward you simultaneously, and you blink repeatedly to make sure you’re seeing them right. 

you are their favorite part of every day, so it’s not out of the ordinary for them to acknowledge your entrance, but you can feel the intensity of their eyes on you with a different energy. 

with foggy vision still clearing as you rub your heavy, tired eyes, you let a small yawn escape. they both melt at the sight, despite you feeling like you’re in your least desirable state. 

you’re not even paying attention to their back and forth bickering. the sound of their voices muffling through your ears. whatever it is they’re saying, they’re not saying it loud enough for you to hear before you even make it down the stairs.

“now.” chris states, eyes snapping back at his brother as they both raise off the lounge.

all is fair in love and war.

tag list: @luverboychris @floofparker @fake-sturniolos @letstripsturniolo @imwetforyourmom @mattsneezing @mattslolita @breeloveschris @rootbeerworshiper @mattstattoo @mxqdii @tay-laaaaa @pettydollie @lacysturniolo @annamcdonalds67 @landrysflannel @goandcomebsck @sleepysturnss @call-me-ninaaa @lustfulslxt @txssvx

[otakusheep15]

Flufftober Day 31: Proposal - Pomefiore

Characters included: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier

Word count; 1980

Vil

Who proposes: Vil

Vil was convinced from a very early age that he would never have a normal relationship. He’s always been in the public eye, and he was always scared of making friends because they always got dragged into unnecessary drama. He very quickly leadered to distance himself from others. 

But you just had to come into his life. Stubborn, loveable you who just wouldn’t leave him alone no matter how much he pretended to be disinterested in you. It was no wonder he fell for you eventually. How could he not? You broke down pretty much all of his walls almost immediately, but instead of feeling vulnerable, he felt safe. 

From then on, he kept you strictly by his side. People certainly tried to pry into your relationship as you slowly became more public, but Vil is always always quick to shoot down any attempts. Eventually, most people simply gave up because Vil was giving them absolutely nothing, and neither were you. 

Domestic life became nice to Vil. He never thought he would have something like this. So many celebrities before him struggled with too much information being shared to the world, ruining their seemingly happy relationship. Vil assumed this would be the case for him, but that day never came. Your relationship stayed strong even through the worst of times. 

Then came the thoughts of marriage. Was he ready for such a thing? His acting and modeling careers are both going strong still, and you’re focused on your own pursuits. Is marriage the best idea right now? Of course, he’d like to get married at some point, but right now?

As it turns out, yes, the time would be right now. Vil, while working on a job, came across the most stunning ring he’s ever seen in his life. He knew then and there that it was a sign, and he bought it immediately. Ring now in his possession, Vil began working on how he should propose. 

The natural option would be taking you out to a nice restaurant, but would you want something so public? Would he want something so public? Paparazzi and the general public would probably ruin the moment for you, and that would not be ideal. 

He settles on doing a simple proposal away from the public eye. Perhaps he can take you out for a celebratory dinner after you say yes. Of course you’re going to say yes. You love him and he loves you, so he’s sure you’ll say yes.

Vil returns to your home, holding the box in the pocket of his coat. You greet him as always, and just seeing you is enough to relax his thoughts. He’s overthinking this far too much. He’s not usually so impulsive, but seeing you here in your shared home, all of his thoughts clear out, and all that’s left is for him to propose. 

You’re sitting on the couch, so Vil sits down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him. He pulls out the box, drawing your attention to it. He opens it with his free hand and presents the ring inside, leaving you shocked as you stare at him in awe. 

He explains himself and his thought process. How he’s not usually this impulsive, how he saw the perfect ring and just knew it had to be yours, and just how much he loves you and wants to marry you. 

You say yes, taking the ring out of the box and putting it on, leaning up to kiss him. In this moment, Vil’s thoughts are calm. All he can think about is how lucky he is to have you. 

Your wedding is shockingly simple. Not shocking for either of you, but shocking for most others. The general public always tends to assume that, the more famous the person, the grander the wedding. However, Vil wanted to keep it simple, if still elegant and classy. The guest list is small, limited to the most important people in each of your lives. Unlike some celebrities, this wedding is not about the scale or the content. It’s about Vil’s undying love for you. 

Rook

Who proposes: Rook

Rook has always been into romance. He was a very fanciful kid growing up, always daydreaming about the perfect romance. Even as he got older, those fantasies never quite went away. If anything, they simply evolved with him, growing more developed as he experienced the world around him. 

When he met you, Rook knew his dreams had officially become reality. You are right out of his fantasies, everything he has ever wanted in a person. He pursues you almost immediately, doing his best to woo you as you get closer. 

Eventually, you do end up dating him, and Rook is living the dream. Every day feels so special and beautiful because he has you by his side. He does his best to shower you with romance as often as possible, always giving you compliments and giving you plenty of attention. 

Marriage is something he’s always wanted. The thought of binding your soul with the person you love more than anything else is the ultimate form of romance for him. Being with you only solidified that desire. 

He’s been planning his proposal to you since you first began dating. An entire speech has been written, a ring has been chosen and purchased, and all he needs to do is simply pop the question. 

To be honest, he would have proposed a lot sooner, but he wanted to wait until he knew you were ready as well. Realistically, Rook knows you’re not nearly as intense as he is. He’s self-aware enough to know that much. If you were, he would’ve proposed the second he laid eyes on you, but he wanted to wait until he was absolutely sure you would say yes. 

And, he thinks the day has finally arrived. It’s a wonderful day today. You both wake up refreshed, the sun is bright but not overbearing, and everything just feels perfect. That’s how he knows he should propose today. 

Rook decides to waste no time, pulling out the ring right as you get out of bed. You freeze where you stand, absolutely floored at the sudden situation you’ve found yourself in. Your brain, although refreshed from a good sleep, is still lagging behind as you process what’s happening. Rook simply stands there, smiling at you as if he isn’t literally proposing to you right now. It’s actually kind of comforting to see him acting like himself even now. 

Once your brain officially catches up, you immediately say yes, and Rook is ecstatic at your reply. He hugs you and spins you around before kissing you so softly. He then places the ring on your finger, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. 

Your wedding is a rather small one. Rook has a big family compared to most, but they’re really the only one’s he invites. You both have some friends you invite as well, but other than that, it’s a pretty small affair. It’s perfect for you. It’s intimate and fun, and you get to spend a lot of time being cute and romantic with Rook. 

Epel

Who proposes: Epel

Epel always thought the idea of marriage was stupid. In his village, all of the couples were either overly mushy or constantly fighting. Even so, it was still encouraged by his family for as far back as he can remember. Everyone was always telling him how, one day, his feelings would change and he would find someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. 

He hates that they ended up being right. 

Meeting you ruined pretty much every opinion he had on relationships, but he can’t exactly say that he minds. You’re always so sweet to him, treating him kindly even when he isn’t the nicest to you. He acts out like a child, being mean to you in the hopes that his feelings will go away, but to no avail. No matter how hard he tries, he just falls more and more every time he sees you. 

Eventually, he does pluck up the courage to ask you out properly. You agree, of course, and he’s actually so happy. From that point on, your relationship is actually very good. He treats you well, and most of his issues are usually targeted at himself and his own internalized feelings. 

Sometimes, he feels like being overly mushy and sweet makes him less of a man, but you’re always quick to reassure him that he’s so manly and cool. He absolutely loves it when you reassure him like that, as it shows him that you’re always there to support him when he needs it. 

Despite all of this, Epel still has pretty negative views on marriage. He wouldn’t mind getting married to you, but the idea of actually proposing and having a wedding? It’s not something that sounds very fun to him. If he could, he would just skip those and get right to married life with you. 

Realistically, he knows not much would change. The two of you are already quite domestic, and marriage won’t do much to change up the dynamic. And yet, his brain continues to doubt itself, constantly pulled between wanting to propose and wanting to keep things how they are now. 

It ends up being his Meemaw who knocks some sense into him. During a visit to his hometown, he brings up his concerns to his Meemaw, and she immediately berates him for being so wimpy. If he wants to propose, then he should just be a man and propose already. That hits him hard, and it’s actually enough to convince him. 

That night, Epel buys a ring. He doesn’t plan on doing it that night since he wants a few days to prepare, but at least he’ll have the ring. Over the course of a few days, he meticulously plans out exactly how he wants to propose. 

Finally, the day arrives. Epel first takes you out for brunch at a nice restaurant. It’s a fairly normal date, and you seem to be having fun so far. Then, he takes you to the local gardens, knowing you’ll like how beautiful they are. You spend hours just walking and talking as you admire all of the plants. Epel, meanwhile, can only admire you. 

The last place he takes you is home, and he cooks up the fanciest dinner he could possibly make. It’s certainly nothing crazy, but it’s amazing all the same. Once you’re finished eating, he puts the final part of his plan into action. 

He cleans up the dishes and returns to the table where you sit, and he kneels down in front of you. He then pulls out the ring box he was hiding from you, opening it to show you the ring he bought. You sit there, stunned. Never did you think Epel would be proposing to you, especially after such a cheesy and romantic day like this. Of course you say yes, pulling him up to kiss him. He then takes the ring and slips it on your finger. 

This was very unlike his usual self. This was cheesy and over-the-top, which he used to hate. Now though, as he looks at how happy you are, he thinks that, maybe, it’s okay to be sappy. 

Your wedding is in Harveston, obviously. All of the village is invited, as well as all of your friends. It’s less of a wedding and more of a giant party. Everyone is celebrating and having a fun time, and you and Epel are at the center of it all. It’s a fun time and it lasts well into the night. Lots of apple treats of course, a lot of them made by Epel’s family.

[literaryavenger]

I love you and I hate it - part 2

Summary: After your fight with Bucky, you put all your efforts into avoiding him, convinced that your friendship is over. Bucky, however, has other plans.

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Reader being dramatic. Angst. Language maybe. Minimal use of Y/N. Fluff. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: I promise I didn't mean to make it this long, but I couldn't help myself, again, and I didn't want to end on another 'cliffhanger' so here it is! hope you like it!

Part 1

Masterlist

Bucky can't believe what he just heard... You like him?

No, you used the word ‘love’. You love him.

Do you love him?

Certainly, he would’ve noticed if you did... Right? He is a trained assassin, he was taught how to see beyond people’s words and actions.

And he knows you, you can deny it all you want, but he knows you better than anyone. He knows you better than he knows himself.

And if he’s being honest, you know him better than anyone ever has, Steve included.

You feel safe, you feel calm. You feel like the peace he’s always wanted, the quiet he needs.

You feel like home. In a platonic way, of course.

Right?

His thoughts of you are interrupted by Sharon’s voice. He didn’t even realize he was back at the party.

"Where did you go?" she asks and, suddenly, her grip on his arm was just a little too tight for his liking. But it was probably nothing.

"I went to check if Y/N was okay."

"Oh." something in her voice felt wrong, but Bucky tried to ignore it, that is until what she said next.

