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poisonedprose · 1 year

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hii, saw you wanted asks for simon <3 could you maybe write something where the reader is a civilian and misses simon but cannot contact him. she has a horrible day everything goes wrong. (to the point where she doesn’t even notice his car in the driveway when she gets home). she’s overwhelmed, and it’s filled with fluff (and smut if you want!!)

₊˚✧ i miss you, i’m sorry — in which simon returns after being away for so long

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

warnings: 2k words, smut, fluff, a lil angsty curse words, porn with plot, unprotected sex, p in v, degrading, pet names (lovie), hand job, borderline obsessed!reader, borderline toxic!ghost

masterlists

Watching Simon come and go became a routine for you. There was never an explanation, maybe he thought you didn't deserve one, or maybe there wasn’t time. He would leave for days, weeks, months at a time, always prefacing it with "I'll be back soon." The first few times you tried to call him, aching to hear his voice after long days but you were always met with the robotic woman telling you the call could not be completed.

You learned quickly there was no way to contact him during these mysterious vanishings. You theorized where Simon went late at night. Thinking he was a secret spy, or maybe he had a secret family. You hoped it wasn't the latter. As you lay on your back, blankets askew on your rather uncomfortable mattress, thoughts of Simon flood your brain, you wondered if Simon was doing the same.

You wondered if for each thought of him, he had a thought for you. When you thought of his hands on your waist did he think of your lips on his neck? As much as your conclusion pained you to think about, you can’t help but dream of him. Of his husky voice whispering teases and playful remarks into your ear. You had fallen hard, and you weren’t getting up anytime soon.

You knew this was a one-way ticket to disaster. He could never be what you need and deep down you both knew that. It didn’t stop you though, you didn’t think anything could stop you. You didn’t even know if he returned the intoxicating feelings you had for him. To him, you could just be the other woman, and part of you didn’t mind.

There was something about him that was so addicting. Was it his smile? Or his cologne? Or maybe it was his eyes that you loved looking into. You wondered if you had any features that he could obsess over. It’s strange, to have such strong feelings for someone you barely know.

Your shoulders hung low, your feet dragged on the ground, and your eyes were strained. You were tired, your nights that were supposed to be filled with sleep were only filled with fantasies. You turned your key in the door, turning it the wrong way at first, even though you could’ve sworn it was the right way. It took everything in you not to become upset. It amazed you how much power Simon had over your life when he wasn’t even around.

After taking a deep breath, you finally were able to unlock the door. You stepped inside, throwing your stuff onto a random side table that you got from a garage sale 3 years ago that you should really organize. You kick your shoes off, not bothering to place them into their spot, just leaving them in front of the door. You don’t even notice the second pair of shoes that are too big to be yours.

You walk further into the house, trying to make it to any surface to lie on, but instead of finding a couch or a bed, you find Simon standing with a cup of coffee in his hand. You're almost sure you’re hallucinating. “Miss me?” You don’t know what to do, should you hug him? Yell at him for drinking your coffee? Not even acknowledge him at all and just go to bed?

“Simon?” Your voice was quiet, afraid that if you were hallucinating, you didn’t want the neighbors to hear you talking to yourself. “Hey,” He matched your volume, then took another sip from the mug. Still, you didn’t move, you were sure he was real now but now the question was, how should you greet him? He took the final sip of coffee and then placed the mug on the coffee table.

“Aren’t you going to give me a hug?” He doesn’t look at you as he asks, and it almost sounds like he’s teasing you. He probably is, but you didn’t care. You walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He chucked softly before returning the hug, only draping one arm around, being the other one up to pat your head.

You didn’t move from this position, though neither of you really mind it. The sun was starting to set but still, neither of you really mind it. You didn’t know what to say to him. You wanted to ask where he was, where he went for so long. But you knew you would only be answered with, “You know I can’t tell you.”

You did know, but you were still curious. “Where were you?” You whispered. “You know I can’t-” “I know.” You cut him off, sighing softly. He pats your head again, trying to apologize for not being able to tell you. Maybe one day he could, but for now you just basked in the moment of feeling his arms around you once again.

