#and even though I always knew that my father loved me he was absent all the time and never really payed attention to my life

[old-memoria]

I’m getting married tomorrow… it feels surreal

[bratscave]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ — MY LITTLE PRINCESS !

includes. dilf! logan x 23! shy? reader, very lightly implied daddy issues, sexual content! (car pussy eating lol)

You’ve seen Logan here before, countless times, always in that same corner, nursing his drink in solitude. His age should turn you off, it really should but somehow that just got you more intrested, you had been stern on doing something about said-intrest but your fear of talking and interacting with men, held you back.

Tonight, tonight you were going to do it. You were sure of it. With your heart pounding in your chest, you slide off the barstool, your legs feeling a little shaky as you make your way across the room. Each step feels like it takes you all your power, and by the time you reach his table, you’re sure he can hear your heart beating out of your chest.

You pause for a moment, hesitating, before you finally force yourself to speak, "is the seat taken?" your voice was quiet, shaky even, you silently cursed yourself — you had wanted yourself to sound confident, god damn it.

He turns around with a gaze that was so intense, you were sure he was about to fuck you off to go somewhere else, yet he quietly gestured to the seat next to him. You slide into the seat opposite him, your knees brushing logans under the table.

"You're a bit young to be in a place like this," he murmurs, his voice deep and gravelly, carrying the weight of all the years he’s lived. There’s a teasing edge to his tone, but also a hint of concern, like he’s trying to figure out what a girl like you is doing in a place like this, with a man like him.

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. "Maybe I like being around… older men." Well not the older men around you, him though, very much so. "I'm not that young." you add on, it was true - since when were people in their mid twenties considered, young?

A scoff slips past his lips at your response, though it did pique his intrest. His thumb circled around the glass of his whiskey, you were sure that was at least the fourth one he had, "Not that young, huh? Then how old are you, princess?"

You practically feel yourself grow hotter at the nickname, on it's own 'princess' sounds so endearing, so loving — but with his rough tone, it got this different edge to it. "23," you mumble, obediently at his question.

Logan repeats your age, let's it slip from his tongue losely, makes it hang around the dimly light bar and between you.

"I wonder what your parents would think, princess. If only they knew where their little girl was right now, and who she was with."

You'd actually think he was somewhat concearned if it wasn't for the almost mocking tone in his voice, not like he was making fun of you moreover like he just found this situation and how you were behaving amusing.

The blush intensifies at his comment, you hated how you reacted to him, how your body did too; you didn't want to come of as to shy or inexperienced. that was not the case, well somewhat. Your absent father, certaintly wouldn't care - your mother, maybe but who'd tell her? "I'm not a little girl," you're grown god damn it.

His smirk only grew as you got increasingly red. It was cute.

"Oh, really? You look like a little girl to me, princess. All shy and flustered just from sitting at the same table as me. Can't even look me in my eyes."

Logan leaned a little closer to you, his tone almost advising, "You look like you need someone to take care of you, princess. Someone older. More experienced. Do your little boytoys not take care of you right, hm?"

It takes all your will power to not run off into the sunset, burry yourself a hole and think about what he said for the rest of your life. You manage to answer quietly, "you sound like you want to be that 'someone'"

"smart girl," he snickered, satisfied with your reply.

"I'll admit, I've been watching you for a while. You come here all the time and drink all by yourself. All alone. Always sitting at the same spot, watching others."

You can feel yourself get wetter at just his words, he had been observing you? The you, who looked at him countless times, sure he was not looking back or cared at that either.

Sooner then your mother would be proud of, you were in his car. Well- you and him were in his backseat. The car smelled old, looked old too but you didn't have time to make details out as he kept your legs spread for him, rough big hands patting the skin every now and then, to quietly tell you how good you were.

His tongue was way to busy to talk, licking and sucking with a precision that was applaudible. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Just hours ago, you were too shy to even speak to him, and now here you were, half-naked in the backseat of his car, your body squirming around.

He wasn’t gentle — Logan was thorough, relentless, like he had something to prove. And maybe he did, maybe he wanted to show you exactly what you’d been missing, what it was like to be with a man who knew exactly what he was doing. His stubble scratched against your sensitive skin, adding to the rawness of the experience, making it feel more real.

He was so broad, taking up most of the space in that damn backseat and he was hungry. starved, or at least he ate you out like he was.

Logan would make sure that, for the next few days, you’d feel him in every corner of your body. You would ache, throb in all the right places — all because of him.

[pippin-katz]

Edwin's Parents Canonically Did Not Hug Him

I was watching interviews of the boys for a post I'm working on, and fucking excuse me?!

Source: Advocate Channel Interview, Timestamp 3:17

We have confirmation from George that Edwin's parents did not hug him while he was alive. It's due much more to the time period rather than neglectful parenting, but that is still crazy to think about. He also says "parents", meaning both his father and his mother; neither of them gave him any kind of physical affection.

The repressive time period causing Edwin's parents to be very emotionally absent from his life is not a new concept, and it gets brought up in varying intensities in fanfics I've read, but it always felt like a fuzzy, floating concept based on speculation heavily supported by probability. I knew it was an accurate assumption, but I couldn't reach out and touch it, if that makes any sense. Now, it's concrete in my mind.

It gives this scene even more weight:

Edwin's expressions, while already perfectly understandable, make even more sense. The way he's seemingly pained by the embrace at first. He did not even realize how badly he needed and wanted this kind of affection.

There is such a strong surge of pure joy, comfort, and love from the hug that it hurts him, because he realizes in that moment what he's been deprived of his entire life and existence. Edwin has existed for over a hundred years, and even though it's hard to believe, they've never hugged each other like this in the thirty years they've been together. I don't think I could ever confidently say that they never hugged, ever, in thirty years, especially given how physical Charles is with his affection.

But that expression on Edwin's face in undeniable.

George says earlier in video that Edwin "lacks the skill set to keep up" with all of the new emotions he's experiencing, and you can feel that in the way his face changes.

Edwin hugs him back, and lets out a big breath, relieved and satisfied by the embrace. The wave of emotions passes as he realizes that even if he overwhelmed and terrified by the love he's feeling, it feels good to hug Charles. He realizes that he wants to hug Charles, that he's allowed to want to hug Charles, and that he actually can hug Charles.

God, the amount of emotions Edwin has in that moment that he's completely unequipped for, simply because he's never experienced it, not even from the people closest to him in life. It's heartbreaking, but seeing him learning how it feels to be loved for the first time is so beautiful.

Edwin, the character that you are... George Rexstrew, the actor that you are... 😔🩵

(ko-fi)

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Part 1

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Final Part

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: I just got this request and I absolutely LOVE it. I have no idea how many parts it will be because it's really parking my imagination. Please feel free to leave a comment! Hearing your guy's feedback is what motivates me to write!

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring. 

Warnings (so far): SA

Word count: 2765

(all photos are from pinterest)

It was like being born, even though I was the ripe age of 435. Well, ripe in the years of fae. It felt like being born, in the sense that I can’t really remember what came before that passing shade of violet. The way his eyes bore into me, and in that moment I knew he felt the tug too. 

Mates. 

I reeled for days, the peonies of spring my only console, my brother had always been so absent minded and utterly consumed with being High Lord. How could the cauldron be so cruel? To mate me to the High Lord of the Night. I spent the next week thinking it had to be a mistake, that my bored mind was playing tricks on me. Yet when the council met the week following, his eyes found me immediately, and I think in that moment I saw him for the very first time. 

I didn’t dare approach him, far too shy and afraid to approach the Lord of Night. Not just  because of what he was, but because of what my brother would say. By basic necessity Tamilin was a good brother, he doted upon me, kept me safe, gave me free roam of the palace. But there was a darkness about him I couldn’t place. It started when he disappeared with our father one night only to come back with two sets of Illyrian wings. I knew whatever happened was wrong, but as a woman in the spring court, I knew better than to open my mouth. Needless to say, Tamlin became High Lord of Spring shortly after, and from the wings mounted on our family walls I knew we had but one enemy, the night court. 

It wasn’t until the third council meeting (the third I was allowed to attend, after I begged my brother to let me go) that the High Lord of Night finally sought me out. 

My brother was busying himself with the politics of Day and Summer, talking the heads off of Helion and Tarquin. I kept to the shadows naturally, avoiding any untoward advances from other High Lords. I tried to stay hidden in my pocket of introvertedness, but then I felt him, and my skin buzzed, like it needed to be touched, to be held.

“You felt it too right?” he purred into the shell of my ear causing the buzzing of my skin to become electric.  

“I did,” I admit pathetically. 

“And you feel it now too,” he whispers as I finally turn to face him. The violet of his eyes pierce my soul and I’m left speechless and unable to move from their gaze. He’s otherworldly, he’s everything, and he’s also completely forbidden. 

“Do you?” I ask, hoping that whatever answer he gives can validate the fire in my bones. 

“I do,” he muses like he loves the game. “Your brother killed my family. He is my sworn enemy and I should hate you.” he breathes. I can feel his resolve slipping along with mine, for every statement he makes I can make an opposing one, “but all I want to do is kiss you right now.” he finishes. 

Fire runs through my veins as a sharp breath passes my lips. I feel my brother's presence and I evade myself from the High Lord of Night’s cage. My brother whisks me off to the Spring Court once more, but not before I glance back one last time to see that shade of violet I had already learned to look for in a crowd. 

That was a week ago. 

I stand in the foyer of the castle with my brother and Lucien as we prepare to join the council once again this week. 

“You look ravishing as always,” Lucien muses, eyes wandering me like they’re hungry. 

“It’s not often my brother lets me out of the house, I have to make a good impression somehow,” I say backhandedly. All I get in return is a sideways glance from Tamiln as we are taken to court. Today the meeting  resides in Tarquins’s court. It changes once a week to allow all High Lord’s to have the upper hand. The sea salted mist hits my face and the warm rays of the sun tan my skin as we walk into the council. 

When we arrive he’s already there. He stands out amongst the rest, not just because he’s dressed in black, but because he’s the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen. The definition of a forbidden fruit. As if to tempt me, Tamilin unknowingly  sits directly across from the High Lord of Night making it so I can’t lift my head without meeting the violet of his eyes. If you had asked me to recall the events the council discussed, I couldn’t, the only word left on my tongue was Night. Talk of tithes and power checks drifted over my head. The only thing to rouse me from my trance was the scraping of wooden chairs across marble floors, signaling that the council meeting had adjourned and that the more foundational political talks of High Lords would begin. 

I took it as my queue to step out onto one of the many terraces of the Summer Court. The room where the council was held was stifling. I thought that the breeze of the ocean might cool my skin, but no matter where I went that deafening heat followed.  

“I was hoping I would see you again,” purred a voice from behind me. 

I turned to find that piercing violet once more. “Of course why wouldn’t I be at the council meetings?” I ask, trying to act like I won’t be replaying this conversation in my mind when I return to bed tonight. 

“You’ve only been to four council meetings now, and your brother has a habit of keeping you locked up in the Spring Court.” he trails, drawing closer to the railing of which I’m leaning upon. 

“Well I intend to be at all of them from here on out,” I state.

“Any particular reason why?” he asks with a playful tone in his voice and I know what he’s insinuating. 

“Because I wish to be a part of the governing of my court, even though I am just a woman,” I say, evading his innuendo. 

“That’s a shame if you were part of my court you wouldn’t have such phrases like ‘just a woman’” he states almost as if he’s upset with the phrase. 

“I highly doubt that, women aren’t equals in any court,” I scoff. 

“What about Kallias and Viviane?” he asks. 

“What about them?” 

“Kallias sees Viviane as his equal, she is his mate and his High Lady,” he explains, stepping even closer to me, close enough that my skin starts to buzz again. 

“Viviane is special, everyone knows that,” I justify. 

“And you’re not?” he muses and my skin goes from buzzing to electrifying in three words. I feel his fingertips grazing my hand as if asking for permission. 

“My Lord we can’t do this,” I breathe out. 

“Call me Rhysand,” he says, stepping even closer. 

I step to the side, avoiding his advances, “My Lord, I won’t do this, I can’t do this.” I affirm. 

I see him bristle from my reluctance to call him by his name, “You’ll give into the idea of us. When you’re lying in that cold bed high up in the spring court thinking of all the ways I could warm it for you. When you’ve spent the week with nothing but this conversation on your mind,” he leans down to whisper in my ear. “This time next week you will beg for me to touch you, and I’ll happily oblige, mate.”

I’m so taken aback by his words that I can’t even form a quick witted response, I simply slid away and tried my best not to look back at him as I felt his gaze pierce my back. I nearly slam into Viviane and Kallias. 

“Y/n are you alright?” Viviane asks. 

“Yes, just feeling the heat of the summer court,” I lie, fanning my face. 

“Then you should come home with us today, it’s been so long since we had a girls night. I wish for your company." She smiles while taking my hand. 

“Shall we go home sister?” Tamilin appears, Lucien in tow. 

“Actually I think I’ll spend the night in the winter court with Viviane, she’s right,” I look at her and smile. “We haven’t had a girls night in quite a long time.”  

“Very well, I won’t get in the way of your sinful gossiping,” Tamilin smiles and leads Lucien away with him. 

