#troy x y/n

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬

↳ summary: in between their friends voicemails, and a spanish teachers punishment, troy and abed are struggling to tell you something important. or; a reader insert of season one episode sixteen

↳ warnings: period accurate jokes, internalized homophobia, jeff being weird, and alcohol

↳ notes: abed and troy are in a relationship change my mind

↳ song: me and your mama—childish gambino

masterlist | commisions | carrd

It was early morning, just before first period Spanish, when you finally decided to say something.

“Okay, so I can’t be the only one creeped out by that thing, right?” 

You looked around with a sense of judgement as six pairs of eyes immediately whipped around to meet your own. Taking a moment to observe the flower in Annie's hand, and the box of chocolates in Shirley's, you stopped biting at the end of your pen momentarily to gesture at said thing; which just so happened to be your school's mascot.

It was Valentine's day at Greendale community college. Something that, in between your day to day classes and usual group shenanigans, you had forgotten about. If the seven couples french kissing hadn’t reminded you of that enough on your way to the library, the pair of heart shaped boxers draped over the statue outside did. 

You had sat down at the study group as usual, expecting Britta’s rant about the patriarchal undertones of the holiday and a well timed meta quip from Abed, but instead all you got was a pair of artificially painted eyes staring at you.

The mascot in question turned to you and made what sounded like an offended gasp as it stopped wheeling its little cart full of gifts. Cards covered in pink hearts and lacey trim overflowed from it, all attached with tacky glue, and you got a good look at one of them as it was sent flying near your forehead.

“Jeez! Sorry, man! I didn’t know this job meant that much to you!” You swiftly ducked under the table to avoid the line of fire. Coming up once the sound of squeaky wheels on carpet faded away, you ended up glowering as Troy laughed at you.

“Shut up, Barnes. Abed got more muffins than you.” You glared, referencing the lack of valentines gifts he'd been given. Troy was quick to choke on his laughter after that. He straightened his posture consciously, only stealing a look or two at the goodie basket placed neatly in front of Abed.

“Great dodge.” The amateur filmmaker praised you in his usual quick pace as you picked up the card from the floor. “If you had been in the Matrix, and that card was a bullet, that would have been the second coolest scene in the movie. Next to the other part where Neo also evades bullets.”

“Neo’s? I have a few friends that are those.”

“Ignoring Pierce's questionable life choices and their daily allotted hazing— ” Jeff sighed from his usual spot next to you, “— I have more important things to discuss. And speaking of which!”

Jeff slouched further into his chair as the door to the study room opened once more. You all watched as an extremely hungover Britta stumbled in, a pair of reflective aviators resting on the brim of her nose.

“Sorry I’m late.” She grumbled. Going to sit down she nearly fell out of the chair, and all of you exchanged various looks. If the way Jeff was smirking at Britta said anything, there was some new weird sexually charged adventure to be had between the two, and you were not ready to be in another one of those. You had done your time last week, and you weren't eager to repeat it.

"Actually, you're very late, Britta. See you later!" You slammed your Spanish textbook down on the table with an overly cheesy smile to punctuate the end of your sentence. Britta jumped at the loud noise, hissing at you to shut up, but you were already walking out of the room by then. If the shuffling behind you told you anything, it was that the rest of the group had done the same. Sans Britta and Jeff, per usual.

You tilted your body sideways as you navigated through the busy hall full of various highschool dropouts and divorced parents, letting the sound of tennis shoes squeaking against the floors bounce around in your head. It was more annoying than usual today, and it took you a second to realize that it wasn't the shoes making the noise, but rather Troy as he called after you.

“Hey! Hey! Wait up!" He wheezed. "You are very fast when you want to be!” The athlete gasped for breath when you finally slowed down. Coming to a stop as you turned around to face him, you saw another pair of legs enter your line of sight. This time much thinner, and accompanied with a wicker basket full of various baked goodies.

“Troy, I know you like to have someone hold your hand as you walk to class, but normally that's Abed’s job. Please don't allow me to take that pleasure from him.” You said, face completely blank. If you looked hard enough, you thought Abed’s nose flared a bit to insinuate a laugh.

“No, that’s not what I'm here to— hey how did you know that?” Troy took another gulp of air as his brows furrowed.

“I took a guess based on the way both your bodies and hands are angled apart each morning as you walk into Senior Chang’s class. Also, when you eat Cheetos, it rubs off onto the back of Abed's palm.”

“I don't eat Cheetos that much.” Troy frowned. “Do I? For the record I am not gay." Troy made sure to ennunciate that last part as he stared you down. His facial expression reminded you of a nervous first grader doing a bad job in their school play.

“You do, and that's not important right now.” Abed answered back. His head snapped to you with the same amount of intensity that he always got when thinking of a movie reference, and you got the sense he was holding back for the sake of the conversation. 

Raising both eyebrows, you motioned for them to go on. The hallway was clearing out a bit more, and you didn't want to be caught late for Changs class a third time in a row. Last time he threatened to beat you with maracas, and you wouldn't put it past him to actually carry through with it this time.

“Listen, we have something important to say.” Troy began. Abed backed him up with a furious nod, or his equivalent of it. Which really just boiled down to a regular paced nod.

"Is this about Valentine's day? You should ask Shirley about that."

"Come on man!" Troy threw his hands in the air, turning away from the both of you and crossing his arms. "How did you possibly come to that conclusion so fast?!"

"We were just talking about us holding hands."

"Thank you Abed." The both of you said at the same time. Albeit Troy with a little more teeth grinding then nessicary.

"Did you become a ninja overnight? Did you take a ninja class?" Troy took a step forward as he pointed his forefinger in your face. You stared at it as it approached, going cross-eyed momentarily.

"Yes. And if you did, I would like the name to that class." Abed pipped up.

"No, I didn't go to a ninja class." You said while pushing Troy's arm down. "Does this mean I'm right?"

The lack of response from Troy and Abed's unbothered expression provided you with your answer.

"Are you two trying to ask for dating advice or something?" You frowned as you started to walk in the direction of Spanish. Both of them followed as you fixed your backpack strap. "Because if so, Troy you could learn a lot from Abed. And Abed, if you're having a problem, I don't know how to make you anymore appealing to the ladies than you already are."

"It's true." He responded, looking off into what he probably thought was the fourth wall. "I am devilishly irresistible."

"Stop that!" Troy waved his hand in front of his friends face, bringing both their attentions back to you. "Listen. We were wondering how to go about asking the same person to the dance tonight."

"Oh. So like a love triangle thing? I never liked that troupe."

"No no." Troy shut his eyes as he shook his head. "More of like, uh—"

"Neither of us exactly know." Abed cut Troy off in a matter of fact manor. "We both see ourselves hanging out with them at the dance, but aren't exactly jealous of the other being there too."

"If you wanted me to I could crack open Websters dictionary to find a word for that."

"No thank you." Abed echoed. You simply shrugged.

"Okay. So what do you want me to do about it?" You questioned while turning a corner to another hallway. The three of you were nearly at Spanish now, but this conversation had pulled you in more than conjugating verbs ever could.

"We don't. Exactly know how to ask this person to go to the dance." Troy sucked in a breath.

"You guys have seen plenty of movies. Do the typical thing. Flowers, chocolate, and not what they do in your sci-fi movies Abed." You grinned at him knowingly as you passed through the doorway to class. "Personally I'd take kickpunching robots over literally anything ever, but I tend to be the exception for most things."

"It's not a date though. It's, like, three really close people hanging out. Not in a gay way though! I like girls! With boobs. Yes." Troy stammered as you all plopped into your rickety seats.

"Nice save Troy." Senior Chang called from the front of class with a snicker. He brought his feet down off his teachers desk to lean forward and cup his hands around his mouth. "Or should I call you gay-lord!"

"I really hate this language requirement." Troy grumbled, sinking into his chair. You snorted as Abed stiffly reached his hand out to pat his shoulder, making robot sounds as he did so.

"Cheer up." You allowed yourself a shit eating grin. "It is Valentine's day after all."

“Well that was a disaster.” You said over the sound of a ringing bell. Students and teachers alike passed you and Annie by as the two of you made your way through the hall, neither of them seeming to care very much if they bumped into you or not. To say that’d you’d almost gotten into a fight or two due to traffic here would be an understatement.

“I don’t know.” Annie frowned. She brushed her hair out of her face and clutched her books to the front of her chest. You made a face subconsciously, the sight reminding you all too much of the stereotypical school girl. “I thought it was very mean of Senior Chang to do that to Troy! And Pierce, I guess.”

“Annie. He called a balding senior citizen and a lonely freshman out on their sad Valentine’s Day gifts to themselves. It’s Chang. Of course it’s mean. But mean things can also be also be disasters.”

The girl next to you seemed to think about your words for a second. Furrowing her brows once or twice, she eventually let out what you could only describe as a harumph.

“Well I think we should do something about it!”

“Pass.” You said without a seconds hesitation. Annie deflated a bit at that and eyed the tips of her shoes. You stole a look down at her, and let out a sigh.

“You know me. I’m such a big fan of sticking my nose in other peoples business when it doesn’t belong— “ Sarcasm. “— but I think you and Shirley would be a better duo for this. She’s ruthless when she sets her mind to it, and you’re crafty in the way that you could have written the script for the movie Seven if you wanted to. Probably.”

“Aww thanks! I think.” Annie beamed. She regained some pep in her step as she skipped ahead of you, only turning back to say one more thing to you. “No wonder Troy and Abed like to talk about you so much. So many obscure movie references between you guys. Cute!”

“Seven was a box office hit, Annie— “ You began with the hint of a frown tugging at your lips, but she was already off. No doubt to find Shirley before lunch so they could cook up their plan in a flurry of giggles. That only left you with one more question.

“They talk about me?”

Jeff huffed as he walked into the near empty classroom. His hands, which he had spent the last three minutes nervously slathering in expensive lotion as a part of his mid-day exfoliation routine, were stuffed deep into his jacket pockets. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to this interaction, but sometimes he’d throw his better judgment out the window. Sometimes.

Raising a single eyebrow, he glanced around at the spare video equipment set up; the bulk of which was sat right in front of his target. The former lawyer ignored as a kid in a yellow button up kicked a trash can across the room, instead making a beeline for Abed. Who was giving directions rather loudly to the angry kid.

“Wow. Do you normally deal with divas like this?” Jeff flashed his signature charming smile while commenting on the temper tantrum. Better to be friendly and break the ice rather than dive right in. Otherwise you’d scare people off. He learned that while working at the firm.

“One Papa Johns commercial, and he thinks he’s Christian Bale.” Abed pursed his lips comically.

“Look, uh— “ Jeff began to steer away from the topic of the questionable kid as he pulls Abed’s attention in. “You were right earlier. During Spanish. Britta is being weird around me, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“By being right, do you mean my prediction that the accidental booty call she sent you while drunk is going to cause the imminent breakup of our fragile group?”

Jeff blinked.

“Yeah. That.” He spat out.

“Nice. So what can I do for you?” Abed leaned back into his makeshift directors chair while crossing his legs. “Do you need a drunk voicemail of your own to send to her so the score will be evened? Because I have nowhere to be for the next twenty four hours and personal dilema to avoid.”

Jeff inhaled with the intent to bulldoze over the younger mans statement, but ended up falling flat.

“Ignoring that last part, yeah I do, actually. How did you know that?” He squinted. Jeff would never admit it, but sometimes it creeped him out how easily Abed could predict what people would say next.

“Classic sitcom staple.” Abed shrugged without changing his expression one bit. “Goes hand in hand with the booty call. Now— “ He leaned forward with a glint in his eye. One that Jeff didn’t quite like.

“How well can you act?”

You don’t know how you ended up here, and you had been ready to leave the moment you arrived.

A faint punch stain from years ago sat at the hem off of your slacks, reminiscent of a house party from a year ago that had ended in disarray. They were the good slacks too. Paired with what was thankfully an unstained button up polo shirt. This was the closest anyone was going get to fancy from you tonight.

Various pink and red hues cascaded across the dance floor, playing into the Valentine’s Day theme as the schools mascot continued to prowl around on the dance floor. You were sure that the dean would be happy with himself over that if it wasn’t for the fact that couples were making out everywhere. It was pretty fun watching him try to break them all up, actually. You’d made a little game out of it with how long you’d been standing at the punch table.

The toe of your shoe came in contact with a stray balloon from one of the tables centerpieces. With a downward twitch of your lips, you picked the rubbery material up into your hands and started messing with it. Sounds of latex on skin distracted you from all of the screeching and poor singing.

“Not having a lot of fun, huh?” A voice from your left asked.

Glancing near the onion rings that had been laid out as finger food, you saw the familiar form Britta peering at you from under some fake eyelashes. That would have been more of a shock to you if the skimpy red dress she was wearing didn’t overshadow it.

“Hey there.” You avoided her question as you threw the balloon back into the crowd it had come from. “Great disco ball costume. Very sparkly.”

“Ha ha.” She mocked you before crossing your arms. “For the record, I still think Valentine’s Day is a sham. I’m just doing this to see Jeff squirm.”

“Ah. Well then, I’m sure all of the women out there will forgive you for your transgressions.” You teased her with an empty smile.

Britta let out a cross between a laugh and a huff, gaze straying from you to look out at the mass you launched your balloon into. Occasionally someone in unusually high heels would fall, only to be swept back up into the bobbing heads.

“Have you talked to Troy lately?” Britta cut in suddenly. The tone of her voice made you narrow your eyes, and you hummed out a suspicious no.

“That question is both too casual and well delivered on a night like this to have come from you. What’s going on.” You had fully abandoned kicking around stray balloons for talking with her. Or at least, staring at her forehead while she talked. You didn’t know if you could manage eye contact right now.

“He was looking for you earlier at lunch. While sweating. A lot.” Britta scrunched her nose up as if she could still smell the body odor. “Sounded like he wanted to ask you something.”

You looked away from her for a moment, temporarily overcome with a feeling of nausea.

“Oh, yeah. My bad. I was in the study room.” A pause. “Studying.”

“Troy said that he checked there beforehand.” It was Britta’s turn to squint at you. “Why are you the one acting weird now?”

Rubbing at the back of your neck proved as a temporary relief to her question. Inhaling through your mouth, you pulled out your phone and messed with it for a second.

“I got a weird voicemail from Abed today. The main part is him talking to me about the dance scene from Breakfast Club, I think, and some weird phone thing with Jeff and you— " Britta coughed into her hand at that “— but the last few seconds really threw me.”

You opened your mouth to continue the story, but quickly shut it once you saw that Britta wasn’t paying attention anymore. You didn’t even have to follow her line of sight to know she was staring at a dejected looking Jeff— who had been standing by the cusp of the exit for six minutes now. You didn’t even have to nod at her to go before she took off, awkwardly waddling in her stilletos in an attempt to not trip.

It only took a few more minutes of watching the two of them go back and forth for you to give up on anything exciting happening to you. With a halfhearted grumble, you took one last grab at the punch bowl before starting towards the double doors. You hoped the juice had been spiked. If you made all this effort to show up to some lame school thing, might as well get a little tipsy.

“Well this is awkward.”

A harsh cough came from your throat as you choked on your own spit.  In an attempt to make yourself feel better, you turned around to glare at whoever had scared you, only to start coughing more.

“Abed?” You wheezed. Letting out another round of coughs, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the sunglasses on his face.

“I came as fast as I could when I realized Troy was stuck as Senior Changs whore for the night.” He looked at you calmly as you continued to die a little right in front of him.

Finally taking one more gulp of punch from the table, you calmed down enough to string together a sentence.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Let me explain for any in the audience that might have missed it while in the bathroom.” Abed held up a finger. All you could do was deadpan weakly at him.

“Both Troy and I approached you a little bit ago saying that we had something important to say to you. He worded it wrong. We were supposed to ask you something, not tell you. Instead, Troy allowed Senior Chang’s torture to ruin that question, and later I with Jeff and Britta’s voicemail problems”

“Their what’s? What is going on with voicemails today.”

“Not important.” Abed carried on. “What’s important is that while I was fulfilling the spot of Jeff’s drinking buddy, I realized something.”

“That you shouldn’t be drinking??” You questioned wildly. It was beginning to feel like this night was a special episode in a really bad main cable show. Either that or this place was finally getting to you.

“No. I realized that while Troy was fitting himself and Pierce into extra tight women’s suits, that we would miss the opportunity to ask you what we wanted to. I called Troy to tell him to go look for you, but only after sending a call to you that I do not remember the contents of. I assume you have it?” He blinked owlishly.

With a pair of very wide and very confused eyes, you grabbed your phone for the second time that night and shook it with a loose wrist. The audio from a few hours ago began to play faintly. It’s sound was swallowed by the bass of the dances music, but the both of you could still make the words out. Abed’s voice tumbled out at twice the speed it normally does, his energy no doubt heightened by alcohol.

“— e’re sort of like Marty McFly and Jennifer Parker, but there’s three of us. Have you seen the second movie? I need to show you the second movie. There’s more of Jennifer in that than the first. And Martys mom isn’t trying to get with him. Oh, and you don’t have to have a time traveling car for us to want to go to the dance with you. Although that would be nice. Jeff stop drooling on tha —"

Abed looked at it silently as the message continued to run. It was as if he expected nothing more from its contents. For a second you wondered how he’d react to the twenty minutes before that where all he talks about is Breakfast Club, but you figured it would be the same.

The feeling of nausea from earlier was back, and this time was trying to crawl out of your throat with a ferocity. Swallowing both your nerves and that not so metaphorical metaphor, you inhaled.

“So. Troy’s okay with this?” You asked cautiously, as if this was a dubious prank. Abed nodded almost immediately after you asked. The nausea subsided.

“And you’re okay with this?”

Another nod.

“Alright.” You shuffled. It felt like ten pounds had been lifted off your chest, and you didn't know how to express that. “I’ll go to the dance. With the both of you.”

A brief period of silence stretched between the two of you. The lights continued to flair, and the music continued to shake the floorboards, but none of you moved.

“Abed?”

“Sorry. You made me so happy I peed a little, and didn’t want to say anything.”

The corner of your mouth lifted up once. Twice. It only took one more time for a tirade of laughter to escape you all in one go. Abed’s unmoving expression just watched as you laughed to yourself, waiting patiently until you had stopped. When you paused to catch your breath, Abed placed a hand on your shoulder and looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“Normally this doesn’t happen in shows.” He hummed. “Do you think that this is a way of adding some diversity in the form of a polyamorous couple at a community college?”

“How about no lables?” You suggested. “It feels weird. What if it was just me, you, and Troy for now.”

Abed repeated your words under his breath, mumbling a little. He lifted his head back up to you with his thought on the proposition, which arrived in the form of a steady thumbs up.

“Cool. Cool cool cool.” You grinned at him. Abed’s nose flared at your use of his unspoken catchphrase, and he turned away from you to cup his hands around his mouth.

"They said yes!" He told the figure dancing on the floor; the likes of which responded with a yell of victory before getting back to it. It took you a minute to get past the skintight blue suit and floral scarf to realize who it was.

"Troy?!" You sputtered with an open mouth. He looked at you at the mention of his name with a painful smile before turning back to his dance partner with a dramatic sob.

"What is he wearing? And why is Senior Chang— oh god." Your eyes widened, unable to look away. "I think I'm going to puke."

"It's better if you don't question it." Abed told you, his hand just a few inches shy of touching his eyes as he hid behind it.

"Give me your hand Abed." You said blankly. Without questioning you, he held it out. You were quick to sheild your own eyes from the dancing.

"So." You turned your head to look at him after a moment of gross silence, both of his hands still in the air. "Movie date tonight when Troy is released from captivity?"

"I've been waiting forever for you to ask that."

[winxanity-ii]

WASHED UP [1/2]

ship: odysseus x fem!calypso!reader warnings: non-explicit word count: 7.3k (strap up, babes, this is a long one~) a/n: Y'all forgive me, i have been horrible and abandoned the fandom 😔💔; i swear it wasn't on purpose, i just haven't been bit by the inspiration bug, but nevertheless, here i am getting inspired, so enjoy my twist on odysseus w/ calypso, no worries there will be a prt.2

★·.·´🇪‌🇵‌🇮‌🇨‌: 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇲‌🇺‌🇸‌🇮‌🇨‌🇦‌🇱‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

The sea spat him out like an unwanted secret. You watched from the cliffs as his body was tossed against the sand, limbs splayed like a broken marionette.

Thunderheads still roared in the distance, but the storm had spent its fury, leaving only the shattered remnants of his ship and the limp figure of its captain.

His first breath on your island was a gasp, harsh and desperate, followed by a violent cough that shook his entire frame.

Water poured from his mouth, a relentless cascade as he heaved, clawing at the sand with shaking fingers. He turned onto his side, retching, purging the sea from his lungs.

Each convulsion seemed to rip through him, leaving him weaker, more drained, until he collapsed back onto the shore, chest heaving, eyes shut tight against the grit and salt.

Above, the clouds began to peel away, the black and bruised sky giving way to a faint glimmer of sun.

The wind, once howling, softened to a mournful sigh, as if the island itself pitied him. Waves lapped at his feet, gentle now, apologetic, as if seeking to soothe the very man they had tried to destroy.

His eyelids fluttered open, the sky above a blur of gray and gold. He groaned, the sound raw and broken, the cry of a man who had seen too much, lost too much.

He lay there, sprawled out on the sand, staring up at the heavens with eyes full of disbelief and despair. His voice, hoarse and cracking, clawed its way out of his throat.

"Why?" he croaked, the single word carried away by the wind. "Why do you forsake me?"