“You tired?” Was it that obvious? “A little.” He nodded even though you weren’t looking at him. “Are you going to fall asleep standin’ up?” He laughs, his chest rumbling, making you feel safe in his arms. “Maybe.” He shook his head, moving both of his hands to your butt before picking you up. You wrapped your legs around his torso, moving your head off his chest and finally looking him in the eyes.

You didn’t know if his feelings for you were gone after being away, or if they were ever there. He doesn’t say anything as you examine his face. ‘It’s definitely his eyes.’ You think, answering your own question from nights ago. You don’t think as you push your lips against his. You missed him far too much to not kiss him.

To your satisfaction, he kisses back, almost more eagerly than you. You smile, happiness warming your body, or maybe that was from Simon’s body being pressed so closely to yours. You pulled away from the kiss, going back to examine his face, mostly his eyes. “I missed you.” You whispered, biting your lip after the practically deafening sentence.

“I bet you did.” Again he matches your volume, and too prideful to admit he missed you too, but you know. You can see it in his eyes, and feel it in his words. You press your lips to his again, more eagerly, more passionately.

He returns the kiss once again, pushing your body closer to his. One of his hands slide from your ass, up your back, and land on the back of your neck. He squeezes it gently and suddenly you’re aware of how much you missed his subtle touches.

He walks forward, sitting on the couch and you’re quick to fix your position to straddle him. His hands move to your waist, rubbing small circles as you disconnect from the kiss and begin leaving small kisses on his neck. Your tinted lip balm staining his skin ever so slightly.

He sighs contently, loving the feeling of your soft lips on his neck. His hands slide under your shirt, his warm hands on your bare back. Maybe you didn’t know where or why he disappeared and left you high and dry for long periods of time, but it didn’t matter. He always made up for it by treating your body heavenly.

Without moving your lips away from his neck you lead a blind hand to his pants, fiddling with the zipper trying to undo them. “Someone’s eager.” Simon chuckles. He moves his hand towards his zipper, helping you pull it down when he notices you struggling, confirming he wants it just as badly as you do.

“Couldn’t stop thinking of you when you were gone.” You admit shamelessly, as he unbuttons his pants. You pull his boxers away from his skin, pulling out his semi-hard cock. You jerked him slowly as you left marks on his neck. He was enjoying how eager you were. It was sensual, you missed him so much, how could you not be?

"Is that so?" He whispered in your ear. His voice was raspy, it always was when he returned, raspier than usual at least. He was teasing you, finding pleasure and amusement in your admission. Had his lack of presence really had that much of an impact on you? The tiredness from your long day was easily being replaced with need. How long had it been this time? 3 months? 4 months? You lost count.

"Don't start that." Your lips tickle his neck with each word. You couldn't be bothered with his games, not this time. Not when you spent months awaiting his arrival. He was always different after each coming and going. It was always a slight change, but you never failed to notice it, no matter how hard you tried.

"Don't start what?" He smiled at you with a cocky grin displayed on his face. Your eyes gloss over his face, he had a new scar on his lip. You brushed your thumb over it. "How do you always get so many of these?" It was rhetorical. You knew he wouldn't tell you. He was covered in scars, each one having a story to be told, but Simon never did. He took your hand in his, lowering it from his face. "Don't start what, huh?" He was deflecting, per usual.

"Your games." He lets go of your hand, returning it to its place under your shirt. Your free hand was still jerking him, slowly but pleasurably. "I'm not playing games." He was. He always was. "I'm just teasin' ya, lovie. No games, just fun." Games, fun, really they were both the same.

He laughs lowly, lowering his head to kiss your shirt-covered shoulder. One of his hands slides down your body, stopping when he reaches the end of your shorts. He moves your panties to the side, two of his fingers sliding through your folds.

“So wet f’r me, yeah?” He whispers in your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Did you miss me like this the whole time?” You roll your eyes at his cockiness, despite him being right. “Maybe.” You answered. “Maybe?” He questioned. “If you’re allowed to keep secrets so am I.” He laughs again, kissing your shoulder once more. “Fair enough.”

He takes your hand off his cock that’s painfully hard by now. He needs you too badly to enjoy the foreplay any longer. He tugs your shorts down roughly, too eager to pull off your underwear. He shoves your panties to the side before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in.