If the summer court is sea salt and sun, then the winter court is pine and fresh fallen snow. Though they are opposites in every way, they are stunning in their own right, like all courts are. I’ve been here many times before to sit and talk with Viviane, she’s one of the only other ladies of nobility my age and a fierce friend. It’s not uncommon for me to spend a couple days here in the winter court, with Viviane and Kallias. 

I sit among a bed of furs near a warm fire adjacent to Viviane as Kallias pours both me and his mate a glass of red wine. 

“Thank you dear,” she smiles, kissing him on the cheek before he leaves us to gossip. 

“You and Kallias really are a perfect match,” I beam and Vivianane knows me well enough to know that there's a sadness there. 

“You’ll find it too someday, your mate. I know you will,” she assures me. “Now tell me, what of Lucien?” 

I roll my eyes taking a sip of my wine, “He’s still insufferable. The other day he backed me into a wall and if one of my ladies maids hadn’t walked in I swore he would’ve had his way with me.” 

She lets out an airy laugh, “I still can’t believe Tamiln allows him to play with you like that. He’s so fiercely protective of you with everyone else.” she says, taking a sip of her own wine. 

“Lucien is his best friend, he wouldn’t deny him anything, even his little sister.” I point out. 

“I suppose you’re right,” she smirks. The night is filled with goblets of wine and laughter as we continue to talk about the high lords of Prythian. We even go as far as to talk about her and Kallais’ sex lives, to which Kallias promptly came in laughing taking his wife to bed. 

I trudge down the hall to the bedroom the High Lord and Lady had set aside just for me a few years ago. I fall into the plush mattress, the world slightly spinning around me. The second I am left alone with my thoughts I recall the feeling of Rhysand’s breath on my neck and I shiver. 

The room spins and I feel my skin grow hot with need, my heart beats faster and my  head is drunk with that shade of violet. My hand subconsciously drifts down my body. 

You’re drunk? A voice cuts through my head. 

I sit up right and look around the room. The only thing I find is the flickering of the fireplace against the walls. 

The same voice chuckles and speaks again, No I am not in the room with you my mate.

“How are you doing this?” I ask in my head.

The daemati gift, and of course, I am your mate. The High Lord croons. 

“Get out of my head” I grumble. 

But you called for me, I can feel your… excitement.

“Then you're mistaken,” I hiss.

We both know that’s not true darling. 

“Goodnight,” I groan, rolling over to go to bed.

Goodnight, darling

The following days are long. Despite my better wishes there is a part of me that yearns to see the High Lord of Night again. I waltz through the spring court, picking flowers for the dinner table and evading Lucien’s advances. At night I find myself obsessively reading the romance novels I keep beside my bed. On one night in particular a certain scene in my book makes my toes curl and my thighs clench. My fingers skim the pages and the roughness of them is almost heightened. 

My my my, what a dirty book. That voice croons into my mind.

“Get out of my head,” I gripe. 

I can’t help myself when I feel your body react as it does. He purrs. 

“How on earth can you ‘feel’ my body?” I roll my eyes.

Like this. 

A tug reverberates through my body. Like there’s a string in the pit of my stomach that he just pulled. The sensation causes me to lose a breath as further arousal goes to my legs. He lets out a dark chuckle. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” I order him

But you loved it so much, He purrs and I can practically feel him smirking in my head. 

“You’re an insufferable bastard High Lord,” I growl at his persistence. 

Call me Rhysand. 

“I see no reason to drop informalities, my lord.” I quip back. 

My name will fall from your lips one day, and when it does I’ll be sure to swallow it with my own. Until then, I’ll leave you with this. Goodnight darling. 

I feel another tug at the bond reverberating through me and I nearly let out a moan at the feeling. I snuggle into my sheets that suddenly feel as if they are constricting around my body. I toss and turn and try to push all thoughts from my mind, but I can’t stop the idea of the High Lord's lips on mine. His night black hair in my hands, the way his moans might fall from those lips.

The next morning I take my breakfast in one of the lounge areas, still reeling from last night. My thoughts still wander to the image of his face, and how his eyes light me on fire. The door opens and a head of auburn hair pokes in. 

“Forgive me, I didn’t know you were in here,” Lucien says like he has regret, yet he sits down across from me. 

“No worries, I'm almost finished eating,” I reply, placing my tea down and getting ready to get up.. 

“And I secretly hoped to spend some time with you,” he sighs, sinking into the couch. 

“Perhaps later, I wanted to read in the garden,” I stand and make my way towards the door. 

“Perhaps now,” he growls. I feel a cold hand grasp my arm hauling me into the wall. 

“Lucien,” I hiss as my back is pressed into the wall, his frame looming over mine. 

“You are such a tease,” he smirks before kissing my neck hungrilly. His hands roam my body pulling me impossibly close. 

“I’ve never once given you any inclination that I wanted you,” I gripe at him. 

“That’s what makes you so desirable my dear,” he practically moans into my neck. 

I gather my strength and push him off of me, “I’ll remind you that I am Tamlin’s little sister and while he favors you his favor only goes so far. One word from me and he’ll send you back to the Autumn Court.” I growl at him, and it seems to be enough as he backs away and leaves me to reel from what just happened in silence. 

I sit down on the couch and take deep breaths to ground myself. 

What’s going on? Are you alright? That voice like glorious night cuts through my mind and I almost feel thankful for how it brings me back to reality. 

“Yes I’m fine,” I say back. 

What happened? I felt your fear through the bond.

“It’s nothing, just Lucien.” I dismiss him. 

Did he touch you? 

I almost swore I heard anger laced in his voice. “Well I am his favorite plaything,” I roll my eyes.

And Tamlin allows him to touch you like this? 

“As long as my virtue isn’t completely compromised so that I am still of value when he inevitably marries me off, yes. He doesn’t care.” I divulge, and quite stupidly I realize. 

As if I needed another reason to hate him.

“He is still my brother, my Lord,” I remind him, though I secretly feel the same. 

Don’t you mean, Rhysand?

“No I don’t, my Lord,” I say, drawing out the last words. 

I’ll see you tomorrow my darling, I relish the idea of seeing you in the golden light of the day court. 

[rainylana]

“Don’t cry.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: a spa session with your new boyfriend turns out to be both of your breaking points.

requested by anonymous! i hope you like it and that I did it justice! i kind of took it and ran. i made it much more deep than i initially planned, so i hope you like it!

warnings: talk of sexual abuse and rape, with both eddie and reader, angst and tears, language, mentions of drug dealing and absent parents. reader is struggling to connect with eddie and he doesn’t know why, kinda leaves in a cliffhanger??

Sometimes Eddie wondered if you liked him, because half the time it didn’t seem like you did. You’d become stand-offish, quiet, shrink in on yourself. His “Are you okay?” was always met with an “I’m fine.” and nothing more. It always seemed like you were protecting yourself. Not just from him, but from everyone. You loved his friends, but sometimes they scared you. You never knew who to trust. Would one of them hurt you, given the chance?

One thing was for sure though, you loved Wayne. He was like the father you never had growing up. From the way he talked, looked, his personality, it reminded you of a father. Eddie was extremely lucky to grow up with him while he did.

Eddie wasn’t stupid, however, he knew some of your behavior had to do with your upbringing. You’d shared some of it with him before, time and time again, here and there. You’d grown up pretty similarly to him. Dead beat parents that abused you, surrounded by their friends who eyed you like a piece of meat for them to chew on. When you grow up like that, you’re bound to be a little messed up. Eddie understood that. He was the same way.

But with you, it was different. He didn’t want you to feel that way around him. The relationship hadn’t been going on for that long and was still fairly fresh, but he wanted you to trust him. And even dating might have been a stretch, you were just very good friends who weren’t very good friends with anyone else.

You liked Eddie, maybe even loved him, but there was no lying when it came to the fact you were struggling to connect with him. Could you really trust him? Was he just like the men from your childhood? Would he fuck you and ultimately leave once he got his full satisfaction? You’d cried yourself to sleep many of times during the night at the thought.

Sometimes you didn’t feel safe. Not with him, not with his friends. You only ever felt truly safe with Wayne. You didn’t know why. You hated the way you felt. Eddie was a good man. He was good to you. He had yet to do anything that proved otherwise. But the dark corners of your mind lingered closer and closer to the edge, reminding you of what once was your reality on the daily. You hoped this time it was different.

“I like this color on you.” Eddie’s tongue was stuck out in concentration, one hand holding your foot, the other holding the brush of the pink nail polish bottle. “It’s cute.”

“Pink?” You smirked. “You like pink?”

“On you.” His lashes fluttered up to you briefly.

The gesture was cute, but anytime he did something sweet like this you couldn’t help but think if he was luring you into a trap. Your stomach was littered with jitters and nerves. Day by day your anxiety was staring to become more out of control. You thought about ending things with him. It wasn’t fair to him to not give the relationship your all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’d miss him dearly.

“Well, thanks.” You smiled softly. “I don’t like painting them by myself. The angle is too hard.”

He muttered a Mhm with his tongue out, blowing on your little toe so the pain would dry. “I used to paint my nails black when I was a teenager.” He said.

“Really?” You said amusedly. “Why’d you stop?”

“Got out of the habit, I guess.” He dipped the brush back in the bottle. “Plus, not that I cared, but kids at school were givin’ me shit about it.”

You knew Eddie had the same childhood you did, in some sense anyways. Eddie wouldn’t talk about it much, especially never about his mother. But his dad was something you knew struck a nerve. You should share your traumas together, that’s what you always told yourself. You knew you both could relate to one another, but the relationship was still too fresh. Maybe neither was ready for that.

“Want me to do your fingers?” Eddie asked, blowing on your last toe as he finished up his fine work. “I gotta say, babe, I did pretty good.”

You flexed your freshly painted toes and grinned at his work. “You did! Thank you.”

He put the bottle on the table and plopped down beside you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “So what now? What’s next on the spa list?” He smirked and you did the same, laughing breathily.

“I won’t make you succumb to all my girly stuff.” You laughed. “Anything I can do for you? Your hair looks like it needs brushed a little.”

“What?” He gave you an incredulous look. “I keep my hair very much maintained, thank you.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t, Eddie.” You rolled your eyes. “All I said was it needed brushed a little.”

You hopped up and got your plastic hairbrush from the bathroom, pointing at him with it when you returned. “Your turn to be pampered. Sit on the floor.”

He shook his head amusedly and sat down where you had, your legs falling at the sides of his shoulders as you gently began combing out his curls. He didn’t mean to, but he sighed in content.

“Feel good?” You gave a shit eating grin.

“You’re a-lot gentler than Wayne used to be.” He relaxed under your touch. “He always pulled at my hair and got it more ratted up than it already was. This feels good.”

You smiled at the mention of Wayne. “Well, I’ve got a woman’s touch, honey.”

“Yes, you do.”

It was quiet and peaceful for a while as you brushed his hair, the both of you content in the silence. When he touched your ankle, caressing it, your heart began to pound. You hadn’t had sex with him yet. You were too scared to. You knew it was time, it had been almost two months and you knew Eddie had long since been ready to sleep with you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You did. You fantasized about him just as much as he did you, but you were terrified of him leaving once you finally crossed that line. Out of instinct, you brought your legs up to you, sitting criss-cross like he was.

You heard him sigh and your stomach ached with guilt. You should give him what he wants.

“I’m sorry.” You say guiltily.

“You never let me touch you.” Eddie said flatly, staring at the ground as you continued to brush his hair. “And you won’t tell me why.”

Your eyes teared up and you stopped brushing, bringing it down to your lap. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s all you say.” He shook his head. “You don’t need to be sorry. You just need to tell me why I scare you so bad.”

“You don’t.” You denied, trying your hardest to convince him. When he said things like this, you felt foolish for thinking the way that you did. “It’s just- it’s- it’s just me.”

Eddie turned around, looking up at you to find you with tears in your face. “If it wasn’t true you wouldn’t be crying. Don’t I deserve the truth, Y/n? Have I don’t anything at all to make you scared of me?”

“No.” You sniffled, getting off the couch to go into the kitchen of his trailer. “You haven’t.”

Eddie watched you, becoming more and more anxious by the second. He sat there, waiting for his answer, anything but no. “Do you want to break up?”

“No!” You cried, shaking your head wildly. “No, that’s not what I want.”

“You don’t even like me, Y/n.” He scoffed to himself, closing in, becoming cold and shutting down. Something he hadn’t done in a long time. “You won’t open up to me. I can barely touch you. You look like you’re disgusted to be around me.”

“That’s not true!” You snapped, taking a step toward him. “Stop saying shit like that!”

“Then you say something for a change!” He argued back, not moving from his spot on the floor.

“But it’s so stupid!” You shook your head. “It’s ridiculous!”

He gave you a look. He was waiting and he wouldn’t back out this time. Either that, or he was going to break up with you. The thought made you want to vomit. Maybe you did care more deeply for him than you were letting on.

“We don’t talk about what happened when we were kids,” You sighed through tears, voice breaking. “We’re..both the same, but we don’t talk about it.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as you began, wondering after all, if he wanted to hear where you were going with this.

“Mom wasn’t around, so that left dad and his friends.” You stared at him, being as open and honest as you could now. There was no beating around the bush with this. “I…Jesus,” You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t know that it wasn’t normal at the time, but they’d…they’d use me.” You took a deep breath after the last word. No stopping now.