He tried to rise, muscles trembling as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. He looked around, taking in the unfamiliar shore, the jagged rocks jutting out like sentinels, the dense forest looming beyond. He was alone—utterly, helplessly alone.

The Gods had abandoned him here, cast him away like a piece of flotsam.

"Have I not suffered enough!?" he shouted, the words rasping against his parched throat. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms. "Is this my reward for years of service, for blood spilled and honor upheld?"

The sky remained silent, indifferent to his plea. He dropped his head back onto the sand, teeth gritted in frustration, the last remnants of strength draining out of him.

The silence that followed was suffocating, pressing down on him like the weight of his failures.

You could almost feel it, that heavy despair that hung around him like a shroud. A warrior undone, not by the sword or the spear, but by the endless, unrelenting cruelty of fate.

You knew that look—had seen it before, in the eyes of those who had washed up on your shores, broken and lost, only to be healed by your touch, only to be bound by your love.

But this one… He was different.

His suffering was like a beacon, bright and piercing, pulling at something deep within you, something you had buried long ago.

And so you watched, unseen and silent, as he lay on the shore, a man shattered, calling out to Gods who would not answer.

You wondered who this man was, what sins he must have committed to be cast into your lonely exile. Another soul, shattered and lost, delivered to you by the cruel whim of fate.

Was this the Gods' twisted sense of humor, to send you the broken, the despairing, and then sit back and watch as you tried, again and again, to piece them together, knowing each time that they would eventually leave, taking a piece of you with them?

It had been that way for as long as you could remember. They arrived on your shores, eyes wide with fear or despair, bodies battered by storms both within and without.

And you, like a fool, took them in, healed their wounds, offered them solace. You let them weave themselves into your heart, into your very soul, only for them to tear themselves free when the time came, leaving you bleeding and hollow.

Was he any different, this man with his piercing eyes and voice full of sorrow? Would he be the one to break you completely? You don't know. But as you turned away from the beach, you couldn't help but feel that this time, the Gods had sent you a different kind of suffering.

You moved through the familiar paths, the underbrush parting easily beneath your feet. It was an old routine, gathering the essentials—just enough to keep them alive until they could find the will to keep themselves going.

Your hands worked mechanically, filling a small basket with a jug of water, a bit of bread, some fish you'd caught that morning. It was more than they ever needed, really. Most of them wouldn't even look at food when they first arrived, the shock still too raw, too immediate.

As you made your way back, the weight of the basket a comforting presence against your hip, you tried to steel yourself for what you would find. But when you reached the beach again, your breath caught in your throat.

He was sitting up now, his back to you, shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world still pressed down on him. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, empty and unfocused, the eyes of a man who had seen too much.

What remained of his clothes clung to him, tattered and soaked through. His armor—what little was left of it—gleamed dully in the fading light. A breastplate, once magnificent, now dented and scarred, a single pauldron hanging by a thread, the gold tarnished and scratched.

The rest had been torn away by the sea, leaving him exposed, vulnerable.

He looked every inch the hero brought low, a man stripped of his glory, left with nothing but his pain and regret. His dark hair clung to his forehead, still damp with seawater, and his hands rested limply on his knees, fingers digging into the sand as if he needed to feel something solid, something real.

You stopped a few paces away, your shadow stretching out before you. He didn't notice. Didn't even flinch. You could see it then, the full extent of his despair, etched into every line of his face, every weary slump of his shoulders.

He was beautiful, in a tragic sort of way, like a statue of a fallen God.

And you knew, as you stood there watching him, that this one would not be easy to heal. This one had a wound that went far deeper than flesh and bone.

You took a step forward, and then another, until you were close enough that your presence cast a shadow over him. He blinked, as if just now realizing you were there, his head turning slowly, eyes lifting to meet yours.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was heavy, laden with the unspoken, the unknown.

You held out the basket, your heart pounding in your chest. "You need to eat," you said softly, your voice barely carrying over the sound of the waves.

He didn't move, just stared at you with those piercing eyes, eyes that seemed to see right through you.

And for a moment, you thought he might refuse. That he might just turn away, let himself be swallowed by the sea again, and you would be left standing there, holding out something that could never be enough.

But then, slowly, he reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he took the jug of water from your grasp.

"Thank you," he murmured, the words rough and uncertain, as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time. He took a small sip, then another, his eyes never leaving yours.

You watched him, this broken man, and wondered what kind of suffering had brought him to you.

And what kind of suffering he would bring in return.

The days here had a way of slipping through your fingers, soft and warm like the sands on your island. It was easy to lose track of time, lulled by the rhythm of the waves, the steady pulse of the tides.

You had left him to his own devices, giving him the space he needed to come to terms with whatever fate had led him here. Most of them needed that—time to break down, to cry, to rage at the Gods.

But not this one.

When you returned the next day, basket in hand, you stopped short at the sight before you.

He was shirtless, skin bronzed and gleaming with sweat, muscles taut as he hammered a spike into the ground with a makeshift wooden-mallet. His remaining clothes and battered armor were piled neatly to the side, along with a few other scavenged materials.

The sound of wood striking stone echoed across the beach, a steady, determined rhythm that spoke of purpose.

There was the frame of a hovel half-built, crude but sturdy, the beginnings of a shelter taking shape where there had been only barren sand.

A small pile of freshly caught fish lay nearby, their scales glinting in the sunlight. You could still see the blood on his hands, fresh from gutting and cleaning them. He worked with an intensity that was almost mesmerizing, every movement precise, controlled.

"Wow," you murmured, stepping closer, setting the basket down at your feet. "I'm impressed."

He stilled at the sound of your voice, shoulders tensing as he glanced over his shoulder. Sweat dripped down his brow, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at you, assessing.

You gestured to the hovel, the fish, the evidence of his labor. "Most who arrive here are still crying or lost, not knowing what to do with themselves. You're already building shelter."

His eyes sharpened, his expression shifting from guarded to curious, almost suspicious. He straightened, rolling his shoulders, the muscles in his back shifting under his skin as he set the mallet down. "There have been others?"

You snorted softly, crossing your arms as you looked at him. "Of course, there have been others. Did you think you were the first to be sent here?" The question was almost rhetorical, a simple truth that hung in the air between you.

He frowned, his gaze turning thoughtful, troubled. "Where is here?"

You hesitated for a moment, then took a few steps forward, your eyes flicking to the sword he had tossed carelessly to the side, half-buried in the sand. You reached down, your fingers brushing over the hilt. "This is Ogygia," you said, the name slipping easily from your lips, as familiar to you as your own. "A place of exile, for those the Gods have no more use for."

You were still tracing the hilt of his sword, fingers brushing over the worn leather grip when he spoke again, his voice tight and strained. "Is there a way off this island?"

You stilled, your gaze shifting from the sword to him, catching the desperation in his eyes through your lashes. For a moment, you considered lying, spinning some tale of escape, but you’d seen that look before, and you knew what would follow.

"You can try," you said, your voice calm, almost detached as if you'd had this conversation a thousand times before. "But once you get at least five feet from the shore, the waves will rise and destroy whatever you're floating on to pieces."

The truth of your words hung heavy in the air, a quiet certainty that left no room for hope. His face twisted, the anger and helplessness flaring in his eyes as stared at you.

You could see the way his jaw clenched, muscles ticking beneath the stubble on his cheeks, his fingers flexing and unflexing at his sides as if he wanted to hit something, anything.

He turned away, staring at the horizon as if willing it to yield some answer, some solution.

He was the very picture of a man caught in a trap he couldn't break free from.

"Excuse me," you murmured, pushing yourself up from the sand and brushing off your hands, wanting to give him space to process the reality of his situation.

"Wait!"

The word came out sharp, almost desperate, and you paused, glancing back over your shoulder. He was looking at you, really looking, his eyes piercing, searching for something—anything—that made sense of all this.

"Who are you?"

You could feel the laugh bubbling up inside you—a tired, almost bitter sound that you suppressed, forcing your expression into something calm, something almost serene.

It was always the same: this question, the disbelief, the desperate need to know why they were here, why you were here.

"Calypso," you said, the name falling from your lips like a sigh. "Daughter of Atlas and Pleione."

He blinked, the words clearly not the answer he had been expecting. He stared at you for a long moment, his brow furrowing as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces.

"Calypso," he repeated softly, your name unfamiliar on his tongue. There was a softness to it, a kind of reverence that almost made you want to laugh.

You hummed, a sound low and almost mournful. "Aye, cursed to carry the brunt of my parents' sins."

You saw the way his jaw tightened, the flicker of something like pity in his eyes before he looked away, his gaze shifting to the sand at his feet as if he couldn't bear to look at you.

You wondered what it was he saw, whether he saw you as a jailer or just another prisoner in this place of exile.

He cleared his throat, the sound rough, hesitant. "My name is Eperitus," he said, the words slow, deliberate, like he was testing them out. "From a small village in Thessaly."

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head slightly as you watched him. The name meant nothing to you, but the way he said it—the slight hesitation, the almost imperceptible shift in his posture—it was a lie, or at the very least, not the whole truth.

Still, you nodded, as if you believed him, your lips curving into a small, knowing smile. "Very well, Eperitus," you said, the name rolling off your tongue with a hint of amusement. "I suppose I will leave you to it."

His eyes narrowed slightly, the faintest flicker of suspicion in his gaze, but you didn't give him time to question it. You turned, your bare feet barely making a sound on the sand as you walked away, leaving him there, alone with his thoughts.

You could feel his eyes on your back, the weight of his gaze heavy, but you didn't look back. You had seen this play out too many times before—the hope, the despair, the bargaining with fate.

Each time, it was different, and yet, always the same.

And this man, this Eperitus, whatever name he chose to call himself, was no different.

You just wondered how long it would take him to realize it.

The waterfall cascaded down from the rocks above, the sound a constant, soothing roar that drowned out everything else. The water sparkled in the late afternoon sun, clear and cool as it pooled into the pond below, a hidden sanctuary nestled within the heart of your island.

You stood in the shallow waters, the hem of your white slip floating just above your knees, the fabric clinging to your skin in places where the water lapped gently against you.

The air was sweet with the scent of jasmine and wet earth, the leaves above casting dappled shadows across the surface of the pond.

You hummed softly under your breath, an old song your mother had taught you long ago, a tune that spoke of faraway places and dreams that never seemed to come true.

The melody blended with the sounds of the waterfall, a quiet lullaby that wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

It was peaceful here, a place untouched by the outside world, a place where you could almost forget who you were and why you were here. You dipped your hands into the water, scrubbing at a piece of cloth, the rhythm of the motion almost hypnotic.

Then, a sharp crack echoed through the grove, the sound of a branch snapping underfoot. Your head snapped up, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes scanned the treeline.

It took only a moment for your gaze to settle on him, partially hidden behind the bushes, his body frozen in a half-crouch, as if he had been trying to sneak away unnoticed.

"Eperitus?" you called out softly, your voice carrying easily over the sound of the water. He flinched, his eyes wide, a startled, almost guilty look on his face as he straightened up. He took a step back, his gaze darting around as if he were trying to find an escape.

For a moment, you thought he might run, but then he seemed to gather himself, his shoulders slumping slightly as he stepped forward, pushing through the bushes. "I didn't mean to startle you," he said, his voice low, almost apologetic. His cheeks were flushed, whether from the heat or embarrassment, you couldn’t tell.

You offered him a small, reassuring smile, setting the cloth aside as you turned to face him fully. "It's alright," you said gently, wiping your hands on the slip, the water dripping from your fingers. "I wasn't expecting company, that's all."

He nodded, his eyes flicking to the ground, then back to you, a hesitant, almost bashful look on his face. "I just... I was looking for you," he admitted, his voice barely above a murmur. "I thought I'd, well... check in."

You tilted your head slightly, studying him.

It had been a few weeks since your last conversation on the beach, and in that time, you had kept your distance, letting him find his footing, so to speak. He was more self-sufficient than most who ended up here, resourceful and determined in a way that spoke of a man who had spent years fighting to survive.

You had stepped back, observing him from a distance, only intervening when necessary.

You'd seen him sitting on the shore more than once, staring out at the sea with a look in his eyes that made your chest ache. A kind of yearning, a quiet desperation that seemed to pull at something deep inside you.

Other times, you'd found him working tirelessly on his shelter, hammering away at the wooden frame with a focus that bordered on obsession.

You shrugged lightly, the gesture casual, as if it didn't matter to you either way. "You've been doing fine on your own," you said, your tone light, almost teasing. "Didn't think you needed my help."

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smile passing over his face before it faded. He glanced down at his hands, rough and calloused, the fingers still smudged with dirt and sawdust. "I wasn't sure if I was... interrupting," he said awkwardly, his gaze flicking back up to meet yours.

You laughed softly, the sound echoing through the grove. "You've been here long enough to know I'm not that easy to disturb," you said, amusement coloring your words. You glanced at him, taking in the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the awkwardness that seemed almost out of place on a man like him.

"Besides," you added, your voice softening slightly, "I've been keeping an eye on you. Just to make sure you didn't do anything foolish."

His eyes widened slightly, and you saw a flash of something in his gaze—surprise, maybe, or something close to it. "I've been that obvious, have I?"

You shook your head, taking a few steps closer until you were standing just at the edge of the pond, the water swirling around your waist. "You're not the first to end up here, remember?" you said quietly. "I know the signs."

He looked away, his jaw tightening as he stared at the ground, his hands curling into fists at his sides. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he seemed to hold himself together by sheer force of will.

"I'm sorry." He glanced back at you, his eyes dark with something you couldn't quite name. "I didn't mean to—"

"To what?" you interrupted gently, your gaze softening as you looked at him. "You've done nothing wrong, Eperitus."

He flinched slightly at the name, and you saw the flicker of guilt in his eyes before he quickly looked away. It was almost imperceptible, but you caught it, that brief hesitation, that moment of uncertainty.

You hummed softly, waving him off with a light smile. "No worries," you said, your voice easy and warm. You turned away, wading through the cool water to where the last cloth floated lazily on the surface.

The fabric clung to your fingers as you lifted it, squeezing out the excess water, your movements slow and deliberate. Droplets slid down your arms, glistening like tiny jewels in the fading light as you made your way back to the shore.

Setting the damp cloth gently in the woven basket with the other clean clothes, you straightened, brushing a few stray strands of hair from your face. "I was meaning to tell you, there's fresh water here. You can come and bathe; clean up a bit." You tilted your head, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you shifted the basket to the side. "Unless you're the type of Greek who doesn't do that."

He let out a short, surprised chuckle at that, the sound rough and genuine, his shoulders relaxing just a little. But then his laughter died away, the words faltering on his lips as he looked at you.

You stepped out of the pond, the water cascading down your legs, the sunlight filtering through the leaves above, casting a soft, golden glow over your skin. Your white slip clung to you like a second skin, the wet fabric almost translucent, outlining the curves of your body in a way that made his breath catch in his throat.

His eyes roamed over you, unbidden, as if drawn by some unseen force. Your smooth, sun-kissed skin glistened with droplets of water, each one catching the light, making you look like you were carved from marble, like a statue come to life.

Your hair, damp and wild, was adorned with small pieces of coral and tiny flowers—a crown of nature's bounty that seemed almost otherworldly.

By Aphrodite's grace…

The thought struck him like a blow, and he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from letting the words slip past his lips. He watched you, mesmerized, as you moved with an effortless grace, your bare feet barely making a sound on the moss-covered stones.

Every step, every sway of your hips, seemed to pull him in deeper, into a trance he couldn't escape.

You seemed almost unreal, as if the Gods themselves had sculpted you from the very essence of desire.

His gaze lingered on your lips, soft and full, naturally pouty in a way that made his mouth go dry. He thought to reach out and feel the warmth of your skin beneath his fingers, to trace the line of your jaw, the curve of your neck.

He swallowed hard, his pulse thrumming in his ears, his hands clenched into fists at his sides to keep from losing himself completely.

His breath hitched, his mind spiraling, teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something he shouldn't be thinking, shouldn't be feeling.

He had a wife, a son, a home waiting for him, a life he had fought tooth and nail to return to.

Penelope, with her quiet strength and unwavering loyalty, the woman he loved more than life itself.

And yet, here he was, staring at you like a starving man, drinking in every detail, every inch of your body with a hunger that burned in his veins.

It was wrong, all of it, and yet he couldn't look away, couldn't pull himself free from the spell you had woven around him.

You were beautiful, achingly so, and in that moment, he knew he was treading dangerous ground.

And for the first time in a long, long time, he truly felt afraid.

"Eperitus?"

Your voice, soft and lilting, broke through the haze in his mind, snapping him back to reality. You were looking at him with those wide, doe-like eyes, your gaze gentle, curious, your lips curved into the barest hint of a smile.

He cleared his throat, the sound rough and strangled, his eyes wide as if he'd just snatched Persephone from Hades' very arms. He took a stumbling step back, his hands raising slightly as if in surrender, his gaze darting away from you as if your very presence burned him.

"I—I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice uneven, breaking on the last word. He shook his head, the movement almost frantic, as if he could shake free of whatever spell you had woven around him. "I didn't mean to—I should—I should go."

He gestured vaguely toward the forest behind him, his hands trembling ever so slightly. "Fish," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the word itself was a lifeline, something to hold onto in the chaos of his thoughts. "I need to— I'll go fish. Or forage. Or fix something. Yes, I'll— I'll go do that."

He took another step back, almost tripping over his own feet; his cheeks flushed a deep, mortified red. His eyes flicked back to you, just for a moment, and then away again before hurrying off like a man fleeing the scene of a crime, the ghost of your beauty chasing him, haunting his every step.

You watched him go, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

The sun dipped low on the horizon, its light spilling across the sea in a riot of colors—gold and crimson bleeding into the darkening blue of the water, the water shimmering like liquid gold beneath the dying light.

You sat with your legs curled up beside you on the cliff's edge, the wind whispering around you, soft and cool, tugging gently at your hair as if trying to coax you closer to the edge.

This was your favorite place on the island, the place where the land met the sea, where you could sit and lose yourself in the endless expanse of water and sky. It was where you had seen him, Eperitus—his body limp and broken, washed ashore like so many others before him, another lost soul thrown at your feet by the whims of the Gods.

The ocean stretched out before you, vast and endless, its beauty a cruel mockery of the cage that held you.

For as long as you could remember, this had been your only view, the only sight that had remained unchanged through centuries of exile. The sky, the sea, the stars—eternally bound to this lonely rock, this place that was both your sanctuary and your prison.

The water was so close, just a few feet away, and yet it might as well have been a world apart. You could still feel it, the pull of the tides, the longing that thrummed in your veins, the memory of what it was to be one with the sea.

You sighed softly, your gaze following the path of the sun as it dipped lower, the sky turning from brilliant orange to deep purple.

Once, you had swum through these waters as freely as the dolphins, your body slicing through the waves like a silver blade. The ocean had been your domain, your home, every current and tide a part of you.

You were a sea nymph, a daughter of the sea, wild and unbound, but the water no longer sang to you—no longer held the promise of escape.

But that was before.

You closed your eyes, the memories crashing over you like waves, each one more painful than the last.

The Titanomachy. The great war that had torn the heavens and the earth apart, that had pitted brother against brother, father against son.

You had watched from the sidelines, powerless to intervene, to stop the destruction that had swept through your family, your kind. And when the dust had settled, when the victors had claimed their spoils and the losers had been cast down into the darkness, you had been left behind, forgotten.

Or so you had thought.

The punishment had come later, delivered with the cold, indifferent hand of justice.

You, the daughter of Atlas, the child of Pleione, had been deemed unworthy, a threat to the new order of things. And so you had been cast out, not to the depths of Tartarus, but to this island, this paradise-turned-prison, to live out your days in endless solitude.

You had not wept, not then.

You had been too proud, too defiant to show the Gods your pain. But as the years had passed, as one by one, those who washed up on your shores had come and gone, the loneliness had seeped into your bones, a slow, insidious poison that sapped your strength, your will.

You had not been broken by the war, but by the endless, unchanging years that followed. You had stopped counting the days, the years. Time had lost its meaning here, each day bleeding into the next in an endless, monotonous cycle.

You had grown numb, your heart a hollow thing, a fragile shell that you guarded fiercely, lest it shatter completely.

And yet, there were moments like this, rare and fleeting, when the ache became too much to bear, when the weight of your exile pressed down on you like a physical thing, crushing the breath from your lungs.

You missed it… the life you had once known—the feel of the water around you, the way it had held you, cradled you in its depths.

The life that you would never get back.

Your eyes stung, the salt of unshed tears burning as you blinked furiously, refusing to let them fall. What good would it do? What good had it ever done? The Gods did not care for your tears, your pain.

They had made their judgment, and you were bound to it, bound to this place, this fate.

You glanced back over your shoulder, towards the fire, towards the small, simple home you had made for yourself on this cursed rock. You had tried to build something, to find some small measure of peace, of contentment in the simple things—the warmth of the sun on your skin, the sound of the waves, the smell of the salt air.

But it was never enough. It would never be enough.

A soft, bitter laugh slipped past your lips. How foolish you had been to think you could defy them, to think that you could carve out some semblance of a life here.

A soft "hey" broke through your thoughts, the voice low and tentative. You blinked, your gaze shifting from the horizon to find him standing a few feet behind you, his posture stiff and uncertain. Eperitus looked like he was at war with himself, his eyes dark and troubled as they searched your face.

"Hey," you replied softly, your voice barely carrying over the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below.

