#cold hearts 1999

[spiltsoup]

Oh hey uhhh guys I forgot to mention

BUT I MET AMY JO JOHNSON AT A CON!!! AND she signed my copy of Cold Hearts!! The 1999 vampire movie she did that is extremely hard to pirate online lmao

DEFINITELY gonna be making some gifs from this!!!

[shinestarhwaa]

CLIMBING A MOUNTAIN || SAN

PART 1 OF THE YOURDESIRE.COM SERIES

Genre: Smut

Pairing: San x Fem reader

Word Count:3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Sexworker!AU, Sexworker!San, dom!San, strength kink, creampie, praise, orgasm control, bath sex, aftercare, handjob, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, riding, doggystyle, dirty language, petnames, bigdick!San

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @mjyungi @bratty-tingz @sugarnspice630 @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisg00dgirl @vesvosmozhno @therealcuppicake @unholywriters @enbymingi @jjoongstar

ENJOY!

A bottle of wine on a late Saturday night combined with the internet might be certain to lead to trouble. Or a lot of pleasure. You're not entirely sure yet which is the case. It was supposed to just be an innocent scroll through your socials but when you landed on a special Twitter account that got your attention, you stopped. You stared at the username for a while, seeing the header and reading the bio. 'Yourdesire.com', it said, which made your heart flutter ever so slightly. The account was full of pictures and videos of handsome men acting seductively and almost pornographically. No, definitely pornographically.

Curiosity got the best of you, and you placed your laptop on your lap and googled the website. You quickly learned it was a company that provided sexual services. Those men are sexworkers, you concluded. Something inside you told you to close the tab and mind your own business but you felt so intrigued you couldn't help but explore the website a little more.

Soon enough you click on the blue ''Our men'' button and you are met with 8 gorgeous individuals posing sensually. You scanned each of them, noticing that they are all different-looking, some are much taller, some are buff and some have the most filthy looking gaze you've ever seen before.

It's not that you're entirely new to sex; you have done it before. But because of certain circumstances you haven't been dating much and therefore you haven't gotten laid in way too long. Maybe hiring a gigolo was the perfect way to get your needs taken care of, while not having to go out to meet somebody to date.

You scroll down the page and look at the pictures of the guys. Without thinking much more you click on the first man's profile.

Hongjoong - 1998 - Dominant

View Hongjoong's kinks/specialties list.

You released a breath you didn't know you were holding after reading his kinks/specialties list. You swallow thickly and scan the others' pages until you land on San.

San's image makes him look cold, stern, even strict maybe. His body is certainly well taken care of. You could only imagine what it's like to touch his toned, muscular body. He has broad shoulders, big arms and defined abs. His eyes are small and his bone structure is absolutely to die for, his lips full and soft-looking.

When you read about him you learn he identifies as a Dominant, but he's the most gentle and caring one of them all - he values women a lot and wants to provide a setting where he can rock their world but also make them feel safe. This made you smile softly, a warm feeling spreading through your body. It wouldn't do anyone any harm to look further, would it? You decide it won't so you click on his profile.

San - 1999 - Dominant

View San's kinks/specialties list:

Strength kink

Creampie

Orgasm Control

Voyeurism

Bath-/Shower sex

Voyeurism

Aftercare

You could feel your pussy pulse after reading about him and you took another sip of your wine. Before you realized it you were looking at the prices of hiring one of their men and the kind of experiences they offer. You kept telling yourself 'No, don't do it, it's ridiculous', but two glasses of wine later you booked yourself a dinner- and hoteldate with San for next Saturday.

The next morning you realize what you've done, looking at yourself in the mirror. ''I must have gone completely insane,'' you mutter to yourself, but you can't bring yourself to cancel the appointment either. The rest of the week you are filled to the brim with anxiety about it and your friends notice something's off. ''It's just my cycle, I guess, you know, hormones,'' you lie, but it works for them.

When the day finally arrives you have no clue what to wear, because what does one wear on a sexdate with a sexworker? You decide to not do much with your hair, letting it fall loosely on your shoulders. You keep your make-up light and put on a darkred lingerie set. 'It's nothing special, but pretty enough for a date' you convince yourself. After about 30 minutes of trying on different clothes you end up wearing a long, fitted black dress since your friends always tell you, you look absolutely snatched in it. And well, they're not wrong. You finalize the look with black heels and some accessories before grabbing your purse, leaving your house.

Your body is shaking while you drive to the hotel. You wonder if your friends would judge you for doing this. Would they think this is weird? Is this actually weird? You know there's no turning back now, since you can't cancel 10 minutes beforehand. With slight shame you look into the rearview mirror and look into your own eyes. There's no turning back now, you realize, you have to own it and enjoy it.

With a partly fake confidence you enter the hotel and enter the luxurious lounge, where you are supposed to meet San. You look around and the place is absolutely gorgeous. Dark floortiles reflect the large amount of lighting on the walls and ceiling. You see businessmen left and right, looking seemingly rich and equally busy with their calls. You wonder how many of them were also hiring a sexworker.

Suddenly you feel a light tap on your shoulder - to which you turn around. ''Miss Y/N?''

You felt your heart stop beating at that very moment, because holy fucking shit, the most handsome man on earth is standing right in front of you. ''Hi, it's nice to meet you, I'm San,'' he says with a kind smile. You shake his hand and nodd, still a little in shock. ''How did you know it was me?'' you wonder out loud. He grins softly. ''Because while discussing the arrangement you had to clarify what you look like and I've seen the photo. Although I have to say you're even more attractive in real life, if that's even possible.''

Everything about San was breathtaking, from his looks to his way with words. ''Let me guide you to our table, I hope you're hungry, the food is lovely here,'' he says with a gentle smile, and he carefully lays his hand on your lower back. You nodd and let him guide you to the table, where he takes place across from you.

After placing your order he looks you up and down. You're feeling slightly nervous, and he quickly picks up on it. ''Is this your first time having an appointment like this?'' he asks. ''Is it that obvious?'' you grin nervously. ''A little, but don't worry, it's completely fine. All I care about is that you're comfortable with me, then we're all good.''

San definitely succeeded in making you comfortable throughout the dinner date, he asked questions about you - not just sexually - and made sure to listen intentively. He occasionally flirted with you and held your hand and it was almost impossible not to fall for him. He was incredibly charming and even cute sometimes.

Since the dinner was paid beforehand, San took your hand and guided you to the elevator. You felt slight anxiety bubble up in your chest, but you pushed it down. San had been so great and gentle with you, you felt like you could definitely trust him.

Now you're standing in the elevator, all alone and suddenly the tension rises. The hand on your back slowly slides down over your ass and you feel his hot breath fan over your neck. ''I can't wait to feel you, darling, I'll make you feel so incredibly good.'' Goosebumps erect from your skin and you swallow thickly. You nod, because that's all you can do when San smirks slightly.

The elevator reaches the 4th floor and you enter the room that was reserved for you two. It was much fancier and bigger than you expected. You first see a large kingsize bed, covered with gorgeous luxury bedding, there's a small lounge and the half-open bathroom where you find a shower and a large walk-in bath created in the floor as if it was a hot spring.

''Wow,'' you sighed softly as you placed your purse on the bedside table, ''It looks absolutely incredible, don't you think?'' ''It truly does, it's gorgeous,'' San says, ''it suits you.'' He gently strokes your rosy cheek with his fingers as he sits you down on the bed.

''You've established you're interested in performing all my specialties, excluding the voyeurism, is that correct?'' San asks, sitting next to you. ''Yes,'' you nod, ''it's not like I'm against it but I haven't had sex in a long time and I just... I need some time.'' San chuckles at your shyness and strokes your hair caringly. ''You don't have to explain yourself to me, dear. Any way, if at any time you want me to pause or stop, tell me and we will pause or stop. Do you have any more questions?'' You shake your head. ''Please use your words with me, dear, I need verbal clarification.'' You shake your head again, muttering a soft ''no''.

''Perfect, let's get started then, dear.''

He pulls you a little closer and lifts up your chin with his fingers. ''Can I kiss you, Y/N?'' ''Yes, please,'' you say, leaning into him. San presses his lips to yours in a smooth motion. His lips are soft and his movements tender, but the grip of his hand on your upper thigh is firm, enough to slightly startle you.

You moved your arms around his neck as he laid you down on your back. His hands roamed over your thigh, down to your calf and ankle. San pulls away from the kiss and you pant softly, looking at him with full anticipation, your mind dizzy. He gently kissed your ankles before slipping off your heels. His hands move up again, along your hips and your sides, stopping to cup just underneath your breasts.

''You look so delicious angel,'' he grunts as he presses kisses over your chest and the top of your breasts. He helps you get up before he unzips your dress. You feel the way it slides down your legs and pool at your feet. You feel much more vulnerable now, noticing he's still fully clothed.

''I wanna see you too, San,'' you pant softly when you feel his lips in your neck, sucking on your skin gently. ''You wanna see me, baby? You got it.'' He smirks as he takes off his jacket, waistcoat and slowly unbuttons his white shirt, revealing his toned abs. You sit down and feel your throat go dry at the sight of his sculpted god-like body.

''How's that baby? Does that look like something you can get used to?'' he smirks. ''God, yes, definitely,'' you sigh, before laying your hands on him. When you place your hands on his abs you realize his cock is already half-hard. The desire to suck a man off has never been stronger than tonight, but San seems to have other plans as he gets on his knees in front of you.

His skilled fingers trail up your thigh and curl around the fabric of your panties, yanking them down and tossing them to the other side of the room. ''Look at that, what a perfect pussy,'' he praises as he settles himself between your thighs. Instinctively you try to close your legs out of embarrassment, but San is unbelievable strong and he keeps them parted.

''Don't you want me to play with that pretty pussy of yours, angel?'' ''N-No, I do, I really do, please,'' you cry out when you feel his breath fan over your sensitive wetness. When San's mouth makes contact with your sex you throw your head back and moan. He's literally 3 seconds in and you're already so disheveled.

His fingers skim over your thighs while his lips close around your sensitive bud, giving it a few soft sucks and kitten licks to test you. Even the feather-light touches are driving you crazy, and you think if he doesn't start to properly eat your pussy you'll go absolutely feral. ''Please, San, please,'' you whine out.

''Okay baby, don't worry, you don't have to beg, I'm here for you, angel, you're doing so well,'' he smiles before diving between your legs again. San starts to lick your sensitive clit, leaving small kisses across your sex, before diving his tongue in again, and God you could feel him everywhere.

You felt tingles throughout your body, your entire being responding to San pleasuring you. You're starting to think that stumbling on Yourdesire.com was the best thing that could've ever happened to you, just from his oral alone. It makes you wonder if he would fuck you as good as he eats you.

You let out nothing but loud moans, not having to fake anything, just letting all your inhabitions go. For the first time in your life you felt truly understood, truly taken care off. ''That's it, that's so fucking good,'' you whimper. He' takes his time's thorough with his work, every flick and twist of his tongue feeling deliciously good and evil all at once.

San took his time - unlike most men would - and spent over 10 minutes between your legs before finally pulling away and regaining his breath. San looks somewhat disheveled himself when he pulls away, looking pleased and fucked out just from eating your pussy for a while.

You feel his fingers skim through your folds before pushing two of his digits inside. You whine when he fingerfucks you with slow strokes, curling his fingers just right. He pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy that's gushing with arousal. With every stroke you feel yourself come closer to an orgasm, and San quickly seems to pick up on that.

''That's it baby, you're doing so well for me, are you gonna come for me? Come on my fingers?'' he taunts. You nod and cry out his name, ''S-San! G-God, yes!'' ''Alright princess, I'm going to count down and you're gonna come at one, am I clear?''

You nod again, but you feel like you could burst at any moment, pussy clenching with each thrust of San's fingers. With all the willpower you've got, you hold on, waiting for San to count down.

''Three...,'' he taunts, looking deeply into your eyes as he keeps fingering your wet hole, ''Two...,'' he says, lingering for a moment before coming down to the last number. ''One,'' San says, and in that exact moment your body releases, an enormous wave of pleasure washing over you, making your body tremble uncontrollably as he rocks you through your climax. ''That's it, that's a good girl...'' he whispers as he calms you down. San retracts his fingers and licks them off to clean them, looking at your fucked out state with a content smile.

He stands up and discards his remaining clothes and as you're starting to escape your high, you remember to take off your bra too, leaving both of you completely naked. You eye San up and down, eyes trailing from his toned torso to his bulky thighs and his crotch.

His cock is so thick, heavy balls hanging underneath as it stands up proudly against his stomach. ''Wow,'' you breathe out. San smirks as he comes closer, and you sit up, eye-leveling his cock. You lick your lips before running your hands up and down his muscular thighs.

''What do you want angel? Want me to make you feel good again?'' ''I want you inside... I want you on your back, and I wanna get on top of you,'' you pant. ''Well, that can be arranged, darling,'' he says as he takes place on the bed, laying against the soft, fluffed pillows.

You straddle San and spit in your hand before taking his stiff cock in your hand. You pump it up and down a few times, not because he's not hard enough but because you desperately wanted to touch him before taking him in. San grunts when you jerk him off faster and flick your wrist every now and then. ''That feels so good baby, you're so perfect, so perfect for me,'' he moans.