“They would play poker, touch me, rape me.” You weren’t crying anymore, talking mostly to yourself now at this point. “And I know you would never do that to me, Eddie, but sometimes I’m so afraid of it happening again and I just shut down.” You closed your eyes. “You touch me and I’m so afraid you’ll abandon me once we sleep together. That’s all anyone has ever done in my life.”

“Fuck me, then leave.” You sniffled. “That’s all they ever do.”

Eddie’s eyes were drooping, slightly narrowed and brows furrowed. He shook his head softly, you almost missed it, and you knew you’d made him at a loss for words.

He looked up to you briefly, licking his lips before he spoke. “There was this one guy my dad would deal for,” He began. “He was a big dude, almost seven foot. I was only thirteen. But dad would bring him into the house and he…would look at me. Just watch me wherever I went.” He stared at his hands, not daring to look at you.

“I think he payed dad.” His voice broke, but he refused to let any tears fall. “Because I screamed and screamed and he wouldn’t come.”

You let out an audibly gasp and covered your mask, your heart falling to the floor with a splat.

“Oh, god, Eddie,” You crawled to the floor and knelt beside him.

“It’s okay.” He stopped your apologies. “I didn’t tell you for you to be sorry for me. I told you because you need to know you’re not alone, and not everyone is out to get you. You’re safe with me. I want you to believe that.”

You let out a wet sob, tears rolling down your red face. “How do I stop being scared? I want to be with you.”

He smiled softly, a finger swiping at a tear. “We have all the time in the world for that, angel.”

You grabbed his arm and laid your head against his shoulder, sobbing like a broken child.

“Oh, baby,” He kissed your forehead. “Don’t cry.”

It would be a long road to recovery, but you could both do it together. Slowly, every day you would both open up to each other about what you went through, and day by day, it would get easier.

[moriitis]

What would Toby do with a person with Lyra's exact appearance? Let's say they also have a similar personality. (Of course there would be no comparison)

I don't know how Toby would take it or what he would do and I'm really curious, seriously, I'm crazy.

WHY DO YOU GIVE ME ALL THESE SAD ASS ASKS OH MY GOD MY SHAYYYLAAA

Alright, I seriously fucking love this ask though, like so, so, so much. Thank you Anon for breaking my heart. I, too, am crazy about Toby and Lyra's relationship.

Content/Warnings; car accidents, mentions of abuse, alcohol, death, detailed descriptions of corpses, blood, brain matter, globe luxation (eyes popping out of sockets), vomit, bruises, stuttering, murder.

I guess to start this shit off, we better go back in time a little to talk about their relationship as siblings during the time Lyra was alive.

Their parents were deadbeat. I'll say it over and over again. Now don't get me wrong, Connie hated seeing her children living in poverty and being abused by their father, but you gotta remember Connie was a victim too. Abusive relationships SUCK and it's even worse when there are children involved because it makes it so much harder leaving. Did Connie allow the abuse to happen? On some times, yes, she did - because a part of her really believed that she loved this man, she wanted things to work and kids were.. well, they deserve a little slap here and again, right? I see a bitterness between Lyra and Connie because Lyra gets so angry at the fact that Connie sits and allows this to happen. Now when big fights did break out, like punching, screaming, things smashing and the cops being called, Connie did step in and try to calm her husband. Unfortunately, her husband was a heavy drinker and his father abused him, so drinking is his coping method to deal with his own abuse and trauma.

Due to having such an absent and useless mother, Lyra stood up and took the role to care for Toby at the young age. In fact, when Connie announced she were pregnant with Toby, Lyra cried so much because she knew how shit their family life was and it was unfair to bring a baby up in a situation they get no say in.

Lyra would dress Toby for school, make breakfast and ensured they both got the school bus on time. (During the time he still attended public schooling.)

She would 100% defend him in situations at school the best she could. Lyra wasn't particularly popular either, so really she took most the verbal abuse directed toward her brother.

After Toby got pulled for home schooling, she'd always feel so disgustingly anxious being on that school bus alone - without him.

She'd call the home phone almost every hour making sure he was okay.

Thankfully their father worked at a factory during the day, so she knew Toby was okay with their Mom who was a stay at home.

Despite everything, she was a bubbly and happy character, mostly because as she got older she got more freedom to stay away from home.

Lyra was a bit of a party animal, very social and had a nice group of friends.

She would not come back home for times on end, preferring to sleep on the couch at a friends just to avoid home.

But then she felt too guilty leaving Toby alone and would come back.

On the weekends, Lyra would take Toby with her to hang out with her friends! Her friends loved Toby, despite his tics.

They'd hang out at the mall a lot, which actually secured Lyra her first little job working in a clothing store her friend also worked at.

Which meant she earnt money to spoil Toby.

Like taking him to the arcades, bowling.

They went to the cinema once, which was a bad mistake because they came home too late and their father was still awake.

"Lyra.. are yo-oo..u awake?" Called a soft voice, a voice that lingered by the frame of her door. The light from the hallway illuminated the figure, casting shadows over her body that was outstretched on her bed. It was a familiar voice, a voice that made her turn almost instantly to glance over at the little brunette who was lingering by the door, his fingers hooked around the wood. Her door was only open a fraction but softly it pushed open a little, allowing more light to enter her dark room. She sat up, her fingers caressing the bare mattress below her as she forced a welcoming smile. It wasn't that she was unhappy or annoyed by Toby's presence, of course not - it was just the ache in her head that almost pulsated around her skull as she sat up.

"Hey you, no, I'm actually asleep," she teased softly, stifling her chuckle as she pulled her knees up close to her chest. It was always so cold in this house.

"Oh, should I go?" Toby replied much softer than before, already pulling away from the doorframe and descending back into the hallway.

Lyra rolled her eyes and scrunched up her brows. "Go?" she repeated, tilting her head to the side a little. The pain vibrated around her head, squeezing her skull and holding her brain captive. The pain was only temporary. "What's wrong?" she asked after a beat, wanting to capture his attention before he disappeared quietly down the creaky hall. Silence loomed over the two of them as Toby glanced back at Lyra, his brows twisted in concern as his fingers fiddled with the hem of his shirt anxiously.

"Did he-he-h... he hh-hurt you bad?" Toby finally spoke, those words so harsh despite the innocence in his voice. His words weighed heavy, so heavy even that her shoulders dropped a little at the question. Toby shouldn't have seen that, admittedly it was her fault for bringing them home so late.

So, with a little scoff, she shook her head softly although instinctively, her hand raised against the little bump on her head. It had stopped bleeding, thankfully, but the cut and bruise still felt fresh and raw. "No," she sounded convincing. "See? I'm fine." Lyra lied through her teeth, no, she wasn't fine.

Toby wasn't convinced and before he spoke, a grunt coming from their parents room frightened him closer toward Lyra's bed. She outstretched her arms out toward him a little, accepting him and acting as a barrier for any of his worries and fears. "He's asleep," Lyra reassured him and herself, her voice nothing but a whisper and Toby quietly climbed onto her bed. When did Toby get so big? A lump in her throat formed just looking at him.

His brown eyes darted toward her outstretched arms and he hesitated before slowly leaning his body against her own. It wasn't a proper hug, oh dear, no, Toby was too big for those now apparently but Lyra was satisfied to have him close to her regardless. Only if it were nothing but a shoulder.

-

Now, obviously we are aware that Lyra died in a car crash and I just HC that she reason she swerved and crashed into that tree was because she saw Slender on the road and it startled her so much. Toby always thought that it were a deer or something she tried to avoid - he knew how much she loved her animals.

-

"So, anyway, I told Abby that Jason was obviously just going after her because its Jason, he goes after everyone in school! But Abby didn't believe me and now she's all upset and mad at everyone but not Jason for breaking her heart?" Lyra groaned, hands gripped securely around the steering wheel as she vented away to her younger brother who sat behind her in the passenger seat. He was always a good listener and Lyra secretly knew he loved hearing all this gossip. For a brief moment, she glanced at the rear view mirror to Toby. He was exceptionally quiet today, arms crossed over his chest as he gazed aimlessly out the window. Her lips pursed at the sight, curiosity at what could possibly be plaguing her brother's mind? "Hey, you listening?" she asked, shooting occasional glances between the road and the brunette in the back.

Toby's brows furrowed for a moment, almost in irritation before his gaze softened upon connecting with Lyra. It wasn't often her looked at her in such a way and she raised a brow slightly, watching as closely as she could while also focusing on the road ahead.

The road ahead was quiet, no traffic, just them and the forest that surrounded them. The faint mumble of the radio, Lyra's music of course - Paramore more notably playing.

"Yeah," Toby choked out slowly, clearing his throat and shuffling in his seat as he tried to rearrange his thoughts and remember what Lyra was even blabbering about prior. She knew he were lying though and narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, although she were just teasing.

"Liar," she pointed an index finger up at him before chuckling a short chuckle. Toby's lip curled a little at the corner but other than that, he remained quiet. Lyra knew Toby wasn't himself, not anymore, sure he was getting older and moodier - but his mental health played a lot into that too.

"I'm ssorry, j-just thinking about th-"

"What the fuck?!"

The smell of gas burned within his nostrils as he awoke to nothing but a fuzzy haze. Whatever the fuck happened, he wasn't sure, but now the car was flipped upside down. He blinked once, twice, trying to make sense of things as he glanced up. His blood coated the interior roof of the car, shit he must've cut his head up pretty bad - thankfully he couldn't feel shit though. The radio was still playing, filling the silence as the indicators ticked and the car groaned with each move Toby made.

"You are the only exception, you are the only exception~" the radio continued to play Paramore and sat atop the roof was Lyra's IPod that was still connected.

"Lyra-" Toby grumbled groggily as he went to reach out to the tuffs of blonde that poked out from beside the airbag. His seatbelt, still secured, restricted him and he fought against it for a moment as his main focus was on his sister. "Lyra, speak to me-" he grumbled through gritted teeth as his hands helplessly began to find the buckle of his belt, clicking it out and dropping him down onto the roof of the car with a loud thud. He could feel the air thickening around him as he tried to navigate around the carnage, upside down to help his sister. His heart was beating a million beats per second as he army crawled as close as he could to Lyra, the whole bonnet of the car practically enveloping a tree in a cold, metallic hug.

"Lyra," he repeated through gritted teeth, holding his breath at the thought of being alone out here in a wrecked car, his anxiety clawing at his very skin as he slowly craned his head around to the drivers seat. "Please talk to me, please-" he begged softly, hand reaching out slowly to brush a tuff of her blonde hair away from her face.

Lyra remained motionless, unresponsive and Toby hoped and begged and prayed to any God that perhaps she was just unconscious. "Wake up, Lyra, come on- you have to wake up now-" he began, his shaky hand making its way to her shoulder to shake her softly. The sister was limp and only moved softly from his violent shaking.

Her head was pressed against the airbag, her blood crimson red compared to the white of the bag. He could hear the insane amount of blood gushing from her and onto the pedals below her which made him almost heave. With one final push on her shoulder, her head fell toward his direction and her blonde hair fell down from her face, exposing the horror before him.

Her face, her beautiful face, untouched one side and her skull caved in on the other. The brain matter that ran down her face, her eye that was almost bulging out from her socket. The inside of her skull was empty, the rest of her brain had slipped out and fallen down her shoulder and torso. Her mouth hung agape, her other intact eye half lidded but her iris still enlarged in the shock she endured before the crash. Her torso was also caved in but her ribs poked out through her skin, exposing her vital organs through her blood soaked, cotton tank top.

Toby could only scream as he scrambled back into the passenger seat, desperately trying to get away from his sister. His hands grabbed helplessly at anything that could push him further away from Lyra, his fingers grazing the glass beneath him and slicing his skin open. His screaming was interrupted by the sudden urge to vomit as he clamped a hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to stop the flow of acid, although it were already spewing past his blood fingertips. Choking and spluttering on the warmth of his vomit, he hacked up and spat out the rest of the taste that remained in his mouth before clutching a handful of his clothing within the fist of his hand.

"No, no, no, please, Lyra, no-" he sobbed helplessly against hitched breaths, trying to make sense of this nightmare. That perhaps this wasn't real, it couldn't be because how could he live without her? So, slowly, plucking up any courage he could find, he crept back toward Lyra and gently caressed her cheek. She was still warm. "Stop messing, Lyra, you can- you can- can- can get up now! Wake up! Wake the fuck up!" he was yelling at the corpse, shaking her violently before collapsing onto her lap. He didn't care about the blood nor brain, he wanted her to hug him again.

Toby cried into her lap, taking her arm and forcing it around him as he cuddled her corpse. Laying there for hours until a passer-by came across them.

-

Alright, you guys have the feels?! Now, back to the ask. After this traumatic event, how would Toby feeling seeing someone that looked like Lyra? And, oof, punch in the gut, this person also having the exact same personality? Yikes.

At first, he wouldn't believe it. He would either think its an hallucination or that he's dreaming because he knows that she is dead, shit, he saw it himself. Honestly, at first I think he'd be a little angry because it's like all that grief and trauma came and just slapped him right there and then.

He'd accuse this person and lash out, saying things like. "You think this is funny?!" "What are you doing?!" Just really bitter and mean, mostly a mechanism to try and cope really. He'll think this is a whole ploy to try and trick him or something.