You pushed your body against his, biting your lip to quiet your moans. “Missed this tight pussy.” He groans. His hands stray to your ass cheeks, squeezing each of them with his firm hands.

It’s pathetic how eager both of you are. Both pent up, frustrated, perhaps for different reasons. The way your bodies are pressed together is a sin. Barely any clothes have been taken off, so why do you feel so dirty?

Maybe it was because of how deep his cock was buried in you. Or how hard your fingernails were pressing into his biceps. It could be both, it’s definitely both. If passion is a sin then so be it. He was always so good to you. Fucking you until you were crying, asking if you could give him just one more.

You moaned his name, with each thrust. Giving up on trying to be quiet. He preferred when you were loud anyway. “Yeah? Moanin’ my name like a slut?” His words were harsh but his soft kisses on your temple were all the reassurance you needed.

“Your slut.” The words slide off your tongue before you have a chance to think about them. His hips stutter when he hears what you said, holding back a throaty moan. “My slut, eh? At least you know it.” He rasps out, a smile mixed with cockiness and something you can’t decipher strung on his face. “My fuckin’ slut.”

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎┊ㅤㅤ💋 ㅤㅤ ﾟㅤㅤ ┊‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

#! ✪ ₊˚✧ cod .#ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost smut #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley #cod mw2 #cod ghost smut #call of duty modern warfare #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #ghost angst

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familyvideostevie · 1 year

Text

october first

day one: steve harrington after the events of august, steve and bee girl (you) wake up in your new house | no good at waiting one-shot, fluff | 1.1k

You wake up with a shiver. The morning sun bathes one wall of your bedroom in pink light. Your sheer curtains flutter in the wind and you snuggle deeper into your bed, tugging on the covers.

“Hey!” someone next to you grumbles. “S’cold in here, give it back.”

Steve tugs on the duvet but you don’t relinquish your hold, instead rolling with it until you’re pressed against his back.

“I know,” you mumble, eyes fluttering. Your bedroom isn’t really decorated yet but you’ve got the basics. Mattress, bed frame, dresser. Mismatched bedside tables you found at an antique sale two towns over and a rug Joyce gave you from the Byers garage. The rest of the house is coming together slowly. You have yet to get a dining table but you do have a couch and lots of kitchen utensils. Bob gave you an old bookshelf and the kids pooled money together to buy you a welcome mat. The good people of Hawkins have treated you and Steve moving into the little farmhouse as an invitation to get rid of all of their junk.

You love it.

Steve groans and shifts, releasing the duvet and turning so that he’s facing you, nose to nose. You can barely see the eyes you love so much through his lashes. “Morning,” he says. “We’re going to have to buy more blankets if you’re going to steal them every morning.”

“You’re the one who left the window open last night,” you remind him. He scoots even closer to you and shoves his face into your neck.

“Because you like fall air,” he says. His lips are warm on your skin. “Never say I don’t do anything for you.”

Living with Steve is pretty much a dream. Even when he leaves his shoes in the way, even when he doesn’t clean his toothpaste from the sink. Even when you forget to do the dishes or don’t put your laundry away. It’s fun. It’s like every day is a dream come true.

“No one says that,” you laugh. You twine your fingers in his hair. “Especially not me.”

Steve makes a pleased sound. “What are we doing today?” he asks. The last two months have been nonstop. Finishing the house, finding furniture, moving out of Bob’s for you and the farm loft for him. You haven’t had time for a proper housewarming yet.

“Nothing,” you say. He pulls back to look at you, eyebrows raised.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Hell yeah,” he says, running the pad of his finger over your top lip. “Finally a day off we don’t have to spend running around town.”

“We have to go see about that table tomorrow, though. After work.”

Steve flops back on his pillow. “It never ends,” he says.

“Nope,” you say, popping the p. “But it’ll be worth it.”

“Well, duh.” He raises his arms above his head and stretches. “We need a table so we can play beer pong at our housewarming.”

“And so we can eat at it, Steve.”

He smirks. “Oh, yeah. That too. And so we can do all sorts of nasty things on it—”

You place your hand over his mouth. “That’s enough from you, Harrington.” He licks your palm but you don’t pull it away. “Behave.”

His expression morphs into what you think he thinks are puppy dog eyes but really he just looks like he ate something sour unexpectedly. He mumbles against your hand and you remove it. “Christ, honey,” he says. “I was gonna suffocate.”