After letting go of his shaft you hover your pussy above it. With a loud moan you let him fill your tight pussy up completely. His hands hold your hips steady as you start to grind and roll your hips against him. You let out a shaky moan as his cock drags along your walls - still sensitive from your orgasm.

The pleasure quickly becomes too much and as your body gets weaker, San pulls you close against his chest and kisses you. Your lips move together in perfect harmony, swallowing each others moans as you keep grinding on his cock, his pelvis crazing your sensitive clit.

San starts to move his hips along with yours and fucks up into your pussy, earning loud whines from you against his plush lips. San's thrusts become rougher but keeps a steady pace, knowing just how to make you go crazy. He can feel your pussy clench down on his dick and he pulls away from your mouth, moaning out a string of curses.

''You're taking my cock so well, princess, God damn, your pussy's so well behaved huh? Squeezing my cock just right, you want me to come inside you, hm? I'll fill this pussy up with my cum, make it look so pretty and white. Bet you'd like that, hm? Isn't that the perfect reward for my pretty girl?''

All you can respond are merciful pleads and shards of his name. Your breathing becomes so uneven and you feel yourself getting close again when he reaches places no one has ever reached before. His hands grip your ass tight as he drives his cock inside you. ''I can feel you're about to come baby. Hold it, Hold it like the perfect girl you are, hm? Hold it for me baby, just a little longer,'' he orders you.

You try your best, you try so hard to hold on, keep yourself from coming while he fucks you into oblivion. Lucky for you he says the word ''Come,'' and you burst instantly, crashing onto his chest you scream his name and writhe, your orgasm taking over your entire body. With a few more thrusts he empties himself inside you, filling you up with his hot cum.

''That's it, angel, slow breaths, good girl,'' he says as he slows down and then lays you beside him. He gives you a moment to calm down and drink some of the water from the mini fridge before he gets up.

''Where are you going?'' you ask him. ''Follow me, darling,'' he says with a smile, reaching out for your hand. You hold his hand and stand up, legs wobbling as he takes you to the bathroom. You could feel the mixture of his and your own cum trickle down your inner thigh, but decided not to say anything.

The both of you walk down the steps and enter the hot bath that was ready for you. You hum softly when your body gets absorbed by the nice, warm water, feeling more relaxed instantly. San pulls you closer by your hips and pulls you in his lap as he sits down. You feel his half-hard erection slide between your asscheeks, and he groans. ''Oops,'' you giggle.

San smiles and shakes his head, ''You're so cute and sexy, my princess, you know that? I'm having an amazing time with you, you've been taking it all so well, haven't you?'' he praises you. You feel San's lips on your skin, pressing soft kisses over your shoulders.

''Hm, I'd say so, yeah,'' you giggle, grinding your ass back on his cock once more. ''Hm, was it not enough, my angel, does your pussy need a good fucking again?'' He asks, his voice low. San's cock hardens again and you feel him grinding himself between your cheeks. ''Hm, yeah, you should take me again, San, as a reward~'' you say playfully. San definitely can't say no to that, so he orders you to lean on the edge of the bath. You obey him and push your ass up as much as you can for him.

He pumps his dick a few times before sliding it into you with ease. ''God, you're so perfect, taking me instantly,'' he grunts as he leans on you. You feel the heavy weight of his body on yours and moan. You've always loved a strong man, and you love the feeling of having one on top of you.

San holds you in places as he ruthlessly fucks into you. You try to move as you whimper out his name, but you can't go anywhere. San's got you trapped under his body, holding you so tight there's no possibility of escaping. You whine as you try to hold onto him, overwhelmed by his hard thrusts, abusing your hole and making you feel good at the same time.

''Good girl, that's it, taking it perfectly angel,'' he moans, quickly chasing his own release. San fucks you at a pace you're sure is inhumane, and you can't do anything else but moan, moan loudly and let the entire hotel know how insanely good you're being fucked.

With one more rough thrust he combusts, releasing inside of you a second time that night. When he pulls out he lays you on the edge of the tub and makes you spread your legs. He watches your pretty pussy covered in his cum, and rubs your clit just as ruthlessly as he fucked you. You moan loudly and uncontrollably as San gets you to your fastest orgasm you've ever experienced.

After calming down and drying yourselves up San holds you in his arms as you lay on the bed. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear as he playfully nibbles on them. You love laying in his embrace, taking in his warmth.

''Thank you,'' you breathe out eventually. ''My pleasure,'' he smiles, ''it's my job, but I've certainly enjoyed this.'' You grin. ''I'm glad you did, I loved it too. I definitely needed to just get pleasured again by someone else. It was perfect. And worth every penny,'' you smiled.

After cleaning up and getting dressed you gave San one last kiss before saying your goodbyes. As you drive home he keeps playing on your mind, but your mind also wanders to the other men on the website. Would they be able to pleasure you just as much? How different would they be? You suppose there is only one way to find out...

[abox-of-rocks]

FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS

—stanford! football! dean winchester

I don’t know shit about football soooo…google was my only source

word count: 833

CARTHAGE, MO — DECEMBER 06, 1999

The lights were bright, the crowds were loud, the stadium filled to the brim with shivering town folk and students— excited to watch their team win again.

The Carthage Tigers had won two games in a row, and tonight they were shooting for a third. The odds seemed tricky, going against Branson, a local town about an hour and a half out, their team— the Pirates, were known for their high winning rates.

Waiting by the sidelines, the cold air biting at your cheeks and nose, the smell of your boyfriend’s cologne filled your senses. Looking through the frosting lense of your camera, getting shots for your upcoming photography project.

Dean catches the sight of you all bundled up, focusing on the boys warming up on the field, a smile growing on his lips as he jogged across the field. Stopping right beside you, his breaths coming out in white puffs. Leaning down a bit to be at your height, his elbow resting on your shoulder, a cheeky smile on his lips. “How’s the filming going, stalker?” Dean asked teasingly, wrapping his arms around your waist, and kissing your cheek.

“it’s going well, dumb jock.” you replied jokingly, your hands tightening around your camera as you did your best to catch a few more shots. “Aren’t you supposed to be warming up?” you ask, looking toward him.

“maybe, but what coach doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.” he mumbled, nuzzling his cold nose into your neck, making you squirm— a teasing grin forming on his lips as he spoke again, his voice a low murmur, a playful tilt to it “plus, I had to see my favorite girl, didn’t I?”

A snort left you, playfully nudging your elbow into his side, putting the strap of your camera around your neck. “idiot.” that gained you a deep laugh, lifting his head from your neck, retorting playfully. “creep.”

You smiled as you turned around in his embrace, wrapping your arms around him, taking in the sight of your boyfriend wearing his jersey. He’s always been so goddamn pretty, it was almost unfair.

“You excited for the game?” you asked sweetly, running a hand through his hair.

Dean practically melts at your touch, his eyes fluttering shut, leaning into your palm— his voice coming out in a soft murmur. “gonna kick ass, I know it..”

The coach’s whistle broke through your soft moment, making him give you a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek, and run off to where the team was huddling up.

The first quarter began, gaining the Tigers a Touchdown. The second and third quarters gained the Pirates a field goal, and a safety. At the last minute of the fourth quarter, all Dean had to do was make the touchdown.

50 seconds..Running down the field, the ball was passed to him, he just barely missed being tackled.

20 seconds.. Dean was so close to the end zone, his lungs burning, heart racing. 10..9..8- The loud sound of the speakers yelling ‘TOUCHDOWN!’ as he slid into the end zone, the wet grass and dirt covered him even more than it already was before.

Next thing Dean knew, he was hoisted up by his teammates, all of them yelling and shouting out of excitement and pride. The biggest, toothy grin formed upon his lips, as his heart raced from the adrenaline rush.

Dean quickly pushed his way out of the team’s excited embrace, searching the sidelines and bleachers for you, when his gaze locked onto you.

You had a proud smile on your face, camera in hand as you most likely got many shots. Running across the large field, his bones and lungs begging for him to stop— to take a break, but when it came to you, it didn’t matter. He’d climb Everest in just boxers, just to get to you.

Unclasping his helmet with a little bit of a struggle, he threw it down by the benches, jogging up to the tall chain link fence. Climbing the fence with sweaty hands, his chest heaving, his breaths coming out in little clouds— hopping over, and landing in front of you.

“You won..” You said with pure admiration.

“all for you, stalker.” dean replied, love in his gaze, cheekiness in his tone.

“dumb jock..” You jokingly scoffed, with a small shake of your head, as you pulled him into a kiss.

Your lips meshing together like puzzle pieces, they needed to claim eachothers lips as their own, pure love within this embrace. His warm hands grasped your waist tightly, holding onto you like a lifeline— your hands cupping his cheeks in the same way.

You started to feel small cold drops of water landing on your skin, pulling back, your hands still cupping Deans cheeks as you looked up into the dark sky. Rain. It was raining. Looking back to him, both of you were breathless, looking around at the sudden rain. Soft laughs left you both.

Notes— first of all, biggest shout out to my goober, @snburntandsad for helping me edit and nitpick. I love Stanford dean sm. The very end may or may not be inspired by A Cinderella Story, with Hillary Duff and Chad Michael Murray, when they kiss in the rain at the end of the movie.

₊˚ෆ🎸⋆⭒˚ taglist: @snburntandsad @floralscented @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @ungodlydilf @honeyryewhiskey @moonandst4rs

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Happy 28th! Here is my September 2024 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Godless, Graceless, and Young by kiddle / @bluejeanlouis (110k)

Seattle, Washington, 1991

It takes a special breed to have a slacker persona and still be a millionaire rockstar. Harry is about halfway there. He's the guitarist in a Seattle grunge band that could finally be headed somewhere, but he's also been sleeping on his bassist's sofa for the last three months and has been fired from every day-job he's had. Money doesn't equal success, but it does pay the bills.

When a job offer and a new lead singer stumble into Harry's life, he might be getting a lot more than he bargained for. Like a couple of extra gigs and a boy who can teach him more than just how to mix a few drinks, and it's gonna take a few band brawls and a whole lot of heart-searching to get there.

He's gotta have one somewhere...

Coax the Cold by mediawhore / @mediawhorefics (86k)

England, 1897.  

English Professor Louis Tomlinson’s passion for the occult has been a source of mockery and derision for most of his life. When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. The summer he spends undercover working on the show, however, gives him much more than that.

Late Nights and Good Intentions by princelouisau / @princelouisau (71k)

“About last night,” Harry says suddenly, as if he’d been debating on whether to say anything. Louis whips back around to look at him.

“Do not finish that thought,” Louis says just as abruptly.

Harry looks at him oddly, as if assessing him. With a small frown, it seems the assessment is over. “I only wish to say that you do not have to dwell on it. The rest of the men will surely forget by tonight.”

“And you?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow. “Will you forget?”

“I will remember every second of it fondly,” the Lord says, no trace of a tease in his words. or, a Victorian era au where Louis pines for his overprotective older brother’s very charming best friend.

For You, I Would Ruin Myself by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze (54k) WIP

It was the perfect last day of summer. They built sandcastles, wrote their names in the sand, and caught crabs, which they eventually let go when one of them pinched Louis and he was near tears. Afterward, they swam in the ocean, splashing each other playfully before moving toward one another in sync, lips pressing together in sweet kisses. When their skin turned prune-like, they returned to shore, laying out on their towels beneath the bright sun, snacking on fruit and chocolate while talking about everything and nothing.

At some point, Harry had shared, “I think this has been my favorite summer yet.”

“Why’s that?” Louis asked, a smile peeking out as though he already knew. He looked so pretty and cool with his sun-kissed skin and black Ray-Bans covering his eyes.

Harry rolled over on his towel until he was half-pressed against Louis and placed his palms on top of Louis’ chest, tucking his chin over them. “Because I had you.”

or

Harry’s unrequited crush on Louis turns into a whirlwind summer romance, only to leave him heartbroken in the end. Years later, a return to his hometown forces Harry to confront his past and the one person he was running from.

Tarnished but so Grand by tilthesundies / @tllthesundies (32k)

Louis hides in places. Harry always finds him.

I'll Be Your Love Tonight by dinosaursmate (20k)

“I don’t know how I’m ever going to walk away from you.” “So don’t.” Harry ran a fingertip over Louis’ thigh. “Stay with me.” - It's the summer of 1999 and Louis Tomlinson has been abandoned at a house party. A dispute over Smirnoff Ice and several night buses later, Louis is unsure how he'll ever walk away from this lovely, curly-haired boy.

Green in the Morning and Blue Afternoon by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze (14k)

“Harry,” Louis whispered beside him.

Harry hummed, his hand coming up to stroke Louis’ back. Louis was still on top of him, his body sagging against Harry’s, heavy and warm, and Harry loved it.

“I don’t think it was a one off.”

“Me either, Lou.”

or a Friends AU.

A Few of My Favourite Things by sweariwouldnt / @sweariwouldnt (8k)

Harry and Louis do cat sitting.