There'd also be a part of him that really craves being embraced by this person too, like he wants to caress their cheek and touch their hair. Like he genuinely cannot believe that this is real.

Then once that anger has simmered down, he'd bite back the tears. Stepping away and going nonverbal, disappearing for a couple months to try and 'forget.' He'd cry like a little bitch too, calling himself stupid for leaving in the first place.

Then he'd come back, either really dissociated or really attached to this person. He'd crave their attention, despite it being so bittersweet and he'll be angry if this person says something that Lyra wouldn't say, you know?

NOW

If we are talking about a VICTIM HE WAS SUPPOSED TO KILL LOOKING LIKE LYRA- shit, that's a different story.

At first he'd hesitated, the hatchet motionless above his head, mid-swing as she stares down at the girl before him. Crying, sobbing and he would literally stop working. He wouldn't know what to do, he would freeze and just stand there staring at her in disbelief. Then he'd drop the hatchet with a loud clutter and fall to his knees before the girl, his shoulders and body shaking as muffled sobs begin to emerge from him.

This girl, who nearly just fucking died, could do two things. Knock him the fuck out or comfort him thinking that maybe it would spare her life. I think depending on what she does, if she were to comfort him, Toby would probably either push her away or embrace her touch and cry into her lap. If she were to attempt to knock him out, I think it would stir him a little back to life and he'd quickly just jump into action in an attempt to control himself and the situation.

Now obviously, he will NOT murder her. No, he couldn't - so he grabs his things and leave. Which is so, so, so bad and could get him into so much shit with Slender but I think in that moment, he doesn't care.

[star-sim]

california dreamin' ☆ jay park

☆ non-idol! jay x fem! reader ☆ summary: in the final months of your relationship, jay reminisces the taste of beach waves, southern california, and you. ☆ genre: fluff, angst (ish), 80's au + timeskip, this is set in southern california, classic rich boy x alt girl ☆ warning(s)? brief mentions of poor parenting ☆ word count: 1.6k words ☆ this is my entry for @flwrstqr and @cupidhoons polaroid love event! based off of "california dreamin" by the mamas and papas, love the retro cali aesthetic

"Do you want to run away with me?"

Jay pulled the salted caramel apple lollipop away from his lips, the sour taste lingering on his tongue as its crystalline texture rolled against his tastebuds. His brows crashed together.

"What?" he eyed you quizzically, but you kept your eyes trained on the deep blue water that swayed against the coast.

"It's obvious that we're not wanted here," you said plainly.

Jay sucked in a sharp breath, his hand jerking out to clutch your shoulder. "That's not—"

"There's no point in denying it," you shot him a look. Your next words came out wry and bored, almost like you're annoyed, but Jay could tell that you were feeling the exact opposite. "You know damn well that your parents couldn't care less about you, and my old man's always too busy to remember whether or not I left the house."

The corner of your lips quirk up, a dry grin spreading across your face as you reached across to smack Jay's arm playfully. "No one will notice if we're gone."

Words bled onto his tongue, threatening to spill out, but Jay held them in. 

After all, you were correct.

Jay met you in the summer of 1987. You were both sixteen, and Jay recognized you from his sophomore chemistry class— how could he miss your smudged eyeliner and black nail polish? The difference this time was that you were the cashier at the surf shop next to his dad's private beach.

Maybe it was the way you chewed pink bubblegum boredom, giving him a deadpan expression as he spluttered out your name, or maybe it was the fact that even in ninety degree Southern California weather, you still managed to wear a black bikini top with skulls and rhinestones on it, but Jay found himself frequenting that surf shop a little too much that summer.

Yes, it was his fourth time coming into this surf shop in one afternoon. 

Yes, he didn't need to take his time looking at each and every shell necklace on the display next to the cash register. 

Yes, he knew all about surfboards and most definitely did not need to ask for your assistance.

Yes, he knew that you were staring at the water droplets rolling down his chest as he ran his hand through his wet hair, his sun-kissed skin glistening under the golden sunlight.

Yes, he knew was staring at your bikini top, but any man in his position would do the same. 

And yes, he knew that you knew that he knew this.

That didn't stop Jay, though.

If there was something that his absent father was able to do for him, it was to teach him to never have shame. That's why Jay shamelessly walked into that surf shop every day, just to see you.

It took a few (multiple) tries before you agreed to go on a date with him. He brought you flowers, necklaces, rings, handbags, all kinds of luxury items, but you ignored him each time. 

It wasn't until Jay noticed the bracelet on your wrist— it had a frayed tassel and seashells of different sizes, some of them chipped and others burned by the sun— that he realized what he should bring you instead of expensive gifts.

Alas, a clumsily-made bracelet composed of mismatched seashells that was just a little too big for your wrist. When Jay presented it to you, a proud grin on his face, it must have been the first time that he'd ever seen you smile.

Since the summer of 1987, you and Jay agreed to keep your relationship secret, because people always had stuff to say. You were going strong, and what made summer the best was that you could freely love your boyfriend without the pondering eyes of your peers.

Two years later, it was the summer of 1989, and you and Jay were now sitting on the ledge before the beach. In a few weeks, summer would end, and you and Jay would be apart. But this time, apart for longer than you'd ever been. You were staying in California for university, but Jay's parents were sending him out of state.

Soon, it would be autumn, and you would have to say goodbye to not just Jay crawling through your bedroom window, sneaking out to the local beachside diner, slipping love notes into each other's lockers, and making out behind the bleachers, but also running your fingers through his chlorine-bleached hair and feeling the warmth of Jay's body as the two of you napped in the sun.

Jay looked at your face. Under the orangey sunset, he could see the light reflecting off your eyes. With the scent of peach in the air, and the glow of your skin, Jay's chest felt heavy.

How could he possibly leave you? How could he leave you when you tasted like California?

Yeah, it would be hard to say goodbye to you.

It would be hard to say goodbye to you, and nobody else.

Jay's eyes fell to the bandaid on your palm.

He knew you'd think the same about him.

There was a reason that you and Jay got on so well.

For one, it seemed like Jay was the last thing on his parent's to-do list. His only purpose was to carry on the family name and live out their legacy. But if neglecting their son and being absent in his life was their legacy, he didn't want any part in it. There was a reason that Jay spent every day of summer at the beach, not at home.

As for you, Jay hated your dad. He'd never forget all the times you ran to him, tears and smudged eyeliner running down your cheeks. You insisted that you were okay, but Jay had to bite his tongue so hard that he bled to keep his mouth shut.

In a few weeks, Jay will be the Park family's heir studying out-of-state, and you'll be you from California. 

But for now, it was just Jay and you, sharing a lollipop at the beach, basking in the humid night air and listening to the waves.

You gave him another sly grin. You repeated your question. "Do you want to run away with me?"

You always liked to smile like that when you were upset about something; it was your way of concealing your feelings, but Jay knew you better than anyone.

Jay's thought about running away before. Many times, actually. And he's thought about running away hand-in-hand with you more times than he could remember.

Jay slid his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. He pressed his lips to your forehead.

"You know we can't," he said against your forehead, though the way that he held you close said otherwise.

"Says who?" you hummed, resting your head on his strong shoulders, taking in the scent of seaweed, sea salt, and Jay's faint cologne. 

Jay stayed silent. He knew that answer to that question. 

Says no one.

"Seeeee?" you dragged your syllable, a cute lilt in your voice. You slithered your arm around Jay's torso, poking his side. "Nothing— no one— is stopping us."

Jay chuckled, squeezing your waist twice. "Where would we go if we ran away?"

With you gently clutching his jaw, pressing wet kisses along his skin, you breathed, "Anywhere we want."

You cupped his cheek. In the winter, his skin was paler, but in the summer he was a golden honey tan. His cheeks, as a result of being in the sun nearly every day for the past three months, were littered with blotches of brown, red, and pink. With a gentle finger, you slowly dragged it against his skin, connecting each blemish to each other with invisible lines.

"What about Houston?" Jay rasped, leaning into your touch. "I know you've always wanted to go there."

"Well, where do you want to go?"

Jay thought for a moment. "Either up north to Seattle— or maybe London— What about NYC?."

You stared at him quizzically, your eyes narrowing and your lips turned downward; you always did that when you were hiding something. 

"What?" Jay nudged you.

"I dunno," you shrugged. "I feel like those places are just so uncharacteristic for you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

You shrugged again, your bottom lip jutting out. "I thought you were a sunshine typa guy." Your eyes flickered up to him. "All those places are so gloomy."

"I mean," your boyfriend sucked in a sharp breath. "I guess. Maybe I just want some change. California is beautiful, but...."

He trailed off.

"But?"

"I want to explore more, yanno? Get to know places outside of California."

You didn't press any further.

The rest of the night was quiet, only the taste of disappointment, longing, and the salted caramel apple lollipop lingering on your tongues.

This was all but a memory to Jay.

He gazed outside the window, tuning out the voice of yet another woman in his living room.

Jay ended up studying in Seattle, just as his parents had wanted. It's been years since he left California. Him and you ended up breaking up on good terms for the sake of distance, and he eventually lost contact with you. He met a few other women, tried out dating them, but it never ended up working out.

There was no place else like California.

It seemed like everywhere else, all the leaves were brown, and the sky was gray. Dreary, gloomy, and full of clouds, so unlike the sunny and golden California.

It took Jay a long time to realize that the reason he longed for California again was not because of the constant smell of sunscreen or sound of synth music pervading the streets. It wasn't the laughter that seemed to bounce off the walls or the vibrant color-grade over every memory in his mind.

He longed for California because he longed for you.

You were California. 

And for a while, he'd be dreaming of California. 

[writingjourney]

don't ask me about secondo ever or you will hear me rambling out a whole character analysis for two hours because I am DEDICATED to this man, he is my wife.

EDIT – Okay you did it.

Some SFW Secondo HCs:

had to deal with the highest expectations out of the brothers, being older than Terzo and a lot younger than Primo it was clear that his Papacy would be of importance and Nihil expected him to excel while not necessarily providing the necessary guidance (especially when Terzo turned out to be more rebellious in nature)

being Nihil’s “favorite” did not come with all the benefits one might suspect, no more attention, no more love or care, only more work and pressure within the clergy

outside of the family many people never realised how he suffered from this neglect and exploitation and therefore do not perceive his trauma as that, often mistake his character for being cold/aloof when really he is just masking extremely hard and trying to appear unaffected and professional

while he was prepared for his future role, he quickly realised that his needs weren’t of importance, only his work and his rise within the clergy and so he learned that it is better not to ask and appear weak (so they don’t consider him unfitting)

while Primo did the best he could to replace their absent father, the clergy’s demands on the future Papa never allowed him to be quite the father figure that he wished he could be for his younger brothers – Secondo had to learn fast how to take care of himself and how to protect his younger brother from the clergy’s influences

despite detesting the clergy’s inner mechanisms, Secondo is a man of duty and has accepted that he was put on this path in Lucifer’s name

just before and after becoming Papa he quickly learned that bringing in own ideas just leads to dismissal and that being Papa made him a vessel for the ideals of the clergy which he grew to detest (“I’m a marionette”), also quickly learned that it is wiser not to rebel against them

this made him worried for Terzo who already had a lot of plans for his own Papacy that weren’t in line with the clergy’s agenda

through it all he found a lot of solace in his faith, is the most spiritual out of all the Papas with a special fondness for the modern symbolism of Baphomet that represents balance and wholeness (“And he's as macho as he is connected to the softer, more feminine part of himself” X), something that means a lot to him who is caught in a lot of turbulent emotions, this spirituality and also his high level of literacy is pretty evident in his music

therefore: best spiritual guide/advisor out of all the Papas, knows the right quotes and the right words to provide comfort and reassurance to bring you back on your path, way more empathetic than people give him credit for based on his cool demeanour, even though he is someone who quietly reassures you and uses a more reason based approach

because of all of this he has grown to be a very measured man who will always weigh reason and emotions against each other, rarely will you see him lose his temper on the outside, being in control of his emotions is important to him because that way he can have a sense of power he lacked when he was younger (also means he cannot let loose and relax easily, this man is TENSE and his shoulders hate him for it)

if someone wrongs him that person will get the cold shoulder and honestly, being the object of his scorn is worse, disappointing him is worse than his anger and he never forgets anything, this man has a whole drawer of receipts

doesn’t hate anyone as much as himself, the top spot is however taken by his neglectful, uncaring father who never knew how to act like a parent

if he does lose his temper it will usually not be on behalf of himself but someone else he truly cares about (his brothers, his lover, his protégés etc) and even so his anger is not the loud, yelling or violent kind but the kind that sends chills down your spine (his looks alone can kill and he finds the perfect sharp words to hurt you)

soft-spoken (not quite as much as Primo though), very calculated and minimalist in what he shows on the outside but his words usually hit where and how they’re supposed to (just listen to his voice on Infest and some of his speeches on stage, it’s quiet and haunting)

very much a quality over quantity sort of person – good food, good drinks, nice clothes he can wear for a long time, simple luxuries that go a long way and add to his comfort

big earth sign energy when it comes to his habits, works hard, has high expectations, good with money, particular about how he does things but generous with those he loves

good luck trying to get this man to open to up to you, he will not overshare and you have to pry every bit of more intimate personal information out of him, especially about his childhood

however, he is a very willing and patient teacher if you want to learn about his special interests or happen to sit in one of his classes, especially if you show potential and interest

self-sabotages a lot, especially when it comes to romantic relationships, for flings he avoids anything too intimate which extends to his preferred sex positions as well as kissing, when he notices he could really like someone he will find reasons why it doesn’t work (commitment issues), scared to be hurt and also scared to inflict pain and false hopes on someone else

when he does fall for someone and overcomes his fears he is the most loyal and supportive partner, you will be surprised by how loving and gentle he is with you, by how romantic he is (not in the cheesy way but in that soft, caring way who wants to love forever), pays close attention to your needs and preferences and never forgets anything

love languages: shows love with acts of service, gift giving and also quality time, likes to receive physical touch (loves to cuddle but is hesitant to initiate, would never admit how much he loves kisses to his face and hand holding but you can tell after some time), quality time and words of affirmation (so many times until he finally believes them)

[pdriesta]

CHAPTER ONE

“how can i move on when i’m still in love with you”

genres — angst, angst, and more angst. suggestive.

word count — 2k

summary — two years ago, pedri shattered his childhood best friend's heart by ending their relationship. he was her first kiss, first boyfriend, and first love. now, as she prepares to start fresh while pursuing her master's degree, pedri reappears with a single mission: to mend the heart he once broke. can she trust him again, or will their past define their future?

an — repost! i accidentally deleted my blog so before i release anything new, i’m gonna repost my series’s. if this is your first time reading, let me know if you’re interested in a taglist!

masterlist

as soon as pedri made it back into the locker room after the win over espanyol, he showered quickly, his thoughts already racing ahead. the celebrations disrupted his usual routine, but that didn’t stop him from meeting his family in the corridor outside the visitors' room.

