#then the next half hour after that i'm chilling in bed until i start feeling sleepy

[erasedcitizen2]

for anyone else out there struggling with insomnia, I'm sharing this just in case it helps anyone else: my doctor suggested 5 mg melatonin for me. It didn't make me sleep better and also gave me pretty bad side effects like having brain fog the day after, like I was completely unable to think and my reactions were slowed down to the point I would've been a danger in traffic. but I switched to a lower dose of 3 mg melatonin and not only do I have no side effects from that dose but ALSO IT WORKED. I've actually consistently slept 7-8 hours for the past week since I switched dose. I don't know the science behind that but lowering the dose worked better to put me to sleep.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

V ║Raw Edge

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part IV: Notch | Behind the Seams: Part V | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E, a proper E!

Summary: One lazy afternoon, Joel tests your patience.

Warnings: Sexual tension, some language, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, flirting, fingering, explicit grinding, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!domestic!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 2k

Notes: It's been a long and winding road y'all, but I'm finally back with an update on the main series. It is a short one, more of an interlude, but it will get us where we need to go for the next chapter. Thank you for your patience, I don't take you guys' understanding and love for granted for even a second. Releasing this during the Seams sleepover, more drabbles coming your way for the remaining month of March!

Raw edge - the raw, raveling, and unfinished, cut edge of the fabric.

It’s fitting that Joel is a patient man. He’s built for it, after all.

Those broad shoulders, the sturdy thighs, his sure hands - he’s steadfast as the mountains that loom over Jackson.

As the sun shifts over the ridges and valleys of the sierra through the seasons, bringing shadows into light, so does Jackson on Joel, and you learn that he’s many kinds of patient.

On lookout duty, even in the depths of winter, he becomes one with the stillness of the night, patiently watching over the safety of the town in the loneliest hours.

When townsfolk stop him on the high street for neighbourly chit chat, he obliges with polite patience, never rushing, but careful not to encourage conversation that is longer than necessary.

With Ellie, when she prattles on with a long-winded story from school, he listens with amused patience, letting her run her half-full mouth over dinner with half-hearted admonishment.

And with you - he is agonisingly patient with you, and yet, never in a way that leaves any doubt of his want for you.

You cannot be more grateful.

And in turn, you’re patient with him. As the green of summer softens with the tail end of the season, you pick up bits and pieces. You hear whispers of names. Tess. Bill. You glimpse ghosts of his past. Sarah. Frank.

You don’t expect him to, but you have the audacity to hope, that one day, if he finds it in him to let you in, you have shoulders to spare.

When the heat fades and the brisk autumnal chill starts to linger in the morning mist, you start to find that you like it when he’s not patient.

Not necessarily for the lack of patience thereof, but the fact that it’s worn thin by something else.

The way heat bleeds into his eyes when Lucy holds you up after your shift ends, fingers twitching, as if the caveman in him wants to grab you and drag you home, where you have planned on dinner - and more.

When you’re two bodies tangled in your sheets, breath short as he kisses his way down your neck and nips the underside of your breasts, bra cups pushed up only halfway because you’re still too shy to take it off completely. You feel him shudder, nails digging into your skin, nostrils flaring like he’s holding back from ripping the scant fabric off of you.

And late one evening, when you ask him for it, in heated whispers and your lower lip caught in your teeth, he oh so patiently works his fingers inside your wet heat - 

One, then two; 

Slow, then fast; 

Tender, then frantic - 

Until he feels you clench tight around the crook of his fingers for the first time, watch you arch clean off the bed, he bares his teeth and lets out a primal growl at the cry of his name on your swollen lips.

You find the thrill in getting under Joel Miller’s skin.

As the fall deepens, and trees start to shed in golden surrender, you’re caught off guard when he turns the table on you.

You don’t see it coming, your desperation, that lazy afternoon. It’s just another Saturday when Ellie is on her shift at the Outfitter with Lucy, and Joel is spending those free hours with you.

You’re not sure what got him into the mood, but the man is relentlessly teasing that afternoon, almost bratty in the way he toys with you. His hands go everywhere while you’re cooking, squeezing the swell of your ass then going north to cup your breasts, and stopping off everywhere in between.

Tips of your ears burning, you smack the back of his hands - so big and mapped with veins - just so you can get drain the pasta. Joel chuckles and kisses the corner of your mouth. ‘I like it when you’re bossy, sweetheart.’

He insists on eating on the sofa, with you between his legs, and you can feel him already hard and straining through his jeans. Neither of you really make a real go at the rapidly cooling marinara, and the plates are quickly pushed to the side as them meal degenerates into a full-blown make out session.

Not yet ready to let him strip you bare or for him to disrobe him completely, clothes hang half unbuttoned and unzipped on you both. The part of your brain that still has enough blood to reason likes it though - the demure flashes of skin under creased fabric, blindly touching and feeling where you can’t see.

Your jeans are pushed halfway down your thighs, bra pushed down under your breasts, the elastic straps digging into your shoulders. His shirt is open down to the second last button, bare chest rubbing against your nipples, the contact making you whine. His belt hangs open and his jeans are unzipped, but before you can reach down, his fingers slide inside your panties, twisted and sticky, teasing your wet folds. 

‘Joel,’ you whimper as he pushes two thick fingers inside you to the knuckle, your pussy slickly opening around him. 

‘Does that feel good, sweetheart?’ he asks, mouthing at your collarbone.

‘More,’ you gasp.

‘I got two in you already -’

Your voice cracks in a sob, your nails digging into his back. ‘Joel, I want more. Please.’

He glances at the clock ticking away on the wall and hesitates. The rational part of him knows that he has to leave in less than twenty minutes to pick up Ellie. But feeling you leak onto his fingers, pushing your hips against him to get his fingers even deeper, his cock twitches painfully hard in his pants.

He breathes through his nose to steady himself. ‘Sweetheart, we don’t have time -‘

‘Joel!’ you whine, almost petulantly.

He stares down at you, eyes wide at your desperation. He’s never seen you like this before, and fuck, he wants to give it to you. Wants to give you what you want, what he wants. What he’s wanted for long fucking months, woken up hard and throbbing dreaming about. But he steels himself - no, not when he’s on the clock, he won’t rush it. He will give you what you deserve, and not an ounce less. 

So he kisses you, long and deep, and bargains with you. ‘Listen, sweetheart, we can’t right now - but if you want to, we can try something new.’

‘Ok,’ you reply without hesitation.

A sharp breath catches in your throat when he eases his fingers out of you, and he brings them up to his mouth to lick them clean, his brow furrowing at your taste, thick on his tongue. Then you watch, transfixed, as he pushes his unzipped jeans down with his boxers, kicking them off his ankles - and his hard cock springs free of its confines. 

It’s taken you many months to drum up the bravery to map his body with your touch, and you’ve mostly done so in the safety of darkness, your shyness holding you back. To see all of him, jutting hard and thick in the stark afternoon light, you don’t even hear yourself whimper at the sight.

Joel holds your gaze as he slowly wraps his fingers around the swollen length and strokes himself, lips parted, watching you watch him. ‘You trust me, sweetheart?’

‘Yes.’

‘Gonna make you feel good, ok?’

His words make you squirm beneath him. ‘Ok.’

Grabbing the base of his cock, Joel shifts, looming over you and pushing your thighs apart so they’re bent at the knees to accommodate him. Then with a delicate finger, he traces under the seat of your panties and pulls them to one side, baring your spread pussy to his eyes. 

Your jaw goes slack the same time Joel bites out a filthy fuck. You know this is the first time he’s laying eyes on you there - you’ve been demure about that, preferring to be nose-to-nose with him while he buries his fingers inside you. But now, watching his eyes go black, nostrils flaring, an inexplicable high goes to your head, and you feel yourself clench around nothing.

His eyes fly to yours, and your lips part. Did he see that?

Before you can find out, Joel moves, and you hold your breath when he bows his head right where your legs are splayed open. Distracted by the beautiful chisel of his nose from this angle, you would’ve jumped right off the couch if not for his hands holding you in place when he dribbles spit onto your clit.

You cry out wordlessly, not understanding the visceral reaction of your body to the unexpectedly lewd act.

‘You’re plenty wet for me sweetheart, but this will feel even better,’ he says, spitting again, lower this time, and you tremble at the unfamiliar sensation of the wetness trailing down your folds. 

Tracing a thumb over you, Joel makes a low noise of satisfaction in his chest when it glides over your lips, frictionless. Taking a hold of the base of his cock, he positions the underside of his length in the seam of your folds - and thrusts. 

‘Joel!’ you whimper as the full length of him glides over the lips of your spit-wet pussy, from entrance to clit. He braces himself over you, and you hang onto his impossibly broad shoulders as he carefully rolls his hips, again and again. Rubbing along you just so, making sure you feel all of him despite not being inside you - that will have to wait.

You can feel your panties getting wetter, sticking to your skin, and Joel jolts a gasp from you when he roughly tugs the fabric hard to the side, baring more of you to his drunken gaze, witnessing the mess he’s making of you.

‘Listen t’ you,’ he slurs through gritted teeth, the lewd, wet slide of skin filling his ears. ‘Gonna sound even sweeter when I make you mine, sweetheart.’

With a whine, you arch off the couch, as if chasing the possessiveness in his words. Joel finds a rhythm that has the swollen head of his cock grinding against your clit with every thrust, and above you, he smears open-mouthed kisses over the secret spots he’s patiently unearthed by trial and error, until you’re shaking all over. It’s just what you needed, what you wanted - the elusive more that you didn’t know how to articulate. More than his fingers, but not yet ready to take everything that he can give you.

‘You’re close,’ Joel says, a quiet confidence to his verdict that coaxes a whine out of you. Holding a thumb over his cock, it presses even harder against your clit. His hips quicken in pace, and you know he’s chasing his own release as much as yours. 

‘It’s ok sweetheart, you can let go, let me feel you cum for me, let me feel that pretty pussy -’

And then you’re gone. Any illusion of control over your body is just that, an illusion, when the bubble bursts. White hot pleasure burns through your bloodstream, tendrils of heat blooming and swelling from deep inside you, spilling out your fingertips twisted tightly into his graying curls. 

Over the rush of blood in your ears, you hear Joel stutter fuck, fuck, fuck! before warm cum gushes over you, pooling in your belly button, spilling down your pussy and streaking your thighs. 

Limbs heavy and eyelids drooping, it’s hard to care when the cum stains your panties or the couch below. Not when Joel wraps his arms around you, lips brushing the nape of your neck softly as he brackets you from behind. 

Clinging onto the last vestiges of consciousness, you murmur, ‘You have to pick up Ellie soon.’

He grunts. ‘The little punk can wait.’

You smile, struggling to feel apologetic that the teenager might be waiting a while as Joel’s breathing slows, whistling softly by your ear. 

In the quiet aftermath, his words echo in your head. 

When I make you mine. 

Little does he know, he doesn’t have to - you’re already his.

Notes: Time has really flown by since the last main series update. I've gone through so many ups and downs since, and I really need to thank you guys for giving me the time to figure things out in terms of my writing and how this story will go!

As I mentioned in Behind the Seams: Part V, I have 2 more full length chapters planned for the main series. I don't know if there will be any more after that, but at the very least, I hope that I will be adding to the Seams universe through drabbles and oneshots. I wouldn't write off the possibility of more chapters to add to the main series if I find the inspiration.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter ❤️

[celestialsoyeon]

I would like to order a Woozi sickfic.Maybe there was a virus in the company and as he usually stays late working he got infected because of his low defenses and when he comes home he feels sick but he ignores it and the next day when he gets up he has a fever and an upset stomach but he decides to hide it during the day. But as the day progresses he feels worse and dehydrated because of how much he has vomited so he ends up asking one of the boys for help and they take care of him and take good care of him.

Hiiii! Here's the headcannon you asked for! I'm not sure whether it's good or not, but I did my best! Happy reading, I hope the person who asked this will like it! Love y'all!

Summary: Woozi always works until late at night at his studio at the company. One night, he feels sick while getting back home. He doesn't think much of it and just tries to sleep it off. The next morning, it's even worse, but he tries to hide it until he can't anymore.

word count: 1,72k

content warnings: sickness, obviously, vomiting, fever, dehydration, kinda delirious/half-conscious, needles/IV

Sickie: Woozi

Caretaker: All the other members, especially Mingyu

Jihoon had been staying late basically every single day since the beginning of this week. He had to. If he didn't who would? And he had a lot of work to do, with the upcoming album release coming up at the end of the month. He had no time to waste chilling or sleeping.

He knew he was pushing himself too hard and that he would end up collapsing, but he didn't care. Not when the group's career could be at jeopardy if he decided to be lazy. He couldn't afford to fall back on his work right now, and he kept working until his eyes were drooping.

When he noticed that, he got up and gathered his things, intending to go back home, deciding that it was enough. He raised his head, glancing at the clock. It was 3 A.M.

He was lucky that Seungcheol had fallen asleep as soon as he got back to the dorms, too tired to even keep his eyes open for five more minutes. He hadn't been sleeping a lot lately, too busy taking care of Seungkwan and his recurring nightmares. Otherwise he would've gotten scolded, as every single time Seungcheol saw him coming back so late at night.

He let out a sigh and walked back to the dorm, putting on his jacket. As he was walking back to the dorm, the only place he would be able to sleep peacefully and get some well-deserved rest, he started feeling uneasy. His stomach was hurting him a bit and he felt a bit sick.

He decided to ignore it. There was no way he'd wake up Seungcheol neither Soonyoung just because he had an upset stomach. Maybe sleeping it off would work and tomorrow would be better?

He just went to bed, careful not to wake Soonyoung up. The dancer was fast asleep and waking him up was really the last thing he wanted. Soonyoung wasn't sleeping a lot either, and although it had always been like that since predebut, Jihoon still didn't want to disturb his sleep. He'd rather throw up all night alone in the bathroom than wake up any of the asleep members.

He laid down in bed, looking at the ceiling, struggling to fall asleep. The pain in his stomach grew stronger. "I'll be fine.. I'll be just fine.. no need to worry them.." He whispered. Soonyoung was too deeply asleep to hear him. And Jihoon ended up falling asleep too. He was too exhausted to even think he'd be able to stay awake for much longer anyway. He hugged tightly the plushie Seungkwan gifted him for his birthday last year, and fell into a deep slumber.