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 7 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, medical stuff (an ultrasound), lots of happy and fluffy feelings

WC: 1.2k

Divider credit to @saradika

July 1999

It’s one of those sweltering summer days where the air conditioning can never be cold enough. The room could be at subarctic temperatures, and perspiration would still trickle down your spine and in the space between your breasts.

Your husband hasn’t gotten the memo.

“Eddie,” you grumble, scowling down at where he’s laying atop your stomach. You peel your body from the back of the sofa in an attempt to sit up. “It’s too damn hot for cuddling.”

He pouts, doubling down and draping a tattooed arm over your midsection. “But I’m trying to bond with the baby,” Eddie laments, a slight whine lacing his tone. He’s at least able to lounge around the apartment without a shirt, but you don’t have that luxury. Your tank top clings to your torso like a second skin.

“You can bond when this heat wave breaks. Get up.”

“Fine, fine.” He shifts positions, stretching and exposing the sweat-tinged tufts of hair under his arms. He gives your bump once last rub. “We’ll talk again once the temperature’s back in the double-digits, Baby Munson.”

You stand up, grateful that you aren’t so pregnant and can still lift yourself from a sitting position. “We have to leave for the ultrasound in a few minutes,” you gently remind him. “Is the Big Brother ready to go?”

Eddie chuckles, padding over to the bedroom and shrugging a white t-shirt over his head. “Are you kidding? He’s been awake and fully dressed since the crack of dawn.” It’s all that Harris has been talking about since you’d asked him if he wanted to come and find out if the baby is a boy or a girl. Eddie steps into a pair of jeans, nearly falling over as he tries to maintain his balance. “Har! We’re leaving soon!”

Harris scampers out of his room, jumping with such enthusiasm that you can hardly make out the text on his shirt that boasts, ‘PROUD BIG BRO.’ “Let’s go!” he insists, taking your hand in his and tugging you towards the door. 

“Dad still needs to put his shoes on,” you say through a laugh. “We can’t go without him.”

He sighs impatiently, shoulders drooping as he turns to his father. “Come on; we gotta see if I’m gonna have a brother or sister!”

“Okay, alright. Jesus H, can’t a man zip up his fly without being berated around here?”

“This might be a bit cold.”

You smile, laying back with your shirt hiked up just beneath your breasts and a thin paper towel tucked into the stretchy waistband of your shorts. The ultrasound technician shakes the bottle of gel and squirts it onto your bare stomach. It comes out with the air that’s trapped inside, making a pfft sound that sends both Harris and Eddie into hysterics.

“Boys!” you hiss. “Behave yourselves. Especially you,” you add pointedly, looking directly at your husband.

His cheeks redden in embarrassment, mouthing sorry, but you can see him stifling another laugh when the bottle makes the same sound again.

A pulsing beat fills the room as the technician slides the wand across your belly. “That’s one strong heartbeat,” she announces, and Harris’s eyes widen in realization.

“That’s the baby’s heartbeat?” He glances between you and Eddie, jack-o-lantern grin splitting his face. “That’s so cool!”

Eddie gestures towards the screen as the black-and-white image becomes clearer. “Look, there’s the nose and the mouth,” he says to Harris, pulling him close to his side and hugging him. 

The technician takes a quick snapshot of the baby’s profile before moving on to the tiny arms and legs and snapping another. Everyone is staring and waiting for her to announce the sex.

“Um, excuse me?” Harris raises his hand timidly as though he’s in school, taking to heart an earlier conversation about using his manners in the doctor’s office. “Are you gonna tell us if I’m getting a brother or a sister?”

The technician laughs kindly, carefully adjusting the wand’s positioning. “Let’s see…” she starts, pinching her thin brows together as she examines the anatomy. “Well, Mr. Harris, it looks like you’re going to have a little brother!”

Etiquette is swiftly tossed aside as Harris breaks free of his dad’s grasp, jumping up and down until he’s almost breathless. “I’m getting a brother! I’m getting a brother!” 

“Another boy,” Eddie muses, squeezing your hand. “No tying the score for ya, Sweetheart. Sorry.” He kisses your forehead and chuckles softly. “The Munson men remain triumphant!”

Your mouth is dropped open in a small o, still in disbelief. You’re going to have a baby boy, a little blend of you and Eddie. Though the swell of your bump should have been evidence enough of the life growing within you, the knowledge that your unborn child is a little boy makes it so real.

All you can manage is a soft, “Oh, my God,” any other words failing you. You let your hand rest on a part of your stomach not slick with gel, blinking away the shininess coating your eyes so you can look at your husband. “Eds…we’re having a boy.”

“Are you happy?” His voice is laced with worry, mind flooded with tidbits about mothers wanting daughters. 

His fears dispel as soon as your lips curl upwards into the most genuine smile he’s ever seen. “So happy. We’ll have our big kid boy,” your gaze flits towards Harris, “and our little baby boy. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

Eddie’s lips swoop down to kiss you, nose brushing yours. “I love you, and you,” he kisses your bump, “and you.” He plants a smacking smooch on Harris’s scalp, which is promptly met with a look of disgust.

Harris scratches at the spot his dad just kissed and points to your belly. “Does he have a name yet?”

“Not yet,” you admit. You and Eddie have thrown around a few options, but none have stuck. “We can call him Baby Brother until we figure it out. How’s that?”

“Okay.” He places a hesitant palm on your stomach. “Hi, Baby Brother. My name’s Harris. I’m your big brother, and when you’re out of Mommy’s tummy, we’re gonna play together all the time.”

You run a hand through his seemingly always-tangled curls. “I bet he’ll love that, Har. You’ll be the best big brother.”

The ultrasound technician wipes the remaining jelly from your torso, and you adjust your clothes and stand up. “The doctor will be in just to confirm that everything is progressing well; in the meantime, I’ll print off the pictures,” she says, adding, “you have such a beautiful family.” 

Her comment lingers even on the car ride home as Harris suggests baby names that get increasingly bizarre, your personal favorite being ‘Squidward Munson.’ A beautiful family. Your thumb grazes over the matte sonogram; all of the printed information is yours, but it’s still so surreal. 

“We’re framing the one that says ‘it’s a boy,” Eddie declares from the driver’s seat, flicking on his indicator as he turns into the apartment complex’s parking lot. He lowers his voice and teasingly asks, “You’re okay with being outnumbered?”

And maybe you’ll regret your answer when Baby Brother grows up and is belching at the dinner table, or making farting noises with his armpits, or contributing to Harris’s (and Eddie’s) collection of toilet humor, but you doubt that even boy-levels of grossness will change your mind.

“I can't wait.”

--

[deepperplexity]

Prompt 19: A Helping Hand [OS]

Pairing: Snape x Fem!Reader

POV: Second, Reader

Setting: Snape Lives AU, set 19th of December 1999 roughly a month after Snape’s return home from the hospital and you have been in love with him for years, sending letters and gifts in secret.

A/N: I feel like we need one more Snape fic this year, don’t you? 🥰 Well, you better bloody well enjoy it ‘cus I damn near keeled over writing this long thing in one sitting - remind me why I keep doing this to myself? I’m short on time, tomorrow the Christmas celebrations start and go all the way until the 25th over here and I’ve been running myself ragged between my two jobs, sorting the house, writing for Rickmas and generally being a wife, a mom, and a human - with all the work that entails in and of itself 😂

Also, don’t be fooled by how sweetly this fic starts 👀

Tags/TW’s: Secret Pining, Teenage Crush Turned Love In Adulthood, Fear, Shortly Mentions [horrible nightmares / fear for another’s safety / violence / blood / slight gore / painful past / terrible history / the war / the dark lord / wanting to die / hospital stay / scars], Shame, Guilt, Going Into Hiding, Embarrassment, Sadness, Mind Reading (Legilimens), Confessions

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name | Y/L/N - your Last Name

Word Count: 4.2k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A Helping Hand

This is fantastic, what the bloody hell was I thinking?! The black door with chipped paint loomed before you. It was an ordinary door, of regular height and width, yet it was so large and utterly imposing. I shouldn’t be here, why am I here? It’s not like he’s going to open the door and go ‘oh a Christmas star, how wonderful, come in, come in’, like, no… You adjusted your hold of the red flower in a too-small pot with a green satin ribbon tied at the top of it.

You shivered in the cold wind and your boots had turned slightly soggy with melted snow. They weren’t the best shoes for walking in snow but they were the finest pairs you had and matched perfectly with your dress and cloak of deep green with silver details.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, just knock, you idiot!” you hissed at yourself before drawing a steadying breath, reaching your hand up, and knocking far too lightly. It was more of a tapping than a knocking, really. But your hand was already clamped around the pot once more as your heart raced and pixies seemed to have a party in your stomach.

You sighed. This is stupid, he’s not going to open… It wasn’t your first attempt at contacting your previous professor. It had been a few years since you graduated, he might not even remember you despite the letters and gifts you had sent him through the years. The last two years you hadn’t dared to do so though. The world had gone too dark and the rumours of the man’s place as Voldemort’s number one follower hadn’t gone unnoticed.

One more time, you told yourself before reaching up to knock again. This time, a little harder even if it still sounded timid. You held onto the pot in a cramp-like manner as you waited with your heart in your throat and the growing party of pixies in your stomach turning into a rave.

The lock clicked. Then a chain rattled. Your eyes widened as you watched the handle turn and air seemed to evade you as the door slowly creaked open. There he was. Black hair, pale skin, frock and all — just how you remembered him. Almost.

He arched a brow, opening the door further as he found you standing one step down. His eyes went up and down, from your shoes to the Christmas Star flower and then to your face. “Miss Y/l/n?” he drawled, his voice more hoarse than you could remember. “P-professor,” you stammered, suddenly having no idea what to do now that he actually opened the door. “Not anymore,” he said harshly, but his tone wasn’t quite angry or the like. “What can I do for you, Miss Y/l/n?” he continued, his voice clipped and low.

You blinked. “Um, here—” you held out the flower, nearly shoving it into his arms “—it’s a Christmas Star, erh, flower for you,” you continued, feeling mortified as heat crept under your skin. “I can see what it is,” he drawled, looking from the flower to you with eyes betraying none of what he was thinking or feeling. “Why am I receiving it?” he continued. “I— Well, I thought I’d— You see, I— Um, well, yes, that’s a good question,” you rambled, turning warmer in your heavy cloak by the second. “Um, Merry Christmas,” you finally managed to force out while wishing the stone steps below would swallow you whole.

You hadn’t thought it would go like this, you hadn’t thought you’d lose any semblance of speech and thought by just seeing the man again. But, as usual, your teenage habit around the intimidatingly gorgeous man had you tongue-tied and unable to coherently say or think anything.

He was still gorgeous. More ravaged by harsh times, more distant than ever, and less fearsome yet more intimidating with the lack of feelings coming from him. Get yourself together! “Another gift,” he drawled, looking at the flower while he held the bottom of the pot in just one hand. “You have sent me quite a few.” You spluttered, dying of embarrassment it felt like. “I— Well, yes, I did… I’m sorry. Sorry, Professor, I shouldn’t have— and I shouldn’t have come now, you never opened before so I didn’t think you’d— No matter, I’ll leave. Um, Merry Christmas,” you rambled. “Yes, you said that already, miss.” “Oh, right, yes, right, I did. Sorry,” you whispered while burning up from the rushing of your pulse and the searing heat of embarrassment.

You turned to leave, rushing down the stairs without another word. “It’s slippery at the— Careful!” he shouted in a hoarse manner that could barely be classified as more than a murmur in the lone tone. But, it was too late. You flung your arms out, your feet sliding out from under you as you fell helplessly backwards. A crash resonated through the air and with barely a millisecond to spare you levitated in mid-air with your hair gracing the snow below.

You panted and heaved, completely still in the charm he had cast over you with no time to spare. The stone beneath could have cracked your skull, so adrenaline kept rushing through your body even though the danger was over. “T-Thank you,” you said in a stuttering exhale as he straightened you up. As soon as your feet hit the ground and his charm released you you shivered and drew in a deep breath to calm yourself.

“As accident-prone as I remember,” he murmured behind you. “Do you never learn, Y/n?” You turned, only to find him standing in the fully open doorway with the shattered pot and snapped flower at his feet. “Your gift,” you whispered, feeling your lips turn down in a saddened frown. “It took ages to grow that thing and make the pot,” you sighed to yourself. “You grew it?” he asked, making you look up from the mess. “Well, yes, I can’t give you store-bought flowers.” “Why?” he asked, making you scrunch your brows. “Why would anyone do such a thing?” “What do you mean? You saved the world, you must have gotten all kinds of flowers and gifts. I wanted mine to… be something else,” you admitted while looking at the snapped stem and scattered red petals. Your heart ached at the sight, all those months of work and magic you’d poured into it — gone.

Snape aimed his wand at the mess, not a word uttered but his brows scrunched. You sighed. “It can’t be mended…” He looked at you. “Magic?” You shook your head. “No, it can’t be fixed with magic… I grew it in… It doesn’t matter,” you whispered, brushing down your cloak to have something to do with your errant hands that wished to scoop up the broken pieces of your love at his feet. No amount of wand waving would be able to mend either flower or pot — they were impervious to any and all magic.