"Why would you even care about her? All she does is embarrass you like before. She’s useful to no one, I heard the only reason she’s even on the team is because she slept her way to it." she laughed like it was the funniest thought in the world, and Bucky couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Not only was she saying hurtful, untrue things about his girl, but she has the audacity to laugh at her own cruelty?

"How dare you?" he does his best not to yell, but his tone still startles Sharon. "Y/N is the best agent in all of Shield, that’s why she got in the team! She’s not an embarrassment, she’s a valued member of our family and she’s my best friend! Of course I care about her, she’s the most important person in my life! Don’t ever talk about her that way again."

Sharon seems shocked at his words but, looking around, she realizes people are starting to stare so she tries her best to defuse the situation. "Alright, I’m sorry, I won’t say things like that again. Let’s just calm down and have a nice rest of the evening, ok?"

In his head Bucky knew her request was reasonable, he could forget about this and keep having fun with his girlfriend. But in his heart he just knew he couldn’t let it go.

The words were coming out of his mouth before he can stop them, not that he even wants to.

"You know what, Sharon? This isn’t working. We have to break up." He doesn’t even give her a chance to say anything before he’s turning around and making his way to his room.

Meanwhile, on the roof, Steve’s trying to talk you down the ledge. Metaphorically speaking, obviously. 

"He hates me, Steve." you can't stop the tears.

"Stop saying that, sweetheart, he doesn’t hate you."

"You saw what happened at the party, the way he looked at me. And he heard me say that I love him and walked away like it was nothing." You sniffle. "If he didn’t hate me before, this certainly pushed him off the edge."

Steve has nothing to say to that, he knows Bucky doesn't hate you, but he also knows that you’re too stubborn to hear any reason, especially not right now when you're in the eye of the tornado and can't see a way out.

Right now you need a friend and shoulder to cry on, usually Bucky would take on that role, but, given the circumstances, Steve decides to step up and be that friend.

He wraps his arms around your crying body and holds you as you let it all out. Neither of you say anything else, the only sounds in the dark of the night being your sobs, until eventually you calm down and after a few moments of silence Steve glances down to see you fell asleep. 

Not wanting to wake you he carefully picks you up and makes his way to the elevator.

When he gets to the floor you both reside in he finds Sam and Natasha chatting at the kitchen counter, probably about to go to bed after coming up from the party.

Sam gives him a confused look, while Nat seems to understand what is going on right away as she moves without saying a word, walking ahead of Steve towards your room.

She opens the door for him and walks in behind, moving the covers back as he lays you on your bed as carefully as he can, and then Nat delicately takes your heels off before covering you with the duvet.

As they’re leaving your room the door opposite yours opens, revealing a hopeful Bucky but when he sees it’s not you, his face becomes stoic once again. He’s about to ask where you are when Natasha beats him to the punch.

"Leave her alone, Barnes. You’ve hurt her enough already." Is all she says before she steps into her own bedroom.

Bucky looks to his best friend for help but, at his confused face, the blonde super soldier just shakes his head in disappointment and walks away without a word.

Bucky stands there for a few minutes, just staring at your door like he's gonna will you to open it and talk to him.

He sighs and goes back to his room where he spends the next few hours overthinking about you and this whole night, eventually falling into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning when you wake up you feel at peace for about 10 seconds before the events of last night hit you like a truck, and all you can feel is humiliation.

How can you face the team after they witnessed your fight with Bucky?

How can you face Steve after he saw you at your most vulnerable and, apparently, carried you to bed after you cried yourself to sleep?

How can you face Bucky after he heard you say you love him and he walked away from you?

You can’t, that’s the answer.

Should you just move out? Just quit the team, ask Hill to be reassigned? Maybe you could even get transferred to another country...

You’re not overreacting, right? This is a very embarrassing situation and you have every right to want to run away from all of it.

As you’re making up an escape plan in your mind you hear a knock on your door, followed by Steve’s voice. "Hey, are you awake? We just want to make sure you're okay…"

You try to be as silent as you can, slowing down your breathing praying he’ll think you’re sleeping.

You can hear him exchange some muffled words with what sounds like Natasha, and then you hear their footsteps as they walk away, so you let out a relieved sigh.

Okay, step one is definitely getting out of this room, it’s just the most obvious place where to look for you.

You get up and out of your awfully classy dress, take a shower being sure to clean away all the makeup from last night and put on the most comfortable sweats you own.

Just as you’re opening the door you can see Bucky opening his about to get out and, in a panic move, you run back inside your room and slam the door shut.

Very subtle, yes.

You rest your back against the door and can hear him sigh and then walk away.

You wait a few minutes, just to be sure, and then relax a little. Your plan was to go to the gym and work out a bit, but now all you can think about is getting the hell out of this compound.

You grab your purse, make sure to have your phone and keys in it and open the door, making sure no one’s around before getting out.

You’re practically running, taking the stairs for good measure, and in a flash you’re at the garage. You jump in your car and drive away as fast as you can without breaking the law, not even knowing where to go.

Once you’re in the city you stop at a cafe for breakfast near your favorite book store, the one you and Bucky have visited together a hundred times.

Okay, stop that. No more thinking about Bucky.

You spend the rest of the day just going from one store to the other, stopping to have lunch at the diner you always go to when you’re in the city, and trying not to kick yourself for not being able to stop thinking about Bucky.

Seriously, why can’t you stop thinking about him?

It doesn’t help the fact that every one of your favorite places has at least a hundred and twelve memories of Bucky.

God, have you ever gone anywhere on your own in the last two years?

The more memories come to mind the more you think that maybe transferring wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Go somewhere new, get a fresh start.

When it starts getting dark you decide to drive back to the compound, but when you park and turn the car off you can’t find it in yourself to get out.

You take out your phone, which you’ve been ignoring all day, and go through all the messages of your worried friends, hating yourself a little more when you catch yourself looking for his name in your notifications.

Just as you’re about to answer Tony’s texts first, you get a call from Steve. You stare at your phone, unsure if you can stomach answering him right now, but your decision is rendered moot when someone taps against your car window.

Your head snaps towards it and you let out a breath of relief when you see Steve standing there, holding his phone and using it to tap on your window again.

You close your eyes for a second but resign to your fate as you gather your things and get out of the car.

When you lock your car you turn to see that Steve moved to be leaning on the trunk of your car, so you join him and wait for him to say something, not knowing what to say yourself.

"So," he starts, with his arm folded in front of his chest and looking at his shoes "you’re avoiding all of us now?" You let out a sigh, feeling bad for hurting his feelings.

"I’m sorry, Steve. I just…" you can’t even look at him as you talk, so you just look ahead of you at all the cars "I’m just embarrassed. After everything that happened last night, I don’t know… God, you even carried me to bed like a child." you cover your face with your hands.

You finally look at him when you hear him chuckling. "That’s what friends do, Y/N. They lean on each other." he bumps your shoulder with his playfully.

"I know we’re not as close as you and Bucky, but I am your friend too. I’m not gonna judge you for last night, I just want to make sure you’re okay. That’s what we all want. You made us worry that you might run away on us." He says the last part as a joke, but you can’t help looking away from him.

That’s exactly what you wanted to do.

You bite your lip as he keeps looking at you and you feel like he can see the gears turning in your head, like your thoughts are so loud and your guilt so visible that he knows right away he was right on the money.

"Y/N…" it’s almost a warning, but you still can’t find the courage to look at him. "You were seriously thinking of running away?!" he seems almost shocked.

"Okay, it’s not like I’m a teenager running away in the middle of the night after a fight with her parents!" you finally look at him. "I was just considering… I don’t know, maybe asking for a transfer?"

"So you actually want to leave the team just because you had a fight with Bucky?" He scoffs.

"It’s not just the fight, Steve, he knows I love him and he doesn’t even care!" You yell before sighing and lovering your voice.

"Do you realize how much that hurts? And now I’m supposed to, what? Just go back to how things used to be? Pretend like nothing happened? Even if we’re not friends anymore, he lives across the hall from me! I’m bound to see him and it’s gonna hurt every fucking time!" You’re almost crying, again, but you hold back not wanting to go through that again and you look away.

"I know it hurts, trust me, sweetheart, but… what about us?" you look at him again as he goes on. "We’re your team too. We’re your friends, we’re your family... You can’t just leave us. I'm not saying it's gonna be easy, but we can help you make it better. We all care about you a lot." It’s honestly a miracle you’re not crying already. You feel him take your hand, but don’t look away from his face.

"Please let us help you." you squeeze his hand and nod, not trusting your voice not to break and the flood to hit as soon as you open your mouth.

He smiles at you and you can’t help but do the same. "Good. Then let’s go up and have dinner like we always do." He starts walking and taking you with him, his hand still in yours.

While you’re waiting for the elevator you can’t hold yourself back as you turn to him and give him a tight hug. "Thank you."

He hugs you back just as tight. "Anytime, rookie." you snort and let go of him, giving him a punch in the arm you’re sure he didn’t even feel as he laughs with you.

When you get to the big kitchen most of the team is already there and you sit down next to Natasha while Steve sits at her other side.

The seat next to you is quickly occupied by Sam as he bings the pizza to the table. He gives you a side hug and squeezes your arm in sympathy but aside from that nobody even mentioned what happened last night, which you're grateful for.

You eat like always, having conversations, laughing and teasing each other like normal, you didn’t feel like anyone was pitying you and you realized Steve was right: these people are your family, you could never leave them.

And, as you watch Loki and Peter trying to make you laugh by messing with Thor’s hair, putting tiny umbrellas in it while he's not looking, you just know they’re gonna help you through everything.

What makes you sad to notice is that one brooding super soldier is missing, though you don’t bring it up for fear of opening that particular door.

And that’s how you spend the next few weeks: avoiding anything and everything that has to do with Bucky, including the man himself.

You start training with Natasha and realize how easy Bucky went on you.

You do more missions with Sam and Steve and realize that missions aren't as fun for everybody as they were for you and Bucky.

You hang out during your down time with pretty much everyone and realize that you couldn’t have as much fun with everyone as you had with Bucky.

So yeah, as much as you could avoid Bucky and talking about him to anybody, he lived rent free in your head.

Fun, huh?

It also didn’t help the look that Steve gave you every time you basically ran out of a room as soon as you caught a glimpse of your former best friend. 

Everybody noticed the change in your friendship, but it felt like they all took a silent oath to not mention anything to either of you, and you were glad they were respecting your choice to stay away from Bucky.

He, on the other hand, was going crazy.

He hasn’t seen you in weeks, except for those few seconds before you realize he’s in the same room and run away.

He doesn’t hear your voice unless he’s eavesdropping on you with someone else, but even then he never hears his name come out of your mouth.

Nobody will tell him anything about you, the only thing he can get out of Steve is ‘she’s okay, just give her time’.

He’s been trying his best to give you the space you need, but he feels like he’ll lose his mind if he doesn’t hear you say his name soon.

It’s been a month of successfully and not so subtly avoiding Bucky.

There was one time where, as the team about to land for a mission, he got much too close to you for your liking and you thought he was about to say something so you grabbed a parachute and quite literally jumped out the jet, then walked the rest of the way to the Hydra base.