“What a way to go,” you deadpan. He laughs and turns away from you, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and stretching again. You admire the freckled expanse of his bare back.

“You hungry?” he asks. “We could do pancakes.” He stands and wanders to the closet where he pulls out two sweatshirts. One he throws to you and the other he drags over his head.

“When we get a dog are you going to make it breakfast, too?”

Steve’s head pops out of the hoodie — one of yours, you’re pretty sure — and scoffs. “You think you’re funny with this dog-dad shit,” he says. “You watch. I’m going to be so normal. Nothing like Dustin’s mom and their cat. Nothing.”

“Sure, Steve,” you coo. You sit up in bed and pull on your own sweatshirt, borderline giddy with the sheer serenity of the morning.

Here you are, in your home with the person you love most in the world, talking about getting a dog.

This time last year you weren’t even friends yet. You remind him.

Steve snorts and crosses his arms, leaning on the dresser. “I was half in love with you already.”

“Was not,” you gasp. “We’d only been mean to each other!” You hadn’t really liked Steve until you both sat soaking wet in your car. You’d been curious about him before that. Interested. A little obsessed. But it warms you from head to toe to know you’d had him captivated from moment one.

He grins his most boyish grin, the one he usually sends you before he’s about to do something that will make your face hot. “Exactly. I had a dream about you the first day we met.”

“Really?”

He nods and rubs the back of his neck like he’s suddenly embarrassed. “Yeah,” he says. “I don’t think I told anyone, though.”

“What was it about?”

Yeah, he’s totally blushing. “Uh.” he says. “It wasn’t anything big. Just you buying apples from me, I think.”

You can’t help it. You laugh. You laugh so hard your stomach aches. “Oh my god, Steve,” you gasp. “I told you to fuck off and you had a dream about me.” You’ve almost been together a whole year and he still surprises you. You hope it’s going to be like this for the rest of your lives.

He’s scowling. “Yeah, whatever.” Even as he grumbles he makes his way back to the bed and sits on the edge of it. He puts his hand on your leg through the duvet and squeezes gently. “Okay, funny girl, do you want apples or chocolate chips?”

“I’ll help,” you say. “Both, obviously.”

“But first…” Steve says, leaning in. Your eyes flutter shut and he pauses a breath away from your lips. “Your breath stinks,” he whispers.

“Speak for yourself,” you whisper back. He snickers and then leans in, hand framing your face. His lips are a little chapped but his kiss is as sweet as always, tender and loving. He kisses you once, twice, then trails his lips along your cheek.

“Morning,” he says, as if you’d just woken up. “Love you, bee girl.”

You sigh with happiness. “Love you back.”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

#fvspromptober23 #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #no good at waiting #steve harrington x

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whatsnewalycat · 4 months

Text

“do you believe in aliens?”

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x GN Person

Summary: Meeting DB in a furniture store.

Prompt: “Do you believe in aliens?”

Trope: Meet-cute

Words: 1.4k+ (sorry can’t shut the fuck up)

Rating: Teen (because swearing)

Notes: For the @dieterbravobrainrotclub May Drabble Challege! Also slightly inspired by Broad City when Lincoln said he met Ilana in a foot locker in Times Square and she was just chillin’. First person POV.

—

It was one of those weeks.

The kind of week where you seem to have no patience for anyone or anything. The kind where extra heavy traffic adds an hour to your commute each way. When you find yourself picking fights and reaching for comfort foods and maybe smoking twice as much as you normally do.

You know the kind of week where you come home on Friday after a long day of suffering under capitalism, only to discover that your live-in boyfriend up-and-left with all of his belongings?

Maybe that last one is just a me problem.

Anyways.

After the first sleepless night on the floor of my apartment, I decided I should get a mattress. Maybe even a bed frame if I could find a good deal.

I went to this nearby furniture outlet, and right away I could tell the place was understaffed. The employees wore these bright sunshine yellow polos that made them easy to spot across the open air of the warehouse. They were outnumbered four to one, easy.

This was gonna take up my whole day. I didn’t mind, though. The way I looked at it, I could either go back to my half-empty apartment and cry about the fact that I didn’t have a bed or a tv or a boyfriend, or I could wait my turn to buy a goddamn bed.