Snape looked at you, tilting his head ever so slightly before he waved his wand and the broken pieces flitted up into a levitating ball. “Come in,” he said and you damn near lost the capability to breathe. “W-What? Come-, come in? Into your home?” you asked, your voice nearly rude. He looked at you while standing half-turned in the doorway. “Or do not,” he simply stated before you lurched into action. “Slippery,” he reminded harshly and you slowed your climb up the stairs. Your heart and mind had no intention of slowing down though.

The door closed behind you and the gloom of a narrow hallway took over. The scent of him was overwhelming. Your mouth popped open at his back as he moved away from you, towards a door at the end leading to what appeared to be a shabby kitchen in a dull green with chequered flooring.

You scrambled out of your coat, in the gloom your dress glittered like a star-strewn sky and the silvery buckle of your waist-belt shimmered. I can do this, I can absolutely do this, this is what I wanted. Yet your hands shook and your entire body felt strung tightly as you used magic to dry your boots and the hem of your dress. You weren’t about to drag in slush and gravel into the man’s house.

With careful steps, you moved toward the open door where Snape stood by a small table only large enough to seat two people. The kitchen was gloomy as well, and it hadn’t escaped your notice that there were no decorations or hints of Christmas in the house. The man himself stood leant over the remnants of your shattered gift as you stepped up.

“Just throw it out,” you said quietly, despite how it hurt. “It’s rubbish—” “Don’t,” he snarled in that hoarse voice while throwing a harsh glare at you. “It is not rubbish.” You blinked. “Professor, it’s broken. Can’t be mended.” “It’s not Professor anymore,” he muttered. “Then, what do I call you?” He glanced at you, something swept over his features before his shoulders stiffened. “Severus, if you wish. Mr Snape if that is more to your liking.” “Your— I can call you… Severus?” you asked, stunned and floored and bewildered and, well, everything at the same time.

He didn’t reply. You both looked at the broken pot and flower in silence. All the months of work you’d put into it, gone. The endless hours you’d spent teaching yourself to do pottery by hand and the countless failed attempts — it had all been a waste. But, I knew it would be… Even if it hadn’t shattered it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. This was just selfish of me, my own need to tell him I... You couldn’t finish the thought, too many horrid memories crept up just thinking about it. All the tears, the ache in your heart and fear in your gut as times had grown dark years ago.

Severus straightened. “You stopped sending letters,” he said but kept his eyes on the mess atop the table. You looked up at his profile. “Well, yes… I…” You drew a steadying breath, readying yourself to be honest. “I got scared… I knew of your place beside Voldemort, and I suspected your place beside Dumbledore… I couldn’t imagine you ever truly being on the wrong side… But, they took family members, friends, people who—” People who mattered to others… And even if I know I don’t matter to you, they wouldn’t have known that given the letters and gifts…

“So, you read them..?” You almost didn’t want to hear the answer — either way, it would feel weird. He nodded, his hair falling forward. “Many times. You did not sign a single one until the very last, why?” You released a deep breath. “I… I never have and never will think I’m worthy of someone like you.” His eyes widened and he was about to speak but you rushed on. “Don’t worry, I’m not hurt by it. I understand,” you said with a dejected chuckle. “I’m just me, and I was your student, you know I’m nothing special, just average.” “That was many years ago, I only taught your last two years,” he said. The depth of his voice and its new raggedness had a shiver crawl down your spine.

You looked up at him, your arms crossed over your chest in a self-hug and your lips in a small smile both sad and soft in its nature. “Yes, quite, and from that time to now you’ve saved the world, protected children and adults, offered all of yourself with only loss of years to show for it I guess.” “Your point?” he drawled, a deeper darkness to his tone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up, it must be painful for you.” This is going bloody well, absolutely fantastic, can I be more of a damn idiot?

He crossed his arms over his chest, too. Yet, in a harsher manner. “Your point,” he demanded and you instantly felt as if you were being scolded by your professor, a fantasy you were far too shy to ever admit to having had several times during your more lonely nights. “I have nothing, sir,” you whispered. “I’m nothing compared to you. I went into hiding, I didn’t even fight like so many did…” “You wrote of your fear,” he drawled and your shoulders drew upwards, toward your ears in shame. “You stayed alive. More people did that than those who fought against the Dark Lord in battle.” “I hid, I ran away to the north and… I was of no help,” you admitted with a forced smile to hide the shame within your heart.

He glared at you, but it didn’t feel like a glare out of anger. It still had you tensing even more though. How on earth you’d managed to get into such a deep conversation with the man of your dreams — and nightmares — you weren’t sure but you barely dared to breathe for fear of being kicked out of his home.

“War is a terrible thing,” he said quietly. “Many fought. Many lost their lives and loved ones, but more still fled or hid. Staying alive, there is no shame to it, Y/n. No shame.” His words were harsh, unyielding and said in a manner that had you believe he might be speaking equally for your and his benefit. He was still alive, too. “Yeah, maybe…” “No. You should not be ashamed for staying alive.” “One day, maybe I won’t be,” you admitted while a heaviness seemed to blanket the room.

Severus glanced from you to the broken pot and flower once more. “Perhaps a helping hand is all we need when times are the hardest,” he said in no more than a whisper. “Your letters… they were, important to me.” You gulped down a lump that had formed in your throat. “They were..?” “Yes.” He seemed to soften next to you. “I feared you had died, when it all stopped… Seeing your name in the last letter, I cannot tell you how it affected me when I realised no more would come.”

I affect him? You weren’t sure what to say to that. You hadn’t ever imagined that you meant anything to the brave man, yet here he stood and said the opposite. But perhaps it was more of a comfort thing, a friendship thing. You shivered, your shoulders shaking. It wasn’t any help that the house was quite chilly.

“Come,” he said, turning and leaving the kitchen before you had barely reacted. You stumbled after him with a final glance at the shattered love left on his little kitchen table. He led you into a sitting room while your mind kept spinning with questions of what he thought of you, what he felt, how much he had cared when he thought you had died. Don’t go there. You had imagined far too many times that he had met a slow, painful death. Far too many nightmares had forced you awake with a scream as his death and torture were featured within your own mind.

“Sit,” he said before flicking his wand to light the fireplace. “I shall bring some tea.” A wave of warmth washed over the room and the golden light of the flames had shadows dancing all around. “Tea? Oh, thank you,” you said in a shocked rush as you sat yourself down on the two-seat sofa. He disappeared out the doorway and you were left looking around the room with the growing memories of all the nights and days you had been a complete mess, absolutely in shambles, over the man whose house you were now in.

Your eyes zeroed in on the fire as you squeezed your own biceps. He was different from how you remembered him, both in a good and bad way. Despite the harrowing life he had led, he was still the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes upon, and despite the slight hint of a scar that shouldn’t be there at all at the very top of his throat and the hoarse voice, you found him perfect. He was darker, he was harsher and more reserved in his behaviour but he talked with you and there was something about him that hadn’t changed at all.

You squeezed your biceps again, the memories coming unfiltered of all those times you had cried yourself to sleep or woken up screaming in horror. Your head swam with images of a bloody Severus, of broken limbs and a twisted neck. Gurgling breaths and wheezing noises. You barely held onto reality and the roaring fire attempting to warm you. Being in his house, and seeing him again after all these years, kicked everything to the forefront and you couldn’t get a handle on your emotions or mind.

You drew a stuttering breath, closing your eyes to try and banish the horrors of the past as they multiplied — both false nightmares and memories of re-tellings in the news of Severus’s heroic actions that had only led him to experience pain and suffering for Merlin knew how long. Get it together, get it together, you told yourself over and over as you drowned in the raging flood released by the very realisation that it was all over — that he was safe. Out of reach, but safe and alive.

You jolted up from the sofa at the sound of porcelain breaking and scattering. “Severus?” you called out, your voice shrill and your heart in an uproar. “Severus?” you called again before rushing toward the kitchen, in the direction of the noise. But you stopped short in the hallway where he stood with open hands and a mess of broken teacups and steaming water at his feet.

He looked at you with ghastly pale skin and slightly heaving breaths. “Are— Severus, are you okay? What happened?” you asked while walking up toward him, your pain and fears from the past forgotten for a moment at the sight of him. “What… was that?” he asked in a dark whisper. “What was what?” you asked, spinning around to look down the hallway, was there something in the house? No, you couldn’t see anything. “There’s nothing there.”

You turned back toward Severus, his eyes eerily fixated on you. Then you felt it. A prodding sensation and a presence in your mind that wasn’t supposed to be there. “What are you—” Your temples strained and your hand flew up to your forehead. “That,” he snarled as you saw flickers of so many horrid memories revolving around him flash in your head as he scoured through it all. You couldn't push him out, his skill was too great. “S-stop,” you pleaded. “That’s private,” you continued while looking away from him.

Embarrassment, shame, hurt, it all filled your chest as he retreated from your mind and left a palpable void where he had been a second ago. “T-That’s private,” you whispered, holding back tears as your back curved under the weight of your shame. Severus had gone through literal hell for years on end where your imagination had only brushed the surface — yet it was more than you could handle and he had had to live through it all, and possibly far worse things than you could imagine. Your fear and anguish was false, and in the presence of true bravery and strength, you wished to vanish and never come out of hiding ever again.

“You cried, for me?” he asked, so quietly you could barely hear it. “Please, I’m ashamed enough as it is…” you whispered while turning your back on him to wipe away the tears refusing to stop now that they had begun to spill over. “Ashamed,” he said as if tasting the word for the first time. You tensed. “I’m sorry, I— I shouldn’t have come to see you,” you whispered while snivelling as quietly as you could. “I’m sorry,” you forced out before bolting toward the door with a suffocated cry, grabbing your cloak in passing before gripping the door’s handle and tugging.

It didn’t budge. You tugged again, twisting one way and then the other but it wouldn’t open. Let me out, please, please let me out. You couldn’t stand the shame, the fear, the unwanted longing you were filled with for the man behind you. Through all the pain, the fear, through everything, all you had wanted was to hold him tight and make sure he was safe. It was selfish, it was ridiculous, it was unrequited and a lost cause.

You snivelled and spluttered a cry. “Please, let me out,” you whimpered while tugging on the door again. “I can’t do this,” you cried quietly. But two large hands atop your shoulder had you gasping a breath as you were spun around in a rush, your back pushed against the unyielding door with strength you stood no chance against.

“You cried for me,” he whispered. You couldn’t look him in the eye. “I’m sorry.” A gusted breath fanned your face as he snarled. “No. You cannot be sorry for that,” he said with finality. “Do not apologise for caring enough to shed tears for an unwanted man.”

You glanced up through the tears, the view of him hazy despite how close his face was to yours. “I’m sorry,” you said again. “I’m so sorry.” “Don’t.” “I was useless,” you cried quietly. All the shame, the guilt, the pain welled up further. “Useless…” You snivelled and gripped your dress so harshly you could feel your nails through the fabric. His hands hardened around your trembling shoulders. “You cried for me,” he repeated — as if he was as stuck in his mind as you were.

You had no time to react before he sank before you, his knees thudding to the floor ominously as his hands slipped down your arms only to hold on to your wrists. “I thought you were dead,” he murmured with his face tilted toward the floor. “The letters, the gifts… I thought I had lost my chance,” he continued while his hands hardened to the point of pain around your wrists. But you felt him tremble, heard his voice waver, felt the coldness of sadness seep from him and into you.

“What chance?” you asked, barely able to breathe when he tilted his head back only to view you with tear-lined eyes. The onyx colour appeared black in the gloom. “To tell you…” “T-Tell me? W-What?” you managed to force out between snivelling breaths and clogging cries. “You matter to me. You… are important, to… me,” he said darkly and forcibly through gritted teeth as his hands clamped around your wrists and a bewildered look filled his eyes while the rest of him remained utterly harsh. “But I can’t be,” you whispered. “I did nothing.” “You saved me,” he snarled.

Your breath hitched as he tugged on your wrists, forcing you down on your knees before him. His hands gripped your shoulders anew, steadying you before you would have fallen face-first into his chest. “Your words saved me, your gestures, you have no idea what you did for me,” he ground out. “Do not think, for a second, you are useless, Y/n. If it weren’t for you… I am the one who should feel shame.” “What? No! You saved the world!” He glared at you. “Only barely.” “That doesn’t matter. You did it.” “Because of you. I could not… I could not fail when I thought you had died because of what the Dark Lord persisted for.” He was so calm in the next second. As if, somehow, he found control again while you spiralled and kept snivelling and whimpering cries.

Your body sagged under the weight of his words. “But, I am nothing to the world—” “You are important to me,” he interrupted. “And until you sent that card to St. Mungos, I had believed you dead — as I had wished to be.” “Severus, no, no,” you cried, instinctively reaching up to grasp at his chest. He allowed the touch, reaching around to pull you closer. “You saved the world, and then you saved me. All you had to do was stay alive, and you did. Nobody has a right to ask for anything more than that, yet, I will…”

You leaned back, a snivelling and trembling mess before him. He reached up and wiped your cheeks with the back of his chilly fingers even if the tears just kept on coming. “Let me know you, Y/n.” You held his gaze. “You know me better than anyone, what I told you in those letters are things I haven’t told anyone…” His eyes widened, his fingers tensed and then he pulled you closer by your waist. “Stay,” he said.