You studied him for a moment, taking in the subtle changes—the way his skin looked cleaner, the faint smell of salt and fresh water clinging to him. He must have taken the time to bathe at the spring, washing away the grime of his journey.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and you raised an eyebrow, a teasing lilt in your voice. "I see you took my advice?"

He chuckled, the sound a bit awkward but genuine, as if he were unused to laughing. He took a few hesitant steps closer before lowering himself beside you, his legs dangling off the edge of the cliff.

For a moment, he said nothing, just sitting there with you, watching as the sun dipped lower, its golden light spilling across the water like liquid gold.

You followed his gaze, the sight of the setting sun a familiar comfort, yet tinged with the ever-present ache of longing. "Helios is resting now," you murmured, your eyes softening as the last sliver of the sun slipped beneath the horizon, casting the world into the gentle embrace of twilight. "Even gods need a reprieve from their duties."

His gaze remained on the horizon, the light from the fire behind you casting shadows across his face. He let out a deep, weary sigh, as if the weight of the world had finally caught up to him. He turned to you then, his eyes searching yours with a vulnerability that made your breath catch.

"Look, Calypso…" His voice was strained, rough around the edges, as if the words were being dragged out of him. He swallowed hard, his gaze darting away, unable to meet your eyes. "I haven't been truthful with you." He ran a hand through his still-damp hair, his fingers trembling slightly. "My name… it's not Eperitus. I'm not some soldier from a village in Thessaly."

He paused, drawing in a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of his own lies were too much to bear. "My name is Odysseus," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking it aloud might shatter the fragile peace between you. "I'm a king—from Ithaca."

You watched him, your expression unreadable, your heart beating steadily in your chest as his words settled in the air between you.

Odysseus.

The name hung there, heavy with meaning, with the weight of the legend that preceded him. A name that had been whispered on the lips of sailors and soldiers, spoken with reverence and fear, a name that had traveled farther than the man himself.

He turned his gaze back to you, his eyes filled with something like regret, like guilt. "I gave you a false name because I… I wasn't sure if I could trust you. I didn't know if you were friend or foe, if you were another test from the gods, another trial to endure."

He swallowed again, his throat working as he struggled to find the right words, the right way to explain himself. "But your kindness… the way you've treated me, even when I didn't deserve it…" He trailed off, his eyes searching yours, pleading for understanding. "I'm sorry, Calypso. I've spent so long fighting, lying, doing whatever it took to survive, that I forgot what it meant to be honest, to trust."

You let out a sharp snort, then burst into a fit of giggles. The sound caught Odysseus off guard, his head snapping over to you, eyes wide with something like panic. He clearly expected anger or disappointment, but you waved him off, your hand covering your mouth as you struggled to stifle your laughter.

"I-I'm sorry," you managed to say between chuckles, your shoulders shaking as you tried to catch your breath. "It's just… 'Eperitus'? Really?" You let out another peal of laughter, the sound almost musical in its lightness. "I mean, really? 'Man of Strife'? I may have been stuck on this island for eons, but even that sounds fake! You're lucky I'm polite enough not to have called you out on it."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and before he could stop himself, he was laughing too, a deep, genuine sound that seemed to surprise him as much as it did you. He rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head in mock defeat. "I suppose you are the first to see through it so quickly," he admitted, his voice warm with reluctant admiration.

You hummed, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you leaned back on your palms, the firelight casting a soft glow on your face. "Those around you must not have been that bright to believe it," you teased lightly, watching as his laughter grew, the sound carrying out over the darkening sea.

Odysseus chuckled, shaking his head again. "You'd be surprised," he said, his voice warm with shared humor. "Sometimes, people believe what they want to believe. A name is just a name, after all."

You nodded, the laughter slowly fading as a comfortable silence settled between you, the sound of the waves filling the space left behind.

You glanced at him, the firelight casting his face in soft, flickering shadows, highlighting the lines etched into his features, the weariness in his eyes.

You found yourself wanting to know, to understand, what had brought him here, to your shores, so far from his home.

"How did you find yourself here, Odysseus?" you asked quietly, your voice carrying a note of genuine curiosity. "A king of Ithaca, so far from home."

His smile faltered, the light in his eyes dimming as his shoulders slumped under an invisible weight. He let out a long, weary sigh, his gaze dropping to his hands, his fingers tracing absent patterns in the sand.

"It's… it's a long tale," he murmured, his voice heavy with the weight of too many memories. "One filled with more suffering than I care to remember."

You shifted slightly, turning to face him more fully, your eyes fixed on his as you waited, patient, giving him the space to begin.

He drew in a deep breath, as if steeling himself, and then he spoke, his words slow, deliberate, carrying the weight of years of pain and regret. "It all began with a war," he started, his voice low, almost reverent. "Helen of Troy, they called her. The most beautiful woman in the world, stolen from her husband, Menelaus, by Paris of Troy."

You nodded, familiar with the tale. It was a story that had reached even the shores of your island, carried on the whispers of the waves.

"I was tasked to join the rescue," he continued, his gaze distant, as if he were seeing those events play out before him, the battles, the bloodshed. "I sailed with six hundred men, my loyal soldiers to reclaim her and bring her back to Menelaus. We stormed the beaches of Troy, built walls of bodies and dreams, all for the sake of one woman."

He paused, his jaw tightening as he struggled to find the words. "We fought for ten years," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "Ten long years of death, of suffering, of loss…" You could see the pain, the regret, etched into every line of his face. "And when we finally breached the walls, when we finally stood victorious, I thought… I thought that would be the end of it. I thought I could go home…"

He laughed then, a bitter, hollow sound. "…but the Gods had other plans."

You watched him, your heart aching with a sympathy you couldn't quite explain, couldn't quite contain. "What happened?"

He shook his head, his gaze dropping to his hands, his fingers twisting together as if he were trying to hold onto something slipping through his grasp. "We set sail for home, but the winds were against us. We were thrown off course, tossed from island to island, each one more cursed than the last." He swallowed, the sound thick and heavy in the stillness. "I made… unsavory decisions, angered those who should not be angered," he admitted, his voice cracking just slightly, the words dragged from some dark place deep within him. "I sacrificed my honor, everything, all for the sake of returning to Ithaca."

You listened in silence as he recounted his tale, the trials and tribulations that had followed—the blinding of the Cyclops, the enchantment of Circe, the deadly song of the Sirens. Each word, each memory, seemed to take a piece of him, leaving him more worn, more broken.

"I lost good men. Friends. Brothers…" he whispered, his voice cracking with the weight of his grief. "I lost them all... Every single one of them…"

You were silent for a long moment, studying the way his shoulders were hunched, his hands clenched into fists on his lap, the way his eyes shone with a pain you could almost feel. He was a man broken by war, by loss, by the endless trials the gods had thrown at him.

A man who had forgotten how to be anything but what the world demanded of him.

And here he was, baring his soul to you, offering up his truth like a fragile, precious thing. You would have gave your sorrows, but from what you've known of him, it wouldn't do any good.

A sigh escaped your lips, soft and resigned, as you turned your gaze back to the sea, the waves rolling in gentle, rhythmic swells, the last of the light fading into the deep, dark blue of the coming night. "Odysseus of Ithaca," you murmured, the name tasting strange on your tongue, heavy with the weight of all that it carried. "You're not the first to wash up on my shores, lost and broken," you said quietly, your eyes fixed on the horizon, your voice carrying a sadness that had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the endless, unchanging cycle of your existence. "And you won't be the last."

He looked at you then, really looked at you, as if seeing you for the first time, his eyes tracing the lines of your face, the curve of your shoulders, the way the firelight played across your skin.

You could feel his gaze like a physical thing, warm and searching, and for a moment, you almost believed that he could see you, not as the myth, the story, the cursed daughter of Atlas, but as something more, something real.

But you knew better.

"You're right not to trust me, Odysseus," you continued, your voice steady, calm. "I'm bound by my curse, just as you're bound by your fate. We're both prisoners here, in our own way."

He opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but you shook your head, a small, sad smile playing at the corners of your lips. "You don't owe me anything," you said softly, your eyes meeting his, holding his gaze with a quiet intensity. "But thank you, for your honesty. For your truth."

He stared at you, his eyes dark and unreadable, the silence between you heavy with the weight of all that remained unspoken. And then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached out, his hand hovering just inches from yours, the warmth of his skin a tantalizing whisper against your own.

For a moment, you thought he might take your hand, might bridge the distance between you.

But then he hesitated, his fingers curling into a fist, and he drew back, the moment slipping away like sand through your fingers.

You looked away, your heart aching with a familiar, bittersweet pain, your eyes drifting back to the sea, to the endless, unchanging horizon.

And so you sat there, side by side, two souls bound by the whims of the Gods, watching as the last light faded from the sky, as the stars began to bloom overhead, bright and cold and distant.

Together, yet worlds apart.

A/N: ahhh! not me falling in love with this lil one-shot. anywho, had to cut this in half cuz it was getting ridonculusly long... prt 2 shall be here soon tho, also, would you guys be cool if i added smut to it or nah? cuz i feel like the smut between these two will be so angsty cuz deep down odysseus ass still loves penelope, so calypso!reader is really just getting used, ma babieee 😭😭

[spidernuggets]

Jason Todd x Reader

"And who are you to judge him? It's not like you've tried to get to know him. You guys just don't know him like I do,"

"I don't get it" Rachel says to herself, staring at the couple. You're sitting on the island while Jason's head is buried in the fridge looking for another brew.

"Get what?" Gar chimes in, following where Rachel's gaze was at. "Jason and Y/N? What about them?", he quietly asks, not wanting the lovebirds to overhear their conversation.

"Yeah, I think I'm improving, but I still can't get the landing right," you say to Jason as he pops the cap off of the beer he finally finds. He replies with a simple hum of acknowledgement while taking a swig.

"He's so..." Rachel starts, trying to look for the right words to describe him. "Rude? Self-absorbed? He's not even listening to what Y/n's saying," she whispers back to Gar, finally turning away from the two.

Gar tilts his head to the side. "I don't know... They've been together for a good few months now, right? We don't see them together that often, we don't know how they're like," he tries to reason.

Rachel scoff, sitting on the couch. "That's another reason why he's a bad boyfriend. We never see them around. Does he not like showing off that they're together? Jason being a cocky-ass person, he's the kind of person to flaunt around his partner."

Rachel turns back to where you and Jason were standing just to see the two of you were gone as she scoffs once more.

Gar opens his mouth to speak once more as Kori and Dawn enters the room.

"What are we talking about?" Kori asks.

"Jason being an asshole of a boyfriend," Rachel almost laughs.

"How so?" Dawn questions.

"How could you not see?" Kori says. "Jason's always brushing Y/n off, blunt, short replies, puts missions before them, he's hardly ever acknowledging their presence," She laughs, listing all of Jason's flaws as a partner.

"I guess I've never really notice..." Dawn says, unsure.

~Meanwhile~

"Jesus, you drive me crazy," Jason says, his voice low, grinning at you like a school girl with her crush.

You're on his lap, hands cradling his face, his hands on your ass with a firm grip. You're placing soft kisses all over his face, a quick break from the hungry make-out session you both were so busy with.

Your soft kisses trail away from his face, down his jaw and onto his neck, kisses and nibbling all over. Biting a certain spot, Jason lets out a quiet gasp along with a held back whimper.

You let out a light chuckle while continuing to pepper kisses on his neck.

"I liked that," You softly say, kissing against the same spot. "Do it again," you teased.

Jason groaned. "You're trying to kill me, babe," he complains as he captured your lips against his once more.

You sighed in content, breaking the kiss and leaving another lingering kiss on his forhead.

"Don't let them get to your head, love," You tell him quietly. The both of you are well aware that the other Titans (maybe except Gar) don't see why you would date Jason. You're kind and considerate while Jason is... Jason. Jason has told you many times that he wants to be taken seriously by the other members, hence his cold demeanour. And along with those explanations, came affectionate apologies of him spending all his free time alone with you in either his or your room, cuddling, kissing, properly listening to your rants and more.

"They're right though," his reply is delivered rough and raspy, a change of voice that indicates to you that he's upset.

You sigh, arms wrapping around his neck, burying your face in his meck, breathing in his distinct scent of faint alcohol and strong cologne.

"No they're not," you say, just above a whisper. "I get it, Jay. You want to prove yourself. But you don't have to prove yourself to me. Okay? You're more than enough for me," One of your hands move down, grabbing hold of his own hand, bringing it up to your lips for another gentle kiss as your other hands cup his cheek.

Jason sighs, leaning into, your touch. "I love you, okay, Jay?" He nods in reply.

"I..." He tries to say it too, but fails as his gaze shifts to the ceiling in guilt.

"Hey, hey. I told you. Only say it when you're ready, you don't have to force yourself to say it, Jay," I assure him. "Now," You move yourself off of him, bringing him down to lie with you as you rest your head on his chest. "You're supposed to tell me about this book you were reading," You remind him. He smiles once more, his arms wrapping around you happily as he starts ranting about his new book.

~

"You guys got it?" Dick confirms with the rest of the group, finishing up a debrief with the other Titans. Everyone nod and murmur 'yes's and 'yep's.

"Alright, everyone get to training," He says as he departs.

You turn to Jason excitingly. "You wanna train together, Jay? You can help me with the new move I was telling you about!"

"Not today. I'm gonna train with Gar," Jason replies.

"Ah, okay! Have fun, teach me some new stuff you learn, later, kay?" You reach up to his cheek, giving him a quick peck and a short "Love ya!"

He responds with a grunt and a nod and leaves you with a quick caress on ur cheek as he goes to one of the training rooms with Gar. Oh how much he wants to just pick you up and kiss you and hug you and hold you for all eternity.

Hank scoffs at Jason's reaction as he walks off. Donna shakes her head in disapproval as she followed along too. The other women in the room have their eyebrows furrowed, judging looks towards your boyfriend and crossed arms as they looked at you with a lovesick grin and heart eyes, watching your love walk away til he disappeared.

You quickly turn around, smiling at the rest of the members. "Any of you guys wanna train with me- what? What's with the looks?" You ask, confused.

"What's with your boyfriend?" Rachel hisses.

Your face scrunches in slight offence. "What about him?"

"Honey, he's..." Dawn starts to say though her words trail off.

"You can do better," Kori states, her hands landing on her hips.

You lightly scoff "Why's that," You say lowly, eyes narrowing, ready to defend Jason.

"Y/n..." Dawn speaks up. "We're just looking out for you. We just think you and Jason... Aren't the best match."

"We think Jason is selfish, rude and annoying, is what she was meant to say," Rachel said quietly, but loud enough for all of you to hear.

You roll your eyes. "And who are you to judge him? It's not like you've tried to get to know him. You guys just don't know him like I do," you barked, almost wanting to cry for Jason.

"Y/n, we just-" you cut Kori off by putting a hand uo, refraining her from continuing.

"No. No, no. You can talk to me when you find some respect for Jason." You coldly say as you walked away to train.

The girls looked at each other with disappointed and worried looks.

~

The team was on a mission that involved Deathstroke. It was wild and messy to the point where everyone was split up, and only some of the Titans returned back to the tower.

Jason is pacing around, alone in his room. He's covered in blood and bruises, but those don't matter to him right now. The only thing in his mind was

Where the fuck were you?

It's been two hours since he came back with Dick, Gar, Rachel and Donna but there were no signs of you coming back. Or of the others coming back he guesses. You're comms weren't working and you weren't answering his messages.

To piss him off more, Dick forbade him from going back out, knowing that Jason's impulsiveness would bring further damage.

"He's not even worried," Rachel says, sitting in the couch cleaning the blood of herself, noticing Jason's absence of worry.

"He could be?" Gar shouts from the kitchen, trying to reason again.

"Why are you even trying to defend him, we know how he is."

"He's our teammate, Rachel. We can't go off judging him if we don't know him that well," He says softly, trying not to get a rise out of the purple haired girl.

She scoffs and reply with whatever.

Dick and Donna walk into the room. "We got a message from Kori," Dick says. "The comms were breaking up but they're all safe."

Rachel and Gar sigh in relief.

Around half an hour later, you, Dawn, Hank and Kori finally return.

You're cracking your back and stretching your arms. Parts of your hero outfit is ripped and some of your blood that escaped your skin was dried and dirty and bruises littered your face, but you were always in a bright mood.

"She's finally back and bird brain isn't even running out," Rachel whispers to Gar as his shoulders sink.

"Oh my god, I'm gonna need a lie down for the rest of my life," You groan, cracking your neck.

Even from his room, Jason heard your voice as he rushed out and saw you there all battered up.

He heavily sighed in relief, running up to you, lifting you up. You lightly shriek at his sudden appearance, wrapping your legs around his waist, hands on his shoulders.

"You're okay... you scared me..thought you weren't coming back," he admits quietly, but as the other Titans stare silently in shock, especially Rachel, they heard him loud and clear.

Jason lets you down slowly and litters your face with kisses before pulling you in closer, attaching his lips to yours, finally not caring about the presence of the other members.

"Hello to you too," you giggle, leaving a kiss on his nose.

"You're hurt," he says, looking at your scrapped body.

"I'm okay, Jay," You reassure him. But he shakes his head, carries you bridal style.

"I need to patch you up," He says, giving you another kiss on the cheek before heading to his room.

"Okay, that just happened," Kori said in amusement.

"They're cuties, aren't they, Hank?" Dawn asks, looking up at the lover of her own.

Hank rolls his eyes and answers with an "I guess so" before they leave the room.

"So?..." Gar grins in success and amusement as he looks at Rachels shocked reaction.

She sighs and leans back against the couch.

"Yeah, yeah you're right, I was wrong. They are good for each other," She admits.

~

"In front of them too?" You question, sitting on Jason's bed as he wipes away any dried blood before patching you up.

"I don't care," He says, keaving you surprised. Jason patches up your last wound, giving it a kiss before getting up and cradling your face.  "Your safety is more important to me"

You lean into his touch, your hand coming up to hold his. He leans into you for a deep, passionate and long lasting kiss.

Breaking it, he leans his forhead against yours.

"I love you," He quietly but confidently say.

Your eyes brighten and you couldnt helo but break into a wide smile, feeling giddy like a kid receiving a oresent from Santa.

"I love you too"

[toulousewayne]

🌿🍃Toxic Lover: Pt: I

Nightwing X male!reader with a former team who had become Poison Ivy like meta-human.

Summary:Your a former Titan teammate, you and Dick have unresolved feelings and you become infected with the same toxins and chemicals that turned Poison Ivy into a meta-human.

————————

It was a simple mission. Get in and get out. It wasn’t supposed to go the way it had.

Y/n was a skilled fighter and vigilante, he trained with Black Canary, WildCat, Wonder Woman and the League of Assassins. He operated as solo vigilante since he could remember.

He worked with most of the league and helped them as much as he could. He helped Batman and Robin a lot since he did very similar missions to them. When Dick formed the Titans and went solo as Nightwing he asked Y/n to join him. Y/n worked well with Starfire and Raven, he had fun playing games with Cyborg and Best Boy. He often hung out with Dick and Donna and Wally would visit often too.

Y/n took some time from the team and did solo missions for a while before being called by Dick to help him,Wally and Donna with a rescue mission in Metropolis.

“We just need to find the data bank with the information containing Ivy’s records and research. Luthor was help to gather and stored it in his lab. We need to get the information and destroy any bioweapon schematics.” Dick instructed.

“Anything we should be aware of,”Y/n perked up from his seat in the jet. Donna adjusted her sliver lasso to her waist,”Is Ivy herself involved?”

“As far as Batman’s intel can confirm she’s been missing for the last three months.” He confirms.

“Great so no giant kale bushes to crush us, noted.” Wally quipped. Y/n chuckled as Donna and Dick rolled their eyes.

——-

The Quad split into pairs;Wally and Donna and Dick and Y/n. Donna and Wally took the research offices upstairs meanwhile, Dick and Y/n took the lower levels.

Dick sneak into some of the office while Y/n found a hidden lab. He took photos, and took a flash drive to take the data from the server. He found several vials, tubes and plants on a desk and took photos.

“Nightwing, I’m in this lab. It looks they’ve extracted some of Ivy’s original pheromones and try to weaponize them.”

“I’ll be there soon…kinda busy.” He heard a loud bang and a punch. Y/n turned around to see a scientist and three guards at the doorway.

“Sorry you found this, but unfortunately Mr. Luthor doesn’t what this getting out. Boys don’t let him leave.” The scientist quickly fled as the guards moved in.

“Sorry lapdogs,but I’m leaving with the drive.” Y/n sprang into action and started fighting.

“It’s a trap,you have to get out of that room.” Nightwing’s voice filed the hero’s ear. Y/n managed to take out two goons but the last one was the biggest and blocked the only exit. He rushed Y/n and managed to forcefully shove him into the computer and servers. Knocking Y/n off his balance and disorienting him. He had cuts on his faces and blood trickled from his lip.Then, while he was stunned he took him and threw him into the desk with vitals and pheromones.

The two guard got the their feet and assisted in beating him to a pulp. Y/n was loosing his consciousness and went in and out. “..Dick—help.” He winced.

The large goon took the remaining vitals and smashed them over the hero. He threw the plant cart on him too and took out a lighter.

“Mr. Luthor sends his regards.” He threw the lighter at the spilled chemical and engulfed the room in flames.

——

The fire spread through out the facility and Nightwing managed to find the source. Toria and Flash managed to get to him but the flames were to high.

“We need to save him!” Nightwing tried to go towards the labs but Toria stopped him.

“You can’t go in there you’ll die!” He tried to push her but she wasn’t budgeting. Tears streaming down his face he begged his friends.