A few hours passed before it was time to get up. When the alarm of his phone rang, Jihoon couldn't help but let out a small whimper. His head was killing him after hearing that sound first thing in the morning. And as if it wasn't enough, his stomach was feeling worse than last night, if it was even possible.

He still got up and acted fine when seeing the other members, despite feeling his stomach churning. Seokmin and Mingyu tried to get him to eat something, but Jihoon just said he wasn't hungry and got ready for work. They had vocal practice in the morning, dance practice in the afternoon, it should be fine, right? He would feel better already.

No. No he didn't feel better. If anything, it got worse.

He still tried to hide it and focus on his work throughout the day, but some of the members were already starting to understand that something was wrong with him. Seungcheol came to check on him, but Jihoon still acted as if everything was fine.

Ten minutes later, he was in the bathroom, throwing up his guts out.

He went back to the others, still acting as if everything was fine.

As they practiced the choreography Soonyoung was teaching them, Jihoon felt even worse and went to the bathroom again. He threw up again, and more than once, at that.

He felt feverish and couldn't even drink. This time, he knew he couldn't hide that anymore. He had to tell them. He had to call for someone. But when he tried to get up, he was too weak to do so. He fumbled in his pockets for a moment, looking for his phone, finding it upon seconds.

But another wave of nausea hit him as he was going to dial Seungcheol's number. He threw up again, and after five other excruciating minutes of throwing up, he could finally call for help.

Seungcheol answered at the first ring.

" 'Hoon? Where are you? Are you alright?"

Given the tone of his voice, he was obviously worried. Very worried. Jihoon answered as best as he could.

"I.. Hyung.. I think I'm sick.. I'm not feeling good.."

"Where are you? I'll get you back home okay?"

"Y..yeah.. I'm.. in the bathroom.."

"I'm coming right away, I'll be with Mingyu, we're getting you back home."

The leader addressed the other members.

"Guys, can someone get Jihoon's belongings and call a doctor to come at the dorm. Tell them we'll be there in around... maybe half an hour? If Hoon doesn't get any worse?"

There was some approving responses from everyone, but Jihoon could barely hear them. He felt more and more tired, that was most likely because of the fever, Jihoon knew it was anything but a good sign. He heard the other members' voices but couldn't understand what they were saying.

Mingyu and Seungcheol both ran to the bathroom, arriving soon at Jihoon's side. Mingyu quickly assessed the situation.

"Uh-oh.. that's not good.. We need to lower his body temperature as soon as we can before he gets delirious or even worse, starts having fever-induced seizures. Believe me, you don't want to have to deal with that shit."

Seungcheol nodded, and held Jihoon's body bridal style, getting him to the van. The motion of the car made Jihoon's sickness even worse and they had to pull over twice so he could throw up again. But after what felt like an eternity, they were back home.

Mingyu carefully laid Jihoon in his bed, and checked on him again. He looked dazed and mumbled incoherently when Mingyu was asking him questions, trying to assess how conscious he actually was.

The answer was that he was out of it. His eyes were open, but he paid no attention to what was happening around him. He didn't mind the cold and wet towels put on his neck and on his forehead. He didn't pay attention to Mingyu shaking his shoulders and call his name. He was there, but barely.

The other members were acting swiftly to take care of Jihoon, preparing soup, water, medications, pillows, plushies. Seungcheol had stayed there, sitting down at Jihoon's bedside, a bucket on the ready in case JIhoon was to throw up again.

He didn't. But he was still very feverish. And that got Seungcheol worried to death. He ended up getting up, pacing nervously in the room. Jeonghan and Seokmin even had to get him out of the room, because he was too stressed out.

They didn't want Jihoon to get anxious or anguished on top of being sick. He was already badly sick, that was enough.

The doctor soon arrived, and just as the members, he looked alarmed by Jihoon's condition.

"We really need to lower his body temperature before he ends up having a seizure. And he needs fluids too, and nutrients."

"He can't eat though", Joshua said in a worried voice. "And even the medications would not stay down."

"We'll have to insert an IV line then. If we don't that might endanger him. But you don't have to worry, we can do it here and he will for sure get better as soon as he receives medication and the appropriate care. His condition doesn't require hospitalization. However, I want that guy at full rest for at least a week. He'll need a lot of rest to recover properly. And if he doesn't get better within the next few days, I want him to get checked properly." The doctor said, looking at them with a gentle but firm stare.

Joshua nodded, reassured by the doctor's words. Seungkwan looked horrified to be told that his hyung would need a goddamn needle into his arms, but the other members reassured him that it wasn't that much of a big deal.

Jihoon would be okay. They all were sure of it. After the doctor administered the necessary care, he left, and all the members relayed at Jihoon's bedside. As the hours ticked by, Jihoon got more lucid, he wasn't that out of it anymore. And that soothed a bit Mingyu who, among the members, was by far the most worried.

He had nearly panicked when the doctor said that Jihoon needed an IV, and Wonwoo had to explain to him, just as Joshua had done for Seungkwan, that it wasn't a big deal and that Jihoon would be just fine.

The first night was the hardest one. At first, Jihoon kept throwing up. But when the medications kicked in, it stopped and soon enough, Jihoon could eat a bit of food. Nothing much, but better than nothing.

Mingyu stayed the whole night with Jihoon, refusing to leave his side, too worried. But he hadn't anything to worry about. Not anymore.

The next day, Jihoon started to get better, though he needed a lot of rest. But he didn't have anything to worry about. His friends, no, his family was by his side to help him through it.

Mingyu was cooking for him, Wonwoo and Jeonghan most of the time keeping silent vigil by his side, the BooSeokSoon trio was usually coming to help him not get bored, and he could get Seokmin's hugs as much as he wanted. He usually didn't like physical touch, but when he was sick, he was basically asking hugs from his brothers. And Seokmin was more than happy to give him.

Little by little, he got better, and as he got better, his bond with his fellow members strenghtened even more than it already was. They would be able to return soon, and in good shape, to their not-so-peaceful but happiness-filled life.

[nilolol30]

ello, friend

i come to ask if you can do a oneshot of a redson x reader where the reader was cursed that every night they would turn into a songbird.

(yay I'm slowly getting better at punctuation I think! If not feel free to give tips! Also this is mostly implied GN reader hope that's alright!)

Redson asked if you'd like to spend the night at his house of course in the moment you agreed without any thought I mean you do get along well with his parents but you forgot your...unfortunate circumstance.

You were going to tell him soon but soon just became sooner than you thought.

You kept three alarms for when it's going to happen one is set an hour and a half second for one hour and third is half an hour until your transformation, you can't be too careful.

It was well after dinner you and Redson were getting ready for bed in his room, you were brushing your teeth while Redson sat upright on the bed finishing up on the last detail on his schedule this week.

Your phone was on the table next to him and the first alarm went off the name of it was 'an hour and a half till it starts' very simple, he assumed it was a reminder for a show or movie you planned to watch.

When you walked out of the bathroom he informed you "Ah your alarm went off dear" it took you a second to realize and immediately you remembered you haven't gotten around telling Redson about the curse.

"Oh uh so Red there's something I should actually tell you" noticing how nervous you suddenly got Immediately he turned off his own devices to give you his full attention, you take a seat next to him on the bed.

And then you begin to explain at first you tried to sugar coat it but then the more you talked the more you began to ramble and then you started spiraling hoping he wasn't upset you haven't told him earlier.

Noticing your spiral Redson gently placed his hand on your shoulder "Dear it's okay something like this could be a sensitive topic, I may not know the origin of this curse but I'm not upset if I was that would be idiotic" a smile crept onto your face.

You put your hand on top of his just as you were about to speak your alarm went off again 'an hour' short and to the point honestly you didn't bother to come up with proper names for them.

Redson leaned towards the bedside table to grab your phone and handed it to you, you put your alarm on snooze "Thanks though...I kinda expected more of a reaction though" Red laughed "Please you forget I'm a demon seeing people with all kinds of curses are just a daily thing I see."

You nodded and both of you sat in comfortable silence, Red though looked like he had something on his mind after a bit "Something wrong?" He gave you a comforting smile.

"No I was just thinking is there anything you need? Like a bird hammock?" Surprised at the question you just burst into laughter Red joining in "No no I'll be fine I'll just chill on the table and wait it out."

Then Redson asked a few more questions, how long do you stay transformed? Are you sure you don't need any items to make it more comfortable? Will you need something to eat? Should he make you a nest?

You answered each question and by then end of it Redson gave a final nod like he was making the final note in his head "Okay then, tomorrow I'll look into finding a cure" with a small laugh you placed your hand on his cheek.

"I won't stop you but don't let it be your main focus okay? It's just a small inconvenience" placing a hand over yours as he pushed himself into your hand he nods "very well dear"

Finally Redson removed his glasses and put his hair down you stayed sitting up your last alarm going off but immediately you set it to snooze as Red got under the blankets "Won't you be laying down?" You shook your head "Tried that once trust me staying above while transforming is better."

You expected Redson to fall asleep after that but he stayed awake reading from a book he kept on the table choosing not to comment any further you both wait not too long when Redson glanced away from you for a split second the flash of light though immediately got his attention and he shut the book as he looked over.

And he saw you, a small songbird he set the book away as he continued to stare amazed you hopped in place for a bit but flew over to his free hand as he admired your feathers.

He smiled "Still as beautiful like you always are" he set your pillow flat so you can have a soft surface to sleep you give him a small chitter of tweets and flew to the pillow you hopped for a bit again and got comfortable.

Redson turned off the lights and laid down.

"I'll see you tomorrow my dear, Sweet dreams."

[devnmon]

Cry.

Warnings: mentions of violence, attempted s/a, gore and blood, descriptions of ptsd and trauma. Do not read if these things trigger you.

word count: 3.3k

A Daryl Dixon x reader comfort/angst fic that is void of pointless plot [except for backstory] and is based off of two things:

The song Cry. by Cigarettes After Sex, and this. [all credit is given to ms. genna dixon, her work creating this audio inspired me to write this, and i hope she enjoys reading this fic as well!]

a/n: This fic has been sitting in my drafts collecting dust and I thought, with the help of madi, that it should finally be given to the fanfic world. I hope you all enjoy, and I'm sorry for whatever feelings arise from reading this. I'm also just really fucking proud of this fic and I really hope everyone enjoys.

Stepping outside, the chilled air from battering rainfall hits your skin, pouring down upon familiar streets. It's about that time of year for cold rain and harsher temperatures, before warmer ones commenced, flipping the forever rain into sunshine.

Pulled away finally from the events going on indoors, the fresh air immediately fills your chest, inhaling until you couldn't anymore. Boots creak under the wooden deck as you saunter closer to the ceaseless precipitation before you back away.

The wooden picnic table a certain archer built was the first thing you spot, up against the wall of the house. You sit, pulling the jean-covered legs in to your chest, to comfort yourself and the way you felt. The pressure of your body scrunched together was relieving for a bit, but it just wasn't working as well as you wanted it to.

Gaze focused on the gravel in the street, a hand rests across your forehead, head reliving a certain memory, one that's kept you sleeping on the couch at night, instead of in bed with your partner. One whom you shared this very house with.

In the moment, it's difficult to distinguish what's real life or imaginary, and the next thing you know, your eyes are squeezed shut to try and shake the images from your mind.

It fails, the man's face already burned into the backs of your eyelids, whether you wanted it to be, or not.

He’s glaring into you, the same way a predator takes notice of it's prey.

With a half-cocked ego and a group of men that listen to his rules, he'd been ruthless.

Your throat dries up, chin trembling with the vulnerability that painted your now shivering body in restless dread. The vile laugh he’d let out reverberated in your mind, pit in your stomach already deepening, the familiar fucking feeling returning to your chest like it was happening all over again.

Though, that could never happen, because the same man whose face had been taunting your sleep ended up on the ground with his throat bitten out by one Rick Grimes.

You owed it to him for saving your lives that night. so much so, that Daryl got more than a little jealous sometimes.

Oh yeah, Daryl.

Your Daryl.

The one you'd fallen for ever since he’d been in the camp, risking his life constantly for the benefit of your group, getting close enough to call you all his family. Especially you.

Daryl, your person, soulmate, best friend, lover, family. He was the only man you saw yourself next to in a world plagued with the dead.

He was there that night, as well. The night of the claimers.

That day the prison fell was one you spent all day and night running with Daryl and Beth to save your lives.

Out of nowhere, Beth was gone, taken in a white car with a cross on the back. You and Daryl ran in the direction the car sped off down for what felt like hours, even after the sun came up.

The powerful sprint the both of you had started off at slowed to a jog, stopping every few minutes until it turned into a walk. You continued going until your bodies downright collapsed on each other's, in the middle of a random road with no idea as to where you were. Your breath wasn't even caught yet before you heard a group of footsteps in the surrounding area.

That's when they came out of the woods and fucked everything up.

The moment they finally came into view, there was something more about the looks on their face that gave away this was premeditated. You figured after a while that they had waited and watched for you both to get worn down from running, that way you didn't have the strength to fight back, even if you wanted to. They moseyed around the both of you, creating a circle of men with no escape.

Which should have been your first sign.

For the next few days, you and Daryl rolled with this group of men that called themselves the claimers, in order to get by on the road before you found your people again. It was part of surviving, making it day to day after the prison fell, determined to find your family again. Daryl thought differently, losing hope in ever finding them, especially after Beth had gone missing.

You stayed extra close to Daryl those days, in fear of what would happen to you if one of the men caught you alone.

The timid act was only to protect yourself, a front you put up so that the men didn't actually speak to or threaten you. When you were spoken to though, you answered to avoid being ‘dropped several times over’, the groups code for being beaten either nearly, or fully to death.

One night, you wondered why there weren't any women in their group, though sooner or later you had figured out why there probably shouldn't be.

Their name is the fucking claimers, what did you expect. It's the way they claim ownership over something, or god forbid.. someone.

All they did when the men realized you two were together was laugh astonishingly loud, calling you a fair share of misogynistic names. Though, nothing changed the way they looked at you.

They didn't back off away from you, either. Only kept staring at you, when you pretended they weren't, muttering sick shit under their breath to entertain the other men.

Daryl came to your defense, threatening each of the men that even stepped too close to you. Those were the nights you were held so close to him, you could've sworn you were part of him now. In a way, you were. But it was one that Daryl wanted to keep for himself, and nobody else.