You buried your face in his chest, beyond emotional and out of control. You trembled and shook, your brain misfired and had you scrambling for the connection with your voice to speak the only word you wished. Instead, you cried into his chest and grasped at his clothes with clawing strength. He held you closer, his embrace firm and warm. “Stay. Gift me what I thought I had lost forever…” “A-and, w-what, is that..?” you said between snivels and rushed breaths. “You… A chance to be with the woman who saved the world through me…” It was too much, yet you managed to find your voice. “Never let go,” you whispered. “Never.”

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: Well, this made me emotional.

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[euhla]

boisterous monsoon 𝜗𝜚. SUNDAY

gn!reader. no plot, fluff, comfort, stress relief, established relationship, pet name, lots of these r inspired from petit paradis, he needs a hug (i mean A LOT of hugs) <33

kirari futari let her go like 1999 say yes to heaven

the melting horizon, the boisterous monsoon, and the sound of old record player that filled the silent room. the candle which was the only source of light slowly began to dim—the light began to disappear with the sun.

from the window, the rain was still falling heavily. you sighed because you wanted to go out.

“rain is better than hot weather,” a person's voice—not from a an old record player, could be heard clearly.

“sunday, it has been raining for three hours now,” you whine.

“well..” sunday stopped. he seemed to be thinking about what he would say next. “what about we enjoy this tranquil atmosphere, no?”

sunday looked out the window. his body was leaning against the wall near you, and his arms were crossed. “rarely has penacony been greeted by placid like this.”

“beyond the hills and far away..” the sound of the old record blending with the sound of rain.

realizing your boredom was at its peak, sunday walked over and sat next to you. “come here, closer.”

and you do as he commands. now there is no longer any distance between you. with his hand, sunday made your head rest on his shoulder. his hand slowly stroked your head. the usually cold hands suddenly felt warm in an instant. something sunday had never done before

you smiled at the little action he made. "you're right, rain is better than hot weather.”

he chuckles. “rain is always perfect for lethargic, dove.”

“under the boisterous monsoon, petit paradis waiting around the corner..”

“this line..” you mumbled.

"reminds you of your childhood?” he replied.

“yeah, i remember when they used this iconic line everywhere; ads, posters, like everywhere! but this song will always have a place in my heart.”

“so do i,” sunday looked up while closing his eyes, trying to remember his childhood which seemed to have gone by so fast. seeing him, you held his hand. trying to join in the nostalgia.

“under the boisterous monsoon, i finally found my paradise.”

[xoxochb]

— 1999 ꣑ৎ‧₊˚. pairing: connor stoll x daughter of hades lyrics: “hold me close and say you care / because I’m in love with your brown hair”

a first turn and a second. no, it’s too cold on the left side. but then again when you lay on the right it’s too hot! you can’t win can you? you pull the blanket further over your head to keep your skin from being exposed to anymore of the freezing atmosphere of cabin thirteen. you internally curse your father for being the god of the dead out of everything he could’ve been, additionally cursing him for your naturally cold body temperature. you groan when a wave of warmth crawls up your body, throwing the blanket off of your head in rage. yeah, fuck this. you stand up from your bed, sliding on your slippers and heading towards the cabin door when a familiar voice stops you

“going somewhere?”

you jump and clutch a hand to your chest, breathing rapidly. “gods, nico, you damn near gave me a heart attack!”

you attempt to search in the dark for your brother but you assume he’s to deep in a pile of many blankets to be found, nonetheless you turn in the direction of his bed

“changing the subject I see…”

you scowl and cross your arms over your chest. “I can’t sleep here”

“ah, I understand. going to seek warmth in your idiot of a boyfriend?”

“he’s not an idiot. I’m leaving now, mom”

you roll your eyes and exit the cabin before nico can muster up another stupid sentence. the cold night air may have been worse than your cabin, despite your cozy pjs (aka everything is directly from your boyfriend’s dresser). you pull your sweatshirt over your hands and rush your way to cabin eleven

when you enter the temperature is instantly different from your own cabin, especially with the crackling fire off to the side. you’ve taken this path many times, so it’s wasn’t too difficult to find the bed you wanted. you slide off your slippers and place them under the bed so you don’t trip over them in the morning (or connor. this was a real event, you laughed your ass off for a full twenty minutes). you admire the beauty that was your beloved before laying with him, his unruly brown hair, lips parted, freckle adorned cheeks, he looked so peaceful you could’ve cried. you sigh and slip yourself into his arms, and at last you were finally warm

but just as you find yourself comfortable tucking your head under connor’s chin he begins stirring and wraps his arms around you tightly

“knew you’d end up in my bed” he mutters almost inaudibly. you can’t help but smile

“my cabin was cold”

“hm, so are you”

regardless of his opinion on your body temperature he slips his hands underneath your his shirt, you bask in his warmth, sighing constantly. but you frown when he speaks again,

“this is my shirt” connor opens his eyes and looks under the blanket “and my pants! you’re a thief?”

you gasp and a little too loudly for a sleeping cabin you respond, “I’m a thief?!” this earns you multiple ‘shh!’ from around the room, making you resort to a quiet tone this time, “you’re a hypocrite, do you know that?”

connor laughs softly and closes his eyes again, inhaling your sweet scent. “‘m just joking. I love you (nick name)”

and you know he’s telling nothing but the truth. saying those three special words wasn’t easy for him and you knew that well— which is why you told him take all the time he needs before saying it. the day you’d said them for the first time you remember it vividly. you’d been bullied by some aphrodite kids over your paternity and the next day they all woke up with messily cut hair and crickets in their pillowcases. and you knew better than anyone who had been the culprit behind this fiasco, later crying in his arms you said those three words. not wanting to pressure connor into anything you began to apologize but without another moment he responded with the same phrase

a promise he made to himself that day. he was surely going to marry you whether anyone agreed with it or not. he was going to make sure nobody would hurt you physically or verbally the same way they did the previous day. and he’d kept half that promise for now (three years later fulfilling the second half)

“I love you too, con”

you feel his smile upon your forehead before he places a kiss there gently, then he takes one of your hands and places a peck to each fingertip and then your palm, and the back of your hand. he stops when he realizes there’s a bandaid on one of your fingers

“what happened?”

you recall the events of earlier today. “paper cut. was trying to turn the page of my book”

he kisses the bandaid. “my poor girl”

your eyes begin to heavy with the serenity of the moment surrounding you. you wish every night could consist of something as domestic as this. you let your eyelids flutter closed, you suppose connor takes notice of you lack of response

“sleepy?”

you nod. he kisses the top of your head again and rubs his hand up and down the skin of your back to assure your filled with nothing but warmth as you drift off into a deep slumber for the remainder of the night

[nhularin]

oh, say it ditto

PAIRING situationship!jungwon x reader GENRE angst, highschool AU WARNING insecurities, miscommunication?? WC 0.7k

❕series masterlist

November 21, 1998

"is it true?" minji, your friend, asked as she plopped on the chair in front of you, a melona ice stick in her hand "are you and yang jungwon from class 4 really dating?"

you paused. what were you supposed to tell her? ' yes we are' and then get turned down by the boy you liked like a fool? yeah, that's not going to happen.

so you only shook your head. as much as you didnt like the idea, you and jungwon aren't a thing, and he apparently has no intentions of making it official.

despite the late night calls or him waiting for you after school to walk you home, he has never confessed how he really feels about you

the small chit chat lingered in your head for the rest of class. insecurities and what ifs haunted your mind like a parasite not willing to leave its host. a frown etched on your forehead as you leaned on your chin, lost in your own world.

a cold sensation touched your skin, a gasp leaving your lips as you looked up to the perpetrator. and there he was, the boy who's slowly breaking your heart grinning like an angel fallen from grace.

"class prez, are you thirsty?" he asked with a bottle of banana milk in his hand, doe eyes forming into crescents and dimples leaving your legs wobbly. if you weren't already seated, you would've definitely fallen.

but silence hung heavy in the air and you didnt dare to speak. too afraid that his presence will make your voice betray you.

"thank you" you say with faux confidence.

why is he here? you never spoke at school, keeping your relationship out of sight from everyone. "im a private person" he has told you, but is that really the truth?

the absence of his affirmations left your heart wobbling and struggling on a fragile edge, desperately grasping onto threads of hope.

Like you a little, don’t want no riddle

maybe, just maybe, he needed time to sort through the maze of his own emotions. Maybe he was as afraid as you were, terrified of crossing the boundaries of friendship into something more.

"let me walk you to your next class, yn."

you heart ached and screamed for resistance, to turn him down and let you heal.

but you nodded.

December 18, 1998

but as days turned into weeks, doubt crept into the deepest recesses of your heart. fear of rejection clawed at your self-esteem, whispering cruel reminders of your misplaced hope. maybe you had misread everything. maybe his silence was a rejection in disguise, too painful to be spoken aloud.

February 17, 1999

each interaction became a tug-of-war in your mind, balancing on the precipice between euphoria and heartache. you weaved through the labyrinth of mixed signals, dissecting his every word, searching for hidden meanings. his smiles, his laughter, the moments you shared together, all fueled your longing for something deeper, for a connection that transcended the uncertainties of a situationship.

Say it, say it back, oh, say it ditto

and so, you found solace in the uncertain, cherishing the pieces of hope that still shimmered within. in the quiet depths of your heart, you held on to the possibility of reciprocated love, hoping that maybe one day, he would find the words to express what his silence couldn't.

but as the drizzling rain pattered against your window, a cruel realization settled within—a truth too raw to ignore. the love you craved, the affirmation you eagerly wanted, may never come. And with that realization came acceptance, a bittersweet realisation to the heart

November 21, 1999

each unspoken word became a chapter left unwritten, leaving room for unanswered questions and unresolved emotions. and though the journey with Jungwon held the potential for a love story, its unwritten conclusion deemed it as a tragedy, with you as its protagonist.

leaning against the window pane, your gaze shifted from the rain-streaked glass to the world beyond. a mixture of sorrow and comfort laced your heart as you realized that sometimes, the most beautiful stories were those that remained untold. and as you moved forward into the future, you carried with you the lessons learned, the strength gained, and a love that may forever remain stuck in the confusing space between what was and what could have been.

do you think about me now?

[holyfreaks]

February 1999.

The first time Sam smokes weed, it's through Dean's teeth.

It's a freezing cold night somewhere in the middle of Wisconsin. Dad's gone again. Dean was reluctant to share with Sam at first, but those pleading eyes get him every damn time.

Dean takes the first drag. He inhales slowly and deeply, trying not to cough. His eyes grow heavy as it flows through him.

“Dean? Can I try? Please?”

Dean sighs out smoke. He locks eyes onto his little brother. He pulls him towards him. Sam climbs onto his lap, straddling him. Those fucking eyes. Staring into his fucking soul. Dean takes another drag, holding it between his lips. Then he pulls Sam even closer, until their lips brush. He blows the smoke into Sam. Sam inhales deeply, eyes wide, heart pounding. His head grows hazy and heavy.

He's not entirely sure if it's from the weed or Dean.

[friendsoup]

WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS ON THE FLOOR READING THE SOBER THOUGHTS FIC⁇⁇⁇⁇⁇⁇⁇⁇ IT WAS SO GOOD ESP FOR MEDICINE POCKET.... WOULD IT BE ALRIGHT TO ASK FOR A PART 2 TO IT? like how reader finally sobers up but doesn't exactly remember what had happened after they got hit with diggers atk until pocket and dikke explain it to them ⎯ bla bla BLAH reader is flustered and embarrassed, frantically trying to hide away and make excuses for their actions even though they were completely pure truths of their affections towards them, and even going as far as to say "Pretend it never happened/you didn't hear it!" how wld pocket and dikke react ... or more like, return reader's feelings while also being embarrassed abt the situation

Sober Thoughts Pt 2

Recipe: Romantic fluff, Proper confessions, Hungover! Reader, Reader x Medicine Pocket, Reader x Dikke, GN! Reader, Devoted Dikke, Playfully teasing Medicine

WC: 1,979 (one day I'll get 1999)

Chef's Note: OUGH sorry this took so long!!! I'm working on like. 3 fics at once. I just happened to finish this one first lmao. I hope it's what you were looking for! I certainly had fun writing it!

The first thing that comes to you is the pounding in your head.

It feels like someone’s beating you with a hammer, a dull thud banging over and over again into your temples. Your brain feels like it’s being squeezed, making it hard to think, or comprehend anything but the pain. Has it always hurt so much to live? 

Against all better reasoning, you attempt to open your eyes. Slowly, they peel open, instantly flooded by the lights and colors of your room. It feels like a stab to the eyeballs, your head throbbing in response. You groan, squeezing your eyes shut. Since when does seeing hurt to do? “You’re awake.” You hear a familiar voice say. Cautiously, you turn your head again, peeking out of one eye. And there they are. Medicine Pocket, sitting right next to your bed. Their hair is undone, falling over their shoulders in a messy cascade. Their eyes look tired, but they’re still managing to pull a smile. “You’ve given everyone quiiiiite the heart attack.” They chuckle, poking your forehead. “Come on, sit up. I have some water for you.” That is music to your ears. 