I found the cheapest mattress/bedframe combo available, then laid down on the starch-stiff comforter and gave it a few test bounces before deciding it was good enough.

I walked up and down the aisles of sad-looking bedroom furniture sets, trying to catch the attention of a sunshine polo to no avail.

That’s when I heard him.

“They said it might be an hour wait.”

Following the voice, I turned around and saw this guy all stretched out on a king-sized sleigh bed. He radiated the same energy as a sulking teenager waiting for his parents to pick him up, scrolling on his phone with one arm tucked behind his head.

I checked over my shoulders, then asked, “Are you talking to me?”

He looked up from his phone, dark eyes peeking over the rim of his sunglasses, “You’re trying to get a sales person, right?”

“Yeah.”

He shrugged, sitting up to bend his legs criss-cross applesauce, “Might as well make yourself at home.”

“Well, what can ya do,” I sighed and looked across the warehouse, confirming the sunshine polos were neck deep in annoyed customers.

“Hey, uhhh… since you’re waiting, would you do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Tell me what you think about this bed.”

I turned to face the furniture in question, tilting my head as I studied the thing, “I don’t know, it’s big, I guess. Looks… sturdy,” I kicked the leg and nodded in approval, “Yeah, that frame is solid as fuck. Is it comfy?”

“Pretty comfy,” he took off his sunglasses, hooking them on the collar of his worn-out shirt before patting the bed beside him, “See for yourself.”

“You know, normally I make a guy buy me a drink before hopping into bed with him,” I teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

He gave me this charming, dimpled smile, big brown eyes all sparkling warm when he shrugged, “I’ll buy you one after, how’s that sound?”

Heat clung to my stomach and I couldn’t even bear to look at him wearing that devilish grin.

Shaking my head, I climbed onto the mattress, “I’m just giving you shit.” I laid back on the pillow and sank down into the plush bedspread, “This is so much better than the one I’m getting, oh my god.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled and laid down beside me, crossing his ankles as he stretched out, “I’ve been trying to find one that’ll put me right to sleep. I keep having these weird fuckin’ dreams and—”

He cut himself off with a sigh, then looked over at me, “Do you believe in aliens?”

The ludicrous question took me by surprise. This big bubbly laugh escaped my throat and I turned to him, lost for words. All I could do was repeat the question: “Do I believe in aliens?”

“Yeah.”

I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

Searching his face, I smirked, “Who are you?”

“Dieter,” he rolled on his side to make eye contact with me, “What’s your name?”

So I gave him my name and then I told him, “You know, when I was a teenager I lived out in the country. I’d always see things in the sky I couldn’t quite explain. These lights that would stay static in one place for minutes before zooming off into the stars, and… and, yeah, Dieter, I do believe in aliens. Why do you ask?”

“Well, ok,” he propped his head up on the heel of his hand, “See, the person I bought my bed from told me they were abducted by aliens. And I keep having these dreams where I’m in some kind of a spacecraft and these little gray fuckers won’t stop doing experiments on me. I dunno if it’s my subconscious or if I’m being abducted, but I gotta get a new fuckin’ bed either way.”

“Why would the bed make them abduct you?”

He frowned as he considered this, looking around before returning back to me, “Maybe they have a tracking device on it. I don’t know how it works. Probably not even real.”

“But just in case, you’re getting a new bed?”

“Yeah.”

I shrugged, “Doesn’t hurt to try, huh?”

He nodded, eyes flicking around my face, then rolled onto his back. We laid there staring up at the steel support beams and ugly lights fixed to the warehouse ceiling. For a little while I wondered whether or not he would think it was strange for me to bring up my own grievances. Then I decided fuck it, why not?

“Yesterday I came home and half my apartment was missing. My boyfriend moved out while I was at work, took the bed and everything.”

“Doesn’t sound like he’s your boyfriend anymore.”

“No, I guess not.”

“You don’t seem too broken up about it.”

“It was a long time coming,” I shrugged, “It’s… I don’t know, I’ll be fine. Right now I’m mostly upset about the bed. I set up camp on the living room floor last night and could barely sleep.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, then asked, “Are you gonna get this one?”