Daryl was so hell-bent on protecting you those days, he would've done anything. He came as close as starting a fight with one of the men when they wouldn't stop badgering you.

The men didn't back off until Daryl figured out the way to get all of them to leave you and him alone. It was something Joe had said about how the group works, to which Daryl himself said he wouldn't do.

Though he knew in that moment, it was the only way.

"She's claimed."

Most days, you think about what could have happened in that situation way too often. They reoccur in your nightmares, bombarding your brain every time you were finally shut your eyes at night.

Then, it echoes through your head throughout the day, during passing moments when your every being wasn't occupied with some other responsibility.

You had taken up a lot more of those recently, to keep your mind off the whole thing. You had to admit, it was wearing your body out, and the effect of your trauma didn't help at all.

Sure, you had seen every person in your group kill people before, but never the way Rick had that night.

Crimson painted across his face, practically dying his skin with its thickness. There's some on the fur of his jacket, you remember. Recalling the sheer look of terror you held, figure frozen in it's overwhelmed, cathartic state.

At this point in the world, you didn't know if living through a traumatic event as brutal as that one was worse than surviving every day after it, the whole thing reverberating in your head day in and day out.

The most horrific part of it, you think, wasn't the things they said to you days before, and it wasn't the unsettling feeling you got hearing Joe's voice.

It was the moment you hear, "Look, it's the guy who killed Lou."

One of the men in the group speaks out loud, running ahead with some of the group, while you and Daryl trail behind Joe as he catches up with them as well.

Joe had told Daryl about who Lou was a day or so ago, how some guy strangled him in a bathroom. Not curious about why he did it or who the guy was, you'd only listened to him go on about it from afar, aching pit in your stomach again.

The figures of three people camped out in the street were visible, not coming into your eyesight until you follow Daryl into the clearing.

Your eyes finally peel over to the people they've surrounded, and there was Rick and Michonne in the street, weapons aimed at them. There's a car in the road as well, one you realize Carl had been sleeping inside, one of them tapping on the passenger side window with a knife.

The way all three of them looked was terrified, but changed to disbelief when they saw you and Daryl, who pleaded for you to stay back, as he advanced towards Joe.

These people, you're gonna let 'em go. These are good people.

Daryl's words echoed in your head the moment he'd began bargaining with Joe, the nasty feeling you got earlier returning in the form of a racing heart and sweaty palms.

You want blood, I get it. Take it from me, man.

"Daryl, no.." The whisper you speak with is barely loud enough for you to hear over the shakiness of your breath. The only thing you focus on are the words Joe's saying, with the same dreaded feeling in your gut.

"This man killed our friend. You say he's good people. Now that right there, is a lie."

Rick yells out at the same time you do, as one man clocks Daryl in the gut, knocking the fucking wind out of him, another man restraining him as he gets dragged backwards.

Before you can move another foot, you hear the words, 'Teach him boys, teach him all the way.'

They were going to beat Daryl to death, and there was nothing you could do that wouldn't guarantee you wouldn't get the same beating. Backing away as the two men hauled him towards where you'd been standing, a shrill gasp left your chest, covering your mouth in surprise, tear rolling down your cheek.

It wasn't until you get to the other side of the car that you realize Carl's being taken out of it, as you stand at the rear end of the vehicle. As the man noticed you with Carl in his arms, he mutters something under his breath as he reaches for you with a gloved hand.

Feet dragging on the ground, he pulls you both into the clearing lit by the moon against the lanky trees that seemed to tower over the area.

Trying to pull the grown man off of him, you plead endlessly for him to hurt you over the boy. Before you realize he did more to push you off of him than he did to harm you, you'd been shoved to the dirt ground, next to Michonne.

Turning to the woman, your eyes locked in similar terror. These men were nothing like you'd ever met before. Any hope left inside you was washing away with each word out of Joe's mouth.

It isn't long before his cliché comes out, revealing his plan of what his men are going to do to each of you. Joe's talking into Rick's ear, but the tone of voice he used made it feel more like he was explaining to everyone about what was going to happen.

"First we're gonna beat Daryl to death, then we'll have the girls.. then the boy. Then I'm gonna shoot you.. and then we'll be square."

The only thing ringing in your ears was that fucking laugh of his.

Weak eyes pan over to the grunts coming from Daryl as he tries to fight off the two men who have been beating the life out of him for what felt like ages.

Each blow they landed on his torso, legs, face and back was like one to your own body, psyche shattering as Daryl cries out in pain.

"Let him go.."

Rick's hoarse voice speaks, gaze still on the two men beating up his best friend. It isn't until Rick repeats himself, a desperate, dry tone in his voice, that makes you rip your eyes away.

Your vision blurred for a moment before focusing your eyes on Rick again, his dilated pupils filling with rage. In one action, he jolts his head back into Joe's nose, the gun in his hand firing right by his ear.

The shot makes your stomach drop, instinctively flinching, watching him jump up from the ground and finally get a hit on him.

Though, Joe only retaliates with one, two, three blows to the sides of his torso, letting him roll around on the ground before he picks him up off of it. Rick wouldn't have been able to stand without Joe holding him, since beating the hell out of him.

"What the hell are you gonna do about it now, sport?"

You start to hear the same laugh again, before a second passes by and you realize it's stopped. The squelch of flesh rings out, and you realize what Rick's done.

You look up to see his face, drenched in the man's blood, spitting whatever he bit into out of his mouth. The moment settles and he's dropping him to the ground. Then, he goes for the man on top of his son. It isn't long until Rick's brutally stabbing him in the neck over and over, retaliation for hurting his people.

A few more shots fire out as you look over to Michonne taking down the man in front of her and one of the ones on Daryl, before he's punching the other one in the jaw and running to you, pleading to himself that they hadn't done anything to hurt you.

Before you know it, the archer's arms are wrapped around your body, bracing your back, one of his hands caressing the back of your head as well. It isn't until you pull back from his embrace to see the aftermath of being beat on that you break out into tears, his beautiful face bloody and bruised.

"Oh, Daryl.. your face.." your voice breaks on the last word, palms of his hands cupping your face softly, eyes shifting over your face to look for any blood or cuts. A hand wraps around his forearm as his hands cup your face, shushing you quietly.

Michonne holds her arms around Carl's head, and before you know it, Daryl's holding you the same way, one hand rubbing up and down your back.

Though your thoughts run ramped, you take a deep breath, slowly exhaling as the cool air in your lungs calms you the slightest bit.

You've been outside for a while now, long enough to have gotten caught in that traumatic memory. Being in your head for so long blinds you from the fact that Daryl's standing in front of you on the porch now.

Head still dropped, you see the boots he always wears a few feet away from where you were.

"Hey," his gruff voice calls out, your eyes slowly lifting to him, not getting farther than a glance to the side. He can immediately see the state you're in, pupils dilated and glossy from tears leaking down your face.

Eyes glancing back down, not daring to make eye contact, you aren't aware of where the archer is, focusing on the wood porch again.

You know Daryl's seen you like this before, but you only shy away because the event was too overwhelming.

“You alright?” he asks, the low drawl of his voice the first words you’ve heard in a while except for the sound of rain. He’s been sitting by your side, and you haven’t said a word.

Trying to speak, the lump at your throat prevents you from doing so, tongue choking back all the intrusive thoughts that tortured your mind. Your voice breaks in any attempt you had, stopping yourself.

Daryl sees your hesitation, reading your highly unstable state like a book. He scoots closer, more so now that you can feel the heat of his body pursue yours.

“Tell me the truth.” he whispers, his hand rubbing up and down your back, comforting amongst remembering the pain. His touch slows your heart rate and brings you out of your overwhelming head for a moment. The hand on your back is warm, spreading the heat around your entire body.

“I-I can’t..” You choke back the first tears attempting to escape your eyes, trying again to build up the wall that Daryl has so beautifully destroyed, all while he was falling in love with you.

“It’s okay.” He sighs, opening his arms wide to you.

You look to him, another tear falling down your cheek, his thumb swiping it away before your eyes meet his.

“Is it? It doesn't fucking feel like it..” Your nose sniffles as you ask, and when he nods, it’s the most reassuring feeling in the world when he does.

Knowing that everything you're thinking now wont matter one day, grounds you to Earth again. It pulls you from your thoughts, and you try to focus on the man in front of you, wanting to cry into his shoulder as much as you wanted to pepper his face with kisses.

“Come here.” He beckons you towards his body, the warmth of his chest radiating off of him. You climb into his lap, arms wrapping around his neck. Your breath hitches against his chest, and he feels it too, the final push of your walls breaking down around him.

For the first time, you feel free. You feel seen, and you feel loved.

“I know.” He can't fathom the thoughts running through your head, nor what he could do to make sure you never felt this way again.

Daryl has his fair share of trauma from his life experiences before he met you, but after what you've experienced on this constant road together, you find yourselves closer than ever. You and Daryl are both connected through this, intensely and irrevocably.

“Daryl, please dont leave.” You sniffle again, trying to hide the fact that your resolve is breaking and the desire to hide how you really feel diminishes like the crush of an egg shell. It's now that you realize you can’t hide it from him anymore.

“I'm right here.” It’s then your resolve breaks, a muffled sob escaping you as tears drench the cloth of his dark shirt. Your quivering voice fill his ears, one sob after another, making it difficult to breathe at how much you're hyperventilating. Your hands grip at his clothing, palms turning white with how hard you squeeze, nails pressing into your skin to feel something again. Something other than this.

In a moment, Daryl’s touch soothes you in a way you never knew was possible. Nothing else mattered in this moment, other than him being there to comfort you.

All the love and care you had for him were a couple of the reasons your walls that had once been built up began to crack.

“Yeah?” you choke back another sob, and his soft blue eyes meet yours. They're like a deep sea, and with the first glance, you're lost in them all over again. Each time you get caught in his eyes, it's like you're diving into his deep blues like a bottomless pool.

“Yeah.” his hand caresses your cheek softly, palm warm to your touch still, after being in the cold rain.

“Always.” he starts to wipe the tears from your face and you know in that moment he sees you as you truly are. A smile comes easier after a moment of letting yourself feel everything you'd been holding back for what felt like weeks.

“I love you.” He presses a kiss to your hair and you look up at him.

“I love you, Daryl.” Your lips press to his in a delicate kiss, the softness lingering even after you pull away.

“I’ll be here as long as ya need.” Pushing up against his body, the weight of yours lies against him as the rain continued to pour.

a/n: likes + reblogs are appreciated!! it lets me know how much everyone enjoys my writing & sharing to others is a generous thing to do. check out my masterlist

[kuumara]

Behind closed doors

Mike's acting weird today, Will thinks. I mean, he's always weird, but today is a different kind of weird day. He is acting a lot more... cooler. Acting because he's not being cool, but he's trying.

However, no one else seems to think this way. Everyone falls for it, even Max. Maybe she's just being sarcastic, though, Will can't tell.

Will watches Mike from the other side of the lunch table as he's playfully arguing with Max, who thinks Mike's insults are funny and goes along with them. Will has to have woken up in a different reality.

Mike catches Will's gaze, and first Will sees a range of emotion crossing his face, but as if that never happened, he goes back to his "chill" demeanor. He smiles at him.

"Well, are you going to take a picture or just stare?" Mike says with a smooth voice. Will splutters, flustered, but everyone laughs it off. In normal circumstances, if Mike had done this he would probably have to excuse himself to the bathroom or somewhere where he can scream in peace. But this isn't normal, Mike doesn't act like this when he's normal. Or he is normally like this, but that would mean Will really did wake up in another universe.

Mike looks at him with a look that, even in unnormal circumstances, makes Will melt, and then goes back to talking about something with the others.

Will looks around the table, to see if anyone thinks this isn't normal as well, but all he gets is Lucas meeting his eyes, returning Will's questioning look.

"Do you think he's okay?" Will asks Lucas when they walk together to geography class. "Mike, I mean," he adds when Lucas doesn't respond for a moment.

"I know, right? Part of me thinks he's just- grown up, or something, y'know. It's weird, he's acting like he's always been like this. It's off-putting, disturbing, surreal-"

"Why do you think he's like that? You think he's alright?" Will interrupts him.

"I- I dunno, man. Ask him," he quickly says, after they have to shut up since the teacher has already started talking.

Will and Mike are walking home together. Mike has been the one to afford walking him home, but he's acting all awkward now. Like he's regretting it, Will thinks, and the thoughts start pouring in.

"Will," Mike shakes his shoulder, gently. Will's been lost in his head for a while, they've already walked across a whole street.

"Will," Mike repeats, looking at him with big eyes filled with concern. Will looks up at him, after successfully swallowing down his tears.

"Yeah," he mumbles. He doesn't want to look at Mike's eyes, the guilt would be too much and he really doesn't feel like crying in a middle of a random street.

Mike's quiet for some moments, like he's thinking.

"Do you wanna study at your place? I really don't get biology," he says, eventually. Will looks up at him, with a smirk on his face. Finally Mike's not acting weird anymore, everything's alright. He nods, happily, and Mike smiles back at him.

After just half an hour of studying, Mike is already a complaining, groaning mess. "Holy shit, what the hell is this," he whines while sliding off Will's bed to the floor.

"Biology," Will laughs and pulls Mike's legs to get him back on the bed. Mike obliges and falls on his back next to Will, looking up at him.

"Do you think I'm unlikeable?" he suddenly asks. Will looks at him, confused.

"What? You think I'd be teaching you biology if you were unlikeable to me?" Will says, scoffing. Mike studies his face; and then smiles at him, clearly relieved. He can tell Will is sincere.

"...Why do you ask that?" Will asks after a few more moments of silence. Mike is still just looking at him, but now he nervously averts his gaze.

"Yeah, well... just because," he says, trying to play it cool, but Will can see straight through him. He looks at him with a disbelieving look, until Mike caves in and sighs.

"Well, if you really wanna know- Dad and I fought, I guess... And he said some stuff," he sighs again.

Will's face softens, and closes his notebook. Mike sits up.

"It's nothing really- well, we never fight. He usually doesn't care that much, so he must've really been bothered by me this time, y'know... and if he was bothered by me, I could just imagine how the rest of you felt..." he trails off, and offers a quick strained smile when meeting Will's wet eyes, which makes his eyes tear up, too.

Will notices that and pulls Mike into a hug, not even needing to say anything, because just having Will near him makes Mike feel better. He no longer cares if he's annoying or not, as long as Will and his friends are there.