You scooch upwards, your sore muscles screaming at you to stop. It feels like you’ve just ran a marathon, your body inexplicably pained by… something. Something you can’t quite remember. Medicine shoves a cool glass of water in your hands, and instantly you feel better. Just the cold touch of the glass is enough to relax you, and when you put the glass to your lips? The relief is like no other. You gulp it down greedily, finishing the cup in a matter of seconds. You hand it back to Medi, feeling slightly better.

“Bunny Bunny has something she calls a ‘hangover cure’ that she’s cooking up for you.” Medi states, snorting. “Apparently it’s popular. Both Pavia and Centurion swear by it.” You can barely comprehend what they’re saying, your mind swimming in pain. But the sound of their voice is comforting. You’re glad they’re here, next to you, during this time of need. However, there’s something on your mind. “What… what happened last night?” Your confusion makes Medi burst out into laughter. You writhe in pain as the sound hits your ears, the shrill laughter doing nothing for your headache. You shrink down into your bed, hitting your head against the pillow as you prepare for something terrible to come out their mouth. “You got hit by one of Diggers’ bubbles.” Medi explains between laughter. “You were out of it.” You groan, bits and pieces returning to you. “When we got you to the suitcase, you nearly fell face first down the stairs. I had to catch you.” “Nooooo…” “You started petting Pickles, then broke into tears over how fluffy he was.” “Noooooooooo, don’t remind mee…” You hide your face under the covers. “You sang karaoke with Regulus. I have it on camera.” “Nooo you don’t! Pocket, come oooon…” “You also told me you loved me.” You freeze, suddenly tensing. Surely you didn’t… did you? “Oh.” Is all that can escape you. “That’s…” You bite your lip, not knowing what else to say. “You said I’m smart, and skilled in battle, and stupidly beautiful.” They trail on.

Your face feels as if it’s on fire. You want them to stop, yet you can’t make the words. 

“You said you think about me at night, and that every time I look at you I set you on fire.” “Please, please stop!” You beg, tears beginning to well in your eyes. You can’t stand the teasing any longer, it’s too much. “Just forget about it, alright?! I wasn’t in my right mind. I was out of it! Just act like it never happened, okay?!”

Medi flinches back at your sudden resistance. You’ve never snapped back at their teasing before. This was new. Had they accidentally hit a nerve? 

“Hey, I’m-” “No, just stop! I know you want to continue to make fun of me, but I can’t take it! Everything hurts, and I ruined our friendship, and I just want to be left alone so I can rot forever!” You sob, tears rushing from your eyes now. Your head pounds further, but nothing hurts as bad as the tear in your heart. “[Name]!” Medi exclaims. “I’m sorry!” “You’re…” You wipe your face with your blanket. “What?” “I’m sorry. For teasing you.” Medi rubs at their neck, staring at the ground. “I didn’t know you’d be a big baby about it. I’m sorry.” You blink. For as long as you’ve known Medicine Pocket, they’ve never apologized. You didn’t think it was possible for them to. That they’d explode if they ever tried. Though it wasn’t the most ideal apology, it was more than what you were used to from them. “But.” Medi continued, slowly. “I can’t just forget about it. I’ve been thinking a lot about what you’ve said.” A blush falls upon their cheeks. “[Name], you make me happy. Like, really happy. There’s something about your idiotic face that makes it hard for me to think straight. I’ve never… I’ve never really felt that before. For anyone. It’s weird and confusing, and sometimes I think I hate it. But I want to be with you. Even if it’s just for a bit.” “Medicine…” You look up at them, eyes as round as saucers. “Yeah?” They ask, catching their breath. “You picked the worst time to confess!” You break into a smile, wincing at the sudden movement. “Really? While I’m hungover of all things?” You reach out a hand, playfully pushing them away. “At least I’m not doing it mid-battle! Like some of us.” They playfully whap you back, a smirk returning to their face.

The two of you laugh, before falling into a pleasant silence. “I’d like to give us a shot, [Name].” Medi says, bashfully looking towards you. “I’d like that too.”

Drunk Words pt 2

You have a nightmare that night. In your dream, a large eagle with red eyes stares daggers into you, while you attempt to escape from it’s twisted forest.

No matter where you turn, it’s always ahead of you, it's bird face full of hatred. You duck under branches, twist between trees, and hide under brush, but you can still feel it’s glare wherever you go. Always lurking.

Always ahead. You wake with a start.

The first thing you notice is that you’re covered in sweat. Your clothes stick to your body, making it nearly impossible to move and breathe. It’s a gross sensation, nearly unbearable, made worse by the fact that it’s paired with a killer headache.

Your head pounds, your stomach churns, and everything feels hot and close. You feel as though there’s been a great pressure placed on you, and it’s slowly crushing you into the bed. You force yourself to sit up, wiping your wet forehead with an equally wet arm. Your vision is hazy, blurred and swirling as the room rocks around you. It takes you a moment to realize that you’re in your room. And that there’s someone at the door. The eyes from your nightmare fall upon you, as blank and as cruel as you remember them to be. You flinch back, then flinch again at the pain, as your head spins in confusion. Wait. You know that red glare! “Dikke?” You ask. You didn’t realize it until now, but your mouth is horribly dry. It feels like someone shoved cotton into your jaw and left you to choke. “Yes, M’lord?” Dikke asks, standing up a bit straighter. “What are you doing in my room?” Dikke’s face goes red, her eyes falling to the floor. “Making sure you’re protected, M’lord. I couldn’t be too careful.” Now, you might be out of it, but you’re pretty sure there’s no threats nearby. What the hell was Dikke talking about? “From…what?”

Dikke’s face grows more embarrassed, as she lowers her head now, trying to shield her expression. “You see, you were… compromised last night. You were in a vulnerable state. I had to make sure you got the rest you needed to recover, and that no one took advantage of your stupor.” Well that was at least sweet. You think. Not that you suspect anyone in the suitcase would really do that. The worst would be Tennant, who’d probably try to swindle any remaining money out of you. But other than that? You trusted the people you worked with.

Slowly, memories return. “Oh,” You groan, the cause of all this hitting you like a freight train. “I got hit by one of Diggers’ bubbles, didn’t I?” You sigh, dragging your fingers through your hair. “I didn’t do anything too embarrassing, did I?”

Dikke shakes her head. “You wanted to go out and, uh, socialize, but I put an end to that. Once we got back, I made you dress and go straight to bed. To prevent any further harm from being done.” You sigh in relief. “That’s good. Thank you, Dikke.” “Except- there was one thing.” 

Oh no.

“You…” She stumbles over the first word, you can see she’s struggling to get it all out. “You told me that… Well, the thing is, you said something. And I… I’m simply wondering… Ah, no, that’s not it.” You lean forward, intrigued by the hesitation. “You told me that you loved me.” She finishes, giving a pitiful look to you. “Gah! What? I did?” You exclaim. You don’t remember that at all! “How- What- Huh?” “It was not a full confession.” Dikke admits. “You told me that I was beautiful, and then exclaimed ‘I love you’. But you were quite out of it…” Her expression twists between sad and expectant. It’s clear that she wants you to say something, but you aren’t sure what. “I probably didn’t mean it in a romantic way!” Probably? God, could you be any less convincing?! “I probably just meant it as a friend thing! You know? How friends call each other beautiful and stuff?” You’re sweating bullets all over again, making the bed even more uncomfortable. “Ah.” Dikke looks quite defeated, her gaze returning to the ground. “So you mean to tell me, you do not have romantic feelings for me?” What are you even supposed to say?! The brave knight of justice has never looked so pitiful or small. She looks like a gentle wind could blow her down! You bite the inside of your cheek, closing your eyes as you try to find the correct words to say. “If I did have romantic feelings for you, hypothetically, what would you say?” You ask, opening one eye to study Dikke. “That my heart burns for you as well. And that I want to pledge my unyielding loyalty to you, and to our love.” She states, bowing. “Well, what if, again hypothetically, I said I wanted to take it slow at first? Ease into the whole, unyielding loyalty thing.” “Oh.” You see the gears turning in her head as she stands up straight. “Yes, I’m sure I can do that too.” She coughs into a closed fist, glancing away.

“Then, well…” You sigh. “I do like you. And I do want to take things slow.” You admit, crossing your arms. The light which appears in Dikke’s eyes are like no other. She’s like a kid seeing a christmas tree for the first time, all wonder filled and bright. She runs to your side, kneeling at your bed. Looking up to you with so much admiration, you could swear it was almost worship. “You’re being truthful, M’lord? Yes?” “Yeah, I am.” You sink under her gaze, not used to it being so soft. It’s cute. Too cute. “Then I will be your knight, yours and yours alone, to defend you and follow you to the ends of the earth.” She swears.

You wonder, briefly, what you’ve gotten yourself into.

[bitterbutblue]

xueyi!!

in your arms tonight ☆ xueyi x reader

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

~ xueyi hurt/comfort + fluff because god knows this girl needs a BREAK omg she and hanya r just going through it...

how are u all doing! i hope u liked the tingyun/fugue angst i had a lot of fun writing that one.. remember me 1999 episode 4 will be out some time next week, so stay tuned!

song: soren - beabadoobee ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

One of the few things Xueyi never found herself able to even process the idea of was love. After being punished, practically reliving a living hell, she might as well consider herself barely human. No, she's not even barely human. Her heart is synthetic, a piece of plastic that can be destroyed over and over again but as long as she stays with the commission she has to continue feeling like this- like her body is her prison.

Yet every time you kiss her cheek, shoulder, neck, hand, anywhere, she feels herself begin to melt. Her body she once hated was a body you worshipped like none other- the way you touched her was so warm, so welcoming. She found herself craving for your touch because it made her actually feel for once something other than dread or pain. When you say her name, she feels her heart that she once despised beat faster. She feels what she never thought she could ever feel in this life time.

When you kissed her for the first time, some part of her actually melted in your arms and she felt some part of her become some part of you that day. Her lips were cold against yours, but all you could focus on was the way her breath hitched slightly and how she froze a bit. The way her hands hesitantly moved to rest against your hips as she pulls you in closer, an eagerness within her you had never seen before. She pulls away with a the first smile she's shown since she's been put in this body. A smile that you want to keep forever close to your heart, a smile that makes you want to kiss her into oblivion.

That was the day you knew you were in love with her, and there was no getting out of it.

That was the day Xueyi vowed to work even harder, despite her hatred for her job, because all she wanted was to spend eternity with you.

"I really think we should get a cat."

She looks up at the sound of your voice, raising an unamused eyebrow.

"A cat?"

"Yeah." You nod, moving to sit down next to her on the couch. Xueyi continues flipping over the documents as you lean your shoulder. She can't show you exactly how she feels, she can't explain that this body is a limit to everything in her life but she feels her heart warm up and her body lighten slightly. She feels more human, just from the touch of your hand.

"Why cats?"

"I like them."

She doesn't say anything, not really knowing what to do or say as you further move to snuggle your head in the crook of her neck. She has grown used to your actions and if anything, you already remind her of owning a cat. Needy, cuddly. Overly affectionate at times.

"I see."

You pout at her response.

"You don't want a cat?"

"I want whatever makes you happy." She shrugs lightly.

You just let out a soft hum in response.

"You make me happy."

Xueyi freezes slightly, unsure how to fully respond in that moment. What is happiness? Is that what she feels whenever you kiss her? Is that what she feels whenever someone just mentions your name? Maybe the lightness in her chest is happiness, the fluttering in the cavity of wires and bits and bobs where she shouldn't feel such giddiness but she does.

"It still confuses me how you can blush."

"Huh?"

She snaps out of her thoughts, looking over at you with a mildly confused expression.

"What?"

"Your face. It's pink again."

Xueyi looks away, quickly reaching up with one hand to touch her cheek. It feels warm to the touch again. She's still unsure of how her body functions but according to you this is a human reaction. And knowing that she can react like a human makes her feel a bit calmer inside.

"I like it. Pink suits you, you're adorable." You mumble as you press kiss to her jawline. She feels a lurch in her chest, as if the motors are going haywire. Every time your lips press against her synthetic skin she feels like she's going slightly insane, as if her body was failing to process whatever was going on.

"Thank you." Is all she can mumble out, and you laugh to yourself at the response.

"Gods, you're adorable." You whisper, pressing a kiss to her neck. She doesn't understand why she gasps softly, or why she feels the need for more as move to straddle her lap, kissing down her neck. There's a lot she doesn't understand about herself, there's a lot she knows she used to hate but doesn't anymore. But the one thing she's sure of is that she wants all of you.

"Xueyi?"

She lets out a soft hum of acknowledgement, wrapping her arm around your back as you lay next to her, resting your head on her bare chest as the covers keep you both from the cool winter nights.

"Did you know you could feel like this?"

She tilts her head to the side.

"Like what?"

"Like... love? Did you know you could fall in love?"

The question has her pondering slightly. She didn't think she could feel the way she used to feel anymore until you, and she's never been more grateful.

"No, but I'm glad I can, to an extent." She responds quietly, feeling your finger trace shapes upon her skin, tracing each little groove on her synthetic body that holds it together. "I'm glad I've met you."