“Please, we have to try, please.” Wally nodded.”Get him to the surface I’ll try to get to Y/n. Go now!” He barked. Toria grabbed Nightwing and sped out of the lower levels as Flash created tornados to clear up the flames.

—-

Dick set on the jet without his mask, tears, bruises, and soot. Donna stood guard watching as the building’s flames were put out by firefighters. Wally entered the vessel with a stretcher with a white sheet on top.The form on it was Y/n’s body. Dick didn’t say a word as more tears formed in his eyes.

“It’s all my fault.” He hissed. Donna placed a hand on his shoulder,”It’s not Dick, you can’t blame—“

“It is. I asked him to come, I asked both of you to come and it nearly killed you all. I—l..” Dick broke down in tears and shouted. He rocked hisself and sob and Donna comforted him. Wally placed a hand on his other shoulder and talked him through it.

——-

Dick sat in his seat at the cemetery in Gotham. The small crowd of heroes dressed in black one by one left the small private ceremony for Y/n. Dinah gave a worried look at Dick whose gaze hadn’t left the spot where Y/n’s casket had been lowered into the earth and covered with fresh soil.

Bruce stood next to her and they didn’t speak right away but Dinah broke the silence. “Diana told me what happened from Donna. He hasn’t been the same.” Bruce didn’t reply.

“Well he be okay?” She hummed. Bruce turned to his friend and looked back at his son.”They were in love Dinah, it was obvious to most of us but not them. I’m not sure he if knew he loved Y/n as more than a friend, but I know he won’t stop until he can give him justice.”

“You think he’ll kil-“

“I hope not but I can only help him through this, I’ve learned a long time ago to not try to pressure him into a decision.” He walked to Dick and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“Let’s go son.”

——-

Y/n saw his life flash before his eyes during his attack. Between each rib being fractured, another punch to the back, or kick to the stomach he felt his favorite memories flood his eyes.

From training the younger members of Young Justice with Dick’s little brother the third Robin, game nights with the Titans, going to a concert with Dick he practically dragged him to.

That concert was the best night of his life he felt so carefree, not birdied with the responsibilities of being a more experienced hero. Not feeling like he couldn’t tell his best friend how he truly felt, and just watch from a distance as he went out dates with other girls or laughed with the guys at games nights.

Y/n knew he was in deep shit from the moment he met the Last Flying Grayson, and he didn’t care.

The band was one he like since he was in Middle school,and he begged Dick for weeks to go with him, eventually he agreed to go because he felt bad for missing so many plans to help his family with their own missions.

“I hope they aren’t a snooze fest because I could have stayed home and listened to Tim explain Quant-Time travel.” He joked as Y/n pulled on his hoodie he just purchased.

He shoved his shoulders,”Don’t even Grayson these guys are the best. You’re not gonna regret it. Plus, don’t act like you don’t love Timmy’s rambles.” Y/n fired back.

He held his hands in surrender. “Hey I had to think of something.” Y/n took Dick’s hand and dragged him into the arena just as the music blared through the speakers. Y/n was unaware of the crimson color that painted Dick’s face. And to busy to notice the stole glances Dick took through the night.

—-

The smell of smoke burned Y/n’s nostrils and he chocked on it. But the blood in his mouth took out some of the harsh smells. The flames were roaring in the room and shortly everything began to spin. Y/n barely regained consciousness before everything swiftly went to black.

Then it went Green.

The green light became paler and paler and the sound of a heartbeat echoed. Almost in slow motion. Most of the light became closer too. Became bright white and the sounds of Gotham City came hard and fast like a gunshot.

Y/n stood up in the middle of the street and he noticed something wasn’t right. The last thing he remembered was dying in Metropolis and now he’s in old Gotham. To his left was the build up of traffic and to his right was Gotham Cemetery. He tried to move but fell to the ground.

“The fuck.” His hoarse voice choked out. He noticed his arms were covered in slime of some kind and leaves. He saw a small puddle and took a glance at his reflection. His face was the same but more beautiful, sharper features, deep green iris, and fuller lips.

“Hey freak,get outta the way!” A voice shouted and honked his horned.

Y/n snapped his head up and grew easily frustrated,his head was still spinning and blaring horn was causing more pain.

“Ugh, can’t you be idiotic somewhere else.” With his hand on the ground it began to shake and large vines jumped through the concrete and began to crush the car. The driver managed to get out before it was crushed to pieces. Y/n slowly got to his feet and stumbled.

“That’s new.” Several other drivers fled their cars and screams. Two officers drew their weapons and order Y/n to freeze. Something in Y/n slowly turned and began to change in his feelings toward the police.

“Freeze Freak!” The older officer hisses,Y/n cocks his head to the side with smirk.

“Pathetic pigs, you never appreciate the things you take for granted. You worthless meat sacks.”

The two officers look at each other,”Meat-what?” It’s short lived as vines bursted through the growing and take them prisoner. Y/n strolls over to them. He chuckles.

“Mother Earth wouldn’t be to proud of you. Nature will always win.” He takes his nails and scratches both across the face and then plants begin to grow out their faces and they gag. More large vines rise and take Y/n underground.

—————

He re-emerges in the old Gotham Greenhouse in Robinson Park. More vines and flowers bloom in the old building giving it a new look. The old overgrown plants become green and flourish again with life.

“Men have ruined you, I don’t know what yet, I know can revive you. But I promise you will be avenged. I am Mother Nature’s new branch and I will take Gotham first then, we will cleanse the rest of this planet.” He laughs to himself before the sound of glass shatters.

He worlds around to see Nightwing.

“Y/n,what happened to you. You were dead.” Y/n felt conflicted. On one hand he wanted run to Dick and get his help, but on the other hand he wanted to crush him and turn him into mulch.

Nightwing drew closer, “This isn’t you N/N. I don’t know what happened in the last 72 hours but you aren’t yourself. I can help you but you have to let me.” His voice was strained like his had been yelling or not speaking. It didn’t go unnoticed but something in Y/n didn’t care and he was constantly fighting a battle within himself.

“Dick—what?”

“I can help you,Y/n you have to understand I care about you. But you have to stop.” Nightwing earpiece buzzed and Y/n could heard the voice of Robin from a nearby plant. The words: Cops. Killed. Poisoned. Y/n.

Nightwing turned to him with a blank expression and a tighter grip on his weapons.

“Y/n, let me take you get help. I promise I won’t let anyone harm you.” His voice wasn’t as raw as it was. It was stern yet cautious.

The switch in Y/n flipped and the smirk and sultry voice returned.

“Dick, join me,” he persuades, “Become my Adam and help me flourish this place into a new garden. Just for the two of use.”

Nightwing took a defensive stanch. “Can’t do that. I’m sorry.” The last part was a whisper but Y/n caught it.

“Well then I’m sorry too.” With the flick of his wrist and two large flowers sprouted. The plants around Nightwing were now healthily and quickly attacked him.

Y/n rose several feet in the air on a seat of large leaves and petals. Nightwing dodged the vines but is eventually became captured after miscalculating a step after trying to not harm Y/n.

He’s wrapped in vines and is unable to move. The vines bring him closer to Y/n who purrs.

He runs a thumb across Dick’s lips. “I never noticed.” He whispered.

“What?” Dick huffed. Y/n takes his face and brings it closer. He has a soft smile and Dick is conflicted.

“How much I wanted to do this.” He kisses Dick. He tries break free of his binds but after a few moments he stops and kisses back and soon the kiss deepens and Y/n has to stop. He places his forehead against Dick’s and sighs.

Dick’s eyes are glossed over and his blue eyes are a pale green.

“Dick?”

“Yes, my Love?” He says deadpans. Y/n sighs to himself and releases him.

The virus in Y/n grows stronger. And he laughs to himself.

“We have a few housewarming gifts to give out. Fetch them for me Darlin.” Nightwing mindless obeys and leaves Y/n who glances at his appearance in the water fountain for the first time noticing the torn up suit he was buried in.

“It’s time for a new Harvest.”

[spencerslover-blog]

Sometimes, I wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me but you told Lucy you'd kill yourself if I ever leave and I had said that to Jack about you, so I felt seen. Everyone we know understands why it's meant to be, oh, 'cause we're crazy so tell me, who else is gonna know me? and who's gonna know you? (Who?) Me. Who's gonna hold you? (Who?) Me.

—From the desk of the tortured poets department intern.

[jayswhorex]

This is more of a ramble than request.

I don't know why but I can't imagine rough sex with Kyle. He’s so caring and gentle I just can't imagine it. I'm not saying he's against rough sex, sometimes there are days when he needs to let out all the repressed anger but I think he's more into gentle sex BUT I know he's very playful and teasing in bed and I know he's loud in bed, he doesn't even try to hide all the sounds in bed

Anyway, I need your thoughts on him because there is so little Kyle content that I can't even form my thoughts on what he's into in bed

i 100% agree with this because i could never seem like the type of guy to yearn for rough sex. and this actually reminds me of a panel from titans when he and donna run into each other and she's just going through a lot and he's trying to help her out because he still loves and worries about her!! like how could a man like that be rough and hurts even more knowing that he still loved her after they broke up and since she lost her memories, she died never remembering him.

but getting back on track, he's definitely the type of guy to hold you and whisper "i love you" into your ears a million times while deep inside you. if you asked him to be rough he wouldn't die for you, but he definitely prefers to be gentle with his partners. he's definitely the playful type but also “brings you breakfast” in bed just cause he can type. i see him as a really caring guy because of the way he was with donna, get me a man who loves me as much as kyle loved donna.

now i can see rough sex with him when he's pent up or having a bad day. or what about rough sex in the heat of the moment, where he just needs you?? like he's got you pressed up against the wall, holding you up by your hip with one of your legs around his waist while he's rough fucking you right there & then. and just can't stop because he needs you now and then and he'll feel so bad after, asking you if he was too rough even though you secretly loved it 😩

[calumsargwife]

i think its a female (just me probably) urge to wanna read troy bolton fics because i genuinely think he's the perfect boyfriend and im so sad that he doesn't exist and that there are not new troy's fics in tumblr

[ftwdb]

Don’t say go.

Chapter 18.

Warnings: Dark themes, sexual content, violence, non-graphic description/implications of SA, child abuse and domestic violence. References to addiction. Unhealthy love/obsession/relationships. Soulmate AU. Eventual smut. Love Triangle!

It’s dark by the time you feel the strength of The Pull reaching its peak, and you know what that means. You look around into the darkness. In the wastes there isn’t much besides stretches of empty barren land and mountains in the distance. You know you’re not yet at your destination which can only mean one thing; the boy with the flag was headed toward you too.

You see twin lights in the distance. A car headed toward you. Eventually you stop in the middle of the road and just wait. The lights get closer until they shine on your windscreen and you both sit, unmoving, just waiting for the other to make the first move.

You cut the truck’s engine and step out.

The boy does the same. The light of your vehicles illuminate the night just enough that you can make each other out in the darkness.

The boy steps forward enough so that he is thrown into view and you can see the warm brown of his eyes, his features which are so different from Troy’s, softer but still strong.

You hesitate. Your gun is tucked in the back of your jeans and your fingers twitch.

The boy speaks.

“Hi… I’m Nick.”

You don’t say anything, you just keep watching until he clears his throat as if a little unsure of himself.

“You came alone?” he asks.

You could have kicked yourself. Coming alone had been a risk but now that he was here, in the middle of nowhere, and no one knew where you’d gone, you realised how vulnerable you’d left yourself.

“For now,” you answered him flatly. At least if you were vague about whether you had people with you it might make him have second thoughts if he was planning anything…

The boy waits a beat before trying again.

“I guess you felt it too then…”

You don’t want to say the words out loud so you simply nod your head. The boy, Nick, continues.

“I thought I was going crazy at first. I never thought I’d find my… find you. Feel it, you know?”

You frown at this. Everyone worries they’ll never find their soulmate but something in his voice captures your attention. It’s less that he’s worried about the odds and more… something you can’t quite distinguish.

“Why?” you ask.

Nick hesitated before shrugging a little.

“That’s a… it doesn’t matter. What matters now is that I found you. It feels… weird. Don’t you think?”

Perhaps if you hadn’t already had the experience with Troy you would agree. But you didn’t want him to know that Troy was your soulmate and so you don’t answer his question.

“Look I came here to warn you. Some of the people from my community are coming back tonight to finish what they started. You need to tell your people to run.”

Nick frowns at this information.

“We agreed to a truce-“

You shake your head in annoyance. You don’t want to explain all this. You want him to just listen to your warning and leave so you can forget about whatever this mistake is between you both and go home, go back to Troy.

“They’re acting of their own accord. Some of the men have certain… loyalties. This isn’t about protecting their home, it’s about revenge.”

Nick is watching you closely now and you don’t like the way his eyes are roaming over you. You freeze. You wonder if he can feel your emotions just like you can with Troy. You reach out in the same way you do with Troy and try to find Nick, to feel what he feels… there’s nothing. Just the regular sense of The Pull.

“You’re warning me because of this feeling between us? You came looking for me because of it.”

You shake your head growing more frustrated as all you want to do is head back before Mike and the others see you out here.

“I don’t have time to explain myself. You have to get your people and go far away from here. Don’t come back.”

Nick’s eyes widen as he realises you have no intention of staying with him.

“But… you have to come with me. When I left earlier, after I saw you, it felt like my heart was being-“

“It doesn’t matter.” You say quickly, all too familiar with that pain. “I can’t come. I won’t go with you. But I don’t want you to die either so, please, leave.”

Nick is staring at you incredulously.

“I can’t do that.”

You actually growl from your frustration with him.

“Why!?”

“Because,” Nick says as he steps closer. You take a large step away from him. You can’t risk him getting too close, having him touch you. You don’t know what will happen.

“I just found you. I can’t walk away!” he continues.

“Then run! Drive! Fucking skip for all I care! If you stay, you die. Not that I care-“

“That’s a lie.” Nick cuts you off quickly. “Soulmates need each other. Hearts literally break when they lose one another. So why… why are you denying this?”

You swallow nervously and look at the truck. You could just get back in and drive away, but what if he follows? You have a feeling he would. He seems the type. Reckless and stubborn.

“I… it’s complicated.”

You say, and you hate how pathetic that sounds.

“‘It’s Complicated’ used to be a Facebook status.” Nick quips. “Tell me the truth. Why run from me?”

“I’m not!”

“Then what are you running from!? Or… wait… what are you going back to?”

You clench your jaw as Nick slowly starts to put the pieces together in his head.

“You have someone-“

“No.”

“A boyfriend? Fiancé?”

“No! No one!”

“Your home then, your community. You’re worried this would cause a problem. Conflict? But maybe it could help solve the bad blood between us! Two soulmates who find each other on opposites sides-“

“This isn’t bloody Romeo and Juliet, Nick!”

He grins and it makes you want to slap the beautiful smile off his face.

“You’re hardly Juliet sweetheart.”

You snarl, your anger beginning to erupt. Why won’t he just listen! Why make this so complicated!

“Whatever! Just get in your car and drive away Romeo!”

Nick laughs and it’s almost like he’s enjoying this.

“Oh the universe is truly a bitch. I didn’t think I’d find my soulmate because I didn’t deserve one. But maybe I do. It’s ironic that she would hate me, a poetic kind of punishment I guess…”

Your expression eases but doesn’t soften as you listen to him ramble. Hate? You didn’t hate him…

“Why would you be punished?” you ask, your senses on alert in case this was the part where he confesses to being a serial killer or something.

Nick shrugs again.

“If you got to know me, you’d understand.”

You shake your head again with a weary sigh.

“You don’t listen do you.”

Nick steps forward again and this time the light moves so he’s back in the shadows with you.

“I could… but you’d need to actually tell me something for me to hear it. Something besides “run away” because that isn’t happening.”

You swear at him and he smirks.

“We don’t have time. Your people will be killed.”

Nick rubs his hand over the back of his neck and it finally seems to dawn on him, he has other responsibilities. Other people to protect.

“When are your people attacking?”

“They’re leaving the ranch around midnight, so probably by the early hours of the morning. Before sunrise though.”

“Element of surprise, cover of darkness. They’re smart.”

“And well armed. So will you listen to me now?”

Nick stares at you for a few seconds and you almost believe he’d let his people risk being slaughtered instead of going back to warn them.

“Fine.”

You blink at him.

“Fine?”

“That’s what I said. I’ll go back. I’ll warn them.”

“And you’ll run? You can’t fight back, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

“Look I can’t promise anything… we have some stubborn members of our group and they might not take the truce being broken well-“

“The truce isn’t broken. It’s just a small group-“

“Still breaking the truce. Still disobeying your leader, right?”

You bite your tongue. Jeremiah wasn’t their “leader” officially but he was as good as.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess. So what? You’ll go back and they’ll try to defend themselves?”

Nick shrugs again.

“If they think it’s more beneficial than running.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I’m getting a damn headache.”

For some reason this amuses Nick.

“Head rub?”

Your look at him is deadly and he sniggers.

“Joking. Lighten up. Look, I’ll go back and do what I can to stop anymore death. But I can’t promise anything. We lost people. The guy who was in charge came at us like a demon. We didn’t stand a chance…”

Your stomach twists as Nick talks about Troy.

“You want revenge?”

Nick’s expression blanks out and you recognise the perfectly controlled mask on his face. You’d used it yourself before.

“Me? No. But there are those who do.”

“Then convince them their lives aren’t worth it. Tonight is not their night to die. Please… no more death.”

Your voice breaks as you finish your sentence and Nick tilts his head at you. You look away, hating that you’d let some vulnerability slip through.

“Who’d you lose?”

You take a slow breath and shake your head.

“Doesn’t matter. Just… do what you can. And if you can’t save them… save yourself at least.”

Nick looks like he wants to say more. He looks pained.

“Can I… see you again?”

It’s almost laughable. Like a schoolboy asking out his crush. You place your hand on the door of the truck and grip it tight as you give him a firm “no” and turn away before you can see the look on his face.

You slide into your truck and slam the door, locking it before turning in the engine. This was for the best. You didn’t know what else to do. There had been some mistake and maybe Nick had another soulmate out there somewhere too? You hoped so… you didn’t want him to be in pain.

You hear a tap at the window and you look over to see Nick still standing there, motioning for you to wind it down. You do, only a few inches so you can hear him speak.

Nick pauses as he looks you over before speaking.

“It’s him, isn’t it.”

You frown and Nick elaborates.

“The guy who attacked us. The one who was hurt. He’s why you won’t stay with me.”

You feel your stomach drop. Your hands clench on the wheel as you grit your teeth.

“His name is Troy.”

“Troy…” Nick repeats and you hear the sadness and disappointment in his voice. “Well, you must love him a lot to choose him over your soulmate.”

You avoid his eyes still and stare straight ahead until the light from his car burns your eyes.

Nick continues.

“… I hope he makes it, for your sake. And… I want you to know it wasn’t me. I didn’t hurt him.”

You nod, not that it would have mattered. As much as you loved Troy you could understand he’d made a choice that led to his own injuries. Even if he’d done it to protect you… you hated that the blood that had been spilt was on your hands too now.

“I have to go,” you say emptily and put the truck into reverse.

Nick steps back just in time to save his foot being run over as you reverse and turn, glancing back to see his shadow in the headlights as you drive back home. Back to Troy. Back to where your heart felt complete as you tried to ignore how it felt as if you’d just left a piece of it in the darkness behind you…

[pedrosdameron]

Treat You Right || Joel Miller x f!reader

Description: When you and Joel get into an argument, your first instinct is to shut down and cry. Joel shows you how to come back to life in a very sinful way.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Porn with very little plot, Angst, reader has a bipolar disorder (unspecified), mental health issues talks, mention of medication, reader flinches when he moves once, arguing, hurt/comfort, slight dissociation, established (kind of toxic) relationship, unspecified age gap, unprotected piv (come on, you know the drill), oral m and f receiving, ruined orgasm, multiple orgasms, cumshots, aftercare, comforting!Joel, daddy kink, use of pet names, no use of y/n, reader uses she/her and is afab but has no physical descriptors 

Word count: 2.6k

Recommended song(s): Daddy Issues - The Neighbourhood

Crush - Danny Fischer

I Hope You Understand - Del Water Gap

Still Don’t Know My Name - Labrinth

Note(s): Hi everyone!! I'm so nervous to post this. This is my FIRST Joel x reader fic and one of my first rare attempts at second person, first tense so I'm sorry if there are mistakes. I also rarely write smut! I wrote this as a vent piece and I hope you like it or it can help you. Enjoy and follow my main blog: @delliestattoo

The sound of the rain splattering against your living room window is nothing compared to the harshness of his tone. Joel’s yelling at you, finger raised and pointed with that same, sly smirk on his face; he knows what he’s doing, he’s making you weak.

And not in the good way.

You can feel tears threatening to spill over your waterline, fresh and hot and not at all helpful to the situation. You want to speak, you want to scream, you want to yell right back at him; but you find yourself completely mute, barely even able to process the words he’s throwing at you. He doesn’t get like this often - the first time was when you brought up Sarah the first time, and the only other time was when you threatened to leave him; but those times were both understandable now, sole misunderstandings that you had caused. 

This time, however, was honestly just stupid. You two had been arguing about where to go for dinner, and he called you indecisive, which your brain translated to immature and here you were. 

“J-Joel,” you whisper, though you know he can’t hear you. He’s still shouting, and you know you have to do something. You have to say something. You have to get out of this.

“Joel,” you say again, louder this time, “P-Please -” you stop yourself from continuing, bowing your head with a muffled sigh. You didn’t want to argue anymore, you didn’t want to fight. 