He's crying now, thinking about that- sobbing and everything. He hides his face in the side of Will's neck, his hair, which has gotten a lot longer since they've last hugged like this, tickling his nose. It smells good, like home. Thinking about how Will makes him feel more at home than his actual home, he grips at his shirt, pulling himself even closer to him.

Will's hands came from hugging Mike's waist to his neck, cupping his face and tangling fingers into his hair, tracing circles on his skin with his thumbs. Mike presses his forehead to Will's, almost on instinct, feeling completely fluid under his touch. He closes his eyes and slowly feels his body relaxing with every breath he feels Will take, almost as if he's under a spell. He doesn't think about his dad anymore, or about how that one girl looked at him weird in English class. No, his senses all belong to Will right now. And he loves it this way.

--

idk who first came up with the idea of byler paralleling The jncy hold but im sold please take my money💰💰

[toomuchracket]

what about birthday party! matty before you get together? maybe you bring another guy around and he says or does something that makes you upset and you tell him he ought to just go home and you’ll call him tomorrow and matty is immediately consoling you as you apologize for bringing the vibe down. he’s getting you another glass of wine and rubbing your shoulder the rest of the night until you fall asleep on him. he asks everyone to be quiet while he picks you up and tucks you into his bed. and when you wake up, you’re surrounded by his smell and his sheets and you’re a bit confused but really really comforted and it gets you spiraling a bit about how much better he treats you than that guy you’re with.

i think this happens not long after you and matty become friends in 2015; pre-paris trip, not long after you move to london. you've been seeing a guy quite casually, and it's more of a fwb situation than proper dating, but you like him and he seems to like you, so you bring him to matty's for casual drinks and a catch-up with your friends (matty's chill externally, but there's a weird, somewhat unprecedented feeling in the pit of his stomach every time he looks at the guy and you together). but you bringing him turns out to be a colossal mistake - the guy's just so visibly bored the whole time, making no effort to talk to any of your friends and shooting down both their and your attempts to include him in conversation. after about an hour and a half, he just stands up and says "right, let's go", and you're like "oh... really?", to which he's like "well i've met your friends now, like you wanted, so we can just go back to mine". mind you, this is in front of everyone; the rest of the conversations die out as everyone listens in in shock, and you go bright red but you stand your ground like "well, i'd actually quite like to stay out a little bit longer, so...", and the guy scoffs and says "why?", and you're like "because i'm having a nice time, that's why. actually, maybe you going is a good thing, because i'm sure i'd have a better time without having to compensate for you to everyone". and like, you're getting a little bit upset (angry tears welling up), but he still makes no effort to be nice, just goes "well, bye then. will you phone me tomorrow?", to which you're like "nope. goodbye" before he scoffs again and leaves.

as soon as the door slams, you - lip still quivering as though you're about to cry - turn to everyone like "i'm so sorry about that, i really am. i didn't think he'd be so rude" and they respond so nicely like "babe, it's alright, it's not your fault, he's just a dick who isn't good enough for you". but that kind of makes you worse, and the tears start to fall a little bit; matty pulls you up from the sofa and leads you to the kitchen like "come on, let's get you another drink, yeah?", and shushes you as you continue apologising to him for bringing that dick to his party. in the kitchen, he hugs you tightly (trying to ignore how perfectly you seem to fit against his chest) and says "sweetheart, please don't cry, it's honestly alright. he had shit hair anyway, it's no loss for you", which makes you laugh so hard you forget to be upset. and you kiss matty's cheek and say "thank you, you're a darling", so he kisses yours and says "you're too sweet to me. now - let me get you another wine" - you lean against the countertop as he does, striking up a conversation with him about your next respective projects and their influences, a conversation that continues when you return to the living room sofa together. by your next glass, you're curled up half-against matty, him tracing patterns comfortingly into your shoulder and smiling at the way your eyes begin to flutter closed; you're so content and comfortable next to him that you drift off to sleep as soon as you put down your glass.

matty initially shushes everyone so as to not wake you, but then has the bright idea to just carry you to the nearest bedroom and let you nap there while the party continues. it's a great idea, until he gently lays you on the bed and thinks "shit, this is my room. she's in my bed. and she looks so... right, sleeping there"; with a final caring glance at you, he runs back to the kitchen for a drink because jesus christ these feelings are confusing and he'd rather not get caught up in them right now. unbeknownst to matty, though, he's having the same feelings you have when you wake up forty-five minutes later refreshed as hell; it takes you a minute to place where you are, all warm and cosy and a little bit groggy from the sleep, but then you register the familiar aroma of washing powder and aftershave and cigarettes from the sheets surrounding you and think "shit, this is matty's room. i'm in matty's bed. and that was the best sleep i've had in months". and as if you'd cued him, matty appears in the doorway, smiling softly like "hi, sweetheart. you feeling alright? hope you don't mind me bringing you in here. figured you needed the rest, and i wanted you to be as comfy as possible" - you smile back like "what i said about you earlier is true, healy, you are a darling. thank you. you're too kind. and i need to know what mattress you've got because honestly it's so comfy like genuinely what the fuck". matty just giggles - your heart flutters - and says "come on, i'll tell you in the kitchen while i make you a cuppa. or get you another wine. whatever you want, sweetheart", and you're kinda overwhelmed at how sweet he is - your previous guy, the one who fucked off earlier, has never been so nice to you. in fact, you can't remember if any guy ever has. anyway, matty holds out his hand; you take it and follow him to the kitchen again, the two of you both biting back smiles and trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomachs. and that's how it all starts for the two of you, the beginnings of the crush that develops into the relationship we all know and love <3

[comraderomeo]

Where Skin Ends Ch. 2

Updated Every Other Thursday (sorry I was late)

links: ao3 masterpost

cw: none of note

The sun finally breaks through your stupor and forces you awake. You lie groggily in bed, less regretful of your beverage choices than you expected to be. Your complimentary headache is only a mild annoyance, for which you have that Corporal to thank, not that you remember. In fact, your memory is hazy enough to leave you with no clear events, only a lingering sense of embarrassment. You check the clock and utter a "fuck" on realizing it's noon. After gathering your strength, you roll out of bed. Each layer of clothes from the day before is systematically stripped and thrown with force into the corner where a pile of undone laundry lies. At least you have a uniform for today. As you enter the bathroom, your reflection causes you to jump. It's always been an unexpected scare, but you look especially bad today, sorry to say. The cold water splashes off your back and coats your body like a sealant for restfulness. At the end of it, you feel half-normal again. Congratulations. As you dry off fully, there comes a series of bare-minimum upkeep procedures, just enough to make you not-appalling. Next, comes the uniform. It's too crinkled to pass inspection, but who gives a shit, right? They don't even have those in your company. Run your fingers through your hair that looks like it was cut with hedge trimmers, and you're done. Now, off to drills before you give Alex anything to be annoyed about.

You arrive at the simulator facility five minutes early, which you're happy with until you see the rest of your lance sitting around a map already discussing tactics. 

"Given we are defending through this sector, Hill 251 seems the most tenable for Alex and I."

"Ed, swear to God, please use words I can understand."

"It means 'defendable.'"

"Thanks, but I don't have time for a language lesson in the field."

"I will refrain, but I ask you stop calling me-"

Alex, being uninvested in the debate on words, was the first to notice you.

"Ah, Mat. Pleased to see you on time today."

"Anything for you, Lance Commander."

"Oh, that's a surprise. I figured you half an hour late at least."

You look for a rebuke to Ashe’s comment and find one. Pointing lazily to Edward, you fire back, "At least I'm not nursing a hangover in the planning room."

"You would've been out cold for a week, if it weren't for that Lyran lass."

Edward isn’t making a show of it, but you're right. He looks like his headache is about to devour him whole.

"And, who's to say it's not a migraine or some other thing?"

"Aye, could be. Could be."

"No, it is a hangover. I apologize. However, I will still be able to pilot."

You roll your eyes almost hard enough to crack your skull. It's petty but deserved. This whole ribbing thing is a waste of time anyway.

"So, can we move on to the actual thing we're being paid to do? Or, are we all just bullying me today?"

"It can be either. I couldn't give less of a shit."

"Ashe, chill please."

"Thank you, Lance Commander."

"Agreed, bickering about one's drinking habits will not decide the war nor pay well."

"Right you are, Ed. Anyway, let me fill you in on the sim we're working with."

Edward raised up as if to say something, but dropped it. Alex zoomed out on the digital map, revealing a series of arrows indicating expected troop movements. 

"We're operating on a constructed battleground, temperate climate, hilly, lightly forested. Simulation is starting on clear weather, but that might change. We, along with elements of the Lyran 57th Armored Regiment, will be defending a 'mech production facility. We will have no aerospace support nor ground reinforcements. But, the simulation will be providing long-distance artillery support on demand, so Ashe will be running double duty spotting for them and us."

The name of that armored regiment sits poorly with you, but the reason didn’t survive last night. Alex doesn't notice and points to a hill annotated on the map.

"As Edward stated, Hill 251 would be the best place for Scholar and Storm to be positioned. Meanwhile, Calm will be running spotting and skirmishes in support of the heavy tanks all throughout the foothills here. You, as always, are the hardest to place. I'm thinking myself that we should have you powered down in this more heavily forested area Southeast of where Ashe is doing her spotting. That way, you'll be able to pop in for an ambush once they engage the armored regiment. Thoughts?"

To you, it sounds less like an important assignment and more like getting sidelined. But, what are you going to do? You’ve still barely recovered from the probationary period you were on prior to Houses Steiner and Davion making their union into an all-consuming war. It's not worth risking your neck over an assignment.

"Fine, that works. It'll also give me the chance to get into melee with their support 'mechs."

"Good. I forgot to lead with the opposition, so let me clarify. We'll be up against two full lances of Capellan ‘mechs. I haven't been given a specific list of ‘mechs, but expect them on the medium to heavy side."

"Always hate it when they don’t tell us what to expect…"

"Oh, good. I was worried Ashe had secretly passed away after that much blissful silence."

"Fuck off."

"Gladly, if I weren't on contract."

"The two of you need to stop, or I will kick you out of here. The Lyran officers are going to be joining the briefing in a few minutes, so keep it to off-hours."

You and Ashe huff. Then, as if on cue, a series of finely-trimmed officers stroll into the briefing room. Their faces belie origins from all different regions of the Lyran Commonwealth, but the patches on their shoulders unify them. It takes a few more seconds than you like to admit, but you realize this is the Lyran 57th Armored. You scan through the officers, starting with the obvious Commander and rolling down the line judgmentally. That is until you reach a face far too familiar. You instinctively recoil before you can catch yourself. Hannelore smiles at you. It's hard to catch, but there's pity in her eyes too. The rest of your lance greets them half as formally as they greet you. All you can manage is a stoic nod. Alex launches into another explanation of his tactics. You mentally block this out, even though he does mention a few more details than he gave you. The tankers seem in agreeance, and start laying out their own plans in support of you, as being the center of attention is the privilege of a MechWarrior. You don't parse most of this either, which is clearly a great idea that definitely won't fuck you over down the line. The major strokes are that the artillery will be hiding behind the hills and the rest are holding the line alongside your lancemates. It's nothing groundbreaking all in all. At some point, Alex and the nameless Lyran Commander finally stop talking. It's probably been half an hour by estimates outside of your comprehension. A few more affirmations are shared between people, then the room breaks for the simulators. You take a little too long to react, lost in your lack of thought, and now you're alone with Hannelore. You look at her and mutter “oh shit…” quietly enough that it slurs beyond comprehension. She doesn't smile with the same warmness that you saw at first but with more of the pity you’d missed before.

“So, how’re you holding up?”

“Fine…”

You swallow your pride and almost gag,

“Thank you.”

“Well, I couldn't have just left you like that. It wouldn't be right.”

“Being a mercenary doesn't leave you much room to expect people to do right. I wouldn't have been mad.”

She nods, silently drawing a parallel between the two of you.

“Very true, but doesn't that make it all the better when someone proves you wrong?”

How could someone maintain this earnestness, despite knowing how cruel and violent the universe is? You can't say. It's unsettling in a way you can't describe.

“Maybe it is, but you still didn't have to.”

She deflates a little.

“Still better to have you in good condition for the drills, right?”

You nod obliquely, giving her that concession. 

“As thanks, I'll make an effort to not embarrass you again, but I make no promises I’ll be successful.”

She lets out an amused breath, even though you don’t mean that as a joke.

“Appreciated, but I'm sure you'll do fine. Even Lieutenant Ashe let slip that you're decent in a ‘mech.”

“I figured she'd rather drag herself than compliment me, but I guess all we can do is wait and see if I live up to the legend.”

“It's the weight you have to deal with when you go the ‘mech route. It's why I'm plenty happy in my humble tank crew.”

“I prefer the solitude, and it always felt to me like the inside of a tank would smell like a sauna adjacent to livestock.”

The Corporal laughs fully this time. You're glad she does but don’t show it.

“You know what? It does, but luckily you get used to it.”

“Maybe they should-”

“Mat. Corporal. You're needed in the sim bays.”

Alex stands in the doorway, looking not mad but disappointed. You don't care much that he is, but you really should get going.

[keefwho]

April 04 - 2024 Thursday

11:24pm

6.5/10

This morning I showered immediately and got ready to go to the store. Mom drove me to the market in Seeley. I brought my Switch to play but put it down in favor of enjoying the scenery. Shopping went well, I guessed a total of $350 and the cost was $345. The cashiers seemed REALLY gay which was nice. On the drive home we saw a freshly hit deer which was very gross and we drove over it's legs. I didn't get as much freezer stuff because they don't have a great selection of frozen foods. I need mom or one of her coworkers to pick me up chicken from town. And maybe the extra big bags of french fries.

I had meant to stream after settling down after my groceries but I didn't. I did do my finances which I've had to do late due to a late payment from someone. I was also looking into my dental insurance situation and how to pay it, I have to do it before the 12th. I also chopped all my vegetables I just bought so I could freeze them and was hitting up anyone I could to chat while I did it. TK was down at first but she had to get ready to go somewhere instead. DV wasn't responsive. BR was getting ready for work. BD hadn't responded at first but she did in the end and agreed to chill in her server VC while I chopped. I appreciated that a lot, I desperately wanted company during the task. We made basic conversation and a couple of her friends joined. When I was done, I started cooking my chicken stew from the fresh ingredients and switched to my PC. She started screensharing the just chatting section on Twitch and we watched at least half an episode of every popular adult swim show being streamed on different channels. She left to make dinner and I was supposed to work next.