Everyone had to wait for you, some annoyed, but most found the situation too amusing to be bothered by it.

Anyway. 

You’re at the gym for an early morning workout, a habit you took to when you started avoiding Bucky.

You know he usually stays up at night. Occasionally because he still gets nightmares, usually because his overthinking mind tortures him until early hours. So he uses mornings to sleep in when he doesn’t have missions.

You’re on the treadmill when you hear the doors of the gym open behind you but think nothing of it, assuming it’s just Steve replacing his morning run with a workout because it’s too hot to run outside.

When you don’t hear him say anything, you’re about to turn your head to see who it is, but before you can do anything you feel two hands, one cold and one hot, on your waist.

You squeal when they pick you up and take you away from the treadmill, setting you down on the ground in front of it before turning off the machine.

"Bucky, what the fuck?! I could’ve gotten hurt!" you were so shocked you didn’t even fully realize you were actually talking to the person you’ve spent so much time and effort avoiding, or that you were walking backwards while Bucky was getting closer to you.

"Oh please, I’d ever let you get hurt." he’s sounds almost amused, like this is a normal thing between you two, but the truth is he’s just happy that you’re actually talking to him.

When your back hits the wall you realize too late that it’s Bucky in front of you and suddenly you’re looking around you to find a way to escape. But all you find is that he’s successfully trapped you between the wall and his body, his hands on the wall at either side of your head.

You swallow hard and if he notices he doesn’t say anything, but your brain is too busy registering the warmth of his body so close to yours to even be ashamed right now.

"Is this the only way I’ll get to talk to you now?" you almost miss his question, your eyes snapping up to meet his and, where you expected to see a smug look at having caught you not only off guard but also ogling, you found a frown and a slight pout.

Something about the hurt on his face stopped you from lying or straight up kicking him so he’d move and you could run away.

No, Bucky was your best friend, you’ve always felt the need to be honest with him ever since that first day, and even now you owe it to him to tell him nothing but the truth.

"I just need time." You hoped he understood.

"How much more time do you need?" Apparently not.

"I don’t know, can’t you just be patient?" You can't believe you really have to ask him this.

"It’s been a month, doll, I think I’ve been plenty patient. Are you planning on avoiding me forever?"

"Not forever… just… I don’t know." If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know how long you would’ve kept on avoiding him.

You were so busy doing the actual avoiding that you didn’t take the time to think about when you’d be able to stop.

You let out a sigh, but didn’t look away from his eyes for a second. He needs to know you meant every word you're about to say. "I was hurting, Bucky. I still am. I get that you have a girlfriend-"

"I broke up with her." he interrupts you.

"You… What?" you weren’t expecting that. "When?"

"The night of our fight. I would’ve told you sooner but it was hard to catch you, you know, with you avoiding me and everything."

You almost lost your train of thought, but it didn’t matter that he was single, he was still the first one to walk away, why was it so wrong for you to do it now?

"It doesn’t matter… I know you don’t owe me anything, but you walked away from me. From my feelings." you can see Bucky’s confusion so, before he can say anything, you explain yourself.

"That night on the roof. I know you were there, you heard me say that I loved you and you walked away like it was nothing. Like I was nothing. I know you don’t like me like that, and I can live with that in time, but it hurt. It still hurts." you don’t know what you were expecting him to say, but it definitely wasn’t he says next.

"Do you remember the day we met?" you furrow your brows in confusion but he waits for you to nod before he keeps going. "We’ve never really talked about it, have we? It's ironic since we’ve talked about pretty much every topic we could possibly come up with. But that day, you introduced yourself and I just got up and walked away. Kind of what you’ve been doing this past few weeks."  he chuckles a bit and you have the impression he's getting closer to your face, but you're probably just imagining that.

"Yeah, I thought I did something wrong, but you were just a rude bitch." he laughs and you can’t help but smile.

"I’m sorry about that, I just… the second I saw you I felt weird. And when you talked to me it was too much, I couldn’t handle it. I didn’t know what I was feeling and my brain just screamed at me to get out, so I did. Then you came to my door and said all those nice things and that weird feeling started to feel more and more comfortable as you talked. It was nice. Then we became friends and I guess I just dismissed that feeling as friendship. It was a different type of friendship that I’d never had... But then again I’ve never been this close to a woman. Emotionally speaking, of course." His hand comes to cup your cheek and you can’t speak, so he takes the opportunity to say everything he needs to say.

"This month has been hell for me, doll. I’ve missed you more than I’ve ever missed anybody in my entire life. Not being able to spend time with you, joke around, talk to you, barely even see you. It's been driving me insane. Being away from you for so long made me realize what that feeling was. You’re not just my best friend, you’re my person. You’re my calm, and my reason. You’re my happiness, my home. You’re the love of my life."

"What?" you're basically whispering, so quietly you’re sure he wouldn’t have heard you if he didn’t have super hearing.

"I love you too, doll. I love you." he holds your face in his hands "I love you."

You feel like your brain shut down all of a sudden. You barely know how to breathe, let alone talk. All you can do is stare at him, the look he's giving you making you weak in the knees.

"You’re killing me here, doll. For the love of god, say something, angel." The nickname seems to snap you out of it, and there's only one thing in your mind left to ask.

"If you love me, why didn’t you tell me on the roof?" He let out a deep sigh, you can feel his breath on your lips, but you try your hardest to focus on his words and not his lips.

"For one I was still with Sharon. And I didn’t really know what I was feeling. Also, I wasn’t even sure you were serious. Honestly, I was just confused about the whole thing, and still mad about the fight. Nothing good would’ve come from me staying and talking to you that night. I probably would’ve ended up hurting you more." All that makes a lot of sense, sure, but it doesn't change the fact that it hurt.

The look in Bucky’s face at the moment though makes you want to forgive him right this second and let this whole thing go. Pretend like the last month didn’t happen. 

So that’s what you do.

"What if…" you start, looking back and forth between his eyes and his lips "what if we forget all of this happened?"

"No." he answered so fast and firmly that it made you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and disappointment. "I don’t want to forget anything about us, doll. Good or bad, it’s all worth it, as long as it ends with you in my arms."

You're melting and can't hold yourself back, you grab his face and bring his lips down to yours.

He freezes, probably not expecting it, but when you're about to pull away, he holds your face to keep you there, deepening the kiss.

After a few moments you hear someone clear their throat and almost throw Bucky off of you, looking behind him while he turns to see who it is and you see Steve and Sam standing there, amused looks on their faces.

"We were just talking." You blurted out and Sam cracked and almost doubled over with laughter.

"Really?" Steve said while raising an eyebrow, almost exasperated and knowing damn well what you were doing.

"Sure they were, Steve, she was obviously trying to get the word out of his mouth!" Sam said to the blonde, still laughing his ass off.

"Oh, of course she was. Tell us, sweetheart, what did you find in Bucky’s mouth?" Steve was now laughing too, and you were so embarrassed you hid your face in Bucky’s chest.

He wrapped his arms around you, barely glaring at the two laughing idiots. "Ok, just get out of here, punks." Fortunately for once in their lives they decided to actually listen and left, their laughs echoing through the halls.

"You okay there, doll?" Bucky was now chuckling at your embarrassment.

You raised your head and, meeting his eyes, you said "I can’t believe Captain Dumbass is making fun of us for kissing."

He started laughing and you gladly joined him, looking forward to making up for the time you missed with him, unknowingly promising each other to never let go of the other ever again.

taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @spookyparadisesheep @scott-loki-barnes @pattiemac1 @emerald-writes @sapphirebarnes

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Epilogue: It’s Not Over ‘Til You’re Underground]

A/N: We've finally reached the end of the Oregon Trail, besties!!! Enjoy this one last treat to celebrate the conclusion of Martyrs 🥰

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

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

Both the series title and epilogue title are lyrics from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Word count: 4.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Autumn is the harvest, ripping up roots, preparing for the starving time of winter, and so you step through the threshold of your new life as the world is ending again.

“I knew the chances,” Sophie says when you tell her what happened; but she can’t look at you, because of course she wishes it was Rio who made it to Odessa instead, and you don’t blame her. She breaks down and leaves the house, and you sit there—silent, sorry, self-loathing—for a long time with Rio’s weeping parents and Aegon’s arm draped across the back of your chair. But then Sophie comes back inside, and through tears she says it’s nice to meet you in person at last, and then she asks if you’d like to hold Rio’s son.

Here it is commonplace to see M16s and AR-15s, marijuana growing in gardens, a myriad of flags flying from homes—Don’t Tread On Me, Trump 2024, American flags, rainbow flags, porcupines of the Libertarian Party—and order is maintained by an elected council of longtime Odessa residents. For anyone to be allowed into the community, somebody already here must take responsibility for them, and so the seven of you—eight, counting Ice—spend the first few months sleeping on Rio’s parents’ living room floor and eating meals out of their cellar, enough self-stable food to last for years. You join the construction crew and help build houses, Cregan cuts down trees and fishes and hunts, Helaena shows Aegon how to garden and Sophie teaches Luke to bake bread. There are no doctors here, but there are several unlicensed midwives and a veterinarian named Ian Whitted. Rhaena studies under him—attending every appointment and taking copious notes in the spider notebook Helaena gifts her, sharing what she learned from Aemond—and before long her sutures are quicker and cleaner than Ian’s. Daeron, considered too young and inexperienced for the most dangerous work, is posted with his compound bow inside the village to serve as a guard. He resents this until he realizes there are far more women to flirt with here than out in the forest where wolves and bears prowl and the dead rove with incurable hunger.

You work from dawn to sunset; you work so you have no time to think. The baby doesn’t feel real, and neither does Aemond being gone, and the future is so unimaginable you’d rather not try to imagine it at all. Because you’re a good shot, they want you for patrols and raids of nearby towns to search for supplies, and you take every shift you’re offered until Rhaena says you have to stop. She tells you that each time you leave, Aegon watches the door until you walk through it again, that it’s not good for him, that it’s not good for you either. She says you can’t keep running from what’s happened.

“I’m not trying to run away,” you tell her where she’s cornered you by one of the wells, lilac twilight sky and glimmers of stars, hoots of owls and children laughing as they roast marshmallows over crackling fires. “I’m trying to find my way through.”

“Fine,” Rhaena replies firmly, no room for argument. “But you’re going to do that in here where it’s safe.”

The new houses have wooden walls and kitchen fireplaces made of stones, beds with feather mattresses, plots for gardens and pens for ducks, chickens, pigs, sheep, goats, turkeys, cattle. Helaena and Cregan move into one cabin, Rhaena and Luke share another, and you have the last to yourself, the first time you’ve ever lived alone. Aegon and Daeron float around between the houses, more often than not ending up in yours as the sun is dipping below the tree line into the west, Daeron carving wooden cutlery with a hunting knife, Aegon cuddling with Ice on the deerskin rug, luring you into disastrous baking attempts and games of Uno and telling stories about Washington D.C., Djibouti, Key West, Corpus Christi, Chinhae, Diego Garcia, Saratoga Springs before the dead began to walk.