“I fucking wish. The one I have picked out feels like a cement slab compared to this.”

“Do you want my old one?”

“The one with the alien tracking device?”

“Oh yeah,” he giggled, “I forgot about that.”

Laughter rumbled up from my belly and his, thick and genuine, the kind that can’t be contained no matter how hard you try. It vibrated through my limbs and welled in my eyes as I choked out, “I—I thought we were gonna be friends, but now you’re trying to get me abducted by aliens? What the fuck, man?”

He doubled over on his side, whole body shaking with these gasping giggles that spread like a contagion to me until I could barely breathe.

Once the laughter died down, I looked over at him wiping the tears from his eyes and felt something rare and beautiful spark in my chest.

“I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard,” I admitted, rolling on my side to face him, unable to wipe the smile from my aching face.

“Me neither.”

From just an arms length away, I met his gaze and the most inexplicable compulsion overtook me. I wanted to kiss him, I realized, and that was truly insane.

His eyes dropped to my lips as though the same thought occurred to him.

“Do you wanna get out of here? Go get a drink?” he asked.

The question bubbled up my spine and made my stomach flip.

I nodded, “I do, but my bed—”

“I’ll take care of it,” he smirked, that devilish smirk that I knew would be trouble, and shrugged, “I’ll have my PA get two of these. Deliver one to your place, how’s that sound?”

“You can do that?”

“Absolutely.”

“How?”

“I’ll explain later,” he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, looking back at me, “You coming?”

Unmistakably, this was a leap of faith. It was insanity. He could have turned out to be any number of terrible things, but he wasn’t. He was a breath of fresh air. A clean break from the funk smothering the light from my life. He was the weirdest and best thing that ever happened to me.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo meet cute #dieter bravo fluff #dieter bravo brainrot club

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acatnamedkitten · 5 months

Text

Too Many Beds-RadioHusk

Drabble(700w)-Reverse trope writing prompts

They took shelter in a mattress store. This year's extermination had come earlier in the day than normal and caught the pair out and about.

Because, of course, Alastor had waited until the last fucking second to decide he needed a new cable for his transmitting board.

"Of course, it can't wait, Husker. What if the shop is destroyed? What if the owners are killed? What if those lousy picture boxes start reporting the damages before I do?"

And Satan forbid he go by himself.

Husk sighed and flopped down on a mattress. The owners must have gone out of town for the extermination, but at least they'd boarded up the shop beforehand.

With the lights off and the incredibly soft bed, Husk figured it was as good a time as any to take a nap. It wasn't like Alastor could get them out of there.

Using his magic now would only alert the Angels to their presence. So, Alastor laid down a few mattresses away, meditating to lower his magical expenditure.

🎙️🪽🦌🐈‍⬛🦌🐈‍⬛🦌🐈‍⬛🪽🎙️

At some point, there was an almighty crash just outside the shop. Husk startled awake, just barely managing to stifle his yowl of alarm.

With his heart trying to beat out of his chest, Husk sat frozen, waiting for something else to happen. But nothing ever did. There wasn't even the sound of fighting out on the street.

Sighing, Husk got up in search of a bathroom. By the time he'd stumbled back to the sales floor, he was already half asleep again. Eyes closed, he shuffled over to where he'd been laying. Not really caring if it was the same bed or not, Husk flopped down and promptly fell back asleep.

🎙️🪽🦌🐈‍⬛🦌🐈‍⬛🦌🐈‍⬛🪽🎙️

"Husker"

"~Husker~"

Husk grumbled. Laying on his stomach, wings spread, he wrapped his arms further underneath his pillow and nuzzled into it. He was too cozy for whatever it was Alastor wanted.

"Husker, wake ~uuup~"

Husk flexed and shifted, gripping his pillow tighter, lest Alastor pull it away like he so often did. "No."

Even with his face all but hidden, Alastor still managed to boop his nose. "Yes!"

"Don't wanna," He mumbled, turning his face the other way.

His bed was so soft, and his wings felt so nice all spread out, and he was all warm and cozy, and his pillow smelled so good. It was like coffee and rain and old pennies and...

Husk froze.

Alastor.

His pillow smelled like Alastor.

Alastor was laying on the bed with him, one leg on either side of Husk's torso.