Instead of working I called DV because he's always down to talk about important stuff and I really needed someone to talk to about some things. This proved to be great, I got a lot off my chest and he gives good feedback. He's good about being honest instead of blindly supporting everything I'm saying and telling me what I want to hear. It feels great to be told I'm wrong about something because it means I have something to think about and maybe improve on. He told me about his problems too which I had my own feedback on. We talked for a couple hours before he had to go pick up his sister and I wanted to get into VR. BD said she was feeling meh so I asked if we could chill. I was hoping to get some more deep conversation out of it and that's what happened. In a driving world we started talking about how we feel about relationships and view them very similarly. Like how using the word "love" is a really REALLY big deal and its a red flag when someone uses it so lightly. She also told me about this guy that's been clingy around her. The weird part is that I know I've been like him in the past but maybe not to his degree. Seeing that (and not supporting it) gave me a little bit of perspective on the times I've also been clingy or overbearing. Sort of like I was forced to step back and look at the times I was like that. It's something I sort of hide from because it's uncomfortable to admit that sometimes I behave in a way I don't like for various reasons. It got REALLY awkward when the guy she was talking about joined the world and vaguely told her "we need to talk". My first thought was he had joined and spawned in the back seat where we didn't see him and he listened in. But maybe that didn't happen. He might have just seen that we were hanging out together after she told him she wanted space, making her a liar in his eyes. Apparently their talk went well and he was understanding about the situation so I'm happy for them.

I got off and joined AE and friends while they played No Mans Sky. I was asking them sort of random questions because I was in a good and social mood after processing things with DV. I think they liked me? As in, they seemed receptive to the kind of conversation I was bringing. I was there until DS was in bed.