Thanksgiving dinner is at Rio’s parents’ house, Sophie’s baby sound asleep in his blue sling, candles flickering and Ice lying beneath the table to gulp down scraps that fall to the floor: roasted turkey, hazelnut stuffing, buttered carrots, mashed potatoes, pickled beets, salad with homemade ranch dressing, pumpkin pie for dessert.

“God, I miss chilidogs,” Aegon mutters beside you, and you laugh—a real laugh, loud and helpless, a lightness flooding into your arteries and the marrow of your bones—for the first time since Aemond died.

“You have to try this,” Sophie says, pouring you a small glass of moonshine distilled with apples and cherries and cinnamon. Everybody else has already had a taste except Aegon. He doesn’t drink anymore, doesn’t smoke the weed people grow here, only keeps a few tobacco plants in your garden to enjoy on rare occasions.

“I can’t,” you tell Sophie, staring at the amber-colored moonshine. You are over three months along and will be showing soon. It materializes all at once, shifts from a hazy apparition to something in full focus: next Thanksgiving you will have a fatherless infant of your own.

Sophie is puzzled. The glass of moonshine waits untouched on the table. “Why not?”

“Because I’m pregnant,” you say.

Aegon chokes on his pumpkin pie. “You’re what?!”

And everyone except Helaena drops their forks and leaps up to engulf you: How long have you known? How far along are you? Why didn’t you tell us? How can we help?

You stop lifting heavy things and stay off of ladders. Helaena brings you kale and mushrooms, Sophie knits you baby clothes, Rio’s mom makes you candles infused with essential oils, lavender, chamomile, ginger, and you lie and say they make a difference. Aegon helps you build a crib; you don’t need his help, but still, he insists. Smiling to himself, he etches two words into the headboard: Mini Chips. Wheat is planted in the fields to the north of the village. Scrap metal is scavenged for the blacksmiths to melt down to make nails and bullets. You learn to sweeten desserts with honey instead of sugar and to hold your hand flat when you feed the baby goats so they won’t nibble your fingers. You wait for winter to thaw and summer to come back around again.

It is what people would call a bad birth: hemorrhaging and lots of stitches, Rhaena squinting in the glow of the flashlights trying to piece you back together, rain outside and no lidocaine. You can’t stop crying. You feel like you’re going to die, and you’re shaking too badly to hold your own child, and you want Aemond. He would know what to do, he would know how to make the world go quiet. And the truth that he will never meet his daughter hits you over and over again like cold lethal waves, like bullets that pierce the heart.

Aegon is here instead, and you want to cling to him but you can’t; if all the others could die, so can he. But even when you look away from him to stare at the wall he stays, his hand clutching yours and never complaining even when you squeeze it hard enough to leave bruises that paint him maroon and indigo, tilting glasses filled with fresh pomegranate juice against your lips, asking Rhaena and Ian what you will need from him as you recover. Slowly the house empties and everyone goes home, but Aegon stays through the night and never leaves again.

Harmony cries a lot, as if she already knows she’s lost someone. She has trouble nursing and only sleeps for a few hours at a time. People are always coming in and out of the house: Sophie with handknit clothes and blankets for the baby, Helaena with flowers and fruit and vegetables, Rhaena with loaves of Luke’s fresh-baked bread, Cregan with firewood. At first Aegon is better with Harmony than you are. You love her, of course, and you mourn for the life you cannot give her; but you can’t shake the feeling that someone left her on your doorstep, this fragile bewildering creature you are so unequipped to soothe. Yet Aegon picks her up and she stops crying. He carries her around the house and murmurs nonsense—rules of golf, sailing knots—and she gazes up at him mesmerized; and in the peace that grows from him like weeds, wild and inevitable, you can heal.

Aegon helps you walk for the first week after the birth. He brings you meals, overflowing plates you can never finish. He respectfully averts his eyes when you nurse the baby and when he passes the bedroom as you’re changing clothes, slowly and inelegantly, every muscle feeling shredded. He falls exhausted into bed beside you with his arms crossed over his chest so he won’t reach for you in his sleep. You keep waiting for him to start craving marijuana and moonshine, to meet someone who makes him wayward again while you are left here alone, morose and unglamorous and bleeding. You care about Aegon—entirely, violently—but you are convinced you’ll never love a man again. Perhaps love is something that is always doomed to be broken, ruinous, poisoned.

When Harmony is about four months old, you begin to see Aegon differently. You can’t stop staring at the way his hair shags over his eyes when he’s bent low in the garden, you hide behind walls and listen each time you catch him singing to himself, you feel a dark desperate sense of loss when other women flirt with him, though Aegon is never more than polite in return. You find excuses to touch him, and he always acquiesces: Let me bandage the cuts on your hands, let me dab honey on your sunburn.

One night you wake to find Aegon with Harmony in the kitchen, humming and rocking her in his arms as he paces back and forth across the wood floor in his bare feet, the full moon radiant through the window, the fireplace crackling. He glances over when he notices you standing in the doorway and says: “I think this is the only thing I’ve ever been good at.”

“Aegon?”

“Yeah, Chips.”

“I’m in love with you.”

At first he is startled, and then he smiles in the firelight, a slow mischievous curve of the lips that puts stars in his eyes and shows his teeth. “Took you long enough.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Nearly ten years ago, you were learning how to be a builder at Class A Technical School in Gulfport, Mississippi, salt and sun and sweet tea and humidity that lies heavy like a second skin you can’t shed. Today you are hammering nails into boards that will be a wall of the new meeting house, twice the square footage of the old one. The community here keeps growing.

“Watch out for your fingers, Zack Attack.”

 Zack looks over at you. He’s a kid, nineteen, and he’s only been here a week. He left Beaumont, Texas with a group of thirty people, one of them the cousin of a council member here. Twelve were left when they arrived. “Huh?”

“You’re holding the nail too close to the bottom,” you say. “If you swing the hammer and miss—and you will miss, everyone does sometimes, even me—you’ll crush your fingers against the wood. But if you hold the nail up near the top, the hammer will kind of knock them out of the way as it comes down, and you won’t have to worry about Rhaena or Ian popping your bones back into place.”

“Oh, cool! Thanks!” Zack readjusts his hands. “Where’d you learn to do all this?”

“The Navy.”

“Right. That makes sense.” He gives you a crooked, conspiratorial grin. “I heard you’re a good shot.”

“I am, I guess.” You don’t do patrols anymore, but you’re on the list of people to call when there’s a security breach, and you go because you have to. If Odessa is ever overrun, that will be the end of the life you’ve made here. The last scare was two months ago, a hoard that wandered up from the south, probably out of Klamath Falls. Someone knocked and you answered, leaving Aegon standing in the doorway with troubled eyes, Noah in his arms asking: Where Mama go? And Aegon had told him She’ll be back soon, buddy, but of course no one had known if that was true.

Now Zack says admiringly: “A real killer.”

You smile and give him a slap on the shoulder as you start climbing down the ladder. “I’d rather be a builder.”

“You heading out?”

“Yeah, my kids probably miss me.”

“See ya tomorrow. Bring more of Aegon’s raspberry crumb muffins.”

You laugh. ���If there are any left.”

Down on the ground, bumblebees orbit tufts of wildflowers and cats prowl for mice. Sitting cross-legged on the grass are kids rubbing nails against bars of goat milk soap; it makes them go into the wood easier. They play the same way you did as a child: in the dirt, in the wild, tracking animals and building dams in the creek. They wave as you pass by. Everyone knows each other here. Everyone knows what you can do with the Beretta M9 in your holster.

Beside one of the wells, Daeron is helping a flock of tittering, blushing women pull up their buckets and plucking stray blades of grass and pine needles out of their hair. He is easily the most eligible bachelor in Odessa, and in no hurry to take himself off the market. By the schoolhouse, two teenagers are petting Ice as they listen to Aegon’s pink Sony Walkman and rap along to Gold Digger: “You will see him on tv, any given Sunday, win the Super Bowl and drive off in a Hyundai…”

But at Sophie’s house, the song you hear is Darius Rucker’s Wagon Wheel, drifting from a battery-powered boombox containing one of Rio’s dad’s cassette tapes. Aegon is already here and dusted with earth, your children clamoring around his legs as he chats with Sophie at the edge of the garden: zucchini, snap peas, tomatoes, strawberries, spinach, potatoes, cucumbers, carrots, kale. When Aegon sees you, he lights up and says to the kids: “Look! Look who’s here!” And you crouch down and open your arms so you can catch all three of them as they barrel into you on small, wobbly legs.

The second birth was much easier, the third only lasted an afternoon. Opal, three years old, is named after a gemstone that Sophie told you symbolizes hope and clarity; Noah, two and with unruly blonde hair like Aegon’s, shares a name with the man who started over when the world flooded and all the generations before were lost. You pick him up before he can trip over his own feet.

“Mama, come see!” Harmony shouts, grabbing your free hand and dragging you to a hutch full of fluffy, multicolored rabbits. Aegon is walking over to join you, his hands in his pockets and a soft smile on his lips, long blonde hair and stubbled cheeks.

“Are these the new meat rabbits?” you say without thinking, and Aegon widens his eyes at you.

Harmony peers up with a worried frown. She’s getting too smart to be shielded from such harsh realities. “Why did you call them meat rabbits?”

Aegon swoops Harmony off the ground to distract her. “Because they’re so excited to meet you!” he says as she giggles and kicks through open air.

“What are their names?” you ask to change the subject.

“Arrax,” Opal says in her toddler lisp, pointing to a grey one. And then, indicating a rabbit with long, reddish-tan fur: “Morning.”

“Those are such nice names!” you gush, a bit perplexed. Children have a certain mystery to them, one foot still in the Great Beyond, wherever souls wait to be born and reunited.

“And this one is Sunfyre,” Harmony announces proudly, reaching through the wire to scratch its straw-colored coat.

“Sunfyre?!” Aegon says. “Well now you’re just making shit up.” A pause. “Stuff. You’re making stuff up.”

“And Sunfyre is married to Dreamfyre.”

“Cute,” Aegon says. “Incestuous, but cute.”

“The post-apocalypse dating pool is limited,” you remind him.

“Have you met the Texas people yet?” Sophie asks you as she wanders over to the hutch in a handknit yellow dress, wearing elephant earrings that Rio once mailed home to her from Djibouti.

“Yeah, some of them are working on the meeting house. They seem really nice. And apparently they know how to barbeque, so that’s exciting. New recipes!”

Sophie smirks. “When they dropped by to introduce themselves, I had to have the whole conversation again.”

“Well…you did name your kid Otter.”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Sophie says, chuckling, showing her palms. “I did not name him Otter.”

“You named him Bryan Otter Osorio. And you call him Otter.”

“Because he’s a little kid and it’s a perfectly fine nickname for now! And then when he’s older…you know…he can decide who he wants to be.”

You smile. “Sure.”

“I think it’s great, personally,” Aegon says. “I’m hoping I’ll get to name my next one Softshell Turtle.”