You just wanted him to stop yelling at you.

Silently, the tears begin to fall, and it quickly turns to broken sobbing, a hand covering your mouth to try and stay quiet. Quiet - which is what Joel is now, silent and staring at you while you try to compose yourself. You know he’s hating himself for the screaming, but you know you deserve it, and you think deep down he does, too.

“I’m s-sorry,” you manage to stutter, and you glance up at him, and that’s when you notice Joel has gone not only silent, but also still, his face completely changed from the moment before. You’re puzzled for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, when he walks towards you. 

On instinct, you flinch.

“Joel-?” It’s more of a question than a statement, because now you’re just confused, though your tense body relaxes underneath his touch, his calloused and rough hands reaching for your shoulders, fingers dragging down your arm, and despite being relaxed, you freeze. You don’t know what he’s doing, and all you can do is look up at him with unsure, teary eyes, as a few tears still fall.

“Oh, baby, -” Joel says then, and you blink, mouth suddenly dry with a sense of something else entirely. Suddenly, you’re not crying anymore. 

Everything’s fine. He’s talking to you. He’s looking at you and touching you and he has that sweet, thick southern accent - everything seems okay now; and you know it may only be for a moment, and you know you missed your medication this morning, but it’s okay now.

“Darlin’,” Joel begins, and you know this is about to be good, “Why’s my pretty girl cryin’ like that? Come on now, chin up for me,” he says, and you obey, raising your chin and wiping your tears. You have the sudden urge to call him daddy - the way he’s looking at you, the way he was yelling at you. It fits. It fits so well and so would he. 

“That’s my girl,” Joel praises, and you feel your mood shift, already having gone from upset to nonchalant; but now it’s something different, now it’s a yearning you know only the man in front of you can fulfill. 

“Joel-” you huff, biting your lip. You don’t know what to say to him to make him understand what you need now. 

What if he wasn’t interested? What if he didn’t want you? What if he was just trying to fix what he had started?

“What is it, pretty girl?” he whispers then, and you feel your core burn hot. You want to sit down, but there’s nowhere to go, nowhere but his arms. You feel mute again, silenced, but then Joel rubs your arms again and you’re fully there.

“Need you, daddy,” you mutter, and your pussy throbs with want, with need. You need him to kiss you, to put his mouth on your neck; and you want him to shove you against a wall, throw you around, praise and degrade you at once. He’s staring deep into your eyes, like he’s trying to decide whether he wants to give in, and you open your mouth to say something but…

You’re cut off by movement, his hands falling from your arms down to your hips, and fuck, fuck, you couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Goddamnit, Joel,” you curse, though you’re sure he knows you don’t mean anything by it. You grunt, moving backwards, and pull your blouse over the top of your head with ease. The remainder of your clothing consists of your black biker shorts and a black, lace bra that you know damn well Joel wouldn’t be able to take his eyes - or hands - off of. 

“Goddamn, you,” Joel grunts back, and just like you thought, his hands are immediately on you, fingers laced underneath the hem of your bra like he wants it off already. You smirk. The tears on your face have dried, and you no longer have bloodshot eyes, no, now they’re full of lust and longing that belongs to Joel and Joel only. “Need me already?” you ask teasingly, and you expect him to laugh, play it off like he usually does, but you’re met with a sudden force, throwing you up against the wall just like you had wanted. “Fuck, Joel,” you can’t help but moan, the force making your panties wet, heart skipping beats and core throbbing with a desperate need. “Joel,” you mutter, as you move to wrap your arms around his neck, “Please.”

He seems to understand what you want by the look on your face and the pleading sound to your begs, hands reaching around to undo your bra strap. You don’t have time for that - you move away from his hands, instead your body presses close against his and you can feel his cock hard in his jeans. “I wanna get you off,” you whisper, leaning close to his ear. Your hand moves down to cup his balls underneath the fabric and you give them a gentle squeeze, a gesture that was almost like asking for permission for you. Joel’s breath had already been heavy but now it had picked up, and his fingers were thumbing over your nipples, and you knew that was an okay.

You drop to your knees, not wasting any time with Joel’s belt. He helps you, and before he seems to know it your mouth is on his cock, lips wrapped tastefully around the tip as you bob your head back. His arm is hovering over your head, his hand pressed against the wall as he resists the urge to thrust his cock into your mouth; you know that’s what he’s thinking, because you’ve talked about it. 

And you want him to.

“Come on, daddy, fuck my mouth,” you say, as you pull away for a moment to spit. You take his cock whole, and Joel cries out, hips moving to fuck your mouth. Your eyes roll back in your head, mouth dripping with saliva and pre-cum as he fucks into you. Your panties have to be fucking soaked by now, you’re so needy, you’re grinding down into nothing. There’s no sound in the room except for the wet slapping sounds of Joel’s balls against your cheeks and you don’t mind it one bit, muffled and strangled heavy breaths coming from your end and rough, heavy grunts from Joel’s. 

He’s getting close, you can tell by the way he’s breathing now; you’d been together for so long you had gotten accustomed to every sound. “That’s enough,” you say, voice hoarse now, as you pull away from his cock, which still thrusts towards you even after the loss. He’s not saying anything, and you know he’s pissed, but you know that would just make him fuck you better.

“Come on, daddy,” you murmur, your legs moving to stand, “Come fuck me.”

The two of you manage to make it to the bed, but you don’t manage to make it much farther. Joel’s got his hands on you again, and you can see the remorse from earlier reflected in his eyes, but you see way more lust. He throws you down onto the mattress and you let out a soft sigh, body going pliant. This is what you wanted, what you seemed to have needed. You just needed a man to throw you around and fuck you right. Treat you right.

You don’t bother helping him with your pants. He makes quick work of ripping them off of you, revealing your matching black, lace panties, and the sound he makes upon sight of them is comparable to a wolf’s snarl. 

“Like what you see?” you ask, smirking as you position yourself for missionary - it was your favorite position, your go-to, and if you were being honest, you needed the honest connection right now. You needed to really feel him make love to you.

“‘Course I do, pretty girl,” Joel confirms, pulling his own shirt over his head. He’s completely naked now, and you feel overdressed. You shimmy your hips. “Take ‘em off me, daddy,” you purr, and Joel can’t resist you, diving for your cunt. You scream and fall back, a laugh falling from your lips as he drags your panties down to your ankles and then off fully. You can’t even take a breath before he’s got his mouth on you - and he’s eating you real good, tongue flicking up and down and swirling around your clit in perfect motions. It’s not often he does this, either; Joel never really seems to enjoy it, but right now he’s all in. You’re left wondering if he’s even breathing while his tongue attacks your pussy. Your back arches and you feel an orgasm approaching, and it’s coming up fast, your breathing now labored and your hips bucking up into his mouth for more, more friction, more anything.

You need his cock. You need it deep, nestled inside of you, holding you together.

“J-Joel,” you pant, a hand reaching down for his hair. You try to pull him off of you, but Joel only presses his face deeper into your cunt, leaving you breathless and out of energy. Your core is burning hot, ready to cum, and you need to. You need to release. You need it so bad.

“Fuck, fuck - gonna cum,” you manage to mutter, pulling at his hair again. Joel’s lips wrap around your clit and he sucks, and you scream, your orgasm rippling through you at the speed of lightning. Joel doesn’t pull away, either; he helps you through it, licking your folds gently as you try and breathe, cunt twitching underneath his tongue. You still want his cock, more than anything now, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes again as he continues to stimulate you.

“Joel… p-please,” you whisper pleadingly, with another tug, “Please.” He pulls away then, looking up at you, and you swear you could see the devil in his eyes, he looked that sinful. His hair was messy, his chin dripping with your juices and lips red and puffy. You almost wanted to grab your phone and snap a photo, but you know he’d kill you.

The both of you take a minute to just breathe. Joel reaches to wipe his mouth before kissing you but you stop him and pull him forward anyways, wanting to taste yourself. “Need you to fuck me,” you whisper against his lips, the sickly sweet taste covering your tongue, “Need it, baby. Need you.”

Joel pulls away, only to look you in the eyes. “Need me that bad, darlin’?” 

You nod in desperation. Your eyes are filled with tears. All Joel does is let out a chuckle, and then he pushes you back down into the mattress. “Alright,” he mutters, “be a good girl for me and stay there, alright? Gonna fuck you nice and right,” he says, and you go pliant once again, body completely relaxed on the mattress. Your juices are flowing out of you and soaking the sheets but neither of you seem to care. They can always be washed.

Once you’re fully relaxed and ready, Joel climbs on top of you, and you instantly wrap your arms around him to bring him closer, his cock rubbing against the folds of your cunt. “Fuck,” the both of you say in unison, and then you both laugh a little, too. You’re always glad you can laugh with Joel in moments like these, serious or not. 

“That’s my girl,” Joel praises, his breath coming to a halt as he presses his cock into you slowly. The both of you adjust for a moment, and then you’re grabbing at any part of him you can reach. “Fuck me,” you beg, “Please, Joel. Fuck me.”

He obliges quickly, shifting his weight to his hands to begin thrusting his cock into you. It’s a quick pace, balls slapping against your thighs every other second, and you feel so fucking full. 

“Feels good,” you moan, “Feels - feels f-full, Joel.”

“Yeah? Fuck, darlin’, takin’ my cock so good,” Joel praises in return, and you feel your core start to heat up again and your heart swell. You’re going to cum again, and you’re probably going to do it quickly. 

“Harder,” you huff, fingers digging deep into Joel’s shoulders. He grunts at the pain but says nothing, allowing you to take hold of him. If anything, it spurs him on to fuck you harder. “Harder,” you repeat, throwing your head back, “I’m gonna fuck - I’m gonna fucking cum,” you warn him, moving your hand to reach down and rub at your clit quickly. You swirl your finger around the little sphere and cry out in pleasure, bucking your hips up to meet Joel’s pace. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you cry, breathing strangled, and Joel didn’t even have his hands on your throat.

“Yeah? Come on, darlin’,” Joel pants, his own orgasm approaching, though his focus remained on you, “Come for me. Come for me, pretty girl. Come on this fucking cock.”

He doesn’t have to say it twice - only once and you’re crying out again, overwhelming pleasure taking over your whole body. You’re trembling underneath him as you cum, fingers digging deep into his shoulder, so hard it could possibly draw blood; and despite the pain, Joel enjoys it, and it floods his own orgasm through him, streams of his seed spurting into your pussy. You can feel him filling you up and it feels better than anything you could ever imagine, and you’re way too dreary now to care there was no condom.

“Did so good,” Joel praises, as he pulls his cock out of you, and you whine at the sudden loss. You find yourself reaching for him, but he’s already shifting to move off of the bed. “Where - where are you going?” you whisper, sadness taking hold of your voice; was he leaving?

“Nowhere, my sweet girl,” Joel whispers then, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, “Gonna get a towel, clean you up, ‘n we can lay together. Okay, baby?”

You can feel your eyes closing from exhaustion; between the fight and sex, you were beat. “Okay,” you whisper quietly, “Baby.”

DT: @swiftispunk @gracieispunk @ilyltm @darkroastjoel

[ephemeresque]

i really need to ask y'all who write for joel miller if y'all don't have the kind of daddy issues that's basically just "i don't want you to fuck me but i do want you to be my dad bc i never had one"??? like don't get me wrong i would fuck joel miller but the only stuff i've found written with him is smut and i so desperately need to read something with joel comforting the reader and treating them like they're his child ☹️

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐲 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: undone - the sweater song—weezer

masterlist! | commissions | carrd

• Rooming with Troy and Abed had been one of the easiest decisions of your life. Two years of friendship and student debt loans really did a lot to convince a person

• You were a little worried about the actual process of moving, considering what happened last time the study group got together to move, but it ended up going pretty smooth. Jeff didn't even try to pretend he was sick this time, something that Britta sarcastically applauded him for. And Shirley held back from judging you about your lack of Christian memorabilia. She instead resorted to clutching her cross necklace tighter than the time she found out Britta smoked pot

• In between lugging boxes and bedframes around, Annie reassured you over and over that she was totally fine with you taking up the apartment vacancy instead of her. She was honestly looking forward to her new place just off the cusp of campus grounds. Said it would be easier to get in for a midnight study session. Whatever that meant

• You just nodded slowly and excused yourself to pack in a different corner

• Troy and Abed on the other hand were absolutely stoked throughout the move. So much so, that they put most of their shenanigans on pause to get the move over faster. Most of them.

• "Abed, untie Troy from the chair. I need to put that in the back of my car. You can do that when we get to your place."

• "Ten more minutes?"

• "No, guys."

• "Aw man."

• The next few hours ran as smooth as they could with eight people trying to walk up two flights of stairs. Eventually, everything got unloaded into the living room, and excuses were made as why people had to leave. Some more elegantly than others

• "Yeah, as much as I'd love to stay and watch you three nerds discuss which Batman poster goes where—" Jeff hummed as he typed away on his phone, "—I've got places to be and women to charm."

• "What he said!"

• "Pierce, I don't think there's a single lady out there that would touch you with a ten foot pole." You deadpanned

• "Ertha Kitt did. And she did more than just touch me—"

• "Okay. Out."

• Troy and Abed surprised you that night with a new pair of pajamas to match their own, and an impromtu Inspector Spacetime marathon

•Both of them beamed when you came out into the living room later wearing it. A part of you figured they were just happy that you were cool with your blanket fort, though

• You ended up sitting criss crossed on top of an unpacked box while they took to their knockoff la-z-boys

• "Do you guys think we should actually unpack things before starting the next episode?" You asked at some point late into the night, glancing at the blinking analog clock on the TV stand

• "No." Abed answered you without even looking up from the end credits

• "Yeah me neither." You grinned. "I want to see if Reggie kills any blorgons this time."

• All in all, becoming their third best friend and tennant was one of the best decisions any of you had made—even if it did take you a month to convince Troy and Abed to let you take partial room in the dreamatorium

[winxanity-ii]

JOIN US FOR A BITE

ship: polities x fem!lotus eater!reader warnings: non-explicit word count: 6.1k a/n: Y'all forgive me, i'm currently addicted to EPIC: The Musical 😭😭😭 i had to get it out......so because i'm such a random ass person, expect a few one-shots of these 🥴

★·.·´🇪‌🇵‌🇮‌🇨‌: 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇲‌🇺‌🇸‌🇮‌🇨‌🇦‌🇱‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

In the dappled shade of overhanging trees, you, a daughter of the Lotus Eaters, moved with the silence of a whisper.

The island, your home, was a place of serene beauty and hidden sorrows, where every berry and leaf held stories untold.

As you foraged, the unexpected sound of low voices sliced through the quiet, a rarity in this secluded paradise.

In the heart of the island, where the sun played peek-a-boo through the lush canopy, you were lost in your routine of foraging, the familiar, comforting task providing a rhythm to your day.

The island was your sanctuary, a place where each leaf and berry whispered stories of peace and forgetfulness.

But today, an unfamiliar murmur shattered the symphony of rustling leaves and distant waves—a discordant note that prickled your skin.

Hiding wasn't something you Lotus Eaters did often; your island was a haven, not a battlefield. Yet, instinct took over, and you found yourself crouching under the embracing shadow of an overhanging tree, its leaves casting a mosaic of light and dark around you.

Your heart thudded a frantic rhythm, trying to drown out the low, masculine voices that sliced through the serenity of your world.

You couldn't catch their words clearly, just fragments floating through the air like leaves caught in a breeze—"too worried," "need to relax"—phrases that seemed out of place in the tranquility of your island.

Your curiosity piqued as their voices faded, swallowed by the whispers of the forest. The urge to look, to know, overpowered your hesitation, and you peered through the veil of green, your gaze snagging on flashes of gold.

Gold here was not a common sight. It wasn't woven into your garments or hoarded in chests; it was a color of the sunsets, not of men. Yet, there it was, adorning these strangers in the form of armor, glinting with a promise of other worlds, other wars.

Your breath caught at the sight of their swords, tools of harm so alien to your way of life, and a chill skittered down your spine.

They were heading toward your village, toward your people who knew no harm.

Panic, sharp and urgent, spurred you into motion. You couldn't just sit and watch. The safety of your village, of the gentle souls who had never known the cold bite of steel, was in your hands.

As you darted through the underbrush, the island blurred around you, a whirl of green and brown streaked with your anxiety. "Strangers are coming," you rehearsed in your mind, "armed strangers, with intentions as unclear as the shadowed depths of our waters." Your feet knew the way, carrying you faster than thought, driven by a need to protect, to warn.

Reaching the village felt like emerging from water, a sudden rush of air and noise. Your people, your family, they were all there, living their peaceful lives, unaware of the disturbance heading their way. You gasped for breath, words tumbling out in a rush, "Strangers… armed… heading this way…"

The village's rhythm halted, eyes turning to you, a mixture of confusion and concern blooming on familiar faces. Kio, your elder, stepped forward, his presence like a calm in the storm. "Tell me everything," his voice was the steady beat of the drum, grounding and solid.

As you recounted what little you saw and heard, the weight of responsibility bore down on you. You were a community that thrived on harmony and understanding, yet here you were, the harbinger of potential discord. "I saw their swords," you confessed, the words heavy, "weapons that shows tales of war and death."

The air was thick with unspoken fears, with the weight of what was to come. You stood there, amid your people, feeling the shift in the breeze, a harbinger of change, unwelcome and unbidden.

In that moment, you realized that the sanctuary of your island was no longer a given—and you can't help but wonder what the arrival of these strangers heralds for your people, for your way of life, and for the harmony that has always been your world's heartbeat.

As the last echoes of your warning hang in the air, a sudden rustling at the village's edge cuts through the stillness. You barely have time to finish, "We must hide!" before the underbrush parts, revealing the very strangers you feared. The village, usually a bastion of tranquility, pulses with a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

Your eyes are immediately drawn to the darker-skinned man, whose presence seems to command the sun's rays, casting a warm glow on his deep-toned skin.

He stood out with a demeanor that contrasts sharply with the tense atmosphere, his short, dark curls restrained by a golden headband that speaks of valor yet does not overshadow his approachable aura. His face, framed by a full beard, is alight with a friendly smile, his brown eyes reflecting a depth of wisdom and kindness, suggesting a soul seasoned by journeys and battles yet untouched by their harshness.

He is clad in a heroic ensemble that marries form and function—a chest plate of polished bronze that narrates tales of past skirmishes, worn over a tunic vibrant against the natural backdrop of the village.

Golden armlets encircle his muscular arms, shimmering with each movement, while a belt with intricate designs anchors a leather skirt, designed for the dual demands of agility and protection. His attire is completed with greaves and sandals, hinting at readiness for both celebration and conflict.

Beside him, a man with lighter skin presents a stark contrast, his rigid posture exuding a sense of urgency and latent power. His armor, less adorned yet no less formidable, speaks of a life spent in strategy and combat, his expression one of focus and resolve, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a commander's vigilance.

You watch, your gaze hardening, as Elder Kio and the other respected leaders step forward, their arms spread in a gesture of welcome that's as much a part of your culture as the lotus itself; it's a silent offering of peace and welcome, a tradition unbroken for generations.

The children, with their innocent faces peeking out from behind their mothers' skirts, gawked at the men, their usual playground of earth and sky momentarily forgotten.

The mothers, though curious, held their children close, sensing the shift in the wind, the ripple of change that these strangers brought with them.

A greeting that's supposed to be met with gratitude is instead met with tension.

The lighter one, his armor catching the sun's rays, draws his sword in a swift motion that cuts the air and the brief moment of peace.

The reaction is immediate. The elders halt in their tracks, their expressions morphing from open welcome to guarded caution. The villagers, their voices once rising in a harmonious welcome, now fall silent, their songs of greeting dissolving into a tense hush.

The children, sensing the shift, draw closer to their mothers, their expressions morphing from excitement to a dawning unease.

"Stay back!" the command ripples through the gathered crowd, a stark contrast to the open-hearted reception offered by your people; it acts as chilling reminder of the potential danger these strangers represent.

The villagers, once buoyed by curiosity and the novelty of new faces, now retreat into a wary distance, their initial welcome cooling into a collective apprehension; unused to such intensity, leaned in, their eyes flickering between the sword in his hand and the stoic expressions of their elders.

Yet, you, alongside the village elders, remain steadfast, your eyes locked on the two men who've disrupted the peace of your haven.

"We're only here for food," the lighter one said, his voice carrying the weight of command and desperation. "I need enough to feed 600 men."

The word 'food' echoed through the crowd, a simple yet profound need that resonated with every villager. Your people, always so giving, now faced a dilemma as the shadow of the upcoming drought season loomed over the island like an ominous cloud, now facing the prospect of feeding an army.

Elder Kio looked worried; his face, etched with the lines of countless smiles and furrowed brows of concern, now bore a look of deep contemplation. He's seen a lot over the years, and you could tell he was trying to figure out what to do. His eyes, reflecting a storm of thoughts, met the soldier's—an exchange brimming with the weight of unspoken negotiations.

With his stance firm and his expression unyielding, the pale one held Kio's gaze. The elder's eyes, usually reflecting pools of calm, now mirrored the tumultuous sea of issues before him.

The island, a paradise of peace and plenty, was unused to such extreme demands, and Kio's hesitation was a testament of the conflict within—a battle between the inner desire to extend a hand in hospitality or the impending need to safeguard their future against the looming threat of scarcity.