DS and I talked about our days and she showed me this cool thing she did with all her con badges. Also the stuff she bought for her new rats she's getting this weekend. I greatly enjoyed chatting with her tonight, I was in a great mood. We did our puzzles and caught up on the old ones, she read me a Frankie chapter from the Monster High book, and I continued the KH2 playthrough. It was a good night.

~~~

Today's topic was presence so I tried to keep that in mind while I did things today. It was harder in the morning but in the evening I had some thoughts. Part of presence is the idea that you attend to things as they are in the current moment. It's sort of submitting to whatever the current task or state of things is. Thats something I struggle with because I'm usually thinking of whatever is most important to me in general. But I know to be most effective, different times should be spent on different things. In the evening I employed that by being more attentive to the different people I talked to today. They all had their place in my evening and were beneficial when given the proper focus.

Other than that I feel a bit bad that I ditched any kind of schedule today, I did 0 work.

[awkwarddystopianwarlord]

*Cough, Cough* I'm Sick

Living alone and getting sick is a stupid combination. I got sick on Christmas, which was a Monday, and it took me out for like five days. I had chills, dizziness, lightheadedness, was feverish and sneezed mucus-y sneezes every five minutes. It sucked. I couldn’t do anything because I was too wobbly to move much. I was like a drunk, three legged baby deer for days. It started off with sneezing in the morning which I wrote off as allergies since I often sneeze in the mornings. The sneezing kept going though and it was getting more and more snotty throughout the day which was kind of concerning but also I was at my friend’s house for crimmus and they have a giant fluffy dog. I’m not usually allergic to beasties but this dog is particularly fluffy so I decided that was valid. I really got worried however, when my throat started hurting towards the evening and that only ever happens when I get sick. It was quite sore and raw feeling. After I got home, I chugged some tea to soothe it and hoped I was overreacting. The next day, alas, I was slammed with all the symptoms in one go and woke up feeling horrendous. 

I did my best to stay hydrated and take my medicinal beverages, but I had to be the one to make them and it was incredibly difficult to do when I could barely move. My dishes piled up, my laundry that I hang dry was still hanging up, my place needed vacuuming and garbage taken out. I had an order to pick up at a shop and money to deposit at the bank. My mailbox was horribly neglected and my plants were thirsty. All I could do was loaf on my couch and somewhat eat from the massive amount of holiday leftovers my friend’s family gave me. Mind you, that was hella convenient and such a treat that I didn’t have to cook anything myself. 

You really get antsy though, not being able to move or be productive. It was such a relief to be able to somewhat function again. That is until the Monday that just happened. After one week of getting the last of my mucus out of my system and my wobbliness under control I…got…sick…AGAIN. ON MONDAY!

It started off the exact same way. In the morning I had one symptom. My throat was kind of clogged with mucus and I had to occasionally sound like a cat coughing up a hairball as I tried hawking it out. This wasn’t too frequent of a thing though so I wrote it off as me still recovering from my cold and this was the last remaining sick. But, come late afternoon, I couldn’t really move my neck because it was so stiff. The phlegm in my throat was getting more problematic and my legs for some reason were incredibly achy. By evening, I couldn’t move my neck at all, my entire body hurt, and my throat was infuriated. So the last four days, I’ve been at war against phlegm goblins that live in, what feels like the middle of, my throat. They’ve become more sentient as time has gone by. I can’t choke one up unless it wants me to. I’ll feel what I can only describe as a goblin dislodging from its throat latch. Only after that can I try to cough it up, except it’s still difficult as shit because it doesn’t really move with a cough. I have to also essentially retch and do a weird throaty cough to get this fucking guy out. And since the phlegm goblin is so thick, it blocks my airway and I can’t breathe while doing this which is stressful as fuck. I didn’t get the sneezing fits this time but my gawds this has been almost unbearable. I could hardly swallow, so I could hardly consume fluids or foods. Trying to sleep was a nightmare since I couldn’t move my neck without severe pain. I even had a mug by my bed to spit in through the night whenever my throat would get so clogged up that I couldn’t breathe well. 

Yesterday was the first day I was able to move my neck and it was glorious to crack that thing every half hour or so. Today was the first day where I didn’t feel immediately dizzy after standing, but that only lasted a short while. I finally folded my laundry from Sunday and did my dishes for the first time since Saturday. I even took out my recycling and felt the outside air for the first time this week. What is so frustrating though is that all of this took so long to do. I had no one else to help out with my dishes or laundry. I lucked out again with food and had enough leftovers from Saturday to sustain me but what if I didn’t? I did not have any strength to move beyond my wee bachelor suite. It took me hours to get out of bed some days or I would sleep in so long that it would be dark by the time I woke up. Wandering around downtown in an unstable haze whilst sick because I had nothing but my friend’s alcohol in my kitchen is a shit idea. Having to make the teas and NeoCitran and jello powder in boiling water and hot milk with honey by myself is wretched when I’m stuck to my bed with my own sweat. I would only get up to stumble to the bathroom until my snarling stomach forced me to get up and get food. I so desperately wanted to wave my hand and gently demand someone else to get my needs. Unfortunately, I was the only one here, and therefore the only one to help. 

It’s been an irritating time for sure. I’ve lost an entire paycheque’s worth of income for missing two weeks of work. And I’m paranoid about Mondays now. I’m so confused about this cursed fiasco because I’ve never gotten sick like this twice in a row. None of my friends got sick, save for one who shared a beverage with me on crimmus, but this clearly wasn’t airborne with them. Yet I caught it somehow and I only work Wednesday to Friday and I hardly go anywhere the other four days. So did I catch something on Friday and it just took a couple days to seize control of my immune system and then strike on Monday both times? I can justify getting sick the first time more since the mall was absolutely insane leading up to the holidays, but the second time it was incredibly quiet. I don’t know, this was just a shitty time and my rent increases next month so that’ll be cool to pay with the money I didn’t make.

[dzpenumbra]

7/24/23

I... didn't sleep well. I was actually really upset about this. I had been on a roll... and guess what... fucking stompstompstomp creakcreakcreakcreakcreakcreak right above my head again. And I tried to just roll over and go back to sleep but I swear to god, like some kind of sick torture method every time I'd start to fall asleep just creakcreakcreak and I'd half jump out of my skin all over again.

I'm so frustrated that it still makes me jump like that, and shoots adrenaline through my system. Like... when I hear that creak, I'm fucking awake. I wince like someone just swung a stick at me or something. Is this like... a branch snapping in a tree above me kind of reflex or something? Or maybe it really is as simple as someone clearly not being mindful of how much noise they are making in very close proximity to me.

And honestly, there's not a lot of recourse for me. I'm the one on a weird schedule. I'm the one going to bed between 5-7AM and sleeping until... whenever I possibly can. And they're just going about their life at like 10:30 on a Sunday. The world decided a long time ago that day schedules get priority. So I spend nearly all of my waking hours being quiet as a mouse... tiptoeing around my apartment and whispering so I don't disturb MY downstairs neighbor... and these motherfuckers literally never have to be mindful of their neighbors at all.

My resignation is pretty indicative of how little I want to directly confront this issue in any capacity. I'd rather whittle a dozen wooden shims and ram them in that molding gap rather than have to actually face these people and ask them to be accommodating towards my weird lifestyle. And going directly to the landlord feels... both cowardly and inappropriate, like it isn't their job.

I put a post on a subreddit a few weeks back about this, during the insomniathon... talking about how I deeply struggle with confrontation and I really want to find the most peaceful/pacifist approach to resolving this issue... and someone replied recommending I go buy them a rug. XD And tell them that the floor is really creaky in that specific area over my bedroom and if they don't mind trying to use the gift rug to muffle the sound a bit. I thought it was a genius idea. I just... don't know what unit number is above me. And rugs really... aren't cheap, from my understanding. And it still feels really forward to just... dump a rug on their doorstep and basically say "your problem now." I don't know.

I was really hoping to get back to sleep quickly. But rolling over didn't work. Music didn't work. Livestream VoD didn't work. I was just too awake. So I got up and did a run in Hades, chilled for a while, then went back to sleep... for an hour. I was up for several hours just... trying to get myself reset and ready for sleep... and I had to be up at a specific time to pick up my grocery delivery.

I woke up to a softly ringing alarm 15 minutes after my groceries were delivered, they were delivered early again. Nothing was stolen, all my stuff was there, and I don't think anything went bad. The only real perishables were eggs and yogurt and I had both today and they seemed fine. I just... I jumped out of bed and immediately threw clothes on and fucking booked it up to the lobby. Someone got in the elevator with me for the first time, I just kinda... I had headphones in so I just kinda kept to myself.

I tried out the new granola, it was pretty good. I keep getting this kinda chemical taste that hits me after yogurt and granola sometimes... I think it's coming from the yogurt. Besides that, it was good. I think I just went a bit heavy on the yogurt.

I went skating today. I committed to it and decided to go. I was still a bit spooked after last time... but I went for it. I went up to the park the same direction I went last time, right up that main road where the guy flagged me down. It went fine. It's a bit spooky riding with cars right next to you, but the bike lane is wide enough so yeah, I'm getting used to it.

I had the park to myself tonight. I got there around 7:45, skated until around 8:15. It was all I really needed, I was sweating really heavy immediately. I set out to really challenge myself, try to learn something new. I thought I was going to be really fine-tuning BS noseslides, but ended up trying to learn... I guess it's a FS half cab? I was fucking around with just... getting really used to my ollies. The fakie ollies, then adding in some nollie and FS 180 practice. But once I was on the fakie ollie, I remembered the last time that I tried half cab... I guess the BS way, where you rotate on your toe edge. And I remember being able to do it on snowskate (at least I think). But man, I really struggle with body rotation in that direction. Even FS boardslides have been a struggle for a long time. Rotating toe edge always feels like a blind leap of faith. Not a bad reason to practice them... but I'm not there yet. My weight is not in the right place, I can feel it. I lean way too far forward and the board just goes shooting out. So I improvised and decided to try rotating the other way... basically continuing the FS rotation from the 180 I was doing into it. And I tried it and I actually got really close on my first attempt, so I went after it.

So basically, I'm regular... so I'm ollieing and rotating heel-edge to my left... and I land riding switch. From here... at first... I would line up my feet in "nollie" position and then kinda... do this huge rotation in like a whipping motion and just pray the board came with me. It clearly didn't work.... XD So I ended up getting this idea... "why the hell am I so compelled to look where I'm going? I'm doing the same 180 I just did... but just... backwards... So... do it riding backwards." So I started to get this big feeling difference between riding switch and riding fakie... at least for this trick. I just lined up like I was getting ready for a FS 180... only I was rolling backwards... And since I have the motion of that trick down really naturally, it actually came together pretty quickly. It's really disorienting... popping the trick while moving backwards and turning blind into the direction I was moving? I don't know, it was really disorienting. But somehow... I got it much easier than figuring out this weight distribution problem on my BS rotations. I saved that for another day.

I also figured out that I've learned some not-so-great habits from snowskating as far as pop goes. It's not bad for snowskate at all... see... snowskates... Okay, if you don't know what one is, it's basically a skateboard deck but without holes, trucks, wheels, any of that. Just a board with like a PVC bottom on it with grooves in it so that you can steer and lock in grinds. Instead of "sandpaper" griptape, they have a sorta foam/rubber grip thats more suited to snow. So basically, when you pop on a skateboard... you have the entire pop of the tail and the elevation from the base of the board to the ground (the height of the trucks/wheels) to use as leverage for your pop. But on a snowskate... the deck is flat on the ground, so you need to milk every millimeter of pop you can out of that tail. So... on a snowskate, your back foot is basically perched on the very edge of the tail... like half of your toes aren't even on the board sometimes. It takes a lot of getting used to. I realized that my stance... was a snowskate stance. And my back foot was way further back than it needed to be. In fact, just moving it forward a little bit ended up giving me a ton of control on my ollies. They felt much more comfortable. I just need to sorta.. get used to riding one way on skateboard and another way on snowskate. A seasonal adjustment. But that was a really neat unlock, because once I noticed that and saw the edge of my foot hanging off the tail, I just scooched it forward and felt the difference immediately.

I'm still not really sure where exactly to put my body weight with BS noseslide, but I'm saving it for another day. I should really just watch skate videos in slow motion and pay special attention to where they carry their weight in that trick.

So yeah, I had a good skate session and went home. I took an alternate route back, scoping out the difference in riding through the neighborhood rather than the main drag that I had been riding. I might take the neighborhood route to the park next time. Idk. The roads are in worse condition and they are narrower, so in other ways it feels a bit less safe. But it's a straight shot to the park and it doesn't go through that area where I was like... seeing needles on the ground and shit. Idk I guess I'll try it next time. It goes right past the police station, so at least it feels safer.

So yeah, today started pretty crap and I've been tired all day... but I got to skate and that was nice. I still got myself to go out. I'm applauding myself for that.

I did some more work outlining on the grip tape. Oh yeah, the paint did already start to peel on some areas where I was dragging my feet. To be expected, honestly. It's just weird to be skating a grip piece that isn't done yet. So my plan is to keep going with what I'm doing... skate when i want to, paint it when it calls me. And try to get a picture of it before I skate off all the art. But embrace the fact that it is a temporary piece that is on limited time, and that's the point. Just like the graphics on the bottom of the deck.

I also spent several hours polishing the blue beads again. I have no idea if the polish will keep this time, this is like the 4th time I've done this... They keep getting these opaque streaks on them, I don't know. I just sanded them a bit and buffed them after. I'm a bit discouraged with it, they keep looking really cool all shiny and polished... and then a few days later they're just dull and splotchy. I see why the call for acrylic sealer is so alluring. I'm going to do my best to stay natural here. But yeah, I get it. What, like... 3-5 coats of a spray that dries in a few minutes and... I'm done? And this piece has been like... weeks of trial and error and I don't even know if it's gonna work? It's definitely tempting.

But I was mentally prepared for this. This was going to be a test batch, I'm aware of it. So I'm just gonna keep working at it until I figure out a formula. That's half the fun.

I was watching Adam Savage from Mythbusters' channel on YouTube a bunch today, and I saw something in his behaviors that I really wanted to share with every person I've ever met. He made a grievous mistake. I had some out-of-the-box idea for a metal mount that held this glass sculpture and he was showing off the idea... and dropped the glass. And his reaction was incredibly clear "I majorly fucked up." And he was ON FILM. And he grabbed it, and took a very quick beat, then immediately started staring off in another direction, then walked over to his desk and then started talking to himself about how to potentially rework the problem. It was insane how fluid it was. He felt the panic, he felt the "oh shit, this is bad." Then he let it go. And he moved on to "what does this mean?" "What do I do now?" Like his clumsy mistake that almost ruined not just his work, but someone else's art... was just another step in the troubleshooting process. Because it was.

I'm gonna level, his stress management abilities aren't flawless, of course... he is human... But most people I've met in my life would need a few moments to just process the gravity of that moment. And he took it in stride, clearly emotionally processed it, in front of a very large audience too... and then organically wove that information into the next step of solving his engineering puzzle. It was commendable. It was really cool and inspiring to watch.

Alright, off to bed I go.

[thefrontofmymind]

Lonely This Christmas (matty healy x reader)

a/n: happy holidays yall!! hope you enjoy this, i'm working on a couple requests at the moment and hopefully i'll have something else up before the new year! any feedback is greatly appreciated, kisses!!

SYNOPSIS: Reader is spending Christmas alone, so is their next door neighbour who apparently doesn't know the volume of his speaker system

WARNINGS: brief hints of smut, and like making out, also alcohol consumption

When you were younger, you couldn’t fathom spending Christmas sad; it was a day of joy and family and festivities–and yet here you were on Christmas Eve, alone in a city without your family, recently broken up with, and no friends (they all sided with your ex in the breakup, you tried to think positive, think ‘if they were going to do that, I probably didn’t want to be friends with them anyway’, but you couldn’t deny you weren’t loving the lonesome feeling), with no way to go see the ones you loved.

You tried to make the best of it, you’d made yourself a small dinner, and was practically sunken into your sofa for the entire day, going between all the holiday films you enjoyed so much in previous years, but now they just reminded you of your desolation.

It was starting to get dark–you turned on your fairy lights that were spun around the tree in the corner of your living room, and lit a gingerbread-scented candle. You could feel the despair bubble further and further up into your chest and weave its way into your mind. You knew tears were bound to fall soon enough, so in a fight you were sure to lose, you folded yourself into your duvet on your bed, hoping–praying–you’d get to sleep before they did.

Of course, it was still far too early to go to sleep, so you laid there, not moving among the silence of your apartment. You wondered if anyone was even in the building apart from you–you had seen a solid amount of your neighbours begin to pack up and shuffle out to their families or holiday destinations starting on about the 10th of the month, you tried not to let it concern you, knowing you wouldn’t be able to make it home for the big day though, obviously, it had affected you, a lot.

You felt hopeless, there was nothing you could do, apart from lay there and wallow in sadness–your whole timeline was of your friends enjoying their evening, and you knew you wouldn’t cope seeing that.

Soon enough, tears began to fall, and you silently cried to yourself for what seemed like hours. Every time you’d begin to calm yourself, another sob would erupt from your chest and you’d start back at square one, completely outside of your control.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but eventually exhaustion took over and you fell into a state of uneasy sleep, until you were awoken by a thumping, droning noise through your wall. You were sure it was well past midnight–the December chill had gotten into your sheets–and it kind of irked you that your next door neighbour was inconsiderate enough to blast music in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve.

In hindsight, you figured it was the lethargy that made you get up out of your bed–duvet wrapped around your shoulders–march to your neighbour’s door, and pound the living shit out of it until you got an answer.

You were greeted with the guy that you’d seen coming and going pretty frequently in the couple months you’d been living in the apartment building, though you didn’t know he lived next to you. He was dressed still in his coat–though you could see his shoes had been kicked off probably right as he got in the door–and he was holding a half-empty bottle of red wine in his hand and a delirious, hazy look in his eyes, and he was indeed blasting some slow jazz ballad throughout his apartment.