“Absolutely,” you deadpan. “And what if it’s a girl?”

“Softshell Turtle is obviously unisex.”

Sophie is laughing and shaking her head. “I hate you guys.”

Helaena and Cregan arrive to pick up their children, two sets of twins, all named after species of butterflies: Skipper, Adonis, Tiger, Sara. Rio’s parents bring them outside to the garden to be collected. They and Sophie like to keep the house full of children, especially now that Otter is getting older. And when they need meat or firewood or their roof patched, they know who to ask.

“I’m so sorry,” Sophie tells Helaena and Cregan as they wrangle their brood. “I’m mortified. Adonis ate Harmony’s oatmeal raisin cookie and made her cry, so Otter smacked him in the head with his golf club.” Aegon has carved miniature, lightweight clubs out of pine wood for each of the children; they zip around putting acorns and walnuts. “Adonis was freaked out but I think he’s fine now. I couldn’t find a bruise or anything. Again, I’m so, so, so sorry.”

“You okay, buckaroo?” Cregan asks, and his oldest son—brunette man bun, already pestering his dad to take him hunting—nods adamantly.

“Duh. It didn’t even hurt.”

Cregan guffaws and turns back to Sophie. “See? No harm done.”

Otter trots out of the house, rubbing his eyes like he just woke up from a nap. Harmony immediately runs over to hug him. He’s already six inches taller than her and is always giving her gifts that end up on the fireplace mantle at your house: flecks of quartz, pinecones, bracelets woven from buttercups.

Sophie asks Otter: “Did you think about what you did earlier?”

“Yeah,” he replies cavalierly.

“Would you do it again?”

“Probably.”

“Oh dear,” Sophie exhales, exasperated.

You beam down at Otter. “He’s exactly like Rio.”

“Yeah,” Sophie says wistfully, combing her fingers through his dark curly hair. “He really is.”

Rhaena and Luke happen to be strolling by and stop to say hello. Luke teaches English classes at the schoolhouse, founded the Cultural Preservation Committee, and writes and directs a new play each month. When he is in the lull between original ideas, he draws from pre-zombie pop culture. The June production is Free Britney.

“Hi!” Rhaena says, waving. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?” All the adults offer greetings and confirm they’ll swing by her and Luke’s cabin in a few hours. Then Rhaena shields her eyes from the sun as she sighs incredulously. “Do you realize there are ten women due in the next two weeks? I spend all day rushing around because they’re panicking about Braxton Hicks contractions. If I get one full night’s sleep between now and mid-July, it’ll be a miracle. Am I the only human alive who knows how to use the rhythm method? I explain it! I give lessons!”

You laugh and say: “I think people just really want babies, Rhaena.”

“They’re so sweet,” Helaena coos as she snuggles Sara against her chest.

“Gotta repopulate the planet,” Cregan adds.

Rhaena is disturbed. “I don’t feel ready for that.”

“Totally cool,” you assure her. “Helaena and I are keeping the average up.”

That night, logs pop and hiss in the fireplace and wind howls outside through the forest. On the walls are photographs of Aemond and Helaena and Daeron, drawings that the children have scribbled of you and Aegon. Propped in one corner of the living room is Aegon’s acoustic guitar; Harmony’s current favorite song for him to play is Big Girls Don’t Cry, though a slightly censored version of Fergalicious is a close second. Tomorrow is Aegon’s birthday. You have a cake hidden in one of the kitchen cabinets—cinnamon, honey, buttercream frosting—that you baked this morning before leaving for the construction site, along with 35 small homemade candles dyed green with chamomile. Every year he assumes you’ve forgotten, but you never do. You’re so thankful he was born. You are eternally finding new ways to convince him of this.

All five of you cuddle up in the big bed for story time. You begin as you always do, struggling to capture the kids’ attention as they crawl around giggling and rolling on top of each other: “Hey, hey, everyone look at me. You remember what we say.” Harmony knows this part my heart, Opal has the words mostly right, Noah gives it a solid effort as he mauls on a teddy bear Sophie knitted for him. “You’re beautiful. I love you. You’re doing the right thing.”

“What story should Mama tell tonight, huh?” Aegon asks as you open the book of fairytales borrowed from the makeshift community library, another one of Luke’s projects. “The Little Mermaid, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, Beauty and the Beast…oh wait, I think I might be in that one…”

Harmony says to you: “Tell the story about how Aemond saved us from the tower.”

Children understand death here. People get infections, people succumb to cancer or heart attacks or strokes or diabetes, people go out on raids or patrols and never come back, one man contracted rabies from a bat bite and was—at his request—euthanized via gunshot. Harmony is aware she had a father before Aegon, but that he had to go to heaven early, and so Aegon is her father now and loves her completely. She knows Aemond’s face from the photographs Helaena took from the beach house on the Pacific Ocean. She knows the kind of person he was from the stories she’s been told. Harmony envisions a fantastical castle keep instead of a stark metal transmission tower draped in dead wires, and she’s a bit unclear on the chronology of when she entered the picture, but she has heard about the journey to Odessa. Aegon’s map, annotated with glittery green gel pen ink, hangs on the kitchen wall.

You close the book, looking at Harmony: your hair, Aemond’s eyes. “Okay. I can tell that one.”

“Mama…” Her little forehead crinkles, questions she is at last getting old enough to start asking. “Why do some people have to go to heaven before they’re old?”

You hesitate, trying to decide how to explain; and now embers are glowing hot and scarring in your throat. It’s a fire that cools and rekindles but never burns out. Aegon speaks instead. “Because they’re heroes, Mini Chips,” he says gently. “They go to heaven so other people get to stay here longer. Aemond went to heaven so you and your mom could live here in Odessa with me.”

“So Otter’s daddy was a hero too?”

Aegon leans down to kiss the top of her head, his eyes shining. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Not just a hero, you think. A martyr. Someone who dies for a cause.

Harmony is patting your arm with her tiny outstretched hand. “The tower, Mama. Tell us about the tower.”

Now you are there again with Rio: sixty feet off the ground and clinging to metal beams hot enough to put blisters on your palms, cascading June sunlight and wild emerald fields, blood and madness behind you, the mirage of Oregon ahead, believing without reason that someone out there will save you.

And they will; they will.

[wedriftlikelonelyplanets]

18. "You look like hell" "I feel like it." Landoscar

From this prompt list (still accepting prompts)

OKAY SO THIS IS UH...not super angsty but it's sick-fic-y. ANYHOW here have a present. Amorphous Landoscar relationship (they're totally dating but neither of them know it yet)

Oscar’s buried under the covers, can’t stop himself from sniffling pathetically, blowing his nose into a tissue, before he adds to the pile that’s already building up on the bedside table. It doesn’t do anything to abate the congestion headache pounding in his temples, the pressure behind his eyes, and he lets out a mournful little sound into the silence of his bedroom, the fractured light sneaking in from under the blinds making everything just a little worse. 

He pulls the blanket over his head again when he hears his phone vibrate once, twice, three times, before it stops. It vibrates once more, a few moments later. It’s just his iPhone reminding him that someone’s sent him a handful of text messages. He blindly reaches his hand out for his phone, trying to find out where he tossed it amongst his sheets when he hears a knock at the door. He lets out a garbled groan, wrapping the blanket more tightly around himself. If he ignores it, maybe they’ll go away, and he can maybe talk himself into going back to sleep for a long enough time that he can take more cold medicine when he wakes up. 

So he shifts under the covers, onto his stomach, side of his face pressed into the pillow, in hopes that the position will help his overstuffed nose drain while he’s attempting to go back to sleep. Every movement sends a sharp jolt of pain through his skull, and he flexes his jaw, tries to unplug his ears to try and relieve just a bit of the pressure. It doesn’t work, and apparently, neither is ignoring the knocking. Because he hears it again, persistent, too loud, fracturing the silence, and any idyllic attempt he had at sleeping. 

“Oscar, answer the bloody door, mate,” 

It’s Lando. Because of course it’s Lando. And Oscar still hasn’t found his phone, buried in the covers to see if they’d had plans today. 

And honestly, he can’t be arsed to care anyways, because he hardly has the energy to drag himself out of bed. He wouldn’t have bothered to have made plans if he’d known that he’d be incapacitated like this, pathetic and ill, with this fucking headache. 

He doesn’t even know if he has the energy to let Lando into his space, because sometimes it feels like Lando is just perpetual motion and sound. As much as he likes Lando’s company, right now it feels like it’s just going to worsen the throbbing behind his eyes. 

“Oi, Osc, I know you’re in there,” the longer he leaves Lando out there, the more annoyed he sounds, and Oscar truly doesn’t think he’s going to go away. “Fuck off, mate,” he grumbles, as he drags himself out of bed, keeps the duvet tightly wrapped around himself, because the air feels too-cold against his skin. Shambles his way to the door, twists the deadbolt and opens the door as Lando’s raising his fist to knock again. 

“Christ, Oscar, you look like hell,” they’re the first words out of Lando’s mouth, and Oscar can feel his own lips tug downwards in a frown, brows furrowed. He knows he looks like shit, in three days old sweats and a t-shirt that’s clinging to him with sweat. He’s fever-flushed and he knows his hair’s probably a greasy rat’s nest. But he also hadn’t asked Lando to visit. 

“No shit,” he says, voice hoarse and garbled from the congestion, “I feel it, too.” The words are uttered flatly, and he’s forced to step out of the way as Lando pushes his way into Oscar’s apartment. And once again, Oscar still doesn’t know why he’s here. They’re not dating, they’re not really anything yet, and he doesn’t really want Lando to see him like this, pathetic and tragic. “Th’ fuck do you want,” he mumbles, as he locks the door behind Lando. 

“You didn’t answer any of my texts,” is Lando’s simple justification, as he eyes Oscar from a safe distance. “Could’ve just told me you were sick or something, would’ve left you well enough alone. You’re looking proper gross.” 

It lacks any form of reassurance, and Oscar just rolls his eyes, shuffling his way back to bed. “Thanks for the observation, Lando. If that’s all you’re here for, you can leave,” he can’t help the sharpness that bleeds into his tone. “Not really feeling up to company, mate,” and there’s a sharp flicker of something devastated that bleeds into Lando’s face for a moment, before he presses his lips together. 

“Tried a hot shower?” He asks, when Oscar’s halfway back to his bedroom, and Oscar has to expel a long breath before he says something sharper than he means it to be. “Head’s hurt too much to move around a lot,” it’s a little more transparent than he wants to be. When he’s feeling like shit, he prefers to just be left alone to take care of himself, instead of forcing his grumpy attitude on others. Lando’s no exception. 

“Hm,” Lando says, catching his lower lip between his bottom teeth before he approaches Oscar cautiously, reaching out to push messy brown hair off his forehead. He can barely hide the grimace when he pulls his fingers back, like it’s too disgusting to have touched Oscar’s greasy hair. “You feel like you’ve got a proper fever, yeah?” 