Before Elder Kio could open his mouth to offer a bit of help despite future trouble, the soldier cut him off, sensing the hesitation, sharpened his stance, "Stay back, I'm warning you," he repeated, his sword gleaming menacingly in the sunlight. "If we don't get back safely, my men will turn this place into blazes."

The threat hung in the air, stark and chilling. A collective shiver ran through the villagers, a silent wave of fear that you felt keenly. Your own reaction was immediate—a frown, a tightening of your jaw, an instinctive readiness to defend your home against this thinly veiled menace.

Yet, from across the clearing, your mother's calm gaze met yours. Her presence, unswayed by the lotus's usual soporific effect, served as a silent beacon of restraint. Her eyes, so like your own, whispered a message of patience and wisdom, cooling the fire of your indignation.

Around you, the elders, those first-generation Lotus Eaters who seldom displayed such collective lucidity, stood with a shared gravity. Their usual, dreamlike detachment was replaced by a sharp, collective focus, a rare and telling shift that spoke volumes of the gravity of the situation.

"Odysseus, my friend, it's okay to greet the world with open arms, no need to be harsh," the darker one spoke in a gentle tone, trying to dispel the tension; his words, meant to soothe, seemed almost out of place against the backdrop of his companion's stark ultimatum.

The lighter one—Odysseus—still on edge, shot a glance at his friend, his expression a mix of frustration and urgency. "We need to find food for our men, Polites," he insisted, the weight of his responsibility evident in his voice.

The villagers watched, a silent audience to this back-and-forth between the two men.

Elder Kio, after a moment of anxious contemplation, stepped forward, his voice steady but his concern clear. "We can offer you some of our reserves," he said to Odysseus, "It's not much, but we're willing to share what we have."

With a nod from Kio, a few of the women villagers moved toward the storerooms, their steps hesitant but determined. Kio then turned his gaze to you and a small group of young villagers standing nearby.

With a subtle but firm nod, he signaled for you to assist in gathering the provisions.

Watching you all get into action, Polites' face lights up in with relief, nudged Odysseus. "See? You were worrying for nothing," he said, a small smile playing on his lips.

Just then, a young child, innocent to the tension, approached the men with a tray of refreshments, among them the lotus fruit. Polites reached out, his hand hovering over the fruit, drawn to its vibrant hue.

Odysseus's hand shot out, stopping Polites just in time. "Wait," he cautioned, eyeing the fruit with suspicion.

And as the little boy who had offered the tray turned to leave, Odysseus called out to him, "Hey, wait a minute, boy." His voice, firm yet not unkind, prompted the child to halt in his tracks and look back, a mix of curiosity and wariness in his eyes.

The boy, clutching the hem of his shirt, took hesitant steps back toward the two strangers. His gaze flitted between the fruit in Odysseus's hand and the stern look on the man's face.

"What's this?" Odysseus asked, holding up the luminescent fruit for the boy to see. The child, now standing a safe distance away, glanced at the fruit and then up at Odysseus's questioning eyes.

"I-It's what we eat here," the boy replied, his voice a soft murmur against the backdrop of the watching villagers. "It makes people happy."

Odysseus exchanged a quick, meaningful look with Polites, who wore an expression of dawning understanding mixed with concern. The child, sensing the men's unease, added, "It's good… it helps people forget their sadness."

Odysseus, still locked in his silent communication with Polites, missed the approach of an older teenager who came to retrieve the young boy. The girl, with a respectful bow, offered a gentle apology for the interruption, her actions protective as she guided the boy to stand behind her, his curious eyes peeking out from her leg.

As the villagers began to place baskets filled with an assortment of foods beside the men, Odysseus turned his attention to the girl. "Is what the child said true? You eat these?" he inquired, gesturing towards the lotus fruit in his hand.

The girl nodded, her eyes fixed on the ground, a hint of defensiveness in her posture. "Yes," she confirmed softly, "we use the fruit as a base for many of our meals." Her hand swept towards the growing pile of food offerings, which included more than just the fruit, illustrating the variety in their diet.

When the girl and child left, Odysseus picked up one of the fruits. "Look at this," he said, holding it high, its seeds emitting a faint glow. "Do you see how it glows? This is a lotus fruit. It's not just any food; it affects your mind, traps you in bliss." He then turned to Polites with a stern look, his words sharp and clear. "If we indulge in this, we could become like the lotus eaters here, essentially addicts lost to their escape, detached from reality."

With a gesture that carried a mix of disdain and warning, Odysseus dropped the fruit to the ground, his hand swiftly brushing against his pants, as if to rid himself of its influence.

You returned to the scene, arms aching slightly from helping to transport the village's food reserves, only to catch Odysseus's dismissive gesture as he dropped a lotus fruit to the ground. His words, laden with disdain, hung heavily in the air, criticizing the very essence of your people's way of life.

You felt a surge of emotions as you stood there, witnessing this display of ignorance. Anger bubbled up inside you, mixed with a deep sadness.

These outsiders didn't understand. They didn't see that the lotus fruit, while powerful, was not a chain but a choice for many who came to your island seeking peace from their troubled pasts.

You knew the stories well—of travelers and wanderers, lost souls who found solace on your shores, much like your own parents had.

You were a child of two lotus eaters who had discovered love and a new beginning amidst the island's gentle embrace. Unlike the outsiders' assumptions, you all lived in harmony, connecting deeply with each other's hearts and minds, a unity that was rare and precious.

Odysseus's words, though meant for Polites, echoed through the village, casting a shadow over the offered hospitality. The villagers' expressions shifted from welcome to wariness, their eyes reflecting a mix of hurt and disappointment.

The notion that your home, your culture, and your people were reduced to being labeled as 'useless' by those who knew nothing of your world cut deeply.

It was a stark reminder of how the outside world viewed the lotus eaters—a place of forgetfulness and oblivion, not healing and community.

The tension in the village was palpable, a thick veil of unease that hung over the villagers, all felt but unseen by Odysseus and Polites. Polites, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, took a modest step forward, his head slightly bowed, exuding a sense of genuine remorse.

"Lotus eaters," Polites addressed the villagers with a tone full of sincerity, "I apologize for the misunderstanding. We, as soldiers, must remain vigilant and at our peak, which means we cannot partake in your lotus fruit." While his apology was sincere, it didn't sit well with the villagers.

The fact that it was Polites apologizing, and not Odysseus—the one who had actually insulted the community—only intensified the villagers' resentment and frustration.

The villagers exchanged glances, questioning why the man who had caused the offense hadn't stepped forward to make amends himself.

Elder Kio, masking the village's collective discomfort with a practiced ease, responded, "The cave," he stated simply, his voice imbued with a reassuring calm that seemed to gently brush away the lingering tension.

Polites' interest piqued. "A cave! You're saying there's a cave where we could feast? Where might we find this food-filled cave?" His tone carried a mix of curiosity and relief.

Kio, with a gentle nod, extended his arm eastward, as if presenting a gift. "Eastward…There lies a cave you seek, abundant and generous, just as our village strives to be. It'll take 3 days and 2 nights to reach."

Gratitude washed over Polites' features, lighting them up with a grateful smile. "Thank you!" he exclaimed, his appreciation clear.

"You are most welcome," echoed the villagers, their chorus of voices a blend of politeness and restraint, a testament to their enduring hospitality even in the face of discomfort.

Kio then turned to you, his next words taking everyone by surprise—including you. "We also offer a guide's service to lead you there," he said, gesturing toward you. "She's the best on the entire island."

You felt a jolt of responsibility as all eyes turned to you. As Kio's gaze met yours, a silent message passed between you, clear and unmistakable.

You could almost hear his unspoken strategy: Feed them to the beasts, since they want to behave as such.

Understanding Kio's underlying intention, you stepped forward from the crowd, now the focus of Odysseus and Polites' attention. "I need just a moment to prepare," you told them, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts inside you. "Then, you'll guide me to your ship to gather more of your men before we start for the cave."

As you stepped out to meet Odysseus and Polites, their eyes landed on you, taking in your appearance for the first time. The tropical sun of your island home cast a warm glow on your rich brown skin, highlighting your beauty and the distinctiveness of your village's attire.

You stood there, embodying the spirit of your people with your attire that was both practical for the island's warmth and symbolic of your culture.

Your outfit consisted of a dark brown loincloth, complementing your skin tone, paired with a bralette fashioned from sparkling beads that caught the light with every movement, signaling your status and style.

Your hair, a cascade of back-length, fuzzy locks, was adorned with beads whose colors denoted your age and status within the village.

At 19, the azure and emerald beads woven into your hair were a vibrant mix, reflecting your youth and vigor, and marking you as one of the youngest warriors and hunters of your people.

Your arms bore white tattoos, striped patterns that ran up to your shoulders, interspersed with specks of blue and seafoam green, signifying your prowess and skill.

Around your lower stomach and navel, intricate grayish designs sprawled, symbolizing your single status and fertility, a visual marker that you are of age and ready to bear children, aligning with the island's traditions and its deep-rooted connection to the cycles of life and continuity.

Beauty marks dotted gracefully along the bridge of your nose and over your cupid's bow, drawing attention to your face, enhancing your natural features, and expressing the unique blend of strength and elegance that characterized your presence.

Polites' reaction was immediate as his gaze swept over you; his brown cheeks flushed a slight shade of pink, a subtle but telling reaction to your striking appearance. There was an unmistakable look of admiration in his eyes, a clear indication that he found you to be perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever encountered.

Under his breath, awestruck, he murmured a phrase that likened you to the goddess of beauty herself, "By Aphrodite's grace…" His words were a whisper, a testament to the impression you'd made on him, acknowledging your beauty as one that could rival the goddess's unparalleled allure.

Even Odysseus, whose heart was steadfastly anchored to Penelope, couldn't ignore the striking presence you radiated.

While loyalty to his wife remained unshaken, he recognized the undeniable fact that your beauty was something extraordinary, a rare and captivating elegance, one that could easily stir the hearts of men and gods alike.

He thought to himself that your beauty was such that, were it known beyond this secluded island, it might provoke kingdoms to vie for your favor, much like they once did for Helen of Troy—igniting conflicts driven by desire and admiration.

You quickly made your way to your family's tent to collect the necessary items for the journey ahead. Inside the small, familiar space, you grabbed a satchel, packing it with essential items: a few lotus fruits, a canteen of water, a bow and arrows, and a knife, which you secured around your thigh.

As part of the preparation, you began to apply dark paint to your face, a method used by your village's hunters to meld into the night, a tactic you knew would serve well in the environment you were about to navigate.

Your mother entered the tent, her face etched with concern. She understood the gravity of your task, her maternal instinct overshadowing the usual lotus-induced calm. "I know you can handle this," she said, her voice laced with a mix of pride and worry, "but be cautious around those soldiers. It's not the giants that I fear for you, but the company you'll be keeping on this journey."

Your heart softened at her words, touched by the depth of her concern. Your mother, with her gentle spirit and enduring strength, had faced her own harrowing journey before embracing the lotus's forgetful peace.

The fact that her past might include such dark experiences, particularly involving men, made her caution all the more touching.

It was a reminder of the life she led before the island, the trials she endured, and the refuge she found among the lotus eaters. Her concern for you now, in the context of being alone with the soldiers, was a reflection of her own vulnerabilities and the protective love she held for you.

You met her gaze, your expression resolute, offering reassurance. "I'm the right person for this," you affirmed, echoing the confidence Kio placed in you. In a gesture steeped in your village's traditions, you pressed your forehead against hers, a moment of silent solidarity and affection that transcended words.

Pulling back with a smile, you reached into your satchel and gently placed a lotus fruit in her hand. She returned your smile, a gesture of mutual understanding and love, before consuming the fruit. Her eyes soon glazed over, a serene calm washing over her as the fruit's effects took hold, guiding her back to a blissful repose next to your father.

With a final, affectionate kiss on her forehead, you ensured she was comfortably resting before turning your attention back to the task at hand.

Your face now marked for the hunt, your gear secured, and your heart steeled for what lay ahead, you stepped out of the tent with a determined stride, ready to confront whatever challenges awaited with Odysseus and Polites.

As you traversed the winding path with Odysseus and Polites, the latter seemed increasingly eager to engage with you, his intrigue clearly sparked by more than just your striking appearance.

Polites' attempts at conversation were persistent, as he ventured to break through your focused demeanor with a series of stuttered, simple questions.

"So, um, do you… do you always assist with… such tasks?" Polites inquired, his voice wavering slightly as he sought to learn more about you.

You didn't immediately respond, your attention fixed on the journey ahead, but his persistent curiosity eventually drew your gaze.

When your eyes finally met his, he was met with a flush of embarrassment, his cheeks turning a noticeable shade of red. He offered a shy, somewhat awkward smile, his hands fumbling with his shield in a nervous gesture, betraying his unease under your scrutinizing look.

"And, ah, the… the paint," he stumbled on his words again, gesturing vaguely towards your face, "Is it… for camouflage, or…?" His question trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air, incomplete.

You observed his flustered state for a moment, the warrior seemingly at odds with his usual battlefield composure, now unsettled by the simple act of conversing with you. His earnestness, juxtaposed with his bashfulness, painted a starkly different picture from the soldierly demeanor you'd expected.

Odysseus, observing his friend's futile efforts, couldn't help but interject with a scoff. "I'm not sure why you're bothering," he remarked to Polites, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and disdain. "She's probably lost in the haze of lotus fruit, like the rest of them here."

This assumption ignited a spark of anger within you. Up until now, you had maintained a composed silence, but Odysseus's words struck a nerve. Turning to face him, your eyes flashed with indignation.

"How dare you," you began, your voice slicing through the tension like a blade, "judge us so arrogantly?" The words tumbled out, sharp and unrelenting. "Men like you—soldiers—are the very reason why so many seek refuge on this island. Some of us are survivors of village plunders, forced to witness the atrocities committed by armies, the horrors inflicted upon innocent lives."

Your gaze intensified, boring into his as you took in the full measure of the man before you. "You inflict unspeakable horrors and drape them in the guise of glory, yet you stand here, with blood still staining your hands, daring to pass judgment on us? On how we choose to heal our wounds?"

Odysseus's eyes shifted away under the weight of your accusation, a flicker of discomfort, perhaps even guilt, crossing his features as he was confronted with the stark mirror of his actions.

You paused, ensuring your next words hit home. "You know nothing of our resilience," you continued, your tone edged with a cold clarity, "And for your information, offspring of lotus eaters, like myself, aren't as affected by the fruit's power. We retain our minds, our memories, and, most importantly, our judgments."

The air hung heavy between you, charged with your spoken truths. Odysseus, now looking away, seemed momentarily lost for words, the usual confidence of the seasoned warrior faltering under the weight of your piercing glare and the bitter truths it conveyed.

In this moment of silence, Polites saw an opportunity to shift the atmosphere, perhaps lighten the heavy load of the conversation that had just transpired. He ventured to draw your attention away from the discomfort, eager to see a different side of you beyond the anger and the pain.

"So, uh…" Polites began, a cautious optimism in his voice, "Do the… lotus fruits taste like… regular fruits, or are they… different?" His question, awkward yet sincere, seemed to pierce through the lingering tension.

Your initial reaction was to maintain your guarded demeanor, but something about his genuine curiosity and the awkward earnestness in his attempt sparked a different response within you.

A soft laugh escaped your lips, not mocking but genuine, a sound that seemed to momentarily lift the heavy cloak of your responsibilities and the grim realities of your world.

Polites' reaction was immediate; his smile widened, his cheeks flushed with a renewed sense of hope as he heard the lightness in your laughter.

It was a sound, he realized, that he wanted to understand more, to hear again, not just as a distraction from the weight of the journey ahead but as a glimpse into the person you truly were beneath the warrior's exterior.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't so bad after all—a thought that, for a fleeting moment, allowed you to see him not just as a soldier from a foreign land but as a person capable of recognizing and respecting your humanity.

Over the two days spent guiding Odysseus, Polites, and the other Trojan guards to the cave, you noticed a shift in your own defenses.

While Odysseus and his men maintained a distance, treating you with a detached wariness or outright indifference, Polites pursued a different path. His presence was a constant by your side, his demeanor gentle, marked by a curiosity that felt genuine and devoid of judgment.

His questions, simple yet insightful, sparked conversations you hadn't anticipated. "What's life like on the island for you?" he'd ask, or "Have you ever tried Pastelis?" His inquiries, far from the prying or strategic, seemed to stem from a place of genuine interest, a desire to understand your world and perhaps to find common ground.

Even when the group settled down for the night, Polites' attentiveness didn't wane.

As the others succumbed to sleep or took up their watchful posts, he remained by your side, sharing stories under the blanket of stars. His tales of battles fought alongside Odysseus, of distant lands and fierce confrontations, offered a glimpse into his life beyond the armor and sword.

On one particularly windy night, as the campfire flickered and cast its glow on the weary faces of the slumbering soldiers, Polites drew closer to you.

With a thoughtful gesture, he unfurled the cape attached to his armor and draped it around the both of you, creating a shared warmth against the chill of the night.

There, beside the dwindling bonfire, with the sounds of the night around you and the rest of the troops lost in their dreams or watchful silence, a different kind of connection began to form.

The stories he told, imbued with his personal experiences, fears, and triumphs, resonated with you, bridging the gap between your worlds. His willingness to open up, to share the realities of his life beyond the battlefield, painted him in a more humane light, contrasting sharply with the silent, stoic figures of Odysseus and the other guards.

By the third day, with the cave's looming presence just a few hours away, your initial resolve began to waver. Polites' consistent kindness and attention gradually chipped away at the wall you had built around yourself; you found yourself engaging more with him, answering his questions, sharing glimpses of your life and views, which you hadn't expected to divulge.

His attentive nature, so starkly different from the others', made you see him in a new light—not just as a soldier but as someone who might truly be seeking understanding and connection.

The thought of guiding them into potential danger, particularly the danger represented by the giants' cave, made you question not only your mission but also the potential consequences of your actions for him and his companions.

As the ominous entrance of the cave loomed in the distance, you halted atop a hill, the wind carrying your firm words to the group of soldiers. "This is where I leave you," you declared, your voice echoing a mix of duty and unease. "I must return to my village."

The soldiers, heeding your announcement, resumed their march toward the cave, but Polites faltered, his steps slowing as he turned to cast a lingering glance in your direction. Odysseus, noticing his friend's hesitation, paused, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

Polites' internal struggle was evident, torn between his obligations and the connection he felt with you.

After a moment's contemplation, he jogged back to where you stood, his hand extended, revealing a small, shimmering coin. "This is an Ithaca gold coin," he explained as you examined the coin with a mix of curiosity and surprise. "Consider it a memento," he added, a gentle sincerity in his voice.

His next words were softer, imbued with a shy yet profound promise. "After we complete our journey, after I ensure Odysseus's safe return to his kingdom, I will come back for you," he vowed, his eyes searching yours for a reaction, revealing a budding warmth and longing.

In a fleeting moment, Polites leaned forward, his forehead gently pressing against yours, an intimate gesture that held significant meaning within your culture.

You felt a surge of emotion, your heart fluttering with a blend of surprise and warmth, as you realized he not only remembered this detail from your conversations over the past three days but also understood its deep significance.

This forehead touch, a symbol of profound trust and affection, was reserved for those you hold dear, those you would trust with your life.

The fact that Polites, a man from a world so different from your own, had not only remembered this but chose to express his farewell in such a manner, spoke volumes of his respect and growing affection for you.

Leaning back, Polites adds a tender kiss on your forehead; his hand then gently caressed the side of your face, a silent affirmation of the bond that had formed between you.

With a final, meaningful glance, Polites turned and hurried to rejoin his companions, leaving you with the weight of his promise and the gold coin in your hand.

After Polites' departure, you stood there, the Ithacan coin clutched tightly against your chest, a tangible reminder of the connection you'd just acknowledged. Odysseus's gaze lingered on you, his expression one of contemplation and perhaps, newfound respect.

Defensively, feeling the intensity of his stare, you challenged him with a sharp "What?" Odysseus exhaled deeply, his sigh carrying the weight of realization and regret.

"May the gods bless you," he finally said, offering a small nod of acknowledgment, a gesture that seemed to convey his admission of having misjudged you and your people. It was an apology, unspoken but clear in his demeanor.

As he turned to leave, your name on his lips as a farewell, you found yourself compelled to act. "Odysseus," you called out, causing him to pause and look back.

Approaching him with averted eyes, you reached into your satchel, the rustle of leaves underfoot marking your hesitant steps.

From your bag, you retrieved a lotus fruit, its familiar weight a contrast to the swirling emotions within you. Extending your hand, you offered the fruit to him, your voice a soft murmur, "Just in case you need it…" Your words trailed off, laden with an unspoken wish for his well-being, your gaze drifting past him, lingering on Polites.

There he was, amidst his fellow soldiers, his laughter a bright sound in the dense forest, his smile a vivid image that tugged at your heartstrings.

With that silent offering, you turned away, leaving Odysseus to contemplate the fruit in his hand, his expression a mix of gratitude and confusion.

As you walked back to your village, the gold coin Polites had given you felt heavy in your hand, a symbol of promise and longing.

Your steps were slow, each one a reluctant move away from the hilltop and the cave, away from the man who had unexpectedly captured your heart.

The promise of his return was a fragile thread of hope, and as the distance grew, you clung to it, letting the silent plea echo in your mind, a mantra to guide you through the days ahead…

Please come back to me, Polites...I'll be waiting.

A/N: my babbyyyyyy pollie 🥹❤️❤️❤️ also, testing out my hand at extravagant/poetic like descriptive writing for a college class, so forgive me if I went overboard with the imagery/visuals 🙈🙈

[88-special]

Masterclass in Denial

Jeff Winger x Reader (Female pronouns)

Part 1 of 5

The 4 times you and Jeff denied your feelings for each other and the 1 time you didn't.