He had his head on Alastor's stomach; his arms were around Alastor's waist.

He was using Alastor as a pillow.

HOW???

He'd been a few mattresses away when... he'd...

Oh shit.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

Suddenly, Alastor's hands found his ears. Husk, taunt as a bow string and ready to fly, flinched at the initial contact.

But Alastor didn't pull his ears. Or flick them. Or pinch them. Or any of the other things he usually did to piss Husk off.

No. This time... This time his clawed fingertips were gentle. They scratched around the base of his ears, trailing back and forth.

"Now, now. No need to get all riled up. You were just having a dream is all, and I know how much you hate those."

Alastor trailed scritches down between Husk's eyes, then up and over to the base of his skull. Despite how tense he was, Husk couldn't help but melt under the gentle ministrations.

Before he could think about it, Husk found himself letting out a content sigh and leaning into Alastor's touch.

Objectively, Husk knew that Alastor was capable of softness and affection. He saw the demon interact with Rosie and Niffty, after all. But never before had Husk been on the receiving end of Alastor's gentler touches.

"That's it. Just relax."

With the sense of imminent danger gone, Husk's fatigue came back in full force.

Fuck it. He thought. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts, right? At least he isn't biting my head off for laying on him.

If Alastor randomly waking him up—claiming Husk was dreaming—was payback for falling asleep on the guy, Husk could live with that. He did make a really good pillow, after all.

But Husk didn't dream. He hadn't dreamed since before the war; he only ever had—

...Had...

...Had Alastor woken him up from a nightmare?

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fullofgutsndopamine · 4 months

Text

We Could Build A Home (We Could Play Pretend) finale

tw/cursing, mention of past abuse (not graphic)

previous masterlist

for a long time, there are tears.

oh, are there tears.

but charlie is there.

it’s a slow progression, at first.

charlie comes into your hospital room, and the first few days, it’s more of himself looming, hovering over his seat as you two get adjusted to one another. you’re too stubborn to ask for his help with anything, and he doesn’t want to step on your toes, guilt steals gently eats at his stomach when he looks at you.

it’s slow.

but a few nights later you move from facing him, but not looking at him, to turning over i. the bed, your back to him.

for others, that isn’t a big deal.

for him, he knows what this means. some unspoken word about trusting you enough to not be looking at you the entire time, your guard is down, finally.

he helps you wash your hair in the crowded sink of the bathroom, humming as his fingertips massage into your scalp, and suddenly you two are kids again and your taking those baths in the lake next to each other.

your lips are chapped, voice is hoarse, but his chair has moved to being next to your bed, his legs outstretched on your bed and his hand rests on the hard hospital mattress, he’s yelling out clues to whatever re run of family feud is playing, and you’re watching him from the side of your eye, knowing it’s okay now.

he’s next to you as your wheeled out of the hospital, his hand on yours as he walks next to you in the wheelchair.

the days tick by.

you’re in his house, and you two play pretend.

sharing sleep on his twin mattress, tangled into him, can’t tell who’s limbs are who’s, and his voice is a whisper, like he’ll get caught any second as he’s speaking gently, slow to you: “Ms.Logan’s house up the hill just went up for rent,” he says, “the one with the garden you like.”

you know the house isn’t even a possibility for you two, you’ll be stuck in this house until your last days, but something about that house being for sale, the unspoken invitation you two have with Ms.Johnson to use her garden to calm down will be broken, and it’s almost too much for you to bare.

days later, charlie speaks again about it.

you’re tangled into him, the pillow cases wet from your hair, his hand is tangled into yours in the air as he gently touches the pad of his fingers to yours.