“C’mon, go back to bed, I’ll start the shower for you, yeah?” it’s an offer he’s not expecting, can’t hide the surprise written into his features. “What?” Oscar blinks at Lando, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“You’re proper pathetic, Oscar, let me help,” 

So he listens, stumbles back to bed and falls into it face first, listens to Lando putter around his flat, as he closes his eyes. It’s a weird sort of intimacy, hearing Lando crashing about, the squeak of the tap in his bathroom, the sound of running water. 

“Oi, you really don’t have anything nice to put in a bath?” Lando’s shouting from the bathroom, still too loud, the sound like a dagger to his head. Oscar buries his face further into the pillow with a groan. Wants to snap at Lando because does he? Does he have a bathroom full of bubble baths and luxurious soaps? Doesn’t feel like either of their styles, but he might be wrong. 

“Reckon you wanna shut the fuck up, mate,” Oscar mutters into his pillows, quiet enough that Lando’s not going to fucking hear it. 

He hears Lando again, footsteps heavy as he makes his way back to Oscar’s bedroom. When Oscar twists his head out of the pillows, Lando’s leaning against his doorframe, dissatisfied look on his face. “Reckon it would kill you to be a little quieter?” He asks, tone once again sharper than he means it to be, and Lando just snorts out a soft laugh, lips quirking up at the corners. “Would it kill you to have at least a singular essential oil in your bathroom, mate?” Lando’s voice is teasing, light, though it sounds a little more forced than it should. “Wanted to draw you a bath instead of a damn shower,” and Oscar appreciates the sentiment. 

“S’not going to make a difference,” Oscar says, miserable, moves to bury his face back into his pillow. It’s too much, the presence of Lando in his flat, ever-large. The fact that Lando’s trying to take care of him. All of it, coupled with the fact that he feels like shit has tears welling, tightness in the back of his throat. “It’s fine, whatever, I’ll just go back to bed,” his voice comes out higher than he means it to, and Lando makes a soft sound.

Oscar hears the creak of the mattress before he feels it displace, and then Lando’s stretching out beside him, reaching out and placing his hand on the back of Oscar’s neck in a way that feels almost proprietary, despite the fact that Lando doesn’t really have a claim to him like that. 

He wishes Lando did. 

His thumb digs into a tender spot along the side of his neck, and Oscar can’t help the sound he lets out, going limp into the mattress with a soft sound. “Just go back to sleep, yeah, Osc? I’ll deal with everything else, get you a bath in a bit,” Lando’s voice murmured into his ear. 

The weight of Lando’s hand, the soft sound of his breathing is enough to have Oscar’s eyes drifting shut. 

He wakes up in bed alone, can smell something that is distinctly chicken noodle soup, and can hear the water running in the bathroom. His headache’s ebbing, and he still feels the ghost of Lando’s fingers on the back of his neck. His nose is still stuffed and tender, and his throat still feels raw, and he feels the aching loneliness of waking up alone. 

“Lando?” He calls out. 

“Yeah, be there in a sec,” is Lando’s reply, and Oscar allows himself to relax. 

It’s nothing, really. Just two friends caring for each other. 

It’s nothing, but he wishes it were something. 

(It’s definitely something).

[reverse1999fics]

Hallo! I not sure request is open if is not feel free to decline this sorry! If is alright could i request 6 and medicine pocket separately with a shy and timid s/o who worries a lot and hides behind them doesn’t have any friends but likes to just be by their side most of the time and clings to them? Hope you have a nice day!

Woohoo! Back on that grind and cranking out requests!! They are open btw!!

Please forgive me if either of them are a little ooc! I don't have MP and I skipped through the story so I don't entirely know 6's personality all that well!!

Medicine Pocket & 6 w/a Timid/Shy S/O (separate)

Medicine Pocket is someone with a very flamboyant personality, always being able to speak their mind. They never quite understood why or how you could be so timid, but that didn't stop them from loving you all the same.

Their tall physic let off an intimidating aura to those who didn't know them properly, but to you it was a source of comfort. Their height makes it easy for you to hide behind, holding their hand or a part of their coat and trailing behind them like a child would play follow the leader. Of course Medicine Pocket had no issue with this, even taking pride in how safe you'd feel around them and only them.

No matter that you don't have many friends, neither do they due to how... Different they are to others, all they need is to be in your company they say. Others were frustrating and didn't understand what they were trying to say, what they meant, but you did. You always understood their words and actions, so you were the only person they truly wanted to be around.

Clingy? You? Clearly you've never met them because goodness only knows how much they love to be around you. Even if it were you just simply being in the same room as them, they want to be near you. You know them better than anyone else, understand their weird antics and never judge them for how they acted or what they did. That was something they held close to their heart, right next to you, so of course your affection is needed on a daily basis! Sit next to them while they work on projects or go through paperwork, lay your head on their shoulder, read a book on the couch they moved in the room just for you, take a nice nap, sit on their lap, let them sit on your lap! Anything, as long as you were with them.

6 is a person driven to perfection when it comes to his work, someone strict with his rules and follows them all to a T. You, are a slight exception though. Oh how adorable you are to him, holding onto his sash while standing behind him, cowering from the other numbers like a little kitten. He had a soft spot for you, that much was clear to everyone

Being of high status on the island, he was a busy person, usually so busy he comes off as a recluse. But never was he too busy to ignore you even for a moment. Come into his arms after a long day of interacting with people, sit in his lap and rest to regain your social battery while he works on equations and problem solving. Your battery recharges just as much as his does, so let him rest his head on yours for a moment but don't question his closed eyes. He's just letting them rest for a moment.

You need not worry about not having many friends, he wouldn't say he has many either, if any at all. You are his one and only, why pay attention to others when he has you to keep him company? He'd rather stay home with you by his side with a good book of philosophy rather than go out with others. His robes will keep you warm, so snuggle up to his side and read along with him if you do so please.

His personality severely contradicts your own, having a more serious and stern personality that goes against your timid one, but that never stops him from loving you all the same. Should the two of you be away from each other he'll leave a piece of him with you, perhaps something on his person he wears often, or maybe a book he knows you'd like. When he is with you he'll never mind you grabbing a hold of his hand, even when others are around. He finds it adorable how you seem to try and melt into his arm as you hold onto it while others are around and chatting.

[blingblong55]

Masters pet- F!Reader x Ghoap NSFW

Photo Credits: @ave661 (Left and centre) ---- F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, rough!sex, Ghost x reader x Soap, three!some, edging, unprotected!sex, mentions of anal!sex, M4MF ----

Soap's cock in your tight pussy while Ghost fucks your tight ass hole like a dog in heat. You beg and beg but neither will stop. Although Soap gives you occasional praises, Ghost is all about fucking you dumb and degrading you and making you repeat that you are nothing but a worthless slut who is only good for being used.

"Good girl"

"Dumb fucking slut"

All night, your pretty little holes get spread apart for their meaty cocks. This is all because it was part of their welcoming to the relationship and also because Soap wanted a pretty pet.

Ghost has Soap as his pet but good boys get rewarded and Soaps reward was you...and somewhat Ghost's reward.

Their thick cum leaking from all your holes. Your legs shaking after many and I mean many hours of getting fucked like you were nothing but a toy.

And of course, Ghost also makes you wear a collar. His pets must have to show who owns them after all.

Your body covered in bruises, bite marks and some blood from where they bit you too hard. Your voice gone by now as you begged and cried to have them stop.

"Toys don't fucking talk!" A slap to your face as a reminder of where you belong. Not once was a safe word used so they knew all those begs and cries were for nothing.

When they denied all your orgasms, you whined and whined and each time you did, their fat cocks would only fuck you harder. That night, you came once all while they came more than five times.

Soap seven times, since he was being such a good boy Ghost have him one extra fuck to the new toy and a teased and needed blowjob.

Aftercare was sweet. and much more fun when Ghost watched his two pretty pets cuddle and whimper together. He wouldn't admit it but he filmed the whole thing, from beginning to end. And, when his pretty pets misbehave, he shows them the video and tells them that they can all have a good fuck if they behave, but he never fulfills this.

After all, whatever master says goes.

A/N: Thanking this link for the wave of thought

Now to the HC

Ghost loves to remind Soap and you that you are still his submissive pets.

There will always be a collar, bracelet or mark to show you are his property.

Sex is literally the best because both of them LOOOVVEEE to fuck you and overstimulate you, like it's no joke, they love it so much it's now become more of a reward for them.

Soap adores to watch you cry and beg because Ghost keeps edging you and ruining your orgasms.

If it wasn't for Ghost being the literal best Dom there would be an OF where Soap and you would be used over and over for his pleasure as well as clips of you getting all your orgasms ruined.

There is a closet where toys, lube and some clothes are in and it's locked because Ghost knows his pets would open it, play with each other and without his permission.

There are days where he has to tie Soap and you up and watch Ghost stroke himself. When Soap whines enough and begs saying he will be a good boy, Ghost unties him and Soap finally gives his master head.

Sometimes, when Soap behaves so well he is given permission to tape a vibrator to your thigh and watch as you cry because of how many orgasms you've had.

Safe words are a thing but the use of them are rare.

This man has a list of all the kinks, fetishes, wants, needs and the don'ts. (Ghost)

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@ghostslillady @unicorngirly1 @nymph-psychology @funckycunt @queen-ilmaree @liyanahelena @ghostlymostlywholettheghostout @lunas-876 @thevoidwriting @clear-your-mind-and-dream @veenasmonter @cringeycookies

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[writinginatree]

Safe Space

Relationship(s): Bodhi Durran & fem!Riorson!reader

Summary: The crowded first-year dorm sucks, especially when you have social anxiety and everyone wants you dead simply for being Fen Riorson's daughter. After yet another attack on you, your older cousin Bodhi lets you hide away in his room for the night.

Warnings: Blood and canon-typical violence, reader has social anxiety, vague mention of nightmares, slight spoilers for Iron Flame if you squint

Maybe you're too naive, but this is not what you thought life in the Riders Quadrant would be like.

Of course you'd known it was kill or be killed in here, that people weren't looking to make friends. And of course you'd known there would be those that saw the relic on your arm and instantly decided to hate you — those that would hear your last name and want you dead for what your father did. You'd thought you were prepared, that you could handle it. But now, mere weeks into your first year, you're not sure how much longer you can go on like this. It's so much worse than you ever could have imagined.

Everyone hates you.

Even your squad mates barely deem you worthy of acknowledging your existence. Maybe that's on you — you hadn't bothered to try and befriend them. The stress of that first day had left you with no energy left to socialize, and by the second one, everyone else had already seemed to know each other, and you hadn't dared intrude. You'd sat by yourself at breakfast, knowing it would seal your fate as an outsider. The only people who are ever nice to you are the other marked ones. Still, you're too shy to actually befriend any of the other marked first-years, to talk to any of them that you don't already personally know. Everyone's too busy focusing on their own survival, anyway.

You tell yourself you don't mind being alone, and for the most part it's true. The dirty looks and whispered slurs constantly thrown your way, on the other hand, are harder to deal with — even more so than physical attacks. When someone tries to kill you — sometimes because they think having social anxiety makes you weak and a liability, more often simply because of your last name — all you have to do is fight. And that you can do just fine.