They were arguing again. They were always arguing. For a group of people who choose to spend all their time together they didn't seem to like each other very much. Y/n questioned her sanity, they all drove her crazy as well, but she too still chose to show up at every study group session. Maybe misery does love company, she smirked to herself.

"I just don't think it's fair!" Annie protested, "I go to every lecture, do my homework, take notes and then every time there's a test you all expect me to help you guys!" She ended her spiel with her arms crossed and a firm nod.

There was a chorus of objections, whines, and pleas from the group. Y/n mumbled about how she also has been at every class and has taken notes right alongside Annie. They quickly fell quiet when Jeff slammed his hands down on the table, starting another one of his famous pep talks. They went through this same song as dance every week it seemed. Y/n looked around the table, Annie was still pouting, but listening intently as Jeff spoke. Shirley sat alert, with her hands folded in front of her, nodding along glancing at Annie to see if the words were having their desired effect. Pierce was slouched back in his chair, head hung low - a snore escaped his open mouth, no one bothered to wake him, it was for the better. Troy and Abed were having some sort of silent conversation with a tremendous amount of eyebrow and shoulder wiggling. Britta was a near mirror image of Shirley, adding in a 'yeah' of support when appropriate.

"...In conclusion, America!"Jeff finished his monologue, plopping into his chair, arms spread wide, and a grin plastered on his face.

Annie dropped her shoulders, and sighing in defeat she pulled out her binder and began passing out individual copies of her notes. Y/n snatched her copy, eager to finally get studying and end the bickering. 

"So the test is supposed to cover chapters twelve through fourteen, I think we should quiz each other on vocab, and then-"

"VOCAB?!" Pierce cut in, irritable over the disruption of his nap. "As in vocabulary? We all already know words! How else would we be having this conversation?!"

"Pierce, you know that's not what-"

"Listen, I do know words, but what about-"

"What are these extra pages? Did we have homework?!-"

Annie, Troy, and Britta all began talking at once. Annie quickly shifted to chastise Britta. Pierce and Shirley launched into their third argument of the day. Troy and Abed pulled a magic eight ball seemingly out of thin air, to ask it if they were going to pass the test. Y/n gaped in horror before turning to Jeff who was oblivious, leaning back in his chair tapping away on his phone.

"Jeff, please do something!"

"They'll tire themselves out eventually." He shrugged without looking up.

Two hours later Y/n walked out of the library worried she was less prepared for the test than she had been this morning.

"Y/n!" Jeff called as she hurried down the steps. "Wait up!"

Y/n sighed and slowed her pace. Jeff jogged up to her, puffing out his chest as he discreetly tried to slow his breathing, ever concerned of his image.

"I think we've earned ourselves a drink over at Tavern 32."

'This must be hell, I died and this is my penance, to be stuck in an endless loop of crazy. Maybe Greendale was actually purgatory.' Y/n thought to herself. The whole reason they are all here is to finish school, get whatever degree needed, and move on with their lives, hopefully never thinking of this fever dream of a school ever again. Well, maybe not Jeff, he seemed to see the campus as his own personal dating app. Y/n resumed her gate.

"How do you figure? We didn't even open the book! Now I'm going to have to spend the rest of my night studying at home." 

"Cool, cool, I'll just grab some drinks from the store and we can have our own private study sesh at your place" Dear god, that grin, how many women has he fooled with that grin alone?

" 'No' is a full sentence Jeff. Have a good night." Y/n continued to her car and sped off without a second glance.

He just couldn't win with her, none of his usual charms worked. Even Britta has succumbed a couple times, but Y/n was immune. He tried to shake off the rejection and headed home. Telling himself the only reason it bothered him was because he hadn't won her over yet. Once she gave in, he'd lose interest, just like he always did. It was just a game. It wasn't guilt he felt earlier when she looked at him disapprovingly for not stepping in on the groups arguing. It wasn't his heart speeding up when her hand brushed his at the study table. It's just a game, give him his prize and then on to the next one. Jeff smacked the steering wheel and jerked left into the parking lot of the same bar he was trying to take Y/n to earlier. He doesn't need Y/n, he doesn't need anyone. He's Jeff fucking Winger.

The next morning Jeff sat slumped in his chair. Sunglasses on, clutching his third espresso like a lifeline. Y/n took her usual seat next to him, slamming her notebook on the table, relishing in the groan that emitted from her hungover classmate.

"Studied too hard last night?" She mused. 

Jeff lifted his head to reply. He swore she couldn't be more perfect, but here she was, light streaming from the window behind her, setting her aglow, that huge ugly sweater swallowing her whole, and her unbrushed hair sticking out in every direction. She was holding out a breakfast sandwich to him. Jeff lifted his sunglasses with a questioning look.

"Sausage, egg, and cheese, best hangover cure there is." She beamed at him.

"How did you - "

"Good morning class, clear off your desks, you have forty-five minutes to complete..."

Y/n shifted her attention to their professor. Jeff dug into the sandwich, the grease immediately working its magic. As he ate, he snuck glances at the girl next to him. He needed to stop chasing her, she was way too good for him.

Part 2

[igotanidea]

Still waters run deep: Dick Grayson x f!readear

Summary: Here are some things I heard about myself: Kind of a girl that looks young, innocent and harmless. Kind of a girl you know is the weakest link in direct combat. Kind of a girl you tend to ignore beacuse she is no threat. The girl you feel the need to protect. (ironically, completely different than the previous one). A sensitive one. A shy one. Well, tonight I'm going out in sole purpose to have some fucking fun, cause life has been a mess lately. So, let's see if I'm going to act like shy and sensitive one after a couple of drinks. Oh, Dick's not going to like it.......

Warnings: cursing, a bit of smut (minors DNI!), mentions of illegal activities,

First person POV

This has been a hell of a week.

Between fighting with titans and keeping my secret identity a secret I also had to deal with day-to-day regular job and it made it twice as much energy consuming than for everyone else.

Of course, my thoughtful (and a bit too possessive) boyfriend tried to convince me to give one it up and commit to the Titans fully, but  much to his disappointment (to say the least) I refused , trying to balance it all.

So, can you blame for being stressed and drained?

Given all that I had two options – lay down, getting all my emotions suppress me or quite literally shake it off. A little party was just what I needed. But going out alone was not something I enjoyed, so the plan was to somehow convince Donna and Dawn to have a girl’s night out.

“I’m out” Donna muttered, not even raising eyes from the book she was reading

“Oh, come on” I whined “all work and no play…..”

“Don’t.” she cut me off, warning in her voice and instinctively I looked down moved by her harsh tone “Sorry Y/N. You know I don’t mean in in a bad way, but seriously. I really need some time alone, all right? I’ll join you next time.”

“Fine. I won’t push you. Hopefully Dawn will be up for the party.”

“Sorry, Y/N, I’m staying too. Hank has been going through something and I need to get him to talk before it gets out of hand.” Dawn chimed in

“Right. Can’t risk the big guy losing control.” I muttered getting her point but still disappointed

“No hard feelings though, right?” the blonde asked putting a hand on my shoulder, reassuringly

“No, no, of course not. I guess I will just go alone than.”

“Is your boyfriend not up to some dance with you?” Donna smirked knowing well enough how Dick felt about any and every party. Bruce had him discouraged during the years when he was forced to attend Wayne’s yearly galas. Therefore, I was not even going to ask him.

“Such a surprise, right?” I rolled my eyes ironically

“You know, maybe you should give him a chance.” Dawn suggested “I’m pretty sure he will go anywhere with you.”

“The point is, I want to party, not watch him eye everyone in search of a potential threat, so…. yeah, I’m going alone.”

“Stay safe than” Donna muttered, back into lecture

“She knows how to handle herself.  Have fun Y/N.

It took my quite a while to get all dolled up, wearing the dress that surely drew attention and was far more revealing than the hero suit I was used to, and putting a bit more makeup than on a daily basis. Truly, even with all my self-doubts and modesty, I had to admit I looked hot as hell. This is going to be a good night. I though as I sneaked out the tower.

***

Dawn was only partially right. I knew how to handle myself, but still all I heard from people was that H/N was the weakest link in combat. That Y/N was that kind of girl that pose no threat and the one you don’t really give attention to. It always made me …. sad and a bit angry for being seen like this. There was so much more to me they never seen. But tonight, tonight I was going to let it all go and just let loose. Knowing well enough, Dick would never approve of my plan for the night. Well, I was not his possession, was I?

***

Third person POV

Dick was working out, not surprising to anyone. He needed a good training after the whole week of stress, anxiety and fast action not that it was going to change anytime soon. He was truly hoping this will clear his mind, but clearly it did not.  So the other option was to find his girlfriend and let her soothing presence and her soft touches calm him down. He truly had no idea how she ended up with him. He was rage, she was clear thinking, he was impulsive and a bit reckless, she was always the one with the plan and clear vision. He missed her. For the last days they didn’t really spend much time together and when they did it was usually just sleeping together, tangled with other, trying to get as close as possible without disrupting the rest they both so desperately needed. Passing by was not good for the relationship and she pointed it out once, when instead of spending time with her he was up late, but he never listened. Until now. With the best intention to make up for his negligence he started searching the tower for her, but the girl was nowhere to be found.

“Has anyone seen Y/N? I can’t find her anywhere.”

“Seems to me like she finally broke.” Hank muttered with mouth full of some crazy dish he made “got to admit, she was pretty resistant in ditching you.”

“I’m serious. Did she left the tower?”

“Do you think you can keep her a prisoner here? She’s a free spirit, a fierce woman with ……”

Since Hank was not helping, Dick decided to ask Donna and Dawn if they knew anything. At first, they kept their mouth shout, not revealing the plan their friend made, but seeing his sad puppy eyes and real worry on the boy’s face they gave in.

“She went to a party” he repeated a bit confused. Why? Why would she go without him? Why wouldn’t she tell him a thing? Was she going for a one night stand? “Where?”

“She wasn’t specific about that, but knowing Y/N she joined the first club on the way.”

“I need to find her.”

“No, you don’t. She deserves fun.” Dawn objected

“It’s not like I’m going to destroy it” he stated, crossing arms on his chest “what?” his face dropped a bit upon seeing girls’ mocking expressions

“Not at all, Dick. You’re just a party animal.”

“I….” he tried to say something, but at the same time his phone rang and he was fast to pick it up seeing it was Y/N calling. “Y/N? Baby, where are you? are you all right? Did something happen? I will pick you up just tell me….”

“Dickie….” She slurred “I’m having so much fun! All those boys are just so friendly, you know. Wish you were here, boyfriend. TIME OF MY LIFE!” and then she just hanged up on him.

“Was she drunk? She never gets drunk.” Dawn was now a bit concerned about her friend safety

“Are you sure that she knows how to handle herself now?” Donna was obviously sarcastic on the outside but quite as much worried inside “she has no real fighting skills and if some creeps are all over her…..”

“Stop it!” Dick felt his blood boil at the mere thought of any other dude touching or even getting close to his girlfriend. If anyone were to cross the line and to hurt her,  he would have no mercy and no hesitation in permanently hurting all of the perpetrators “We’re getting her home. I’ll track her phone. “ he rushed to the elevator grabbing his jacket on the way, ready to fulfill his knight in shining armor duties.

“Do you think we should go after him?” Dawn looked at Donna. Dick was really in the state of mind in which he was capable of everything.

“I’m not his babysitter” Donna scoffed “And neither are you.”

 “But maybe we should make an exception and just this once follow him?” Dawn insisted

“What about Hank?” Wondergirl asked

“What about me?” said boy came through the door, a bowl full of food still in his hands.

“He can join.” Dawn shrugged, not really giving the boy any liberty to decide for himself

“What exactly are you girls getting me into?”

“A party, apparently. Main stars being very drunk Y/N and very angry Dick.”

“Well if that’s the show I’m all in.” Hank was already halfway to the door. “Are you coming or what?”

***

First person POV

I made a really, really good decision to come here. After a couple of drinks all of my inhibitions dissolved  and I wasn’t the quiet member of the team anymore. Oh no! Now I was the star of my own show! Dancing like there was no tomorrow, moving my body, showing my best moves. Old, quiet Y/N was long gone, the sex queen raised. Apparently I was not solitary in that opinion as a couple of guys, I was eyeing for some time now, came closer to me, following my dance moves. One of them grabbed my hips from behind as the other put his on my waist. Shit, they were both so hot and I giggled seductively trying to imagine how surprised Dick would be right now if he saw me. Not a good girl anymore! Not the one he could omit and neglect and left high and dry, unfinished . This was not a revenge or a payback, this was my way of getting what I needed, what I wanted, what I deserved. If my boyfriend wasn’t up to the job I needed some other forms of entertainment.

The song changed into something far more sexual and  the guy moving behind me started to pull me closer as his friend leaned in, his faces inches from mine. I did not stop him as his lips crashed on mine, his hands started roaming my body, caressing my skin pulling me off the dance floor. I let him fully take control of me. After all, like I said I was eyeing him all night, giving signals to come closer and have his fun.

“come with me, baby. Let’s go somewhere private and quiet, shall we. I’ll make you feel good, you look like you need it”.

“Less talking, more action” I whispered in his ear “I want to get you all alone, loverboy.”

The last sentence finally made him grab my hand tighter and get me out, downstairs. Apparently the club was situated above some old bunker, not that I cared when I picked it as my nightly destination.

Third person POV

  ***

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!?

Getting the signal from her phone took Dick just  a few seconds and getting to the place where it came from, mere minutes. He was quite relieved to realize she wasn’t far but the view before his eyes made him regret getting here so fast. His love, his sunshine, his girlfriend was practically making out with some dude, that wasn’t him. In the middle of the club! What happened to the girl reluctant to any form of PDA!?

FUCK!

This fucking guy was touching her in the way no one else but him was supposed to! Getting his dirty hands on her perfect hips, trying to sneak them under her dress to feel her soft, smooth skin. For a while his mind was blurred with the memory of her naked body underneath him, whining and squirming in pleasure only he was capable of giving her. The flashback of her begging him for more, more…. Of her hands all over him, pulling him in, her soft moans as he was getting her high, her quiet words assuring him that she loved him so, so much and that he was doing so, so good…..

I need more, Dick…… please…. I need you so bad…..

I love you baby, I love you so much. Tell me you’re mine.

I’m yours, Dickie. Only yours…..

And I’m yours, baby. Let me show you…..

FUCK! FUCK! He was going to kill him for even looking in her direction! His poor baby girl. Seduced, probably drugged and used! The sudden movement, coming from the direction where she was, made him come back to reality and as he saw that lapdog drug her out into more secluded part of the building, the Robin with his ruthlessness took over his mind and action. Oh, this was going to be a bloodbath. 

Just a couple minutes later, the rest of the Titans team entered the club. At first glance everything was fine, but Dawn was quick to pick up on Dick’s figure disappearing behind the back. It took her  a second to figure out his posture was now different, more stiff, more grim, all his muscles tensed and fist clenched. The only things he was missing were mask and cape, but besides that, he wasn’t Dick Grayson anymore.

“Fuck!” Donna hissed realizing the same thing.

“What? What is going on?” Hank wasn’t even half as fast in recognition as girls, confused and lost in the situation.

“Just shut up and hurry or someone will end up hurt!”

***

First person Pov

“Where are you taking me? “ I giggled almost tripping over my legs, letting the stranger guide me

“Patience, baby, we’re almost there.

“I need you now” I whined, not being patient.

“I now, sweetie, I know. But trust me, once we’re in the safe place you won’t get rid of me….” He trailed, something dark in his voice

“I surely hope so…..” I started but didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence as something dark and stinking covered my head, my face included cutting off the oxygen supply and making me black out.

Oh, fuck….

***

I have no idea how long I was unconscious but I woke up to the sound of a few male voices, three or four most probably, but the extreme headache I was now experiencing did nothing to my evaluative skills. Oh, and I was also tied up, not able to move, my hands above my head, facing all the capturers.

“how many pills did you give her?” one of the man said

“One as planned.” The other replied

“Well, if it was one she would be up by now, you idiot! I’m serious, how many!?”

“One or two additional may have slipped in.”

“You dumbass! We need her aware of what’s happening! It makes everything far more funny.”

“I agree with him. The screams and attempted fight just spice the whole act” Ok, that was the third

“All of you shut up now!” the last one. So my calculations were right. There were four of them. Despite the situation, I congratulated myself in the back of my head. I groaned a bit and it got their attention “Oh, the princess is finally waking up. Welcome back to the land of the living, sweetie.”

“Where….. where am I?” I muttered narrowing my eyes. Gods, why all of the kidnappers always had to use the brightest light available.

“Well, it really depends from the point of view. From mine, you are on the verge of heaven, from yours probably first step of hell.”

“Are you the boss?” I looked him straight into the eyes

“ Are you always so eloquent?” he crouched next to me and grabbed my face painfully “and here I was thinking you were only  a pretty face and a nice ass” he slap my back and I flinched. What did I got myself into?

“What are you going to do to me?” I sobbed, tears falling down my cheeks now.

“Oh, there it is. You are finally realizing what is going to happen to you, don’t you?  Such a pathetic little bitch. Probably forgotten by a busy boyfriend, am I right? Desperate for entertainment and attention. Those are the easiest catch.”

I shook my head abruptly, the mascara smudged all over my face, vision blurry.

“Don’t cry princess. Where we are sending you, you’re going to have plenty of boys ready to thoroughly devour your attributes” the man laughed viciously. “Am I right boys?”

“So what is it? Some sort of trafficking ring? You sell girls to the brothels?” I gasped in terror, my eyes growing wide and mouth falling open in awe.

 “You little pinhead” he cooed “you’re lucky you’re pretty, because sensibleness is not your strongest suit. Yes, we will send you to one of our massage parlors. The clients will love you. And hey, another good thing. You will get to meet with some other bitchy hoses like you. After all, you were asking for it, weren’t you, you little slutty whoredog?” he leaned across, his face inches from mine.

“Ok, I think that’s enough.” I stated, becoming calm and sober in a blink of an eye. Before any of the guys wrapped their heads around the situations I did a flip, kicking their boss straight into the jaw, probably causing the ostectopy and sending him flying back. One out, three to go. The second one came right at me but I used my strength to hoist up and wrap my legs around his neck.

“Here’s a taste of your own medicine” I spat, now causing him to black out due to the lack of oxygen. “Not so nice is it?”

Two to go.

The third man came from behind me with some stick in his hands, his gaze fixed solely on my face. Oh, poor one, he thought he got himself some crazy weapon. Fool. It was way too easy to just trip him up, causing the guy to make friends with the floor.

“You bitch!” right, there was the last one. Probably the smartest (irony of course) observing my moves and trying to get the best strategy to get me.

“Please, tell me you are at least a bit better in fighting than those scumbags” I sighed in desperation. Honestly, my hands was becoming  a bit sore and I wanted to get over this situation.

“You bitch!” he yelled again. Definitely wasn’t the one with wide stock of words, but what can you expect in his profession. Taking cue from his friend, he tried to gather himself some gear, settling on a rusty chain laying nearby, spinning it over, almost hitting me. I just moved a bit to the right and then to the left and then a bit more to the wall, the man following me closely still playing with the chain. In the final moment I ducked and the weapon bounded off the wall hitting him right in the face, knocking him out. So, all four hurt, unconscious and defeated. The only problem for now was getting out of the rope that hamstringed my wrists.

“Do you need help with that?” a familiar voice and a familiar face egressed from the shadows.

“Nah, not really. I can handle myself” I smirked casually. In some other circumstances I would probably add a shrug but it was a bit impossible now.

“Mhm, I see” Dick came closer, stopping just a foot away from me. All of a sudden the closeness made me away of my vulnerable position. Ironically, I was not scared standing with my hands up in front of four dangerous men, but became paralyzed in front of my boyfriend. And shit if he didn’t; know that.

“Did you follow me? How much did you see? Wait, how long were you creeping there?” I tried to take control of the situation.

“Long enough to see you to do some improper things with someone that wasn’t me.”

“I bet he learned his lesson by now” I pointed my head towards said man lying on the floor, stepping from one foot to another. The position was getting more and more uncomfortable with every second.

“Oh, not even close. It’s me who will give him a lesson. When I’m done there will be nothing to pick.”

“Dick….” I whined, now really in pain.

“You got some moves baby” oh, this jerk really enjoyed having me on his mercy “why did you never show it in the tower?”

“You know, I’m really living by the still waters run deep rule. I…..” I groaned a bit and his eyes darkened at the sound “I like the element of surprise.”

“Do you? Well, this really was a surprise to me. In more than one way.” His face was now inches away from mine and I felt my cheeks (and not only them) growing hot.

“Dickie…..” I whined again

“By the way, are those the guys who were engaged in human trafficking? The one who sell girls to brothels?  The ones we were trying to track for the last month?”

“Yes…. I…..”

“So this was your plan all along?! Did you know how much danger you were in!?” his voice grew a bit more angry now. He was probably imagining all the things that could have happened to me. It served him right! “What if they were stronger than you? What if you weren’t able to defeat yourself? What if…..?”

“Grayson!” I yelled in frustration cutting him off.

“What is it babygirl?” he faked innocence.

“Can you… can you get me out of this ropes? Please? It hurts now. ”

“Don’t know. I saw you doing some things I didn’t like tonight. I think you deserve a bit of punishment for that” he smirked.