You look up at her, and she can feel herself falling again at the look in your eyes. Who knew a simple look could convey words that neither of you could form in the moment, but somehow was able to understand each other completely?

"Do you want to get married?"

The question comes out of the blue, tumbling out of your mouth like an unstoppable boulder going down the hill. It comes out of your mouth like desperately, as if it was a question you had pondered for too long and you just wanted to let out as soon as possible. She feels the same caving feeling in her chest as when you first kissed her, when you first told her you love her.

"Married?"

Her own voice sounds shaky as she searches your eyes for an answer, for your answer to your own question. Your eyes stayed glued onto hers, looking for the same. Neither of you knew the answer to the question, what you truly wanted was still unknown even to yourself and she can see that in your eyes but what she could also see was the overwhelming love.

"Baby?"

She doesn't understand why you suddenly seemed to grow worried.

"Xueyi, are you okay?"

"Yeah?"

"You're crying."

It's only when you point it out that she realises her face is wet and her eyes are stinging slightly. Crying. A human response to an overly emotional trigger, a response she shouldn't be able to show as she is not in a human body. So why is she crying?

"Darling, what's wrong?"

She shakes her head, not wanting to worry you because she doesn't know either- all she knows is that she feels a tornado in her chest and she feels too much that she feels like she shouldn't be able to comprehend but she can. She understands it all despite it being so foreign and it feels like home. It feels like you.

"I love you."

Your gaze softens at her words, the first time she's ever said them out loud to you was in the sanctuary of your bed in your home.A home you've managed to make her feel safe in for the first time, a home she wants to return to. When you kiss her, she just holds you close. No words could convey what you were feeling and she knew she wouldn't be able to convey much either. But she knew she wanted you, for as long as she can have you.

She can't ever really tell you how she feels, she can't write a poem like those authors on the streets that show off the emotions they can feel. She can't tell you how you mean the world and more to her because she can barely even get herself to smile when she's happy but she would try forever to get you to see how much she truly cares for you. Even if it means going to lengths she never did before.

So she just texts you one day:

Come to the kitchen.

You were worried when you got that text, leaping out of your chair to dash down to the kitchen, afraid that something had happened. Was it something you did? Did she want to talk? You couldn't help but overthink- it was hard with Xueyi. The walk was only thirty seconds or less, but you felt your panic grow in each second passing.

"Xueyi, what's wrong-?"

You were quickly cut off when you see the sight in front of you. Xueyi stands in the kitchen in her oversized hoodie that she took from you, holding a black little kitten in her arms with round red eyes. You couldn't help but let out a gasp, rushing up to her and the kitten as you look down at the little creature in her arms.

"What? How did you-"

"You wanted a cat."

The smile on your face when she said those words made her realise it was really all worth it. She never understood the need for little living creatures but seeing the way you grinned and bent down slightly to coo at the cat, her face relaxed slightly from her usual emotionless scowl to a softer expression- the closest she can show to emotion.

"It looks like you."

She furrows her eyebrows at your comment.

"How can a cat look like me?"

A soft giggle escapes from between your lips, she's fallen and long gone now.

"It just does."

[obviouslacking]

this is wholly embarrassing but i watched h-e double hockey sticks (1999) for the first time last night and, in the midst of my jeric brainrot, it made my mind go ❣️

so i wrote a teensy, terrible ficlet. i gave it a saccharine little title. griffelkin/dave, because of course it is. what are niche fandoms for if not to practice writing bad fanfiction? anyway. this goes out to the folks on jeric twt

edit: she’s on ao3 now! someone please join me over there so hedhs can become an actual categorised fandom

the sign on your heart (it's still reserved for me)

aka when hell freezes over

*******************

It was the greatest night of Dave Heinrich’s life. 

He’d just won the Stanley Cup; the girl of his dreams was on his arm and he was enjoying his hard-won victory. Only… something was wrong. Through the lights, and the confetti, and the cheers, he watched as Griffelkin melted away into the crowd. Like he was never there. Like he’d never be seen again — by Dave, anyway. The triumphant grin slipped off his lips. It was cold, suddenly, out there on the ice, in a way the exertion had masked before. Everything he’d just accomplished began to feel… hollow. The only reason he’d managed to achieve anything was because of Griffelkin, chaotic and ridiculous though he was. Because, for some godforsaken reason… he’d believed in Dave.

He’d made him a better person.

What he’d had with Anne had been good. It felt like they had grown up in the rink together. But they’d been chasing after a dead-and-buried version of the past for too long now, blindly gripping to nostalgia instead of moving forward with their lives. It was now clear to him: it was time to set them both free. 

He turned to her with regret, “I’m so sorry, I have to go.” 

She didn’t understand, “Dave, wait—”

He couldn’t. He had to get out of there or else he’d lose his chance entirely. He knew how it looked: Dave Heinrich, the golden boy, leaving the Stanley Cup celebrations — the moment he’d worked towards all his life, the pinnacle of his rising star. He didn’t care. He was proud of his team, proud of himself, but… none of it would feel right until he saw Griffelkin again. Until they got to be proud of what they’d done together. The two of them, their own team.

He had to get him back.

It took hours. He drew pentagrams in chalk on his nicely laminated flooring. He lit candles. He tried ominous chanting, tried reciting an exorcism he thought he saw in a movie once, tried everything he could think of to summon Griffelkin back to him — short of screaming at the sky in despair.

Nothing worked. He was forced to sit himself down by the absolute mess he’d made with a sigh, body still aching from the torture it had endured that day. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Griffelkin had held onto him as he lifted him up onto the sickbay bed. Or the sight of him in his Angels uniform; wearing Dave’s number, Dave’s name. He’d been chasing after the Cup for so long, treading water with his girlfriend for so long… he’d forgotten what that felt like. To have a fire inside you, one that burned for a person. 

If Griffelkin technically counted as a person, anyways. Dave was still a little.. fuzzy on the details. If he thought about it too much, he was sure he’d lose his mind (even more so than he likely already had. Maybe he’d just taken a really hard check out on the ice one day, and this was all some kind of fever dream—)

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jesus Christ!!! Dave had sprung up and away from the sudden intruder in terror before he could even realise it was the intended object of his summonings. Here, at last. Hours after Dave had wanted him. The creature lived to spite him.

Even so, just seeing his face again… Dave needed to say his piece. “I had to talk to you. It wasn’t right, how you just… left, after everything. Why did you just leave?”

Griffelkin was uncharacteristically muted, like all the flair had been drained out of him. “You got everything you wanted. You didn’t need me anymore.”

*******************

Griffelkin was lost. 

He’d come to Earth to be wicked. To do bad deeds. To steal the ever-ripe soul of one Dave Heinrich. He’d never anticipated… everything that had happened after that. Becoming invested in the lives of actual, honest-to-God people, turning against the will of Beelzebub and everything he’d trained for to show compassion… it was entirely out of left field. Or left.. rink… (curse his sudden investment in that stupid game. It was just unnatural).

He’d never anticipated the way something about Dave was just… different. When Griffelkin was with him… he’d never felt like that before. It itched throughout his whole body; like that awful diner food, or the smell of the trees as they polluted his insides. Something horrible like… sunshine, or flowers, or the way Dave would smile breathlessly after he won a game—

Oh, hell.

Griffelkin had done it. He’d gone and fallen in — he took a moment to tamp down the nausea — love with him. The human. His former mark. What on Earth was he going to do? 

Quite literally. He definitely didn’t think Hell would take him back any time soon, and the folks upstairs… well he didn’t know WHAT was going on with them. Gabby was their earthly agent?? She made him look positively angelic by comparison — and that was saying something.

So here he was: stuck topside, having horrendously squishy feelings for someone who would never like him back. Why would he? He’d got the Stanley Cup, got the girl… he didn’t need Griffelkin anymore. Dave’s soul may have been bound to him once, but they’d essentially ripped up everything that had tied them together. Their deal was done. 

If only he’d known sooner… he’d never have got those two back together!! If he'd ensured they'd remained separated, he could have done his buddy Lewis a solid — he wouldn't have had to deal with Dave's impressive ego anymore!! Meanwhile, Griff could have swooped in at just the right moment, offering his soulmate both the shining Cup and his blackened heart on a brimstone platter……

But it was too late. They were all finally happy, at peace; everyone’s souls intact. Hurray! Griffelkin had no choice but to just fade into the background. Leave Dave be. He’d already interfered with his life enough. 

Or so he’d thought.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was currently standing in Dave’s living room. He’d just felt drawn to the place, something that had never happened before. At least, not without some kind of demonic intervention. Somehow, he didn’t think that was at work here, despite the look of Dave’s once-glossy pad. The space seemed to be covered in… satanic paraphernalia of some kind. 

Aw, he was almost touched. Mildly offended by the amateur job (WHO taught him how to draw a pentagram? And scented candles, really?? Was that glitter over there—) but… touched, nonetheless.

Dave was sitting on the floor, hunched over, still in his jersey from the game. He looked miserable. 

Griffelkin felt that increasingly familiar tremble in his chest. He took it out back and shot it dead. “What the hell are you doing?”

Dave jumped out of his skin at the words. He was so cute when he was being existentially horrified by the forces of Griffelkin’s dark magic. Damn him. He’d failed already (typical, typical, Griff, can’t do anything right). He had to stop thinking of Dave like that, not when he wanted nothing—

“I had to talk to you….. it wasn’t right, how you just…. left, after everything. Why did you just leave?”

He… wanted Griff? 

That couldn’t be right. No matter how much it pained him, all he could think to do was be honest: “You got everything you wanted. You didn’t need me anymore.”

Dave seemed distraught, hearing this. Griffelkin had never seen him like that before. He didn’t know what to make of it. He looked… agitated, but not like he was when his hockey career was on the line; sad, but not in the same way as he’d mooned over… whatever her name was. 

He admitted, “I thought that was what I wanted. But then… you weren’t there.” 

No one had ever… cared about Griffelkin before. Was this how the Grinch had felt when his heart grew three sizes bigger? Griff might as well just sprout wings and take up harp-playing, at the notion. He’d never felt so blessed, 

“Aw, Dave, buddy, you missed me? It was my sick moves out on the ice wasn’t it? You just had to come crawling back—”

Dave kissed him. 

*******************

Dave couldn’t listen to that yapping for one more second.

So, he grabbed Griffelkin by the stupid clothes he was still wearing and kissed his stupid evil mouth. It took only a second before he melted into it like he’d been feeling the exact same feverish longing as Dave, silenced by—

Oh, he’d finally shut him up. He should have thought of doing that sooner. 

It felt like a long time coming. It felt like no time at all.

Slowly, he released Griffelkin from his desperate grasp. It took the demon several seconds to blink his eyes open, staring back at him in awe. Well, Dave would feel just terrible if he’d broken him somehow. (Though maybe it would serve him right, just a little bit.) 

Satisfied, he leant back. 

“You gonna stay now? You don’t have anywhere else to be, right? Hell, or the Underworld, or wherever it is you’re from?” He hoped he never found out all the gory details. He suspected he was going to.

Griffelkin was still stunned. His hands twitched where they stayed clinging to the back of Dave’s jersey.  “No, I… I think I’m right where I need to be.”

“Good. ‘Cause I don’t know if you know this, but I just won the Stanley Cup.” He smiled at the thought… what an insane life he was leading. Dave Heinrich: youngest player to ever earn that mythic trophy; currently falling headfirst, circle-after-circle, in love with Hell’s finest.

Griffelkin smiled back at him, a little goofy, joy glimmering in his eyes, “Oh, you did?”

“Uh huh. And I could use some help figuring out where I’m gonna go from here.”

“Right, well…” Griffelkin swallowed. “I might just know a certain devil who’s going through kind of a similar situation right now. He might just take you up on that offer.”

It felt like the proper conclusion to their little adventure: both balancing on the precipice of a new journey. One Dave wanted them to tackle together — no matter how many ridiculous escapades came about as a result. They were just better as a pair. He knew they’d make it work somehow. If there was one thing he’d learned from all this (besides the whole being a selfless team player thing) it was that he could use a little more chaos in his life.

He pretended to mull Griff’s response over. “No contracts required?”

“Actually now that you mention it, I think I might have forgotten a sub-clause back there—” 

Dave kissed him again. Man, that really did work miracles. It was about time he evened the scales a bit, in terms of which one of them was holding power over the other. He had to be careful or it just might go to his head.

They were still standing in the midst of Dave’s embarrassingly terrible pentagram. Luckily, the candles had all been long-extinguished by the time their lips had met, or they would have been facing a serious fire-safety hazard right about then. Dave had come too far to have his life cut short in that blissful moment.

His arms wrapped around the neck of his tormentor, who bound their bodies together with his own embrace in turn. 

At least they wouldn’t be able to sue him for breach of contract: Dave Heinrich’s soul belonged to the demon Griffelkin after all. 

Along with his heart, and mind, and body, and whatever else he decided he wanted along the way. Dave wasn’t fussed in the slightest.

Hell began to thaw.