Still, they never give you a break. Even at night you can't get any peace. The Codex might prevent your enemies from killing you in your sleep, but there are no rules to stop them from keeping you awake to torment you.

You'd chosen the bed in the farthest corner of the room, thinking most people would prefer not having to walk that far, but unfortunately there are so many cadets it doesn't make a difference. There's not a shred of privacy or quiet to be had, and worst of all, the woman in the bed next to yours fervently hates all marked ones. Apparently one of her parents had been killed in the rebellion, and since it had been your father who'd started the whole thing, she hates you especially. Unlike you, she easily made friends, all of whom delight in helping her torment you.

So far, she hasn't dared to try to outright kill you — maybe because she saw what happened to others who'd been stupid enough to try. Shy as you are, you might appear to be an easy target, but luckily your social anxiety does not affect your combat skills. Verbally taunting you seems to be her favorite pastime, though. Maybe it's your own fault for not talking back. You tried at first, but you're neither as confident nor as good with words as Xaden, and soon accepted that there's no use arguing with people who want to hate you. So now you just keep silent when your bed-neighbor reminds people that you're the Great Betrayer's daughter, tells them you'll turn against Navarre too, suggests getting rid of you before you can do so. The unfairness of it all makes you want to scream, to hurl the truth about your father's rebellion at their faces, but of course you can't do that. You can only say that they don't know you, don't know what you will or won't do — which already proved to be nothing but a waste of breath.

Tonight seems to be no different from all the other nights — people throwing dirty looks at you as you walk past them to your bed, someone purposely bumping into you, others pointedly ignoring you. The girl in the bed next to yours who hates you so much glares at you the whole time you're preparing to get into bed, and it's only thanks to her gaze flicking behind you that you become aware of another person sneaking up on you.

You continue unlacing your boots, not wanting to give away that you've noticed it, but every fibre of your body is on alert, ready to pull one of your daggers any second. While you already shoved most of them under the bed for the night as you always do, there are two you never remove, precisely for moments like this. Fresh out of the shower, already in your sleeping clothes, seemingly defenseless. The perfect opportunity for an enemy to strike. Of course there theoretically could be a perfectly harmless reason for someone to approach you, but you don't believe that for even a second. Whenever anyone decides to acknowledge you in here, it's never a good thing. That goes doubly when the person is making an effort to be silent in their approach.

Well, you're ready. In fact, you've been waiting for something to happen. It's been too long since the last attack on you, and the wait — because you know there's always going to be a next time — has been driving you up the walls with restlessness. You're almost glad it's happening now.

Just as you step out of the second boot, the person behind you closes in on you. You whirl around to face her, pulling your knife as you straighten and take a fighting stance. You're cornered between two beds and a wall with barely any space to move around, but that's exactly why you waited for her to advance on you. You prefer it like this. This way, no other enemies can attack you from behind while you fight this one. She seems to be alone, but you wouldn't put it past the girls in the beds nearby — all of them already watching — to stab you in the back if given the opportunity.

The blonde before you has a dagger in each hand, and wastes no time trying to put them to use on you. You don't recall having seen her before, can only guess at her motivations for going after you. Doesn't matter. She's about to regret it.

You duck under the blade swiping at your face and grip the attacker's other wrist, twisting hard until she yelps in pain. The dagger in that hand goes clattering to the floor. You kick it to the side, not looking under whose bed it winds up. Just as you hoped, the blonde makes the mistake of following it with her eyes. It draws her attention away for only a second, but that's all you need to land an elbow to her face, sending her stumbling backwards. She catches herself quickly, lifting the arm with the remaining weapon to block the attack you follow up with.

Throwing herself at you, she manages to tackle you to the ground. The blade races at your neck so fast you barely manage to beat it aside. Your cheek stings, warm blood trickling down.

Too close. That was too damn close. You need to get the upper hand. Now.

You pull your knees to your chest, ramming your feet in the woman's stomach with as much force as you can to get some room. Raising on your knees, you bury your dagger in her shoulder to the hilt. She cries out, but continues to hold on to her dagger. It's a split second decision to leave yours where it is and wrap both of your hands around the blonde's wrist, turning her blade on herself. A waterfall of blood follows the dagger when you pull it from her stomach again, letting go to wrench your own weapon from her shoulder.

The wannabe-assassin is weakened now, and you know the fight is as good as won. She makes one last futile attempt to stab you. You beat the blade aside easily, lifting your own and putting it straight through her heart.

You watch as she collapses, willing your own racing heart to calm down. Once you're sure she's actually dead, you rise from the floor, the slowly spreading puddle of blood warm against your bare feet. You can only pray you won't slip in it as belated panic threatens to overcome you.

This is not the first kill you've made — that had been on your third day here, when two giant brutes had jumped you and Bodhi in an empty hallway — and you're sure it'll be far from the last. You wonder how long it'll take until you get used to it, until the feeling of flesh giving way beneath your blade and the stench of blood will make you feel nothing anymore.

The room is unnervingly quiet as you step away from the body, the attention of everyone close-by focused on you and the blade in your hand. As though they're scared that this fight awakened your taste for blood, that you'll turn around and attack one of them next. You almost laugh at the thought. She attacked you, not the other way around. But she's the one that's dead now, so no one cares about that. So you're the one they fear.

Fine. Let them. Fear is better than contempt.

You wipe the blade on your pajama pants, and return it to the sheath strapped to your ankle. You should clean it properly, you know, but that'll have to wait. Even the thought of it is too exhausting right now.

You just want to get out of here. Fuck the curfew, fuck the corpse cooling between the rows of beds. Someone else will clean it up, you're sure. They won't want to go to sleep while the dead girl's blank eyes stare at them like that. You don't care what they think as you stride from the room, face schooled into a mask of calm indifference as everybody's eyes follow you and the bloody footprints you leave. Don't care if one of them will go running to your wingleader to tell him you're breaking the curfew. You have to get out, before you break down in front of all these people. They'd love to see it, wouldn't hesitate a second to kick you while you're down.

In the hall, you take a deep breath, but instead of the clean air you expected, you only get more of that smell of blood. For a second you wonder if it's just your imagination, then you realize where it's coming from — your top is soaked with the dead woman's blood, your hair literally dripping with it.

You should probably turn back to grab some clean clothes, then go take a shower. But you don't want to go back in there. They'd stare even more. Probably laugh at you for walking out without a plan and having to come back for fresh clothes. No. You're at your fucking limit for dealing with people. There's only one person you want to see right now — one person you can stand to be around right now — so you turn toward the staircase that will take you to the third-years' dormitories.

Bodhi must have still been awake too, because he answers his door upon the first knock. He only opens the door a crack wide at first, wary of who might come knocking at this hour, but throws it wide open at the sight of you drenched in blood. Worry furrows his brows as he pulls you into the room, gaze flying over you to figure out the source of the blood. He relaxes a little when he finds no injuries other than the small cut on your cheek and a scraped elbow, but his voice remains tense as he asks what happened.

You shrug. "Some girl wanted to kill me." Again, you don't have to add. You know Bodhi has been keeping count of the attacks made on you. You also know he's been disposing of anyone who threatened you that you didn't immediately deal with yourself, though he's clearly trying to be subtle about it.

"I take it she's dead now?"

"Mhmm."

"And you're okay, yeah?"

"Yeah. Just— Can I have a hug?"

Bodhi nods, and, despite the blood covering you, opens his arms. Stepping into them and nuzzling your face into his neck, you fully let down your emotional walls for the first time since entering this godsforsaken place and start to sob.

Bodhi sits down at his desk with you and lets you, just holding you tight and rubbing soothing circles on your back. You know he'd never judge you. The both of you have always been close — closer than you and Xaden, even. While your brother is your protector, strong and always pushing you to overcome your fears and be stronger too, your cousin is your safe space, the one you go to when you need a shoulder to cry on, who comforts you when you can't help but be weak.

You're not sure how long you sit there like that, finally letting out all your bottled up emotions. You've felt like curling into a ball and bawling your eyes out practically every day since you arrived at Basgiath, but sharing a dorm with all those other first-years, you haven't allowed yourself to give in to that weakness. Now that the floodgates are open, though, the tears soaking Bodhi's shirt flow and flow. When you finally manage to stop crying, your eyes feel puffy and sore, your whole head fuzzy from the exhaustion of sobbing for so long.

Bodhi hands you the half-full water bottle left on his desk, and you eagerly gulp down its contents.

"Better?" Bodhi asks when you set the empty bottle back on the desk.

"Yeah. 'm sorry, that was pretty pathetic," you sniffle, wiping at your face. "I've been trying so hard not to cry since I got here, I guess now it just all came out at once."

"That's okay. I can't imagine how hard it has to be for you to function in a place like this. Especially with everyone giving you shit for that thing." He taps the rebellion relic where it starts on your wrist, then takes your hand in his. "I know how much the stuff they say hurts, even if none of it is true. Maybe even more so because none of it is true."

You nod. Being helpless to correct the image the world has of your family is the worst part. Having to listen to them call your dad the Great Betrayer when all he'd wanted to do was help, and not be allowed to say a word against it. "I know they don't know any better, but I— I just—"

"I know. It'll get better once you have a dragon and your own room."

Maybe, but it's still so long until then. You're not sure how you're supposed to keep enduring this that much longer. At your sigh, Bodhi wraps his arms around you once more, rocking you softly with your head resting on his shoulder.

"You'll be okay, sweetie," he promises. "As much as things suck right now, you'll get through it. You're braver than you think. And I'm always here if you need anything, okay?"

You nod against the side of his neck, allowing yourself to close your eyes for a moment and just enjoy the embrace. When was the last time you got a real, long hug? Not the fleeting ones Bodhi and Eya sometimes give you when they see you in the hall and there aren't too many people around, not the brief squeeze Xaden gives you when he comes to say hi when he's visiting Violet, but a real, thorough hug?

You don't remember.

Your first day, after you survived the parapet, Bodhi had pulled you into his arms the second he spotted you amidst the other new cadets, but with so many people watching and judging, even that hug had been rather short. Now that you think about it, you realize you haven't been truly held since the apostasy — since right after your father's execution, when they'd ripped you out of your family's arms, away from your brother and cousin and everyone and everything you ever knew. Six years. Can it really have been that long since you had a proper hug? You hadn't even realized how much you missed that closeness, needed it.

Bodhi seems to realize it too, because he holds you tighter and says, "I'm sorry I haven't had much time for you outside of helping you train."

"It's alright. You're busy. 'n I'm busy, too. I didn't think becoming a rider would involve this much studying."

Bodhi chuckles at the disgust lacing your voice at the last word. "Well, this is a college after all."

You just hum, nuzzling your face deeper into the space where his neck and shoulder meet.

"Hey, don't go falling asleep on me," Bodhi warns. "I don't feel like sitting in this uncomfortable chair all night."