“pedrito!” his mother’s voice was a balm to his buzzing nerves. he found his little family draped in his jerseys and entered his mom’s loving embrace. his father and brother, fernando, joined in shortly after. the adrenaline was still rushing through his veins, and he could not shake the happiness of achieving one of his dreams.

“congratulations, my boy,” his father said, kissing the top of his head. fer squeezed the back of his neck lovingly, the familiar touch grounding him.

the embrace was interrupted by his mother’s ringtone blaring from her phone.

“one second.” she pulled away and kissed his cheek before pulling her phone out. her lips broke into a smile seeing who was calling. “it’s lucia. she texted me earlier asking you to call her so she can congratulate you and make you some goxua when you come home.” his mom rattled off about her best friend before walking away to answer her phone.

pedri was unfazed at the mention of his mother’s best friend but couldn’t help his mind wandering to her daughter once again.

fer is pedri’s best friend; of course, he knew his brother wasn’t over her. however, he gave up on meddling because both of you failed to bite the bucket and tell each other that even after all this time, you’re still deeply in love with each other.

“i need to do some marketing and campaigns for next season, so maybe in a week? you could stay until then if you want,” pedri tried to offer nonchalantly, but he didn’t want to admit how lonely his apartment feels without his family and you.

“fer, you can’t. remember you promised tía that you would help y/n move,” their father spoke up before grabbing his wife’s hand as she re-approached them.

pedri’s eyes widened at his father’s words. “move? where? since when?”

fer looked at his dad with eyes mirroring pedri’s. no one was supposed to know, especially not pedri.

“cariño,” their mom squeezed her husband’s arm before clearing her throat, “yes, but she told us not to tell you. she’s moving to start her master’s degree on the mainland.”

wow, was all pedri thought. he always knew you wanted to further your learning with a master’s degree, but he couldn’t believe time had flown by so quickly. it seemed like just yesterday he held you while you cried, waiting for university acceptances. it broke him when his family attended your graduation and forwarded photos with you. that smile, one that was permanently ingrained in his memory, even though the last time he saw you, that same smile was absent from your face.

“that’s amazing. i always knew she could do it,” his head dropped with a smile.

“she’s actually—” his mom started before thinking over her decision to mention this information. seeing the love that’s ever so present in his eyes, she knew what she had to do. “she’s going to school here in barcelona. she got accepted to the computer engineering program at uab.”

his family could practically see a light bulb brighten over his head. he remembered his words from two years ago and the reason he made the decision to break up with you: the distance. even after all that, he felt the thousands of miles slowly vanish at the idea of you being in the same city as him.

maybe, just maybe, he can allow himself to indulge in the idea of being close to you again. that idea he has had almost every day and night since breaking your heart.

his heart is racing like it’s a game day and the ref is about to blow the whistle.

he finds himself thinking of your time together. you were always so gentle with him, caring for him when he was exhausted from games and training. he was so willing to ruin that, thinking it was the best for both of you.

“everybody keep it down,” pedri said over the voices of his teammates, his closest friends since he moved to barcelona.

“can you hurry? today’s training killed me,” alejandro groaned while slumping onto the already crowded couch.

“hermano, what could be so urgent that you sent an SOS to the group chat?” it was gavi’s turn to speak up.

pedri groaned. if they would stop their questions, maybe he could get there. he looked to his brother for help. fer chuckled before standing on the other side of his brother’s tv.

“okay everybody listen up before my brother bursts a blood vessel,” fer said. pedri rolled his eyes at his brother’s words. he knew what the impromptu meeting was for and was truly just there for moral support.

“i brought you guys here for some advice. you might remember my girl—” he stopped himself. “my ex-girlfriend from two years ago,” he started.

“the one you horribly messed up with?” ansu spoke up.

“the one you have moped over for the past two years,” fermin chimed in.

“the one we thought you’d never get over?” ferran added with a teasing smile.

“thank you for that,” pedri said sarcastically. “yes, my y/n. she has moved to barcelona from tenerife for her master’s degree, and seeing as we broke up because of distance, i think now would be the best time to reach out to her and maybe see if there is hope for us,” he finished and looked down at his friends’ smiles from the couch.

“which leads me to,” he continued and turned his attention to his tv, where he connected his phone.

operation: get y/n back

laughter erupted throughout the room, but not out of judgment; they all knew pedri would be the type of person to create a thorough presentation on how to get the love of his life back.

“you actually made a presentation?” gavi asked, still chuckling.

“of course he did,” fer said, shaking his head with a smile. “pedri, always the planner.”

pedri ignored his friends and puffed his chest while continuing the plan he had turned over in his head for days since he found out his girl was in the same city as him.

“listen, i need all of your help. i’ve mapped out the best places to take her, the right things to say, and even backup plans in case things go wrong.”

“wow, you really went all out,” alejandro said, impressed.

“this is serious, guys. she’s the one. i know it,” pedri said, determination clear in his voice.

“we’re with you, hermano,” ferran said, clapping him on the shoulder. “let’s get her back.”

“first things first,” pedri said, clicking to the next slide on his presentation. “we need to start with a casual meetup. something that doesn’t scream ‘i’m still in love with you’ but more ‘i’m happy you’re here.’”

“a coffee shop,” ansu suggested. “neutral ground, easy conversation.”

“and then what?” fermin asked.

“then, i remind her of the good times we had, but without making it seem like i’m living in the past,” pedri replied. “and i show her that i’m serious about making things work this time.”

“and if she’s moved on?” gavi asked.

pedri paused for a moment, then shook his head. “i don’t think she has. i saw the way she looked at me the last time we spoke. there’s still something there. i just need to show her that i’ve grown and that we can make it work.”

“you’ve got our support, pedri,” ferran said. “let’s make this happen.”

“thanks, guys,” pedri said, feeling a surge of confidence. “i will get her back, even if it’s the last thing i do.”

“did you leave anything? any books? some vitamins? any medicines?” your mom bombarded you with questions, the same ones she has asked every day in the past week you’ve been in your dorm at UAB.

“mami, i am okay. stop worrying. i just got out of a lecture. i was planning to get something to eat.” you could not be bothered to make yourself anything to eat. your dorm has a shared kitchen in the lobby, but you hated going down there midday while everyone was there.

UAB was nothing like your old campus. it doubled in size to compensate for the doubled population as well. you’re not sure you would ever get used to your new environment.

this wasn’t your first time in barcelona, but being here for a week was nothing like your visit from years ago when you came to his games.

nope. don’t think of him. you vowed to yourself the day after the league title you were done mourning your first relationship. you got accepted to your dream school and program. you had your family, and you would get friends. barcelona would have new memories attached to it, and the boy that broke your heart would not be a part of it.

“okay, make sure you eat a good meal, mi amor. don’t stay up again studying, please. your father and i love you,” your mom kissed through the phone as you said your goodbyes.

you loved your mom, but you inherited her tendency to worry. no matter how much you prepared for your test, you still found yourself studying for hours into the night.

you dropped your bag at the front of your room and looked into the mirror. after one week of schooling, you felt drained. you knew how vigorous your program would be but never imagined not having even a moment to breathe. you closed your eyes and took a moment to yourself before hearing a knock at your door.

you furrowed your eyes. you didn’t know anyone in barcelona yet and did not order food, so who could be knocking at your door? you decided to ignore the knocks and continued to take off your flannel, leaving you in your tank top.

that was until the knocking continued. you huffed, it must be a neighbor. there was no one else who would be knocking.

you grew annoyed at the knocking and quickly grabbed the knob without looking at the peephole.

your mistake.

you never imagined the person in front of you. the familiar brown eyes that looked at you. the boy who broke your heart, the one you haven’t seen since the day he shattered your heart on your doorstep.

next

© PDRIESTA 2024

[liketwoswansinbalance]

On the Subject of "All-Kinds-of-Fur:"

Link to the original Brothers Grimm fairy tale for reference. It's basically a variant of "Cinderella."

Also, if I have the inspiration for it, this could become part of a series, set during the peaceful days before the prequel events. Thus, if anyone would like to send in a request for the School Master brothers' reactions to a classic fairy tale or an SGE one, however obscure it may be, I might write it!

⸻

[Rhian enters the tower chamber looking distressed while Rafal is grading fourth-year students' theses on treachery, taboos, and the natural lines of family, that, when wrongly crossed, drive people insane and disrupt the fragile human psyche.

For an example of this so-called phenomenon (stolen from the plot of Hamlet), imagine a scenario as follows: a wife marries her husband's brother after her husband dies. While they may not be blood relations, this scenario is still off and rather strange, even if modern times could make more allowances for such a thing to occur and be socially-acceptable.]

Rhian: My fourth-year Class Captain had to run away whilst on her questing assignment!

Rafal: [absently, without looking up from the papers, slashing through lines in bloodred ink] Mm, shame. [He sips his tea.]

Rhian: [tries to smile but it looks uneasy and he begins to pace with anxiety.] No! It's... good... I suppose. [He cringes.] If she hadn't run into the Woods last night, she would've had to marry her father!

Rafal: [spits out his tea.] Who's her father? Not one of my graduates, surely. Even my curriculum standards rise above that, that rot.

Rhian: No, it's not one of yours. Simply some brazen king. I just... I wish I could do something. She was one of my best students. [He sighs dejectedly.] But I doubt the Pen will tolerate an intervention. We just have to let her tale play out.

Rafal: Well, is it worth working yourself up over? She got away. Maybe it's you who's too invested in your students’ lives. They can fend for themselves, you know... well, probably. Actually, some Evergirls can be dimwitted. [He pauses.] How about this?: you always have the option of throwing her a lovely funeral.

Rhian: Oh, forget it. I don’t expect you to understand. [He throws up his arms, flustered, and exits the room.]

[Rafal observes that his brother still looks rather sad. In fact, Rhian grows more worried with each passing day as the Storian writes of the poor girl's travails as a forlorn scullery maid in hiding.]

⸻

[Several months later, three days and three nights after each night of the ball and banquet in the Evergirl's fairy tale:]

Rhian: [elatedly, swelling with hope] Rafal! Rafal! Have you heard? My Class Captain might live to see her Happily Ever After! The young king is going to save her! She’s danced with him three nights in a row and he would take no other partner. Though, each night, she slips away and conceals herself in that hideous, asymmetrical coat. You've seen the Pen's illustrations, haven't you? And last night, she wore a dress that glistened like the stars! I just knew the Beautification Practice While Impoverished classroom simulations would pay off! I knew it! It's the sheer magic of what a little soap and water can achieve!

Rafal: [not listening to Rhian's enthusiastic raving] Uh-huh.

Rhian: [finally looks at Rafal more closely after his lackluster response.] Say, Rafal? Where did that patchwork blanket come from? Is it new? I feel like I’ve seen it before. Somewhere... [he muses.]

Rafal: [shrugs without looking up from his book.] Nowhere. You’re not still… sad about that tale, are you? It’s old news. And the Storian's been still about that tale for a good few hours. Maybe it'll be scrapped, storybook and all.

Rhian: [grits his teeth in frustration] Yes. I know. You weren't listening.

Rafal: [expressionlessly] Wasn't I? Regardless, Happily Ever Afters don't concern me.

Rhian: [tongue-tied, attempting to come up with a fitting retort] An-and, you need a good douse of soap and water too. You've got... soot and—is that walnut oil all over your hands?

Rafal: [rolls his eyes.]

⸻

[The next day:]

[Rhian devours the completed tale in one sitting and notices a discrepancy he assumes is a continuity error by the Storian: the vagabond princess disguised in the role of a scullery maid returned to her little cubbyhole below stairs to find that her coat, which she’d left in the shadows, had disappeared, seemingly stolen.