“Can I help you?” he said after opening the door and taking a good look at you, no doubt the duvet and angry look on your face weren’t what he was expecting.

“Yeah-hi-sorry, can you just turn the music down? I’m next door and I can’t really sleep with the racket.” You didn’t want to be rude, he seemed to be having just as hard of a time as you.

“Oh, sorry, I-uh didn’t realise there was anyone around, sorry,” he slurred.

“Likewise.”

You didn’t walk away, and he didn’t close the door in your face; instead you both just eyed each other in a moment of silence, trying to get a read on each other. There seemed to be a mutual understanding–of solitude, of loneliness. It tugged on your heart strings a little when he opened the door with such a look of shock, surprise and confusion, and you couldn’t quite let it go.

“Look, would you wanna join me for a glass?” He motioned to the bottle in his hand. “In the name of festivity?”

You couldn’t say no, so with a hesitant agreement, you stepped through the door and followed the man–who quickly introduced himself as Matty in passing–to the kitchen. His flat had the same layout as yours, but he’d decorated it far differently. There wasn’t a Christmas decoration in sight, and you noticed a turntable and a shelf full of vinyl records in his living room.

“So what’s the story? Why aren’t you with anyone?” He handed you a glass, while he kept on for himself, and leaned on the kitchen counter between the two of you. “If you don’t mind me askin’”

You figured he was likely half-torn by this time of night, so you really didn’t mind. “Couldn’t afford the ticket home this year, so I’m kind of just stuck here.”

He nodded, not knowing quite how to answer.

“And you? Surely you have people you could be with?”

Matty shook his head and sighed before answering. “You don’t know me, so you don’t know that I can be a bit of a prick from time to time, and I said some stuff that pissed of my family and got be uninvited to Christmas dinner, and all my mates are either away or with their own families and kids and shit, so I kind of have no one this year.” 

Now it was your turn to have no answer.

“At least we have each other, right?” Matty continued with a smile–how ever self-deprecating it seemed. You returned the smile and took his guidance to go to his living room.

You sat on his sofa–leather, and so soft you almost sunk to the floor when you sat down–while he put his wine glass next to your’s and shuffled to his turntable and sound system, turning down the volume and flipping the record that had finished one side.

“A big music fan?” you asked, noting the collection, as well as the plethora of instruments that sat around the room.

“Oh yeah,” he replied, taking off his leather coat and tossing it over the back of the sofa before taking a seat next to you–still with your duvet. “Music is like my lifeblood, it’s the only thing that really keeps me going these days.”

“That’s good,” you commented.

“Yeah, but it can make or break a bad night, you know? Like I’ve been recording this song, and it’s-it is exactly what I seem to be going through right now, and I didn’t write it to be honest or sincere, but somehow it’s turned into that, and it scares me, honestly…” he rambled–though you didn’t mind, it was kind of fascinating to watch him think about it and go through it in his head. “I’m sorry–I know that that’s made it all about me…I’m sorry…”

“No! No, its good to get these thoughts out…” You didn’t really know how to explain your attraction to him, not explicitly in a sexual way–though you couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t the least bit attractive–but more in the way that he just had a magnetic energy about him. He was like a car crash that you couldn’t help but watch.

“Look, can I just play you the song so you see what I mean?” You nodded quickly and he pulled his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and tapped away for a second. “Now this is just a rough demo, my mate, George, hasn’t done all his producing magic on it yet so you’ll have to just deal with my shitty editing skills.”

It felt good to laugh a little, even with a complete stranger. Matty pressed play and your ears were filled with the sounds of a slow piano riff, followed by vocals.

“I get out my records

When you go away

When people are talking

I miss what they say

'Cause it all means nothing, my dear

If I can't be holdin' you near

So tell me you love me

'Cause that's all that I need to hear

I sit in my kitchen

With nothing to eat

With so many friends I

I don't wanna meet

'Cause I don't need music in my ears

I don't need the crowds and the cheers

Oh, just tell me you love me

'Cause that's all that I need to hear

I've been told so many times before

But hearin' it from you means much more

So much more

Reply to my message

And pick up my calls

You see, I wrote you a letter

It was no use at all

Oh, I don't care if you're insincere

Just tell me what I wanna hear

You know where to find me

The place where we lived all these years, oh

And tell me you love me

That's all that I need to hear

Oh, tell me you love me

That's all that I need to hear”

Matty locked his phone and put it back in his pocket, looking at you with softened eyes–silently asking for your approval. Though you couldn’t think of anything to say–every time you thought of something, the tears that made a film over your eyes got closer and closer to filling. You’d never been moved by music like that before. Matty just sat, watching you stutter, while biting his nails.

“That was…” you eventually started. “That was just…wow.”

“Wow-good? Or wow-don’t-be-stupid-and-think-that’s-decent-enough-to-release?” He asked with a nervous smile.

You returned the smile, though a lot more sanguine. “Wow-good. For sure!” You laughed, almost in disbelief. “Wow-so-good, oh my god, Matty!”

He became giddy right along with you, pulling you in for a hug that you returned, placing your arms around his shoulders, which in turn, enveloped him in your duvet with you. Neither of you moved back to your original positions straight away, just sitting together on the sofa, surrounded by the warmth of your duvet.

“When you said you were going to play me a song, I expected some crap Garage Band song, but that-” You paused. “Was a masterpiece.”

“Don’t flatter me too much, my ego can’t take much more,” Matty joked. You noticed his hold of your waist grew every so slightly tighter as he rested his head on your shoulder, though you didn’t want to comment on it in fear he’d retract; it was warm, and comfortable–not the hold of someone you’d never even spoken to half an hour ago, it was purely perplexing to every facet of your social thought process.

You weren’t sure where the time went, but soon enough the two of you had burnt through the bottle of wine and began working on another one. You just couldn’t keep away from each other, there was something cosmic that was drawing you to one another and who were you to deny that? You spoke of everything you’d experienced, as did Matty, and any thought that came to your mind. 

With your arms around each other and faces inches away from contact, it felt homely, and secure, and in all honesty, the most natural thing you’ve done in the recent months of discomfort, loneliness and anxiety. You didn’t fail to notice each time Matty’s eyes would flicker to your lips as you spoke, and you were sure he didn’t miss when you’d do the same to him.

Maybe you were lonely, maybe you were a bit too drunk, but somehow you had enough built up courage to do what your mind had been subconsciously begging you to do pretty much since you walked in the door. You simply blew caution to the wind and closed the gap between the two of you.

Matty quickly leaned into the kiss and placed his hands firmly on your waist, though within a matter of minutes, they began to wander.

You were almost caught off guard by how good he tasted, the sweetness of the red wine you’d both been drinking hit your tongue, and there was a hint of smoke, though only faint, that made the notion that much more perplexing to you.

You lightly bit on his bottom lip, causing him to let out a small moan into your mouth–it made you smirk in the kiss, you were already learning so much about him.

It was Matty that pulled away first to get a proper breath in, though still with his hands on you. There was a look in his eye–a look that you could only describe as impassioned–and you were sure he could see the same glint in your’s. You’d never quite had a kiss like that before, so full of passion and urgency, yet totally spontaneous.

While you both panted a little, you grabbed his hand that was currently still squeezing the flesh on your right hip, and held it closer to your face. You examined his hand, not for any particular reason, simply out of curiosity.

“You have nice hands,” you said, earning an assiduous laugh from Matty.

“Thank you, darling.” He took control back of his hand and gently placed it on your cheek. “Want me to show you what they can do?”

He didn’t wait for your answer after he saw the way to smirked at him, once again ridding the air in between you. The kiss quickly deepened, as Matty moved slightly so you could straddle him, as his hands moved from your face to the backs of your thighs. You were beginning to get restless and frustrated. You pulled away to look at him again before placing a line of chaste kisses down the column of his neck.

Clothes were quickly shed and before you knew it, you were on Matty’s bed, cuddled into his side, basking in a sweaty, out of breath glow. You took his hand again, which made him chuckle, breaking the comfortable silence between you. He turned his head to look at his bedside table, you weren’t sure why until he spoke.

“Hey, look, it’s past midnight.” You twisted a little to see the small clock sitting on the side, showing a time just before 1 AM. “Merry Christmas, love.”

“Merry Christmas,” you said back with a smile.

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Can I get "love" for the whump words ask game please? 👀

Hi Anon! Of course! Thanks for requesting this, here you go!

From this ask game

Caretaker opened the door and stepped inside the house.

"Whumpee!" They called, "I'm home!"

Caretaker paused when no answer came. They closed the door behind them and started searching the house.

"Whumpee?" They called again.

Their search came to an abrupt end when they saw a mound of blankets shaking on the couch. Caretaker pulled the blankets down and saw the flushed face of Whumpee. They appeared to be asleep, but their brows were knitted together and their breaths came in short, ragged gasps, not to mention they were shivering. Caretaker put a hand to Whumpee's forehead and recoiled when they felt the heat there.

"Oh, Love," Caretaker said softly.

Whumpee stirred and their eyes blinked open; they stared up at Caretaker.

"Mm?" Whumpee managed.

"Whumpee," Caretaker whispered, "how long have you been here on the couch?"

Whumpee groaned and mumbled something incoherently.

"Stay there," Caretaker said, "I'll be right back."

Caretaker ran to the bathroom and grabbed a thermometer from a drawer. They rushed back into the living room and crouched down next to Whumpee. Whumpee's eyes had fallen shut and they were once again in a fitful sleep. Caretaker took Whumpee's shoulder and shook it lightly.

"Whumpee, Love," Caretaker said softly, "open your mouth for me."

Whumpee opened their eyes and looked up at Caretaker with a pitiful expression. They let their mouth fall open for Caretaker to stick the thermometer inside.

"Keep that under your tongue, okay?" Caretaker said gently.

Whumpee wriggled a hand out from under the blankets and gave a weak thumbs up. After a few moments, the thermometer beeped. Caretaker took it out and winced at the number they saw.

"102.6," Caretaker read, "oh, Whumpee."

Whumpee sat up and rubbed their eyes.

"I don' feel good," Whumpee mumbled.

"I guess not, with a fever that high," Caretaker sighed, "tell me exactly how you're feeling."

Whumpee opened their mouth to speak, but instead of words, a string of coughs came out.

"I woke up this morning with a scratchy throat," Whumpee finally said, "I didn't think anything of it until I couldn't eat my breakfast because it hurt so bad to swallow. And everything aches. And I'm tired. And my head hurts."

Caretaker didn't like the sound of any of that.

"I think we need to take you to a doctor, Love." Caretaker said.

"Nooo," Whumpee whined, "I don't wanna go, I wanna go back to sleep."

"I know, I know, but I promise you can sleep afterward. Come on, up you go."

Caretaker helped Whumpee into a standing position and half-carried them out of the house and to the car.

...

Caretaker set a bowl of broth, a spoon, a glass of water, and some medicine on a tray and carried it up to Whumpee's room. Whumpee lay in bed, chills wracking their body.

"Whumpee, lunch time," Caretaker said, setting the tray on the bedside table.

"Please don't make me eat," Whumpee said weakly, sitting up in bed.

"The doctor said you need fluids, strep throat is no joke, and I don't want you getting worse."

Caretaker grabbed the medicine and the glass of water from the tray and handed them to Whumpee. Whumpee popped the pills into their mouth and grimaced when they washed them down with the water. Caretaker handed them the bowl of broth and the spoon.

Whumpee took slow sips, their face contorting in pain every time they swallowed. Whumpee only ate half of the bowl before they pushed it away. Caretaker took the bowl and spoon and set it back on the bedside table.

"Try to get some sleep," Caretaker said, smoothing Whumpee's covers over, "I'll be back to give you more medicine in a few hours."

Caretaker watched Whumpee snuggle deeper under the covers before leaving the room to let them get their rest.

[darkacademicfrom2021]

Letting the coffee chill, part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Pairing: Loki x reader

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: angst, whump, unrequited love, terrible communication skills (yes they require a warning)

A/N: I can't make a fluffy series. I have to turn it into angst. It's my curse. It'll get better next chapter I promise. I just love idiots in love.

I like you, he thinks, without a single doubt. I like you so much, he keeps thinking as you cuddle up to him, half asleep, your hair falls to your eyes and he's courageous enough to reach out for a strand and comb his fingers through your hair, until every bit of your face is uncovered for him to appreciate.

This time you've decided to show him your favourite coffee shop, and he obliged, as always. After the coffee date you went back to the compound and he read to you until you fell asleep on the couch —nobody would dare deny you had grown fond of each other for a while. A friendship that grew rapidly and turned into something yet unspeakable.

He sighs contentedly and smiles, a softness in his gaze he couldn't believe anyone had the power to bring on him.

His brother and the metal man lean over the door and observe with wickedness on their grins.

"Reindeer games is in love", chants Tony. Loki gets startled and jumps in place, turning around with extreme care as to not wake you up.

"It was about time, brother", smiles Thor, and Loki rolls his eyes.

"I'm not in love. Shut up", he whispers harshly. "They fell asleep. We're friends".

"How was that trendy song? Friends don't look at friends that way?", intervenes Tony, and Loki is starting to get fed up.

"I'm going to leave them on their room to sleep, and you won't get any weird ideas" 

"Yeah, you wish you had your way with them, don't you?", Tony keeps joking, but Loki thinks it's imprudent to open up about his feelings when you're so close and they're so loud.

"I don't, as you may be surprised, because not everyone thinks with their dick".

"But, brother… you seem so caring! So in love!".

"I'm not in love, nor will I ever be", he spat out. "Get those ideas out of your mind, and clear the way, because I'm carrying them. And shut up. They're tired", he mumbles. Loki is also resentful of Tony for tiring you out so much. You've been working a Hel of a lot lately —rather overworking— and it all stemmed from Tony Stark's extra lab hours and extra research papers.

"I thought you liked them", frowned Thor.

"Not that way. They're a mere distraction from how boring your entire unit of mortals is", he lies flatly, as he's used to. Why does a lie weigh so much in the God of Mischief? Is it because you are being held in his arms, being proof of otherwise? Is it because he would dread having you awake and hear him say that?

But you are awake.

And you heard him say that.

You keep your eyes closed, though. And pretend to still be asleep. He carries you to your bed —he knows the combination of numbers to your room and Tony and Thor thought it to be a little too suspicious— and he tucks you in. He is about to close the door behind him when he hears you sniff.

A little whimper.

Are you… crying? Why would you be crying? He thinks, bezottled. He's unsure what to do. He only knows he has to close the door and he has to stay by your side.

"Darling?", he murmurs, and you jump in bed, realizing he heard you. This only makes you cry more. Hot tears run down your cheeks and he frowns in worries, sitting on the edge of the bed and holding his hands up to you. "What's going on?".

"I… I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot", you whimper and cover your face.

"Why?", he reaches closer and you allow him to hug you tightly. You cry into his chest, and he holds you tighter, his own heart aching because he doesn't want you to suffer this way. He doesn't want you to feel anguished, ever, at all. He wants to fix whatever is bothering you. "Is it work? Are you stressed over the research? I'll talk to Stark, you need to slow down…".

"It's not… about work", you manage to breathe out. Your arms travel from his chest to his back, tracing themselves around his waist. He places a kiss on your forehead and then rests his chin on the top of your head.

"Family issues? I'm not good at the advice on that one", he murmurs, and you chuckle between tears.

"It's not… either. It's really stupid. I'm getting what I deserve".

He worries at your words, pulls back to look at you without breaking the hug and looks at you in concern.

"I don't know what happened, but you surely do not deserve to be in pain".

"I do, I let myself think too great of me to think I could even…", you sigh out. "Have a chance".

"Have a chance of what?", he frowns. "And you don't deserve pain for thinking 'too great of you', that's absurd", he adds. "I'm gonna go get you a… I know, a frappuccino. And a nice fuzzy blanket. You like that stuff, right? It's comforting. And then I'll help you figure out whatever is…", but as he is getting up to leave and get you those things, you grab his wrist.

"Stay. You're the only comfort I need".

Something inside of him twists and turns and curls and aches and screams and melts. Your touch on his wrist burns more than your skin against his has ever burned and he wonders —he is always wondering— if he will ever get it right at the first guess. He sits again on the bed and hugs you back again.

His head roams around your words, now that the silence invades the room and your breathing doesn't match your heartbeat anymore, he realizes you were talking about romance.

I let myself think I could even have a chance.

His heart does an equal amount of jumping but in a different way. He's now near heart broken. But you're the one crying uncontrollably. He has to get his shit together. He has to, for you. So, he does. He swallows a lump.

"You're heartbroken".

"Yes", you whisper against him. Another tear rolls down your flustered face. "I let myself fall for someone who doesn't feel the same".

"That person is an idiot, I can assure you", he raises his eyebrows. "I can't imagine anyone not falling for you. Has he met you? Or, sorry, is it a he?".

You chuckle and whimper at the same time. Loki's chest tugs painfully at seeing you like this.

"He is an idiot. He's a he".

"I'm sorry you have to deal with him. You deserve to be with someone who appreciates you".

I appreciate you, he thinks. It's maybe too much to say out loud. 

"When you find someone who does, then, let me know".

I appreciate you. I do. I really do.

"Do I know him?", he says instead.

"Yes".

Men travel through his mind. Many men could be the reason you and him are both heart broken. Rogers. Barnes. Stark. Even his brother.

"Can you tell me who he is?".

"Do you wanna guess?", you say playfully, wiping some tears away. He smiles at how you got your humor back. He hugs you and kisses your dried tears.

"I don't", he admits. "I want to be your friend. I don't think I can keep on being that if I guess and I'm correct", he says, because he can't stand to even think the reason you've been snatched away from him was, once again —as with everything— Thor.

He doesn't understand why those words triggered even more tears from you. You asked him to leave you alone. That you still wanted him to be your friend, but you needed to process things alone. That him being there hurt even more.

He didn't understand, but he did as you asked.

This morning he's decided to make you a fresh cup of coffee, and his best attempt at latte art, and leave it on your seat. But you didn't come out for breakfast. He later heard you went directly from your room to the lab.

He sat on the kitchen island alone, wondering how he could make you feel better, and how he could hide his own heartbreak.

Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @theonewiththenerds , @vicmc624 , @spiderlaufeyson @theaudacitytowrite @bi-andready-tocry @alorev @justasmisunderstoodasloki @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @theetoastyghosty @lokiprompts @sarahpaq08 @lostgreekgod @likeitloveitblogit @tsnelf7 @asgardwinter @lalalalokii

[benignbucky]

Whiplash Pt. 2

Based on THIS REQUEST

PART ONE

AN: (MINORS DNI) This is probably gonna be the final part, I'm not super feeling this series anymore in all honesty so I'm gonna leave it as a mini series so we can get that resolution. I may come back to it later but for now I am happy with this ending. This could honestly be a standalone but the first part is linked above. Thank you for being so patient with me while I got this out, last weekend was stressful but this weekend is so much better. You may need a fan for the last half of this. ♡