"Nh-nh, 'm not falling asleep," you claim, blinking away the sleep that indeed almost overtook you. You force yourself to sit up straight, suddenly remembering you're still covered in blood and probably smearing Bodhi with it, too.

"Liar," he says, smiling softly. "Why don't you go to bed, hm?"

You shake your head. Tired as you are, you don't want to go back to the dormitory. Don't want to leave the comfort of Bodhi's arms. You feel bad keeping him awake, but you want to stay here like this for just a little longer. Just a few minutes, then you'll stop bothering him.

But Bodhi offers, "You can sleep here tonight if you want."

You nod before he even finishes speaking, desperate for a reprieve from that crowded room and its occupants. Just one night of being able to truly relax, to fall asleep without worrying what the people around you might be plotting, without fearing if your nightmares might have you talking in your sleep — talking, thrashing, crying, revealing your weaknesses. Just for one night you can have cuddles and forehead kisses instead of all that, and, if you ask really nicely, Bodhi might even tell you a goodnight story — though, exhausted as you are, you'll certainly fall asleep without one just as easily. Tomorrow you'll have to go back to your usual everyday horror, but just for the next few hours, you can allow yourself to be weak and soft and cared for.

"Please."

"Okay." Bodhi ruffles your hair. "You definitely need a shower before I let you into my bed, though."

He doesn't have to ask to know that you'd rather not return to the first-year dorms for clean clothes, and wordlessly hands you one of his shirts and a pair of shorts, before directing you to the third-years' bathing chamber.

As you wash away the blood and tears, you decide you should wait until after curfew to shower more often. Having the whole showers to yourself is amazing. Savoring the rare moment of blissful privacy, you take your time — probably more so than you should, considering the trouble you would surely get into if you were caught in here this late at night.

But you don't get caught, and as you get comfortable on Bodhi's bed a little later, you already feel much better. Your cousin sits down behind you and towels your hair dry. You know you should do it yourself, but you're so damn exhausted, and it's so nice to just let yourself be pampered a little. It's already an effort to simply keep your eyes open, never mind lifting your arms. Besides, Bodhi seems content enough to do it.

Once your hair isn't dripping anymore, you lean back until you're resting against Bodhi, and close your eyes. Moving up on the bed to properly lie down crosses your mind, but it doesn't seem worth the effort. Bodhi takes the decision from you, nudging you and coaxing that you'll be much more comfortable laying your head on the pillow instead of him, until you eventually oblige. You're about to complain that you were more comfortable before — the pillow isn't warm like him, doesn't have a steady heartbeat lulling you to sleep — when Bodhi gets in next to you, pulling the covers over both of you and letting you snuggle close to him. That's much better, especially when he starts tracing soothing patterns on your skin.

"Thanks for taking care of me, Bodhs," you mumble, leaning into the touch.

"Of course, honey."

You feel him kiss your forehead, and as you start to drift off, you know there will be no bad dreams tonight.

[issdisgrace]

THE START OF BILLY HARGROVE AND HIS METAL HEAD BF RELATIONSHIP

WARNINGS: Use of the word fag, nothing else​

A/N: There will be a part 2 in the future eventually.​

You and Billy officially met when you two were paired together for a History project. Both of you hated the idea of having to work with each other because why wouldn’t you.

You two were complete opposites. You were a 6’2 metal head that wore corpse paint, band tees, and arguably way to many rings. While Billy was a 5’10 blonde hair blue eyed fuck boy that drove a loud ass car.

So it was no surprise that you both asked the teacher if there was anyway to get a different partner.

Unfortunately or rather fortunately the two of you couldn’t get out of doing the project together. While neither of you really cared all that much for your grades you both needed to pass the class and the project would count as 50% of your grade. So you both had to do it whether you liked it or not.

Anyway you begrudgingly both shared your information with one another and planned to meet up at your place that Friday to work on the project together.

Eventually Friday rolled around and Billy showed up late as always in his blue 1979 Chevrolet Camaro.

To say Billy didn’t want to be there was an understatement. Fortunately for him you had all the information the two of you would need to put together the project.

So things went smoothly and you two talked back and forth as you worked getting to know each other.

Which was when you both found out that you shared a genuine love of cars. This definitely helped your guys acquaintanceship and made the project go by quicker.

Anyway in the end the project only took you guys 3 hours which was less than what you both expected it to take. After you guys finished Billy left your place and that Monday you guys presented to the class before you both went back to strangers.

You two stayed strangers again for 2 months until Billy had a problem with his Camaro and didn’t want someone he didn’t know touching his baby so instead of taking it to a mechanic and knowing you worked on cars, he showed up at your house asking for you to look at.

You were of course surprised by this visit and even more surprised when he asked you to take a look at his Camaro. You of course agreed and took a look. It ended up being something real easy to fix so you.

So you took off your rings and handed them to Billy for safe keeping. As you bent over the Camaro fixing the problem.

Billy quietly watched you from the side as you worked on the Camaro. He took note of everything about you from your height and build to your clothes and corpse paint.

As he watched you he felt something grow in his chest. Something all too familiar. Something that he frankly hated. Something he wished to ignore specifically being in this shit hole of a town.

This town wasn’t all to found of people like him. People that liked same gender. But Billy would never call himself a fag sure he liked men but he also liked women. He had no clue what he was but he knew he liked you.

Maybe it was the fact you were so openly yourself and didn’t care what others thought of you or maybe was it the way you held yourself and talked. Who knows because Billy certainly didn’t.

As you were finish up Billy realized he needed to pay you for your work somehow. He wondered if you were gay and would go out on a date with him as payment.

“You’re all set. Your baby should be working at 100% again.”

“Thanks……Um would you maybe want to go out on a date with me. It’s all on me, I just want to um pay you back for your work.”

“Sure that’s fine with me. I’m free this Saturday if that good with you.”

“Yeah that works for me.”

“Well it’s a date then.”

[bomber-grl]

Dating headcanons!! (Ftm reader edition)

Pairing(s): Characters x FtM!Reader

Characters(s): Will Solace, Leo Valdez, Nico Di Angelo

Asked for either or, you shall get all

Will Solace

Will solace the man that you are

Honestly is the best person to talk to about your identity and everything

Most likely to buy you an endearingly cringey cake when you come out to him (if you haven’t already)

Alongside the horrendous trans merch he can get his hands on

That you still choose to wear despite being “disgusted”

Anyways

Will is always ready to have those heartfelt and serious talks when you need them most

He’s definitely the most validating person in the room

Like seriously I cannot stress this enough

He’s always taking you to spaces where you’d feel safe and if he can’t find any- he’d make them

Other words for saying he’d be more than happy to be your safe space

Your progress or journey with your identity is one that Will is more than happy to experience with you

Even if you end up lashing out or getting frustrated- he’d be there to ground you and help calm you down

ESPECIALLY then

Even little moments of offense or hurt from others can be taken by Will and made into references to weird inside jokes

- ones that you have to keep telling him to stop making and then he continues for the pure joy of seeing you shake your head knowingly

Also if you’re on t (injection) then he’d be more than happy to help you out

Saying that as someone who’s ok around needles, but if I had to give myself a shot

Rip

Just ask your sunshine medic-at-16 bf to help you out

Because of course everyone has one of those

Also would and has scolded you if you keep your binder on for more time than you’re supposed to

You’re already running on thin ice with all the physical action demigods go through per day

I can only imagine

Yknow maybe it could serve as a sign to go schedule that top surgery appointment /hj

Hj Cuz of the state of the real world

Anyway

Leo Valdez

Honestly did not know you were trans at all when you first met (if you’ve already transitioned or not- he’s a block head)

Neither did he ever consider you as romantic partner for the very reason that you’re a guy

(Just only ever considered girls)

And yet here we are

Dating Leo is honestly just the average experience of any person

Chaotic, fun, and also dealing with the crippling traumas demigod life has offered you and refused to acknowledge when you did not want it

Which I guess could include you being trans depending on your experience

Whether you pass or not is something else and regardless you’ve faced discrimination or at least some sort of fear when revealing at one point or another to others

Which you luckily don’t encounter all that much at camp

(Considering the zest fest camp half blood is)

Let say you’re just transitioning and decide to tell Leo

He’s immediately talking about having your back and willing to listen to your new pronouns and new name (if you’d like one)

He’d be a bit awkward but not because of what’s going on rather because he uses humor all the time and refuses to make a joke out of this one serious thing

Also ☝️

He’d be the best person on this list about making you feel seen bro I’m not even exaggerating

(Idk the others seem pretty good too)

Leo and being invisible or last choice go hand in hand so the last thing he’d ever want you or anyone he loves feel- is feel unimportant

He’d want to validate your identity and make sure you’re comfortable enough to be your truest self around him

Which is honestly better than anything he could ask for

Conflicting feeling and situations are bound to arise

Whether about yourself, others or just anything really

Just talk to Leo because if not he’ll literally explode

And why wouldn’t you?

Even if he’s using humor and convos are a bit awkward- it doesn’t make him incapable of having any serious ones

So pull up a chair and talk to him when you’re having a rough day surrounding your identity

The worst thing that can happen is nothing

Because he’ll always support you and also talk about how he’s felt shitty before to atleast make you smile

That’s one continuous long term goal of his he’ll never reach

Also if you’re on t (injection) - never expect this gremlin to help out or so help us all

Nico Di Angelo

Cool. He loves you and so you’re his boyfriend now.

That’s all there is to it

I sort of see him as the type to try to not make a big deal out of your identity and stuff

Partially so you don’t feel like he’s walking on egg shells (he knows the feeling)

But also because he’s unsure of if that’s him crossing boundaries (again, because of his personal experience/ preference)

You got a new name? New pronouns? He’ll happily call you them

Again, he isn’t the type to be overly dramatic or loud with his support but he’d show it in more subtle ways

His understanding of identity and validation makes him sensitive to what you need more often than not

So even though he won’t always have the words to convey how he feels, he’s always there to listen

Also, his reassurance is always so heartfelt

Random but something to add since Nico is obviously sarcastic and can be misleading to some

Anyway

We all know Nicos trait of being over protective to those he loves so naturally it extends to you by default

If anyone would even misgender or deadname you in front of him- regardless of if it were on accident- he’d correct them without fail

Not that he makes a scene at all

His presence is already scary enough

(The books alone are proof

+ Though only done if you feel comfortable with it)

Many people experience different things but I feel like acceptance is one many people have gone through and tried to achieve at one point or another

Nico was a conservative Italian raised catholic (who is gay) from the 1930s

If someone knows about the trial of self acceptance

it’s him

So even if it’s not exactly the same- he understands the conflict that goes on and is always there to hear you out

Also you can’t tell me that he’s gotten wack ass pride/gay merch as a way of being supported by other campers when he came out

Mostly annoying ones but I digress

So as a rite of passage he’d gift you some cringe trans merch in hope of making you laugh

Something to add is that if this is more fresh Nico

Ig you could say

Then he’d be really guarded like to the max

So even though present him would be as stated as above- younger Nico would definitely be way harsher to those who offended you

I don’t make the rules