Perhaps, a creature of the night had made off with it, desperate to reclaim its skin.

Or perhaps, there had been an intervention.

Thus, the princess was forced to show her true, shining self to the king’s men hunting her down. In her gown, that gleamed like the stars, much like a bride's.

And Rhian has a feeling he knows why this Ending came to be.]

⸻

[A week later:]

Rhian: [enters, humming about wedding bells to himself.]

Rafal: You look well. Did something go right?

Rhian: Yes! Something nice came in the post today, brother. My former student and the young, foreign king have invited us to their wedding. And look! Even you got an invitation, too. [He laughs to himself and makes a face of mock fright, lowering his voice and gnarling his hands into claws.] Whooo, they probably didn't want the Evil brother to curse them during a christening someday, so you'll probably get a golden plate and sweetmeats to spare at the wedding feast in order to "appease" you.

Rafal: [glares at him.]

Rhian: [drops the act.] Ahem. Anyway, we’ve got to pack for spring in Altazarra. Bring some non-black, festive clothes, if you have any. Oh, and bring a less ugly coat than that scruffy old blanket, will you?

Rafal: I’m not attending. I don’t like inane balls or sentimental Ever Afters, but have fun.

Rhian: Are you sure about that?

Rafal: Positively.

Rhian: [holds up an illustration of the princess' cubbyhole from the tale he’s been scrutinizing for the last few days.] Then what’s this shadow the Storian’s inked in darker than the rest? It looks quite a lot like a human form.

Rafal: Trick of the light. Just be glad Evil didn’t prevail this time, and call it a day. My side will win next time to be sure.

Rhian: [smirks knowingly] I guess I owe my peace of mind and sanity to a thief then.

Rafal: [deadpans] Run along, Ever. Pip-pip. You've got a wedding to attend, have you not?

[not-coldwater]

Am I Yours?

hi!!!! my first fic. not proofread so sorry if this is ass. if y’all have any requests please send them!! gn! reader, angst with comfort, misunderstandings, cheating??, platonic tighnari

You were one of the many people infatuated with the illustrious magician of Fontaine, Lyney. Out of the crowd of people fawning over him, he chose to devote his heart to you! He would always surprise you with gifts, shower you with affection, and be your shoulder to cry on. Your relationship was so perfect, and you never wanted it to change. Life, however, was not kind enough to let things stay that way.

Lyney was faithful to his Father, and although he didn’t enjoy the mission he was sent in, he still proceeded with it. His mission was to court a high ranking officer of a bandit group who had stolen some sensitive documents in order to find out where they had hidden them. He hadn’t told you since he believed that it would be a fairly quick mission.

Lyney had been absent the last week, so you had began to worry about him. You knew he was in the Fatui, so you had immediately began to think the worst possible outcomes. You had begun walking to the Court of Fontaine in order to cool your nerves, but to your relief you saw Lyney! You wanted to run to him and ask how he’s been, but you quickly notice that he’s with someone else. You move in closely to try to listen on their conversation, but you hide out of his line of sight. “Mon chéri, you look so stunning today. I can’t believe the archons have blessed me with someone so exquisite,” Lyney says without any hesitation. Surely you misheard him, right? Lyney grabs their hand and leaves a gentle kiss on top of it. You begin to shake. This isn’t your Lyney, right? Your Lyney would never say this to anyone else, your Lyney who would declare his love for you every night as you held him close, your Lyney who would bandage you up if you scraped your knee on the sidewalk, your Lyney who said he would never leave your side. Your eyes begin to blur with tears forming, but his next words cause your heart to feel as though he had personally shot you with one of his pyro infused arrows. “I love you more than anyone on Teyvat, and not even the archons could cause me to leave your side”. You run all the way home, sobbing violently. You made sure to stay out of Lyney’s vision as you fled.

Another week had passed, and Lyney was almost done with his mission. He couldn’t wait to see you and hold you in his arms. Every word he said to his target felt so vile that he wanted to vomit. As soon as this was over he would treat you to everything you could ever want. You on the other hand we’re a mess. You barely took care of yourself, only doing the bare minimum to keep yourself alive. You hadn’t left your house since the day you saw Lyney with that person. You were curled up in a blanket that was made for you by your old friend, Tighnari. You figured that he would know how to help ease your pain a bit, so you decided to take a weeklong trip to visit him in Gandharva Ville.

When Lyney was finally finished with that mission of his, he immediately went to look for you. He used his copy of your key to get into your house, only to see it empty. He asks your neighbors if they had seen you anywhere, and to no avail, he got no answers from any of them. He looked at all of your favorite spots in Fontaine, but there was still no sight of you. He decided to call it quits for the day, and when he went home he was greeted to a letter on his bed.

When you arrived in Sumeru, Tighnari was stunned to say the least. He quickly brought you inside. You had explained everything while shaking as if you were a wet kitten on the side of the road. He held onto you as you sobbed your eyes out. As soon as you had started to calm down a little bit, he began to say, “You can stay for as long as you need. I will always be here for you. You should write him a letter about everything that you saw and how you feel. “ You nod along, still shaken up. “Make sure you tell him that if i get my hands on him, he will not see tomorrow morning,” he says playfully, but continues with, “And I will be taking care of you until you get better. You’re important to me”. “T-thank you,” you quietly say through sniffles. “Let’s get some rest, yeah? It’s pretty late, and by the looks of it you desperately need sleep,” Tighnari says while prepping you some herbal tea.

Lyney is distressed upon seeing the contents of your letter. Every day for the past week, he’s been visiting your house, hoping you would return home. When you do finally return home, he is beyond relieved to see you’re not hurt, at least physically that is. Upon hearing him at your door, you immediately tense up. You stay quiet as you hear the turning of the key the door. You curl up on the couch, once again engulfed in your blanket, trying to make yourself disappear as if you were in one of Lyney’s magic tricks. He makes his way in, and upon seeing you so distraught, his heart aches. He walks toward you, but you quietly whimper, “P-please just g-g-go away”, you say as your eyes begin to get glossy. Lyney can’t begin to fathom the guilt he feels upon seeing your reaction to him. “Mon amour, I can explain,” he begins to state, slightly trembling with the fear of losing you being the only thing on his mind. “What you saw was me on a mission, I felt so nauseous saying those things to someone that wasn’t you, my love. You are the only person I would ever need. Please darling, I’m begging you to believe me. I’m so sorry for breaking your trust and hurting you,” and he begins to catch his breath. You sniffle, and an unbearable silence overcomes the room. Lyney is now a mess, sweating bullets and hands shaking. “I don’t think we will be the same. A-at least not for a while. It’s gonna take some time for me to trust you again,” you admit in a soft voice, a little calmer than before. Lyney tears up, “Thank you mon chéri, I promise I will do anything to make you feel safe with me again. For now, can I please just hold you?” he says with relief in his voice. You nod and hold your arms out. Slowly, but surely, things return to how they were, but with your trust in each other now increased tenfold.

[ripleylove]

Safe in my embrace.

requested by anonymous saying: I love your writing and no pressure. Would you be comfortable writing a story about reader protecting Don from Liv. You can have full creative control. I just need something to get my mind away from the ick. But like I said if you're not comfortable, no worries.

pairing: Dominik Mysterio x fem reader.

genre: fluff and a bit of angst.

summary: With Liv pulling her usual stunts,you finally had enough of her uncomfortable advances to Dominik,and you decided to teach her a lesson to protect your boyfriend.

warnings: the whole liv and dom storyline,mention of SA,reader fighting liv

A/N: I hate this storyline I hate this storyline I hate this storyline

(this is based on the raw events of july 1st also lets pretend dom won and rey didnt)

⋆ ˚｡⋆𔓘⭒๋࣭

It all started with that kiss.

You knew Dominik wasn't at fault in all of this,hell,he was the victim.

He was the one that didn't consent to this at all,he was the one who wasn't liking this one bit and he was the one being a victim of sexual assault from Liv.

And this got worse every single week.

This week though, you really had enough.

While watching Dominik and Rey's match backstage,you felt someone's shoulder colliding with yours,almost making you lose balance.

"What the fuck?" You said,trying to look for the culprit,that you quickly found.

In fact,in front of you,there was Liv Morgan with her championship belt slung over her shoulder,while wearing a "Daddy Dom shirt".

She turned to you and smirked,while waving her fingers in a 'goodbye' motion.

You were already raging,but now you just wanted to kick her ass.

Also,even her shirt pissed you off; and if tonight she dared to make one of her stupid moves on Dominik, you weren't going to hold back.

As the match your boyfriend had kept going,you suddenly hear the familiar "watch me",and you stood from your sit,ready to storm off in the ring to give her a good old beating.

Dominik slid out of the ring,and his father decided to take action,by kicking him in the back of the head.

Thanks to the kick,Dominik landed on Liv Morgan,making them fall on the floor while they had their arms wrapped around each other.

The panic in Dominik's was evident,and that was your last straw: you rushed out in the ring,ripping Liv off Dominik.

"Leave Dominik alone!" You shouted,while punching her face nonstop.

Everyone was shocked,even the commentators,that,in fact, gasped in the microphone.

"No way Liv is getting her ass beaten by Dominik's girlfriend!" Michael Cole said,and Corey Graves,that was here to take the place of the absent Pat McAfee,laughed loudly.

"I must say,that this wasn't on my 2024 bucket list,but I'm enjoying this!" Corey Graves said,while you still kept on slapping and kicking Liv,the whole scene being shown on the big screens.

Soon enough,medics and referees arrived to take you away from Liv,but you still weren't satisfied.

With one last slap,you got off her and went to Dominik,who won his match against Rey.

"This was-" He started,and he laughed to himself. "Definitely something".

You both laughed,and you continued: "It was deserved though, I hope she won't dare so assault you again,or else we all know what might happen. C'mere,baby."

You opened your arms,and he happily complied with a smile on his lips adorned with the iconic mustache.

"I love you,mami. Thank you for stopping all of this." He whispered,since you all were still in front of the cameras,and he embraced you even more tightly.

"It's nothing,love. Someone would have done it sooner or later,right?" You said and he laughed.

"Also,getting to beat her up was what I have been waiting since,if I'm not wrong,the king and queen of the ring tournament. So yeah,I hope she has learned her lesson,and if she hasn't,I won't hesitate to do the same thing I did today." You continued with a smirk on your face,and Dominik pulled away,giving you a chaste peck on your lips.

"You're right,mami. You always protect me,and I'ma do the same for you." He said while pulling you close to him. You smiled and said,

"That's right,remember,you'll always be safe in my embrace."

After this,you both celebrated his victory,with Liv Morgan still passed out on the floor,while you proudly held up your boyfriend's arm,just like a referee would do.

taglist: @stellakiddsblog @bibibi-tchx @p-mp @teenagedramaqueenlisa @thegalacticnacho091 @judgementdaysunshine

[mjrtaurus]

"Where's my other grandma?"

Gabe asks Crocodile this one day when they're reading together in the drawing room. He really shouldn't have been surprised. That particular query was bound to come up at some point, especially since Urpi's been dropping by. If this were a few months ago, he might have shut down or snapped at the boy, but Crocodile is not keen on repeating that mistake. But he also can't lie to his son.

"She passed away, hayati. She's been gone for a long time"

"Oh," he's quiet for a bit as he absent-mindedly tugs at the carpet for a minute "Did someone make a clone of her?"

Croc has to take a deep breath at that. It's not Gabe's fault in the slightest, but they really need to sit him and Gryphon down at some point and explain that regardless of what the Vegapunks cook up in their labs, cloning is not an undo-button for death. There are things and people that truly are lost for good. But that's besides the point.

"I highly doubt it. She died a long time ago and wasn't someone the World Government would have taken notice of ("at least not for that reason" is what's left unsaid)."

"Oh... what was she like?"

Hell if he knows. His mother perished before he had left the haze of infancy, and in a way that was slow and torturous. Of course he doesn't tell Gabe the last part but he's honest once more about being just as in the dark on the details as his son. Well, he did know some things.

"She had hair like mine. And there were patches of her skin that glimmered like jewels. I think they might have been fishman scales"

"Like ours?"

Ours? What could he possibly mean by that?

When he asks, Gabe climbs up on the couch and lifts his shirt sleeve so Crocodile can see the tiniest little patch of lime-green scales growing right under the transparent tube of green blood.

"You have some on your neck next to your bumpies. I saw them when you were carrying me to bed last night. We match! 😊"

(Gabe calls scutes 'bumpies' and I just find that really cute)

“… What… happened to her, Baba?” It’s asked cautiously. There’s something in Gabe that’s always felt uneasy and upset when thinking about this branch of the family tree. He can’t place it, but it all just feels sad.

And maybe that’s why he’s asking about it.

What can Crocodile even say? How can he even explain?

“Hayati… you know how Tayta loves me? How he’s there for me if I’m hurt or sick, or even if it’s just to be there?” Okay, strong start. Let’s hope the comparison he’s setting up actually works.

“Yeah?” Gabe says expectantly, star-bright eyes wide.

“My father- not Pops, just to be clear- wasn’t like that for my mother. He was… not nice to her. Did bad things to her. And to me. He… didn’t love either of us.” He spoke carefully, riding the line between not wanting to sugarcoat and not wanting to distress.