“Dickie….. please, please…” I moaned in that special way and it turned him on at once as he crashed his lips on mine, one of his hands lifting me up motioning to wrap my legs around his waist, the other untying the rope finally setting my arms free. As soon as he did both of his hands circled around my waist pulling me closer to his chest, squeezing me against his body while his lips and the kiss became faster, hungrier, more passionate and predatory. Not that I complained as my own fingers ghosted over his arms and chest, going down to the hem of his shirt, slowly peeling it of him. He groaned and pushed me to the wall to enable himself to pull that useless piece of material over his head. God, he was so well built it took my breath every time I saw him shirtless. He was so warm and strong I instantly felt safe, craving his touch, his attention and affection tossing my own shirt away.

“What happened to you?” he muttered against my skin, his lips moved to my neck and shoulder covering it with kisses and hickeys.

“What…. What do you mean?” I gasped as he found one particularly sensitive spot.

“We are practically in a public place. Everyone can nail us going so physical” his lips ghosted over my half-exposed breast “you were always so private, babe…..”

“I missed you” I confessed “and I honestly don’t care anymore. I need you. I want you. I don’t care who can see us…. Make love to me…..” I whispered and felt his pulse raise.

“I missed you too…..” his hands reached towards the clasp of my bra, letting my breast free “I’m gonna make you feel so good babe….”

***

“I don’t want to see anymore of this. I’m gonna be sick” dark haired girl standing in the corner turned on her heel and rushed out.

“Well, I am quite enjoying the show” the muscular boy let out a laugh but being hit through the head by his blonde girlfriend crouched and they both left the room as well. The only people present were two very longing for each other young adults, too busy with themselves to care about the rest of the world.

@somest1 @pinksirensong - I'm sorry to drag you through this ..... 🙈

[fanficgirly18]

Jeff the Killer x Female Chubby Reader| Part 3

_____________

You both had no trouble getting passed the front desk.

Either the lady on duty was too tired or too bored to even notice your horrified face or Jeff tugging down at his white-ish hood, stained with blood, hoping the cameras wouldn’t catch his face.

Even when Jeff asked which floor Troy was on, she just gave the answer.

”Floor 30. Room 169.”

Jeff let out a few deranged chuckles, as he yanked you to a nearby elevator. 

”That was too EASY.”

The elevator looked dingy, rust covering it.

Jeff pressed the elevator button quickly, and you could feel his anticipation.

Ding.

Jeff shoved you in and pressed the 30th floor button in the elevator, and the doors closed behind you both.

—————-

It was cramped.

Especially with your bigger body but luckily this Jeff guy was lean.

Still however your bodies were touching and you hated being this close to a potential murderer. This elevator was taking forever.  The cords that pull it up were probably old.

”You know they're no cameras in here,” blurted out Jeff suddenly, a lecherous tone laced in his statement.

”...what’s that supposed to mean?” You whisper.

”I think you know, doll face-“

He shoved you into the elevator doors and forced you into a sloppy kiss.

You tried to push him away but he had your wrist pinned down.

His tongues twirled with yours.

Ding.

You both nearly fell out of the elevator as the doors open.

Jeff regained his balance quickly, catching you before you could fall on your ass. You both had parted lips and were staring at each other, breathing heavily. He had clutched at you so tightly, he was forcing your love handles back into your stomach.

You slowly averted your gaze to the dingy hallway, the carpet rugs looking torn, threads hanging out.

”Come on,” Jeff grunted suddenly, “The room is right there.”

A door a few steps away was labeled the number.

Room 169.

You turned to Jeff to ask more questions but he had moved away from the door, standing by the elevator, lighting a cigar.

Guess you were in this alone.

You knocked on the door, and noticed the brown paint on it was peeling off.

It took 5 minutes for the door to open. Then a surprisingly handsome, man who looked in his late 20’s answered it. He was around your height. He had messy straight brown hair, that looked like it hadn’t been combed for days. And he wore a black hoodie. His hand gripped a beer bottle, his eyes looking cautious,

His green eyes spotted you and then narrowed skeptically at you.

”What do you want?”

[ftwdb]

Don't Say Go.

Chapter 13.

Summary: Soulmates find each other through what is known as The Pull. A sense within a persons body that their soulmate is within reach that guides them to find them. You find yourself following this Pull, guided by vague dreams of a man you can't quite see, until you collapse in the wild and are found by Troy, your soulmate, who has been following the same feeling toward you for days.

Once connected soulmates are able to share emotions through their bond, as well as being able to sense where the other is. But how this force works is very much a mystery still, it can vary from soulmate to soulmate, and just sometimes a connection too deep can lead twist a bond from something beautiful to, well...

Warnings: Dark themes, sexual content, violence, non-graphic description/implications of SA, child abuse and domestic violence. References to addiction. Unhealthy love/obsession/relationships. Soulmate AU. Eventual smut.

You lay in your bunk staring into nothing. Cooper was stationed outside your door on Troy’s orders. Troy was…

You reached for him, trying to locate him on the ranch. You closed your eyes as your senses felt like they were stretching out into fog, blindly scrabbling for the warmth that usually came with your connection.

You could feel him, but he was somewhere beyond your usual reach. You scowled and opened your eyes. Perhaps he had left the ranch entirely.

You couldn’t help reliving those moments by his fathers desk. You had demanded Cooper take you to Jeremiah and although the man who was easily twice your size had initially refused you’d somehow managed to convince him. Perhaps it was out of some loyalty to Troy, or that he could simply see the desperation in your eyes and took pity on you, but you couldn’t stand by and let Troy take the blame for a mess you’d created.

You felt awful as you saw Mike limp away with Jake, but at least he wasn’t dead. Once you had calmed down you realised he must have seen you running from the tent and been trying to help, and you’d almost gotten him killed. Perhaps Jeremiah was right about you. You were just a burden to everyone on the ranch, including Troy, who had barely said a word to you once his father had dismissed you all from his sight.

You’d avoided looking at him when he’d taken you by the elbow and steered you through the door, down the steps and toward the bunkhouse. Thankfully the militia had dispersed those who had been drawn to the ruckus so you had no prying eyes upon you now. You’d glanced up at him as Troy signalled for Cooper to follow, unsettled by the empty expression on his face.

Your stomach dropped. His fingers around your arm became painful even though he held you gently. You dropped your eyes to the floor and remained silent as the bunkhouse came into sight.

“Cooper, I want you on watch until sunrise. Do not leave this spot, do you understand?”

Cooper stood tall, nodding as he replied with a firm, “Yes, sir.”

For a second you couldn’t breathe.

“Where are you going?” You managed to say.

Troy didn’t answer right away. In fact he didn’t even look at you. Cooper, who had a knack for pretending he had gone suddenly deaf and blind, tried to blend into the wood of the bunkhouse.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

You opened your mouth to speak again only to be met with a more forceful, “Tomorrow.” Before Troy turned and walked away.

You were frozen to the spot, staring after him as he disappeared into the dark. You heard Cooper clear his throat and the familiar creak of the door opening before you tore your eyes from where Troy had faded from sight and bolted inside, locking the door behind you.

You’d washed up, dumped your clothes on the floor and wrapped yourself in fresh clothes before crawling beneath your covers.

Cooper’s shadow at the door was a small comfort as you wondered what was happening now. What would they do with the body of the man you had murdered? What would they tell people?

And Jeremiah… his reaction had both surprised and confused you. You’d expected anger, for his declaration that he’d been right about letting you on the ranch being a mistake all along, but instead he’d actually reacted with what could almost have been… compassion? Oh, he’d offered no solace or comfort, but you’d seen his eyes change and his expression shift as you’d began to speak of your past with the burned man.

Your stomach clenched. Would they figure out that you were the one to cause his injuries? Or had the man already spoken of you when he’d been found in the wild?

Your thoughts wouldn’t allow you to sleep and you were still staring blankly at the wall when the sun began to rise. Outside you heard voices, Cooper was speaking to someone. You were on your feet in seconds and pulling back the bolt on the door, hoping it would be Troy making his return.

Your eyes fell on Jake and the disappointment on your face was obvious. He bid Cooper goodnight before asking if he could join you inside.

“It’s your property,” you said weakly, and stepped aside.

It was like deja vu when he closed the door behind him and took his usual seat at the table. He pulled back another chair and gestured for you to join him. You did, without comment. Dread was heavy in your heart and you only wanted to know where Troy had gone.

A terrifying thought crossed your mind. Had he sent Jake to tell you to leave?

The older brother must have seen the fear in your eyes as he leant back quickly, giving you your space.

“I’m not here to hurt you, or berate you for what happened,” he said quickly. “Troy asked me to relieve Cooper at sunrise. Since you’re awake it might be a good idea for us to talk.”

Your relief was short as anxiety made you tremble. You clenched your palms together tightly, feeling your nails digging into the skin.

“We need to understand what happened tonight. I know you spoke to my father, but we need the whole story…”

You almost couldn’t speak your mouth had gone so dry.

“Troy,” you said hoarsely, “I’ll tell Troy everything when he comes back.” He was the one you owed an explanation to. The one who, as your soulmate, would surely understand…

Jake looked at you, his expression soft and almost pitying.

“I remember what it was like, you know. The Pull. The way it consumes you entirely, makes you think you can’t breathe without your other at your side…”

You stared at the floor. Yes, there had been moments when the force that had led you here, to Troy, had stolen your ability to think straight with its intensity. But you’d assumed it was part of adjusting.

“Does it get… easier?” You asked.

Jake’s gaze shifted to the window, he looked lost in thought for a moment as a sad smile pulled at his lips.

“I wouldn’t know.”

You could have kicked yourself. Of course you knew what had happened to Jake’s soulmate. She had died mere months after they’d found each other. Jake had spent the entire time knowing he would lose her.

You couldn’t imagine knowing for certain that Troy would be taken from you. It felt like there would be nothing left inside you; you’d be a shell, a husk. Barely any better than the dead who wandered aimlessly.

Jake looked back to you, the sad smile gone.

“You can tell me, or write it down if that’s easier for you. But one way or another we need to understand… we need to know.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

As your story left your lips it was as if you were listening to someone else speak, retelling a movie they had seen or a story they’d heard on the news. You were blunt, factual. You’d been separated from your parents in the military camp, and when the bombs dropped and the fires spread they were trapped.

You didn’t tell him how you’d begged your parents to just try. To try and escape. To live. So scared they were of one dying without the other that they had chosen to stay together where they knew they’d die in each others arms.

They’d abandoned you.

No, Jake didn’t need to know that.

And so you explained how you’d walked aimlessly for days, avoiding the burned out areas and scavenging what you could to survive. You’d been at the edge of the city, unsure of where to go next when they had come upon you…

Jake listened to your story without a word. His expression was calm. Even when you’d gotten lost in the memory and been unable to stop yourself telling him how the father had held you down and told his son to “be a man”…

You could hear it in your ears as if he were standing beside you. You shivered before dropping to your knees, a wave of sickness overcoming you.

Jake was there at your side, his hands hovering but not touching. You breathed deeply as he began to count and you found his voice urging you to breath in time with him made the dizziness stop.

“Sorry… I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning…” you made the excuse.

“It’s okay. I know this is hard, but you’re safe.”

You looked up from where you were hunched on the floor, your fingertips digging into the wooden floor.

“Am I?”

Jake, the first truly kind face you’d seen for so long since this whole disaster began, carefully laid a hand on your shoulder and, when you didn’t flinch away, smiled.

“As safe as I can promise you can be in the apocalypse.”

You almost cracked a smile, especially when he continued.

“After all, as Troy’s soulmate you’re practically my sister now. I always wondered if having sister would have been… different.”

You sat back on your heels, feeling steadier but not ready to stand just yet.

“What do you mean?”

The carefully controlled expression was back and Jake shook off what he had just said.

He made himself more comfortable on the floor beside you and you knew it was back to the questions about your past.

“I need you to tell me honestly…”

Your heard skipped a beat.

“The man said he was attacked. His burns… you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

It was like a mask slipped over you, a shield between you and Jake who had just referred to you as his sister. You wanted to trust him. To believe his intentions were good, but the last time you’d put your trust in a stranger… it had led you to this.

“No,” you said.

Jake’s eyes changed, his brow knitting together as he watched you thoughtfully.

“No one would blame you.”

Really? You thought. You’d set two sleeping men on fire and run. Although you felt no guilt for it you knew it wasn’t the sort of thing normal people would have done… would they?

You could have just escaped. You could have stolen a gun and shot them as they slept… but you’d chosen to burn them.

To make them suffer.

Didn’t that make you a monster too?

“It must have happened after I escaped.”

Jake continued to watch you before nodding once. He seemed to believe you.

“Okay.”

“What about Mike?” You remembered suddenly, feeling a little guilty at having forgot the injured man.

“He confirmed what you said, and so did the other guard who should never have left you alone in the tent.” Jake said with a scowl. “He was running late to takeover watch when he saw you running. He went after you when you didn’t respond to his call and, well, I suppose it’s understandable Troy assumed what he did.”

You fidgeted with your fingers in your lap, sighing tiredly.

“I feel terrible. I’m so sorry. Will he be okay?”

Jake smiled.

“Troy could have killed him if you hadn’t stepped in. Instead, Mike just lost a pinky toe.”

You blinked before a snort of laughter escaped you. Jake did the same, looking baffled for a second at your reaction before chuckling quietly too.

“I’m sorry, that’s not funny.” You admonished yourself.

Jake shrugged, “It’s a little funny, the way he was wailing… I was scared he’d lose his foot until we got his boot off.”

This time you really did laugh. The feeling was strange, in fact you felt a little woozy, as if you were drunk. You put it down to exhaustion and hunger as your eyes began to water with a mixture of relief and amusement.

Jake let you have your moment as you wiped the moisture from your cheeks, your smile slipping as reality began to set in again.

“Will you tell people what happened to me?” You asked. You didn’t know if you could handle people’s pity. Or their judgement.

Jake shook his head.

“My father is a hard man but he understood what you told him last night. He won’t need the details. No one needs to know what happened. We’ll tell people… the man died of his injuries, he turned and you fled in a panic. With it being dark Troy thought Mike was one of the dead coming after you…”

You wrinkled your nose, unsure of the lie but grateful that Jake would cover for you.

“And Mike’s okay with that? He’s not mad at us?”

Jake shrugged.

“He’s in pretty deep shi- trouble for not being on time for guard duty. I think a little white lie will even things out.”

Jake continued when you looked unconvinced.

“He and Troy have been friends a long time. He’s seen some of the worst of my brother and still…”

Jake stopped, leaving you curious about what he meant. People had a lot of strange things to say, or not say, about your soulmate and you were beginning to think you weren’t the only one with secrets.

“Will you tell Troy?”

Jake didn’t need to ask what you meant. He scratched at his head, a habit you recognised from Troy when he was unsure, before speaking.

“I think maybe he’d be better hearing it from you. But of course if it helps, I’ll tell him whatever you need.”

You smiled, feeling genuine affection for Jake. Was this what having an older brother was supposed to feel like? Like someone really had your back.

“I don’t know about that. He seems… really mad.”

Jake’s eyes widened before he frowned.

“Troy? You think he’s mad at you?”

You nodded.

“Why wouldn’t he be? I’ve brought him nothing but trouble-“

Jake shook his head.

“Trust me. Troy isn’t mad at you.”

Jake was being annoyingly cryptic. Who else was there to blame?

You weren’t able to question him further as the door to the bunkhouse swung open and Troy suddenly appeared, standing still in a halo of soft light as the sun rose behind him.

He stared at you and Jake and you realised what an odd sight it must have been with both of you sat on the floor.

His brother lifted himself to his feet and drew himself up to his full height as he regarded Troy carefully. You’d have done the same if your legs didn’t feel like jelly beneath you.

“Brother.” Jake said oddly formally in greeting.

Troy gave a small nod of his head in return. Jake glanced back at you, where you still sat unable to take your eyes off Troy as you noticed he hadn’t yet looked directly at you.

“Perhaps we should talk first-“ Jake began before you cut him off.

“No,” you pulled yourself unsteadily to your feet. “I can do it. I can explain.”

Jake hesitated and you could tell he wasn’t sure if it was best to leave or not.

“It’s okay.” You said with as much of a reassuring smile as you could muster.

With one last look Jake nodded before passing his brother to exit the bunkhouse. His hand momentarily gripped Troy’s shoulder and gave a brief squeeze before he was gone, the door closing quietly behind him.

It was just you and Troy now.

In the silence you could hear your own heart beating, the sound of your own uneven breathing.

“I’m so sorry,” you began, forcing your voice to remain steady, “if you want me to leave, I’ll go. I’ll understand.”

Troy stared at you, his eyes managed to glow with intensity in the pale light of the sun.

“Go?” He finally croaked. “Why would I want you to go?”

You dropped your gaze and tried to keep yourself steady.

“Because of what I did. Because of what almost happened to Mike because of me.”

Your eyes shot up as footsteps moved toward you. For the briefest of moments you wanted to take a step back, to avoid the outstretched hand Troy had reached out to you with as if his touch might have harmed you in some way. You must have flinched, the sharp intake of breath seen by Troy as he stopped in front of you and slowly dropped his hand.

Your eyes were fixed to the floor. Your socked feet so close to his dusty boots.

“Look at me,” Troy said softly. It wasn’t a command but you were unable to resist the request regardless.

Your chest ached as your eyes met with his. His face looked tired, the curls of his hair were in need of taming as if he’d been running his hands through them all night. You noted the shadows beneath his eyes as guilt enveloped you.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Perhaps The Pull wasn’t always right. Whatever force joined two people together must be wrong sometimes. For you to be such a burden on your soulmate was unbearable. You’d always thought the love you’d seen between your parents was what was to be expected, they had brought each other both peace and happiness.

You’d brought neither to Troy.

Your frantic thoughts were interrupted when Troy placed two fingers gently beneath your chin and tilted your face upward.

“If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. If… if you want to go…”

You swallowed, the movement in your throat unmissable to Troy whose eyes followed your every breath.

You wanted to shake your head No, but the touch of his fingertips on your skin burned so pleasantly you couldn’t bare to risk losing the contact.

“I’ll understand,” Troy continued, “you were supposed to be safe here. I was supposed to keep you safe.”

You frowned as Troy dropped his hand from your chin and took a step back. Jake’s words came back to you, how it wasn’t you that Troy was angry with.

“You’re blaming yourself,” you breathed.

Troy could no longer look you in the eye.

“I should never have brought a stranger into our home. I should never have left you alone-“

“Stop it-“

Troy ran a hand over his head, pulling roughly at the dark curls between his fingers just as you’d guessed he’d been doing all night. You closed the space between you and reached up for his hand, untangling it from his hair as you gripped it tightly to stop him pulling away.

He looked at you now with a slightly wild expression on his face. You realised just how exhausted he was. You knew what that level of stress and tiredness could do, he wasn’t thinking straight.

“You helped someone in need. Just like you did with me-” you began before Troy cut you off.

“I’d been looking for you. Even though I didn’t understand why at first…”

You couldn’t help the small smile on your lips.

“You couldn’t have known who he was. It’s not as if I’ve been entirely honest with you about my past.” You admitted, trying to ignore the squirming in your gut and slight tremor in your voice.

Troy looked at you now with such intensity you almost forgot how to breath. “You can tell me anything. I… I’ve done things too. Things I had to do.”

You nodded in understanding. The world was now a dark place and although you hated to admit it, sometimes embracing that darkness was the only way to survive it. You remembered the choking sounds of the man whose throat Troy had watched you cut. He’d told you you’d looked beautiful, a statement most would find odd or frightening in such a situation. It hadn’t frightened you. It had made you feel like an avenging Angel in Troy’s eyes.

“I never meant to cause so much trouble.” You said honestly.

Troy shook his head as a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “It’s about time someone else round here caused some.”

Your heart was no longer thundering in your chest, but it was beating hard as Troy’s fingers brushed over the back of your hand where he still held it tight.

You noticed as he began to sway ever so slightly, exhaustion finally overcoming him. There was still so much you wanted to say, to ask him, but perhaps right now was not the time.

Instead you took a steady breath and licked your suddenly very dry lips.

“Would you stay with me, here, to sleep?”

Troy blinked at you, glancing to the bunk you’d claimed as your own and back to you as if it were taking some time to process your request.

He had slept in the bunkhouse with you when you’d first arrived, but he had kept a respectful distance. There hadn’t been much physical contact between you yet, other than when you’d jumped into his arms when Mike had frightened you it had mostly been brief spells of holding hands when you walked outside the bunkhouse. And neither of you had minded, there was no need to rush things after everything you’d been through and Troy wasn’t exactly used to displays of affection. So when he nodded it was because his voice had suddenly failed him. The bunk was small, perhaps he was expected to sleep on one of the other empty ones…?

You made your intentions clear when you walked over to your bed and slid beneath the blanket before holding it open for him. Feeling dazed Troy kicked off his boots and placed his jacket over the nearest chair. He sat on the edge of the bunk before stretching out beside you.

He’d been right. The bunk was too small for two but you didn’t seem to care as your hand found his again and wound his fingers between yours.

The only sound for a few moments were those of your own breathing and the first songs of the birds from outside. As Troy’s eyes began to slide shut you spoke quietly as the morning sun began to fill the room.

“Troy?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”

You didn’t see but the muscles in Troy’s face twitched as he almost smiled in his half-awake state.

“Then don’t.” He said just as quietly.

You did smile then, and for the first time since you’d set eyes upon your soulmate you felt a knowing in your heart and in your gut that The Pull had been right, because you were finally home.