[calmcoldevening]

Ashe Corven (The Crow) x reader

TW: hurt/comfort, maybe a little angst because of Eric, love triangle

for @violet-alessan-1999; I hope you'd like it, have a good day

Eric is used to your constant presence. There was something comfortingly pleasant and gentle about you that always made him come back to your gentle embrace. You've always been by his side for as long as he can remember. As a child, at school, in the moments when he told you about his girlfriend. And even then, when he was literally a living dead man, you did not disdain, but took him into your soothing gentle embrace, hugging him and stroking his tense back. Why didn't he notice before how delicate your hands are? Gentle touches? Warm skin? Soft smile? All this realization came over him like a wave in an instant. The young man pressed hard against you, burying his nose in your neck and inhaling the scent of such skin. You were always there for me, always taking care of me. Maybe it's fate? Eric only wanted you for himself.

Eric started giving you little little gifts and compliments. He talked about your beautiful eyes, like an inviting cosmos, and your delicate hair. The guy was often there so that you would never feel lonely and not be afraid of anything.

But you didn't care. You still saw him as your childhood best friend, your comrade, practically part of the family. He was like a caring older brother with whom you could spend a lot of time all day long.

It hurts.

The sun was hidden behind a gray mass of clouds, and a cold November wind was blowing through the streets. Although this city has always been very cold. The overcast, dreary sky was now perfectly combined with the greyness of the dirty streets and alleys. There was almost no one around, so you felt calmer than usual.

You buried your nose deeper into the collar of your hoodie, hiding your hands in your pockets. You walked straight at a slow pace, occasionally glancing at Eric walking next to you. He was smiling and telling you something very quickly and enthusiastically, gesturing actively. You liked that next to you he could openly show emotions. At least this way he remained in a certain mental balance after the death of his fiancee. You didn't blame him for the lack of visible grief for his beloved, after all, you knew that he had a big bleeding wound in his heart from loss.

Your feet moved almost reflexively along a long—learned road - you've lived in this city all your life. Suddenly, something slammed into you. You stumble back, but you grab it with your hands. It was a boy. Those big brown eyes looked up at you with curiosity and fear at the same time. He carefully clenched his hands into fists, squeezing out of himself in a quiet voice: "Sorry.."

You smiled, trying to assure the child that nothing bad had happened, but after a moment your eyebrows furrowed on your face.

This city has never been safe for people because of the large amount of crime. Especially for children. Especially such small ones. He couldn't have been more than six years old. His hair was tousled and his small lower lip was twitching nervously.

"Why are you alone here, mm?"

"..with daddy"

You gently squeeze the boy's shoulders and squat down to be about the same height as him.

"You're with daddy, eh? Where's him?"

The boy doesn't say anything, just looks at you with his big eyes and blinks slowly. Finally, when you wanted to ask the child another question, you heard a voice approaching. You lift your head up and raise your eyebrows questioningly.

"Danny! Why did you run away from me?"

The boy's head instantly turns towards the man. He was a tall and sturdy man with shoulder-length dark hair and soft features. The boy was clearly the son of this man, because the similarities in appearance were enormous, although the boy still looked more innocent. The child approaches his supposed father and asks for his arms, to which his father only smiles and takes his son in his arms.

"Thank you for finding him. I was afraid something could happen to him," the man says with a warm smile. The boy in his arms looks at you askance, continuing to hide his face on his father's chest. His voice is hoarse but pleasant, and his tired eyes look at you with an unusual kindness that is not typical of this city.

You nod in response, also smiling slightly and looking at the stranger. You were immediately pulled away by another hand. Turning back, you met Eric's displeased face. His lips were pressed tightly into a tense line, and his eyebrows were pulled down to the bridge of his nose.

"Let's go, Y/N. You seemed to need to go to the store, didn't you?"

"Yes, sorry to interrupt you," the man replies with slight awkwardness, hugging his son tighter, "Thank you again."

"Have a good day," you answer them after the man heads in the opposite direction from you.

***

Eric has been really obsessive lately. It was as if after your meeting with that man with his son, something turned him upside down, from which Eric became protective and almost controlling. It annoyed him when you were talking to someone other than him, when you were walking alone and all that. It's like he always wanted to keep you around. If at first you didn't blame him, then over time you began to worry about his behavior.

And so, during your next little quarrel on this topic, you left, slamming the door.

You walked slowly through the park, the yellow and orange leaves crunching unpleasantly under your shoes. The wind caressed his face, and his thoughts were somewhere far away. What was your surprise when you saw the same man on the playground, on one of the benches. He sat hunched over a little and looked at his son playing with other children with a tired smile.

You sat down next to me with your arms crossed over your chest. After all, right now all you wanted was to take your mind off the recent conflict with Eric. The man turned his head in your direction and his face instantly took on a surprised expression, and then some embarrassment.

"Oh, hello. I didn't think I'd see you again," he muttered with a slight smile that made slight wrinkles run across his tired face at the corners of his eyes. A few strands of dark hair fell carelessly over his face, but it definitely made him even more handsome.

"Yes.. I don't come here often. There are usually too many unhappy moms here," you reply with a note of displeasure, which makes the man give a light laugh.

"It's true... That's why we don't come here during the weekend."

An awkward silence followed, although it wasn't that unpleasant, it was more like each of you didn't know how to approach each other's huge wall of trust. Finally, the man holds out his hand to you with the same kind smile.

"By the way, Ashe. Ashe Corven."

"Y/N," you replied to the handshake, and you noticed how his tense shoulders relaxed a little. He turns away, muttering to himself something like 'beautiful..' At that moment, Danny ran towards you, his face instantly brightened when he saw you. The boy came up to you, putting his hands on your lap.

"Daddy, I don't want to play anymore! They are evil," the boy said with a slight resentment in his head, pointing at the other guys on the playground. Ashe sighed, his body returning to its former fatigue, and he got up from the bench, grabbing his son's little hand with his own.

"Okay, let's go home. Y/N, I'm sorry, what-" before he can finish, Danny is happily babbling, "Can Y/N come with us? I'll show you my drawings!"

The boy looked up at you with hopeful eyes. His eyes were blinking rapidly, and his lower lip was trembling in anticipation.

"I'm sorry, kid. But I still have things to do."

The boy's face visibly clouded, and the grip of his father's hand on his own became even tighter.

"It's all right. Take care of yourself," Ashe said in the most dispassionate way he could manage and walked with his son to the exit of the park. Danny turned back from time to time, waving at you, and smiling his slightly toothless childish smile.

***

About six months have passed since that moment. Spring came, and it was no longer so dreary in this gloomy city. You and Ashe have become quite close all this time. You often met in the most ordinary places, whether it was a park or a store near your house. The man was always friendly and pleasant to talk to. A couple of times he even brought packages home for you so that nothing would happen to you at night. Also, sometimes you sat with Danny when his dad had to work hard. The boy was very happy to spend almost the whole day with you, you played and drew. Out of the corner of your eye, you even noticed a small drawing on Danny's wall. There were three little men holding hands. 'Me', 'daddy' and 'Y/N'. On top was a large neat inscription "my family". You found out that Danny didn't have a mom. And although you knew that Ashe did not miss that mysterious woman at all, but fatigue and sadness were clearly expressed on his face for the fact that his son does not have a second parent. From time to time, Ashe would even give you small trinkets or flowers. Corny, but he always found bouquets that could 'highlight your wonderful eye color.' In each of his actions, you could read the cares and that cherished warmth that made your heart beat faster.

Eric gently touched your cheek with his hand, stroking your skin with the rough skin of his fingertips.

"What am I doing wrong?" He asked in a whisper, and you heard his plaintive voice almost crack.

"Eric.. I'm not her. I can't replace her for you," you replied. It sounded much more confident and convincing in your head. But it was true. You didn't know why, but you were sure that Eric still loved Shelly and saw her in you. It wasn't something external, rather, your kindness and demeanor gave him reason to think so. You loved Eric, he was your best friend since childhood, but it hurt that he only noticed you after the death of his fiancee.

Eric stepped back. His hands clenched into tight fists, causing his knuckles to turn noticeably white.

"You're wrong.."

"You know I'm right. I started living with you after she died so that you wouldn't be so lonely. But do you think I don't hear you crying into your pillow at night? Do you think I don't see how longingly you look into the coffee I make you in the morning? She was doing the same thing, wasn't she? Or with what pain do you look at that coffee near our house? After all, she loved this coffee. Just like me. But I'm not her, Eric. Don't try to replace her with me, please. I'm a completely different person."

It hurts. It hurt to say such words, but maybe it would have sobered his mind. Eric was like an older brother to you, and you didn't want to change that.

"You have magical hands," Ashe muttered sleepily, closing his eyes and smiling.

You were sitting on the couch, Ashe's head resting on your lap while you gently massaged his hair. He's been very nervous lately, so you decided to give him a head massage. The man smiled in a relaxed way, exhaling slowly and folding his arms over his chest. Danny was sitting by the couch, drawing another picture. He liked that you spent a lot of time with his dad. You were always kind and brought Danny a lot of sweets. The boy really wanted you to be with his dad, to live with them and be his second parent. You were nice and funny and gentle with Danny and his dad.

"Daddy, can Y/N live with us?"

Ashe visibly shuddered, propping himself up on his elbows and looking down at his son.

"What are you talking about, Danny?"

You giggled, seeing how the man's ears turned red.

"But I want to live together! I will be able to play with Y/N every day and eat sweets together!"

Ashe looks away, covering his mouth with his hand, and clears his throat, "Only if Y/N wants it..."

[fatehbaz]

taking relentless severe psychic damage from watching several hours of videos of television commercial advertisements from the United States in December 1999.

a world-historical moment, an all-time high peak of self-assured smirking arrogance.

ascendant home computers and internet modems. a new millennium! a time after Cold War but before Nining Leven, with saxophone-playing heads of state and cheery Spielbierg-ian sentimentality attempting to plaster over 1970s/1980s disappointments and hangovers with renewed millennarian End-Of-History optimism.

come celebrate with us! look at these images of The Nation! from sparkling Times Square and the cast of "Friends" in bustling cosmopolitan New York City, to sunny Californian prosperity, to those cartoonish frogs in the quasi-mythical Deep South-ish rural periphery of Budweiser ads, and all the suburban Midwestern Kay's Jeweler's in between! planetary hegemony. "Head east from the Colosseum, across the ruts of chariots, and you'll find an imperial estate built by a second-century Caesar. It's a rough ride. And if the agile and durable Chevy Tracker can handle these ancient roads, driving back home will be a walk in the park. Chevy Tracker: It Gets Around!"

or perhaps "our" power extends beyond this terrestrial imperium, into space, conquering the stars. UFOs; space aliens; The X-Files; Independence Day; Space Jam; Men in Black; the Phoenix Lights; Coast to Coast AM on the radio; Space Command in Colorado Springs.

the anxious fragility belied by the desperate constant promotion of an almost religious dedication to recognizable icons.

talking chihuahuas, marketing jingles, annual football game events. self-referential circular cross-promotion maelstrom.

"An all-new holiday spectacular, a Christmas special destined to become a family classic! With music from REM's Michael Stipe, voiced by Ally McBeal's Peter MacNicol, and starring Drew Barrymore! It's Olive the Other Reindeer! At 8/7 Central Fox Friday!"

trying to insist that this "classic" cultural iconography binds us. it has always lived in your heart. fabricating in real-time a supposedly shared history, insisting on this "reality" even at the moment of its very creation. hammering away at the soul.

Daffy Duck saunters in and pronounces: "Eat your way into the new millennium with this 'gigundo' party sub from Subway!"

why aren't you smiling?

[thisisyourdriverspeaking]

F1 is back in Canada this week so in honour of that I give you F1's US motorsport number twos. Enjoy 😂

Fernando Alonso (29th July 1981) - Kim Carnes - Bette Davis Eyes

Lewis Hamilton (7th January 1985) - Duran Duran - The Wild Boys

Nico Hulkenburg (19th August 1987) - Madonna - Who's That Girl

Daniel Ricciardo (1st July 1989) - Fine Young Cannibals - Good Thing

Valtteri Bottas (28th August 1989) - Paula Abdul - Cold Hearted

Sergio Perez (26th January 1990) - Technotronic - Pump Up The Jam

Kevin Magnussen - (5th October 1992) - Patty Smyth - Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough

Carlos Sainz Jr - (1st September 1994) - Lisa Loeb - Stay (I Missed You)

Pierre Gasly - (7th February 1996) - Whitney Houston - Exhale (Shoop Shoop)

Alex Albon - (23rd March 1996) - The Tony Rich Project - Nobody Knows

Esteban Ocon - (17th September 1996) - Donna Lewis - I Love You Always Forever

Max Verstappen - (30th September 1997) & Charles Leclerc - (16th October 1997) - Boyz II Men - 4 Seasons Of Loneliness

George Russell - (15th February 1998) - Janet Jackson - Together Again

Lance Stroll - (29th October 1998) - Barenaked Ladies - One Week

Zhou Guanyu - (30th May 1999) - Maxwell - Fortunate

Lando Norris - (13th November 1999) - Mariah Carey ft Jay-Z - Heartbreaker

Yuki Tsunoda - (11th May 2000) - Toni Braxton - He Wasn't Man Enough

Logan Sargeant - (31st December 2000) - Dream - He Loves U Not

Oscar Piastri - (6th April 2001) - Crazy Town - Butterfly

All added to this playlist 😊