“When I was four, she got very sick… and he wouldn’t help her. One night I feel asleep next to her, and when I woke up… she didn’t. I never even knew her name.” He remembers the rattle of her breath, how her scales and scutes slowly but surely lost their iridescent luster, how her hair had thinned. How still she was… too still…

Gabe looked at him as if what he was saying was the most alien thing he’d ever heard. Crocodile lays a kiss on his brow, and holds him close.

The silence is heavy, but Gabe’s tears haven’t come just yet. He can tell from the quiet that his son is putting pieces of some bigger picture together.

“…Is that why Vang covers his eyes?” The boy asks, resting his head on his father’s shoulder. He sounds… sad.

“It’s part of it…” Crocodile sighs, carding his fingers through starlight silver hair. “Though not all.”

There’s more to Rocks D Xebec than being a horrible partner and father. Much, much more. But for tonight, that’s enough to chew on.

To divert the conversation, he looks over the little scutes and scales that had cropped up on Gabe’s arm. They were new. Very new. Possibly the cause for the irritable streak the child had been having these last few days. And the voracious appetite.

They are very uniform and healthy, like little plates of bright green armor. Crocodile remembers how his had come in a little wonky, with plenty of uneven edges. He takes it as a comfort, knowing Gabe was far healthier and happier than he had been at his age.

Come to think of it, Crocodile’s had only come in when he was sixteen. He imagines early life malnourishment and eventually running out of puberty blockers had something to do with it.

“They itch when they come in, don’t they?” He asks, scarred lips turned into a lopsided smile.

“They feel like feathers, ‘cept more.”

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

hey iit's me again! (can i be your 🌼 anon?)

Thoughts on yan!CEO with caretaker reader who is looking after his sick father (home service i dunno what's it called) and she does some little chores here and there casually. Yan!CEO is so used to seeing her around his mansion that it starts to feel natural along with his father pressuring him to get married because the father thinks he's nearing his end. So when the father really dies tragically (bcoz ✨taruma✨) he only sees reader as his salvation and he convinced that she'd look after him even though she didn't do anything significant with lot of effort.

Yandere! Hospital Chairperson x Caretaker! Reader

OOH MY FIRST ANON! Hi :3

Btw, forgive me, the CEO thing will be changed into something other than, well, CEO. My yandere! CEO is already taken! But, with the help of my friend, we got to a little discussion, and decided on a Hospital Chairperson. Why? You'll see hehe

Yandere! Hospital Chairperson name: Xavier

It's always Xavier.

"Xavier, can you write up the last patient's records?"

"Xavier, please do the time of death."

"Xavier, fetch the files for me please."

It's like he's being worked around like a horse around the hospital.

He has to run up and down the building, right to left on this huge private hospital. Sure, he was a newbie, a fresh graduate from medschool, but did these people had to work him to the bone?

It was almost abusive, the lot of them.

"Father, it's so hard..."

He would usually complain to his father who was the hospital chairperson.

His father laughed lightheartedly before giving a few loving pats on the head. Xavier gripped the handkerchief in his hand.

"it's because they rely on you, Xavier. You're very strong and independent, yet kind and understanding. You are very dependable."

Xavier wanted to protest, that he knew his father was the one to order for him to be ordered around like that, but he pursed his lips.

Xavier Signet. The heir to the hospital conglomerate that is his father. Ever since his mother died, his father did his best to raise him to be a well mannered man despite being absent most of the time due to his job. His father made sure to teach him good manners, to have great academics, and to not be spoiled and always appreciate hard work.

Hard work was something not unfamiliar with the Signets, they were new money after all. From a humble clinic to something as well renowned as the Signet group of Medical Facilities. They were medical practitioners to a tee, and valued other people's lives more than their own.

Xavier gritted his teeth as he held down the fountain of profanities and complaints as his father waved goodbye to him.

Nevermind the handkerchief in his hands, spots of blood in it, a sign on Xavier overworking himself too much.

What his father didn't know is that Xavier is not the angel he thinks he is. His superiority complex that borders on God complex made him boil inside with defiance and insults as he took every single work his higher ups throw at him.

He wanted them dead. So much.

But he can't.

Yet.

Fast forward five years later, and his father lied on the bed, sick and weak.

Xavier bit his tongue while holding his father's cold, wrinkly hand. It was so rough and dry. Obvious from the years of hardwork and patients he had to go through.

"Dad..." Xavier whispered. "You know you can't move already, so please. Let me hire a caretaker for you."

His father coughed, love brimming his eyes for his son.

Xavier matured into a well endowed person. One who was steadfast and an amazing leader, but also a great listener. He's the perfect man for the chairperson seat.

"Alright. You can hire one, son." Ever the fool for his offspring, he nodded.

Xavier hired you, a seemingly gentle and sweet soul, someone who knew how to take care of an elderly.

At first, Xavier was only curt with you. Professional, at most.

He was so busy with his work that most of the time, his relationship with you slips his mind.

It made him open up to you sometimes, while he drank his scotch.

"ah... Those bastards. Really? They want to siphon more money from our patients? Are they out of their mind? Isn't it enough that they stomp on the new residents, but also the patients."

You furrowed your eyebrows, listening to Xavier's whiles.

These were one of the days were you noticed that he drops his nice and angelic facade and into this arrogant, yet empathetic guy.

"Tch. They're not even fucking geniuses. All they do is pocket money, invest, and splurge. They don't give a damn to patients. Like who the fuck do they think they are?!" Xavier rambled more, the scotch making him blurt out his real thoughts onto you.

Sympathetic, you finished folding the clothes of his father and gently walked up to him, and then patted his head with a rub.

Xavier gasped, suddenly feeling that everything was at a standstill, slowly looked up to your peaceful face that was highlighted from the lights of the living room.

Oh god.

"Sir Xavier, those bastards are really something. They're public servants, they should be nice and caring. But all they knew is money." Your sweet voice infiltrated his ears, making his arrogant and superior walls crumble in just a snap.

He was so starved of affection.

Then, your hands caressed his shoulder and rubbed them, making his tense form go away.

Oh god.

And as he grabbed your form and cried into your arms, he knew that things will never be the same.

Xavier rubbed his temples as he listened to the whines of his constituents. Apparently, they wanted to invest in commercial businesses also, but it was a failing start up company with the asking money of 200,000 dollars in exchange of only 10% of the company.

They're seriously fucking him over if they think he'll agree to this obvious scam.

It's been two years since you got in their life.

In his life.

And everyday, he looks forward to coming home into your arms and crashing his low energy body in your embrace.

It was weird, really. At first, he was so stand-offish, but now he was treating you like you were his wife.

That, and also his father continued to pester him to get a wife, since he wanted Xavier to have children before he passes away.

And when he ranted to you about that, you laughed heartily and rubbed his head once more, making him lean into your touch.

"I look like your spouse if you think about it!"

And those words permeated into him, and latched itself into his bones.

Yeah, maybe.

He glared into one of his subordinates and they trembled.

"S-sir, I swear, it's a good investment!" The subordinate said, but their hands are shaking and sweaty.

"No. Get out."

They hastily bowed and ran outside.

Due to your encouragement, he learnt to not hide his true nature and not just grit and bare the shit thrown at him.

"You're the chairperson! And you're just going to let them walk over you?"

You were right. He was at the highest position. So why would he?

So now, he's the one making life a living hell for them. Exacting revenge like a bloodless villain. Even attacking their personal lives.

He worked hard for this position. Too hard. Now it's their time to work hard to maintain theirs.

Then, all of a sudden, his phone rang. He looked at it, and his eyes softened. It was you. With heart emojis in his contacts.

"Hello y/n, how's father?"

But then your panicked voice made him drop everything and drive as fast as possible to your side.

And he saw you crying at the foot of his father's bed, tears streaming down your lovely face as you wept.

His hands trembled.

This time, he's the one to comfort you as he whispered reassuring words.

He looked up at his father's corpse, silently wishing him goodbye as tears also starting to leak from his eyes.

Now he had no one but you.

He held you closer, a numb feeling erupting from his chest as he felt your tears wet his shirt.

Painful sobs of the both of you permeated from this seemingly quiet and cold room, finding one another for comfort from the loss of a dear father figure.

Xavier had to take a break from work.

He felt so numb, leading the wake and the funeral of his father.

As much as he hated him due to his extreme ways of teaching him manners and discipline, he was still his only family left.

His ears rung whenever his father's "friends" sent condolences in a professional, yet fake way.

Time was a concept, and now, he was looking down at his father's grave.

His father didn't want a mosoleum, just a simple grave besides his wife's, Xavier's mother who died in childbirth.

And you were beside him, gripping his hand.

When did the line blur from employer to employee?

Who knows?

But both of you needed each other.

He needed you.

You were the only one left on his side, genuinely.

And he'll be damned to let you go, his only anchor to prevent himself from going apeshit and letting blood spill.

He gulped a cry.

"Y/N, darling, where are you?"

You stilled, hearing his weary voice come from outside of your room. You gripped your clothes and hastily placed all of them in your bag and sliding it under your bed.

"Oh here, Xavier!" Your voice, strained yet giving the outmost genuine tone you could muster. Yet a slight shake can be heard.

"Thank god, I thought you left me. Haha." He opened the door and saw you, sitting on the bed with a wry smile.

He approached you and wrapped his arms around your waist, cuddling close. You bit your cheek.

"Xavier... Um, is it possible for me to go outside to shop?" You asked, rubbing his hair. Wanting a semblance of freedom and a chance to escape.

Xavier's head shot up and he shook his head desperately his grip on you tightening.

"no no no! Silly, definitely not. If you go outside, you'll catch some sickness out there that will probably kill you. And we don't want that, do we? We want you living healthy and long." Xavier desperately reasoned, clinging to you. You bit your lip and nodded slowly.

Ever since his father died seven months ago, he refused to let you go. He was crying, begging for you to stay, for you to take care of him. He even went and upped your salary just for you to stay with him.

But what use is your money if you're essentially locked inside his house?

He refused to let you go at all, scared that you'll get sick and die.

And then he would be truly all alone.

He doesn't want that at all.

He still wants to marry you, to make a family with you. To be with you, his only pillar left.

"I get it, Xavier. I'll stay put." A lump appeared on your throat as you saw his genuine smile of relief.

You were so torn with guilt and desperation for freedom.

You wanted out,

Yet also wanted to stay put and take care of the man.

So, what will you choose?

Spread your wings, while potentially setting off the ticking time bomb that is Xavier, or stay, and accept that being confined in this mansion with no one but Xavier as your only... Friend.

But one thing's for sure.

No matter what you choose,

You'll always end up in his arms.

It's an illusion of choice,

He's always the end game.

[spidrzfall]

Masks, messages, and secrets ⤑ Peter Parker.

finally, i have time to write again. Oh my goodness. enjoy this one, you guys! Sorry if it's not like totally action packed honestly this is a slow burn, and with a ton of small ideas, im working on, so bare with me, please. Im trying, i promise, but this is bound to have some just generic normal people living life scenes, so yeah! Sorry if this is disappointing, though. love you all xoxo - A.

☆° Peter Parker x Male Reader

☆° part two of Tough Night.

☆°• FLUFF - just some banter splice of life stuff babes.

°•▪︎ Fem readers DNI ♡♡

♧ warnings: Language, all characters are 21+ ♧

♡ READ PART ONE : Click me!

♡ Part Three : Coming Soon !

(M/N) didn’t have the gulls to tell Eugene he was secretly texting Peter on the side, after their small dispute the week after, it was almost impossible to even bring up the subject of Peter. It wasn’t hard to see that Eugene was little to not a fan of Peter at all, talking (M/N)’s ear off about how much of a push over he was and he wasn’t someone he wanted his brother to be associated with. Eugene since a young age cared deeply about his brother, from the second his parents brought him from the adoption center a part of him felt the spark of keeping him close, that brotherly instinct to care more about the other and teach him to fend off for himself. Even at a young age Eugene made sure (M/N) knew how to protect himself, not be a pushover to anybody and especially not take shit from anyone. 

Home life wasn’t easy on the two, Their father was a drunk who actively threatened their lives and well beings whilst their mother aside from being absent anytime she was in their lives she only instigated the yelling and mental drainess that came along with even living with their father and an absent mother. Eugene always made sure to protect his brother from then, basically taking him into his own care with making them food, getting supplies for their classes in school, driving (M/N) half across Queens to school because the two were enrolled in different schools, making sure his brother didn’t endure everything that happened at home by taking every yelling from their dad. Even with taking bullets for the other he basically trained (M/N) to defend himself, times where he influenced him to not be a pushover…

Everything he claimed Peter was, he never wanted his brother to be. 

Was it a surprise to anyone when (M/N) was secretly texting Peter behind Eugene’s back? No. A part of (M/N) was rebellious, whilst he did appreciate Eugene’s protectiveness he couldn’t help but admit sometimes it was overbearing, he knew Eugene had good intentions but there were times he felt he couldn’t even become friends with anyone because of his brother. That of course struck rebelion, the rebellion of (M/N) Thompson. Secretly being a lot more sympathetic, being friends with (what his brother called) losers, not mixing in with the crowd, letting his heart weave the way into life and not his judgment. He allowed himself to be free, something Eugene couldn’t be. Though (M/N) knew why, it was how the guy was born it wasn’t like he had a choice but be a close minded and rough guy. He let his own anger and judgment cloud his decisions and way of expression that was toxic and cruel, which (M/N) would be lying if he said his brother wasn’t changing those old ways now that he was an adult. But that was just still in the works.