PAIRING: stucky x reader, john walker x reader briefly

Word Count: 2.4k

WARNINGS: John Walker is the ex because absolutely no one likes him and we all know this man radiates tiny pp energy and would be the worst in bed, fighting, minor angst, mostly fluff and smut, unprotected sex (wrap your wang before you bang), threesome, overstimulation, squirting, HELLA praise kink, pet names (baby, peach, good girl), brief mentions of dub-con/non-con with ex, unbeta'ed (all mistakes are my own)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The memories of that night were burnt in the back of your eyes. Seeing your ex, John, for the first time in 6 months and he still had so much power over you.

The second you opened the door, tears sprung to your eyes as a barely audible 'w-what are you doing here?' escaped your mouth before he was walking in, clearly not noticing Bucky and Steve walking over with fury in their eyes.

"You need to leave before this gets messy." Steve and Bucky were easily twice his size, not so much in height but in pure muscle.

"Oh, so you're moved out and fucking both of your roommates. A whore like you would do that, huh?" John

You backed behind Bucky as Steve took the lead. "Listen, I don't care who you think you are but you don't just get to come back around after how you treated her. Let alone call her something she most certainly is not seeing as you're the one that cheated on her with how many women?"

"You may look all big but I doubt you even know how to fight. Useless muscle if you ask me." Little did he know that both incredibly skilled in combat, especially hand-to-hand combat. And that's all it took for Bucky to leap forward and land a bone breaking punch to John's jaw, almost knocking him out cold. This had him backing out the door, learning his place.

"And don't even think about coming back here because next time you'll have to be dragged out," The tone of Bucky's voice was firm and aggressive but only until John walked out of the building before he joined Steve in comforting you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been three hours since John tried to pry himself into your life again. You were still trembling even though you were in the arms of the two people you trusted most. The idea that John could just show up again out of nowhere terrified you more than anything. You were well protected by Steve and Bucky but just having John in the same room, no, same building as you brought on heart shattering fear and anxiety.

You had all migrated to your room, the three of you barely fitting on your queen size mattress. It really showed off how much bigger they were compared to other guys, especially compared to you. Both of them were easily at least a foot taller than you. Their biceps easily closer to the size of one of your thighs than your arms.

Around you, they were gentle giants. That was until they needed to protect you. And they would, with their whole being. They just wanted to show you how much they valued you, how much you lit up their lives. They wanted you to know that it wasn't one sided. The two of them were pampering you in kisses and praise, gentle caresses, doing everything they could to make you feel safe and loved.

Eventually your breathing and heart rate had calmed, turning on your back so you could look at the two men. Their overwhelming appreciation towards you made you want to show your appreciation for them but you were mustering up the courage. You hadn't been intimate with anyone, let alone with yourself since before you moved in. Any experience with John had been too rough, basically forced from you but you didn't know any better.

This one moment with Bucky and Steve, everything felt different. They asked if they could play with your hair, caress your face in their hands, or even to soothingly rub your back. Every touch required you to tell them yes. If it made you even the slightest bit uncomfortable, they would stop and move back to something else you had already agreed to, which only made your core dampen more than it already was.

Fighting the nerves, you kissed them both with nothing but love and passion, hinting for something more. It took them a minute to take the hint but when they did, their actions only got softer.

"Are you sure? You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with." Steve whispered. His and Bucky's eyes had darkened, pupils blown out. This only made you want them more.

You nodded at them both even though you knew they wanted a verbal answer. You gulp before mustering up a soft, "Yes, I want this. Want you. Both of you."

Slowly, you sat up, starting to tug at the hem of your oversized shirt before you felt one metal and one flesh hand move your hands away, removing your shirt for you.

"This is about you, peach. Don't worry about us. We want you to feel good." Bucky whispered in your ear, sending chills down your spine but in the best way possible.

Steve was behind you, rubbing circles into your back as Bucky trailed kissed down your jaw and neck. You leaned back against Steve's chest as Bucky's kisses went lower to your chest. "Can we take this off?" Looping his flesh fingers under the strap of your bra.

"Please…" You breathed out your answer, feeling Steve's hand loop under you to unclasp the article of clothing. You gasped at the cold sensation of Bucky's metal hand brushing over your hot skin and he chuckled softly. "You're so fucking beautiful, you know that? Isn't she, Steve?" You leaned back once more only to gasp again at the light flick that Bucky gave to your nipple. "Absolutely gorgeous." Steve hummed his answer, you could feel his length growing underneath you.

The moment you felt Bucky's mouth over your chest left your mouth agape, your back arching at his touch. His mouth didn't linger long as it started moving lower and lower until he was in between your thighs, kissing over your biker shorts but not over where you wanted him the most.

Out of instinct, you reach down to pull off your remaining clothing but Bucky just shakes his head and replaces your hands with his. This time it's him gasping at how absolutely dripping you are. "Oh you poor baby, probably haven't had someone focused on your pleasure in so long."

Steve's hands moved up to tease your chest, massaging and caressing everything he could reach before pulling his shirt off with you still on top of him. Bucky did the same before placing your thighs over his shoulders, looking for any sign of you being uncomfortable but only saw your eyes shut in pleasure.

Dipping his head down, he licked a broad stripe up your dripping cunt, not even giving you time to be shocked as he got to work. Your sounds were only making him work harder as you took his hands in yours at your side.

John only went down on you once and that was after begging him because it was 'only fair' seeing as you had always done it for him. Steve and Bucky didn't even ask, didn't want you to because unlike John, they cared more about your pleasure than their own.

"Such a good girl," Steve mumbled in your ear before leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck. This only fueled your needs.

"More, Bucky. Please…" You had let go of one of his metal hand only to tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing him even further into your core. He was groaning against you at your neediness, which sent vibrations throughout your entire body.

You were about to beg again but before the words could even come out, you felt two cold fingers at your entrance before they slowly slid in and bumping into your g-spot, which wasn't something you had ever experienced before.

"B-Bucky… oh my god! What was that?" You were a blubbering mess at this new found sensation.

Looking up at you and only moving his mouth away to say, "You can't tell me no one has ever?-" His fingers were curling up at an agonizing pace, your hips bucking on his hand was the only response he needed before he started moving at a faster pace. You were almost at your peak, legs trembling, as he put his mouth back on you and sucked your bundle of nerves into his mouth.

You had never felt this much pleasure before in your life. Only a few more strokes of his hand left and you felt like you had exploded, seeing stars. The sounds you were making and your grip on Bucky's hair had him groaning against you, only heightening your peak and making it more intense. Bucky wasn't done yet though, he was going to drag out your high until you couldn't take anymore, Steve nearly forgotten behind you.

Any words you tried to make were incoherent as Bucky finally slowed down and kissed back up your body. "Such a good girl for us, aren't you, baby?" Chuckling at how you could only nod as a response. The two men would have been happy with at that but you were already sitting up and turning around to give Steve attention, which took them both by surprise.

You were a shy person in general let alone during a situation like this but your orgasm only gave you more confidence. Bucky laid down as you crawled up and straddled Steve. As much as he would love to watch you ride him, you were spent. You looked it to. With a swift motion, you were back on your back, legs spread again as Steve pulled down his pants and his briefs, Bucky following behind shortly.

You knew both of them were packing at the one too many times you had walked in on one of them getting out of the shower so you weren't that surprised to see how big they were in the moment. "I would love to taste you but I can't wait any longer, needa be inside you. Is that alright?" Steve accepted your whimper of a yes and draped his body over yours, giving you a tender kiss before reaching down and running a finger in between your folds and lining himself up to your entrance.

He didn't even need to look up at you for approval, you were already snaking your legs around his hips. "Eager girl, aren't you?" Steve smirked before pressing into you slowly, earning a soft moan from you before rocking his hips slowly as you got used to his size before working up to a faster pace. Both of you moaning and groaning as you raked your nails down his back.

"Fuck, so tight. Don't know how long 'm gonna last." You were already squeezing around, trying to milk him for everything he had.

"F-faster… harder…" You begged and he happily obliged. You didn't care if he didn't last much longer, you knew Bucky wanted a turn and you wanted to give them both a chance at you. "Oh my god, Steve. I'm gonna cum… please." Your begging only made Steve's release come sooner, only letting go when you had reached your peak as well, pulling at his hair as he groaned into your neck before his thrusts slowed to a halt.

You were still catching your breath before the two men swapped places. "Think you can handle one more, peach?" Bucky hovered over, looking for any sign of you wanting to stop. "I sure hope so." You chuckled out of breath still before gasping as Bucky flipped you over onto your stomach and pulling your hips up to meet his, his hands resting at your hips.

"That's a good girl," lining himself up, Bucky groaned at the wetness that was Steve's release mixed with yours as he pushed in. Steve was longer but Bucky was noticeably thicker as he pushed into you. "You weren't kidding, Steve. So. Fucking. Tight." Bucky growled out. Steve reached over to moved your hair out of your face before Bucky started thrusting into you.

"If it's too much, just say and we'll stop and take care of you." Steve reassured you before nodding to Bucky, encouraging him to pick up the pace.

And he did, his thrusts were relentless but were all for your pleasure. Neither of you would last very long but he wanted this one to be the best orgasm of the night. "Steve," Bucky managed, nodding his head to Steve, motioning for him to touch you. The whine you let out when Steve scooted down to rub feverish circles around your clit which was only bringing your third incredibly intense orgasm of the night only moments away.

"Oh god… of fuck fuck FUCK…" amongst another string of curses cam out of both you and Bucky's mouth as you came, covering Bucky's thighs, Steve's hand, and your comforter. It only took that sight and a couple more thrusts as Bucky was filling you to the brim. "Fuck…." He groaned, "Can't say I've ever had that happen before."

You drop to lay flat on your stomach on the bed, clearly oblivious to you squirting all over the two men and your blanket, only humming in response. "Did you know that you could do that, baby? Did you know you could squirt?" Your eyes widened at Steve as he asked, he took that answer as an obvious 'no' and chuckled softly.

You wished you could move but you were so fucked out that your limbs were limp. Steve got up and grabbed a new t-shirt and underwear for you to put on as Bucky eased out of you, causing another whine from you at the sensation. Steve left the room temporarily just to get a warm washcloth and a different blanket for the three of you as the other one was deemed in need of a wash.

The two cleaned and dressed you before laying out the new blanket over you. Bucky laid down first, pulling you to lay on his chest before Steve crawled behind you, spooning you. You were barely conscious but you heard the small I love you's and praises from them about how good you did. You breathed out a small 'love you too' before falling asleep.

[whumpflash]

Sun and Glass, part five

previous part

cw: (this is a bit whumpier) scars, slavery, abuse, whipping, sexual implications (mentioned)

For all his shortcomings, Trisk was a man of his word. He escorted her down, to whatever room he'd sent Caelon to, and left her to it. Rena stood in front of the door hesitantly, unsure of exactly what she'd see on the other side. It couldn't have been more than a half-hour since he'd been dragged away by the guard, but Rena didn't know enough about… whatever punishments Lord Trisk inflicted to say how long it took to really hurt someone.

She took a deep breath and pushed the door open slowly. A chill hit her, and she could see the open bars near the ceiling, letting in both moonlight and the cool night air. As her eyes began to adjust to the dim light, she spotted Caelon, slumped on the floor in one corner and looking very, very, small.

Rena took a step into the room, which was empty enough to echo the sound, and Caelon curled in on himself tighter.

"Please… please, don't… I, I swear I won't do it again, please--"

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said in a low voice. "I want to help."

Unbidden, the image of the sneering boy Caelon had been came to mind, a stark contrast with the shivering man in the corner. She closed her eyes briefly, fighting off the memory. Bitter reminiscence could wait until later.

She knelt next to Caelon, who didn't move an inch. The thin tunic he wore had an odd pattern, with dark patches scattered across it seemingly at random. With a start, Rena realized the darker spots marked where blood was seeping through the cloth.

"M-my lady, please… my master will--"

"He isn't your master anymore," Rena said. That got his attention. He painstakingly pushed himself into a kneeling position, letting out a hiss of pain as he turned to face her, head bowed.

"Forgive… nnh, forgive me, Mistress, I, I wasn't aware…"

"Oh," Rena said, her eyes widening. "No, that's not what I meant--"

His eyes darted up for a half-second. "Then... who?"

She shook her head. "No one. You're free."

For a long moment, he was silent. 

He can't believe it, Rena thought. Or maybe it's just sinking in.

"Am I to be put to death then?" Caelon said at last, his voice barely audible.

"No!" Rena exclaimed. A bit too loudly, she thought, as he cringed away from her voice. "No, of course you aren't," she said, softer.

"Th-then what is to happen to me?" His hands were shaking now. His whole body was shaking. With fear, or cold, or pain... or more likely, a combination of the three.

Rena pressed her lips together tightly. An explanation could wait until he felt safer. "For now, why don't you just come up to my room with me? It's much warmer."

Again, Caelon gave a single, jerky nod, and moved to stand, using the wall for support and wincing through it all. He flinched back when Rena reached out a hand to help. She withdrew it. Best to keep her distance then, at least for now.

Getting from the cell to the guest suite proved a tedious process, and they made the journey in silence--aside from the occasional whimper from Caelon. The slow pace pushed Rena towards impatience, but she bit the feeling back as best she could.

It's like when you come across a deer in the woods and hold your breath so it won't get spooked, she thought, watching Caelon make his way up the stairs from a few feet ahead. When they finally made it to her room, she felt the frustration ebb away. But it wasn't over yet.

"Will you have a seat on the bed?" she said, after closing the door behind them. Wordlessly, he obeyed. Rena popped the lid of her trunk, digging around until she found a pair of scissors and some clean linens. She scolded herself for neglecting to bring along any medicines, but the little bottle of brandy that had been intended as a parting gift to Lord Trisk would serve as a disinfectant. Caelon didn't make a sound as she cut the linen into strips and filled a bowl with warm water.

"Hold still now," Rena said, once everything was ready. "I'm going to cut off your shirt, alright?"

"Please…" Caelon whispered. Rena frowned, looking down at the man. He was crying, fear bright in his eyes.

"Please, just- just not yet--"

Trisk's previous comment about bedslaves flashed through her head, and Rena's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh. No, I would never… I-- I'm sorry, that's not what I meant at all." Internally, she berated herself for not better communicating her intent. "I'm just trying to get a look at your injuries, is that okay?"

She wondered what she'd do if he refused--she couldn't just let the wounds fester-- but he only nodded. It was hard for her to say if it was genuine or if he was just agreeing in order to please her. With a sigh, she began to cut away his shirt, being as gentle as she could with the parts of the fabric that stuck to his wounds.

If the way Trisk treated him hadn't been enough to make her feel sorry for Caelon, getting a look at his bare back would've done the trick. Scars over scars over scars, a ledger of years of suffering carved into his flesh. She could tell they traveled further, maybe all the way down his legs, and a few curled around his chest. There were half-healed marks criss-crossing his lower back, and layered on top of it all was a neat row of fresh welts across his shoulders.

Rena realized she'd been staring, and dipped a square of linen in the warm water, tearing her eyes away. She couldn't get wrapped around the axle about everything that had happened to Caelon, she had to focus on what she could do right now.

He flinched under her touch when she brought the cloth to his back and began cleaning the worst of the welts, the ones that were still oozing blood. Throughout the process he didn't move, didn't speak unless you counted his yelp at the touch of a brandy-soaked cloth. Once the wounds were bandaged, Rena pulled back to survey the man. 

Was there anything else she could do with what she had right now? There were bruises scattered across his torso, some new, some old, and now that his shirt wasn't hiding it, she saw how painfully thin he was. 

Unlike the rest of him, his face was unmarked, save for a bruise on one cheek.

Pretty face, she grimly thought of Trisk's words.

There were his wrists too, rubbed raw by rope or shackle, with scarring beneath that told her this wasn't a new thing to him.

She reached for his hand, starting to clean the wounds there.

"Is there anything else?" Rena asked. "Anything hurting you that I can take care of?"

"N-no, mistress, thank you… I'm sorry you had to take the trouble for me."

Rena elected to ignore the title he'd given her for now. That could wait to be addressed until he'd gotten some sleep.

"It isn't trouble," she assured him. She wasn't sure he was free of more injuries, but she wasn't about to ask him to remove any more clothes. Not right now. There were no noticable bloodstains on his pants, or anything that gave her cause to worry.

Rena considered drawing a bath for Caelon, but decided against it. Judging by his reaction with the shirt before, it would likely do more harm than good, and he was reasonably clean already.

"I think it's time you get some sleep," she murmured. Caelon looked up hesitantly.

"May I… can I go back to the cell, Mistress?"

Being called that--and by Prince Caelon, no less--was jarring. Rena reminded herself to choose her battles.

"If that's what you really want," she began. "But it's much warmer in here. Why don't you sleep in the bed?" she said, then added quickly, "without me. I'll sleep on the floor."

Caelon's brow furrowed. "You… the, the bed? I can't, I… my Master-- no, wait, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Mistress, I didn't mean to forget--"

"Shh, it's alright." She had to stop herself from putting a hand on his arm to try and comfort him. "It's alright. You can sleep where you want. I want you to choose."

He blinked a few times. "Choose." His hands fidgeted in his lap, and he glanced up at her, briefly, then back down at the ground.

"I… I will sleep on the floor," he said, the words tentative, almost like he was asking a question. Seeing if he'd chosen what she'd wanted him to.

Rena gave him a smile. "Okay, good. If that's what you want, you can sleep on the floor." It was better than the cell. It was a start.

Caelon made to lay down almost immediately, stiffly lowering himself to the ground and curling up next to the bed. He seemed surprised when Rena handed him a pair of blankets, but did not try to refuse them. He was asleep before the lights were out.

Rena lay back on the bed, staring up at the darkened ceiling. What was she doing? With the challenge of at least making Caelon safe out of the way, a bigger one lay before her; making him feel safe. And she was woefully unequipped.

This wasn't going to be as simple as sending him on his way, he was her responsibility now. It was a heavy responsibility, but…

No way you can back out of this, she thought, closing her eyes. And there's no way you're going to give up on him.

@fleur-des-lore , @fandomseksta , @whumpwillow , @and-then-there-was-whump , @pumpkin-spice-whump , @suspicious-pools-of-blood , @melodyvonmelody

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