Another ding came from (M/N)’s phone, as he slurred in his sleep before another one came through…and another..and another. As he groaned, putting a pillow atop his head trying to tune out the noise, knowing it was probably Eugene texting him something stupid or a string of memes, though it came to the slight realization that (M/N) had Eugene muted on his phone. As he slowly peaked his eye from underneath the pillow as he tiredly grabbed his phone, groaning at the light immiting as his eyes adjusted before checking his notifications Peter’s contact showing through as he looked at the time, what the fuck was this guy doing up at 5 A.M.

(M/N) chuckled as he rolled his eyes before grabbing his phone and rolling over to get comfortable as he opened up his phone and went over to messages, taking note of the 10+ notifications from Eugene’s silenced contact as he ignored them before going to Peters contact, a stiff laugh leaving his lips as he replied.

(M/N) set his phone back down before settling back into bed and drifted into his deep state of sleep. The room, dark some hints of the sunshine occasionally shining through but not enough to separate him from his sleep, his snores echoing in the four walls of his bedroom as the slow quiet hum of the apartment's A.C can be heard. The cold breeze substituting the once warm bedroom.

It wasn’t that late by the time (M/N) woke up, shuffling out of bed and grabbing his towel before tiredly making his way to the bathroom and beginning his day with a fresh cold shower, the cold water that hit his skin slowly dissolving the fatigue from his body and into a state of mind where he was finally ready to start the day. Stepping out the shower and into his towel as he dried himself and put on clothes that were much more comfortable yet presentable as he dried his damp hair, adding some coconut oil just to enhance his hair's health and get rid of any damage. Putting on his shoes before tackling his messenger bag that looked like it was massively decorated by a 5 year old who was handed unlimited access to pins and buttons, stepping out the door and to the more lively part of where he lived. Eventually stumbling across his favorite breakfast joint, SoBal Forest Hills, stepping inside as he ordered his usual which was an Acai Bowl, eating it peacefully before stepping out only for somebody to bump into him, making his breakfast splatter on his shirt, staining it a magenta color with sprinkles of the granola that laid atop of it. 

“Watch it! God dammit this was my favorite shirt..” (M/N) mumbled as he tried to take off the remains of the now ruined food. Turning to the guy he had bumped into only for a flash of red and blue to pass by him, Spider-Man. Of course, only the one person who bumped into him the whole day was a criminal being chased down by the well known vigilante, looks like he wasn’t getting an apology anytime soon. Deciding to live with the stain as the salvaged the little of acai left in the bowl as he ate it up before throwing it away and making his way towards the small supermarket nearby as he picked up some food he thought he needed to survive the next couple of weeks before finally going back home, stepping inside, placing the groceries onto the wooden dining table and quickly taking off the stained shirt, dragging himself into his bedroom before placing on a brand new shirt, shuffling out his jeans and into some basketball shorts before going to unpack his groceries. 

Nightfall not taking to long to arrive before he heard his phone buzz in the midst of him ordering some food ,feeling too lazy to cook,  as he looked at the notification, falling in from Peter who was asking him to call which (M/N) gladly accepted as he looked at his phone that had an incoming call as he accepted, a loud windy sound coming from the speaker as he chuckled. “Dude, where are you? A giant fan?” (M/N) was the first to speak as Peter let out a dry laugh “No, I’m just running. Mother hubbard, I’m exhausted.” Peter panted, his voice partially muffled which (M/N) assumed was the sound quality as the windy sound finally came to an end, most likely from him stopping to take a breath. “So Acai bowl huh?” Peter continued after finally catching his breath, a small pant still leaving his lips.

“How’d you know?” (M/N) leaned against this counter, as he crossed his arm. His phone on the counter and on speaker, Peter's voice echoing from the phone's speakers. “I was doing some outdoor photography for work and I saw you, I was gonna call out but you seemed frustrated so I let you be.” – “Could’ve bought me another Acai bowl, just saying could’ve put me in a much better mood.” (M/N) joked as it managed to get a laugh out of Peter which made the other smile. “SoBal Forest Hills, right? It’s near where we live so I might at some point, when I’m feeling nice.” Peter replied. “Oh when he feels nice, what an honor.” 

“yeah yeah, don’t get flustered on me now- shit I gotta go, sorry man. I’ll text you! Bye- Hey!” Peter had a small outburst before the call hung up as (M/N) stood in his kitchen, a confused look on his face before shaking his head and continuing to order his food. Awaiting for it, cuddling up into a blanket on his couch, Forest Gump playing on his television, his attention drawn away as a small knock came from his balcony. As he raised a brow, not sure if he heard it before it happened again as he stood up and cautiously peeked through the curtains. A glimpse of red and blue shining from outside as his eyes made contact with the familiar almost diamond oval shaped lenses as he took a double take. Opening the curtains as it revealed Spider-Man on the other side which caused (M/N) to rub his eyes before opening his balcony.

  “Spider-Man?” (M/N)’s voice was laced with uncertainty as he looked at the masked vigilante who waved at him, the other hand behind the hero's back. “You’re the guy the car thief bumped into this morning, right? Acai bowl guy.” Spider-Man finally spoke as he faced (M/N) settling on the edge of the balcony, the question earning him a nod from the man. Spider-Man’s hand came out from hiding to reveal an acai bowl, “Here. As an apology for this morning.” The hero handed him the small bowl as (M/N) hesitated but took it. “Thanks…How’d you know I live here?” There’s a question the hero didn’t expect as he let out a nervous laugh, it’s not like he could tell the other he was Peter so he came up with an obvious lie, “It’s a part of the powers.”

“The powers?” (M/N) crossed his arm over the other as he raised a brow, skeptical. “Yeah. the powers.” Spider-Man repeated, affirming him. “So where does my friend Shane live?” (M/N) asked as he eyed the hero who scrambled for a reply. “Okay it’s not the powers but I have my ways to know these things.” – “So a stalker.” – “No, gross. I’m not some weirdo.” Spider-Man scoffed as he waved his hand as a dismissal. “You’re a guy in red and blue spandex who can thwip out webs from the wrist and climb walls, I don’t think you get a pass from not being called a weirdo.” (M/N) replied. “I take it back, i want the bowl back.” Spider-Man joked as he extended out a hand to take the bowl back. “Hey! No. this was an apology gift” (M/N) replied, laughing. “Well i take back my apology.” Spider-Man protested, enjoying the familiar banter.

“You are so much more rude than what people let on.” (M/N) spoke before temporarily going inside to put away the acai bowl. Going back outside where he had left the vigilante. “Only when I need to.” The other replied. “Your voice sounds familiar…has anyone ever told you that?” (M/N) asked as he leaned against the railing of the balcony “Only a few dozen people, I have a handsome recognizable voice, probably a celebrity.” 

“Yeah? You’re probably some celebrity named Andrew Garfield or something weird like that��”

“Andrew?Jees no. ”

“Is your name Andrew”

“You’re off by a landslide.” 

The two laughed, before staring at each other. Quickly interrupted by a knock coming from inside as (M/N) stepped in for a while hearing it again, “that’s my dinner…say do you wanna split..it…” (M/N) paused as he turned around only to see nobody looking back at him, the hero long gone as he frowned before closing the balconies glass door and curtains and getting his food, thanking the delivery person, in the midst of it all finding himself wishing the hero stayed longer. A text interrupting his thoughts, It was Peter, telling him he was home from his run as (M/N) texted back a ‘glad your home safe’ only for a request of a call to come in which he accepted. Eugene on the other line, “You’ll never guess who came by tonight” (M/N) began interrupting Eugene’s hello. “Who?” Alex adjusted himself on the floor, chewing his food quickly and swallowed it before replying back to Eugene.

“Spider-Man!”

“Bullshit.” Eugene laughed. “He brought me an acai bowl.” (M/N) replied before adding another piece of food into his mouth a satisfied hum leaving his mouth as he savored it. “Why?” Eugene asked as he can be heard shuffling, blankets rustling given he was most likely on his bed. “Some guy ran into me this morning throwing my breakfast onto my shirt and he felt sorry so he brought me some.” Eugene only hummed in reply “How’d he know where you live?” 

“His powers.”

“His powers?”

“Yep. His powers.”

credit :: enchanthings - dividers !!

@darknessbringer the ideas !!

[softspeirs]

eyy, could i please request, whenever you get to it, ❛ let’s go somewhere, just you and me. ❜ for ellie and bucky? — @shoshiwrites

A/N: Sho, this is so Bucky and Ellie coded. Post-war feelings, coming right up! It's a little melancholy, but so am I, these days. Thank you for always enabling me to write more of these two!

Ellie finds him on the porch, long legs stretched out in front of him as he leans back against the top step.

He looks up when he hears the clack of the screen door against the frame. Instantly, the furrow between his brows lessens.

"Hi." Ellie smiles, settling next to him, her knees level with his shoulders. His arm settles across her legs, and he presses a kiss to the outside of her knee.

"Hi." He replies. "Got a little loud in there."

Ellie hums. "I think lunch will be ready soon. Everyone kept telling me I didn't need to help, but I can't remember the last time someone cooked for me."

"They're excited to meet you." Bucky says, his eyes soft. "I just-- needed a break. Didn't mean to leave you in there alone."

Ellie shakes her head. "I don't need an explanation, John. It's all right."

The Egans are a lively bunch, that didn't surprise her. It surprised her a little to see Bucky withdraw rather than participate in conversation, though he was the one who warned her that would probably happen. He doesn't like crowds anymore, even when the crowd is made up of his own relatives.

"Let's go somewhere." He says suddenly. "Just you and me."

She laughs, expression fond. "Where?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. You've never seen Lake Michigan."

Mrs. Egan doesn't even pretend to be disappointed when her son begs out of family lunch, and insists wraps up some sandwiches and desserts in a picnic basket, handing it to John with a knowing smile. "Don't stay out too late." She says, can't help herself, even after all these years, even though her son came home after all of it more of a man than she expected.

He shakes his head, but kisses her on the cheek all the same, before grasping Ellie's hand in his and tugging her out the door. The breeze is chilly, and he shrugs off his jacket when they get to the car, pulling it around her shoulders without her having to ask.

He likes the way she looks in his clothes. Likes it better seeing the name Egan right there, stitched over her heart.

It feels strange to be behind the wheel of his father's old car. It's been sitting in the driveway for god knows how long, though their mother gets out every week to take it to the grocery store and back. Bucky suspects she can't stand to be in it very long. It still carries the faint scent of John Sr.'s aftershave.

Ellie watches as he drives, wrist propped against the steering wheel. He's tense, his shoulders tight, but the smile on his face is easy and genuine. She wonders how long it will take for him to realize that there's no danger anymore. She hopes she can help him ease into this new life they're trying to build.

There's a public park near the water, and Ellie is amazed at how blue the lake is and how far it goes. She can't see the other end no matter how long she stares.

"It's like the ocean," she marvels as they pick a spot on the grass and settle.

Bucky grins. "I love it here."

They eat in a comfortable silence and when they're done, he reaches for her hand, tracing the lines of her veins and absently stroking over a freckle on her wrist.

"There's so much I want to show you," he continues, voice low. "I want to take you everywhere. But a selfish part of me wants to stay right here. Just you and me."

Ellie's heart clenches.

"It's hard to-- to be around my family. I love them to death but they want to pretend everything is the same as it used to be." He shakes his head. "I'm not the same anymore."

She remembers a quiet conversation with Gale Cleven right before he shipped out. How he was trusting her to make sure Bucky knew that he's loved and worth knowing. That he was worried his best friend had lost a piece of himself and would never find it again.

She grips his hand tight, her free hand finding his cheek, thumb rubbing reassuringly at his cheekbone. "No, you're not the same. Neither am I. Neither are they." She shrugs. "Doesn't mean something's wrong with you."

"Thank you for being here with me." He whispers.

"Thank you for asking me to come with you."

There's another question burning at the back of his throat, words he hasn't been able to get out yet. It's just a matter of time, they both know that, but he thinks part of him is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely, her coming halfway around the world with him is a good sign, he just has to convince his brain of the same fact his heart feels.

When he kisses her there under the setting sun over Lake Michigan in his hometown, he feels the reassuring thump of her heart against his and he knows this is where he's meant to be, that everything that happened to him before he came back to England and saw her again was worth it, even if it takes years for him to come to terms with that.

She saw him in the aftermath of the worst years of his life, saw him and all his anger and his flaws and vices and is still sitting here in Manitowoc, sleeping in the guest room his mother so lovingly prepared for her. She's still here.

And that's got to count for something.

A/N: Fun fact to know and tell: I often spend summers in Ludington, MI. If you look on a map, it appears that US-10 cuts right through the Lake Michigan leading to Manitowoc. Of course the highway stops at the water, but in 2015, the ferry SS Badger between Ludington, Michigan, and Manitowoc, Wisconsin, was officially designated as part of the highway. The American Association of State Highway and Transportation Officials officially designated the SS Badger car ferry as part of the highway's official route, joining US 9 as the only two routes with a ferry connection. The more you know!