“let’s run away. i mean it this time. tomorrow night. you and me. it’s always you and me.”

and this has been said before. usually after cleaning one another up, when you two allow each other to indulge one another one the what if’s and the could haves (and charlie’s voice, always gentle, “careful, sunshine. the what ifs and could haves will eat you up.”)

this time is different. and without saying it you know it. charlie packs the next day, humming, a smile on his face and shared wink between you, even if you’re the only one who sees it and if his only luggage is an old, frail backpack.

night falls and he walts around the house in these grand steps, a new reason to dance, and you giggle, run barefoot to your house, teeth chattering as you grab everything, hours away from it. it only seems right for a final nap in your old bed.

he has a plan, he says. a new home, a new place.

you both leave in the middle of the night. fulfilling some childhood need to do so. it doesn’t matter; everyone who would miss you is dead and you have no ties to this town now.

no one is home in either of your houses, but you hear the click click click of charlie’s truck engine and throw the blankets off your body, already dressed, ready to go.

everything you own is in the backpack on your back, a note left on the counter for your father to not look for you.

your barefoot as you run to his truck, and he leans over the seat and opens the door for you, a smile you haven’t seen in ages spread across his lips, he’s shouting: “go, go,go.” even though there’s no urgency, this childhood dream of yours he’s fulfilling.

you slam the door shut and his hand tangles into the back of your hair, rests on the back of your skull as you two drive, your hair whips around and the radio is all static, can hear maybe every other word of whatever song is playing, but you two are making up your own words, laughing so hard and smiling that your teeth chatter together.

you both drive around together, your voices are both hoarse from screaming those songs you made up, his tiny truck pitters up the hill to your old house and for a second, your stomach drops, as if you knew this was too good to be true, going to have to get rid of the note, unpack your things from your backpack, the “next time.” playing gently in your head.

instead, charlie’s foot eases on the break and he grabs your hand, a messy kiss to the top of your hand that makes your face flush, he eases to a stop in front of the Johnson’s house, cuts the too loud engine, and runs to your side to open your door.

“trust me.” he says gently, picks you up bridal style, walks slowly to the door, only stopping long enough for his fingers to dance over a flower in the garden, pluck it from the earth and tuck it behind your ear, like it belongs-like you belong, and carries you over the threshold of the house.

days pass. then months, and soon, it’s years.

charlie plays small shows with his acoustic guitar at the brewery downtown, gets a small following, and you’re at every show.

you tend to the garden.

charlie put up a fence in the hot of summer, and constructed a little garden for you, you two spend weekends tending to the garden, old flowers pressed between the pages of the book on your nightstand.

he comes home every night, a flower in hand to tuck behind your ear, dips you around in the kitchen as he hums a song, barefoot, and you two play house together.

#caroline writes #charlie slimecicile #charlie slimecicle x y/n #charlie slimecicle x you #charlie slimesicle x reader #charlie slimesicle fanart #slimecicle x y/n #slimecicle x you #charlie slimecicle x reader #slimecicle fic #slimecicle imagine #slimecicle x reader #charlie slimecicle #slimecicle

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wroteclassicaly · 2 years

Text

Summary: Two years. You never drive far anymore, you don’t linger outside of your new city limits. Because how can you drive into the desolate life you once had? Then again, Hawkins and its story book tragedies have a way of bringing you back for more. A mangled marriage, an abandoned two story, and a loved one in turmoil, it finally brings you back home.

Parings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, shitloads of angst, mentions of major health trauma (it’s heart related, so be warned before reading, as I don’t want to trigger anyone), that angsty angst, but with a happy ending, & obvious smut/nsfw content that will appear later in the story!

A/N: Sneak peek/teaser into my new series, and the first one I’m publishing for this fandom — That House In Indiana (inspired by Ethel Cain’s ‘A House In Nebraska’. Lyrics below that I obviously don’t own) There will be a happy ending, so don’t worry! I’ve also drawn off myself for the situation with Wayne, based off what happened to my own dad. It’s pretty rough, but Wayne will be okay — I promise! He has a health crisis in this that might trigger some people, so please DON’T read if you know it’ll upset you! And let me know what y’all think if you do read, please and thank you? ❤️💘❤️💘

February 1st, 1990

~*~

Labored breaths and bed sores, sing it to me all day long

When the aching sound of silence used to be our favorite song

You and me against the world, you were my man and I your girl

We had nothing except each other, you were my whole world

Then the day came and you were up and gone

And I still call home that house in Nebraska

Where we found each other on a dirty mattress on the second floor

Where the world was empty, save you and I

Where you came and I laughed, and you left and I cried

Where you told me even if we died tonight, that I'd die yours

~*~

Shaking hands with chipped polish of a once fresh manicure, now worried down from alternating chewed grinds between chattering teeth and trembling lips, stained with overflowing salt — switch to a tight grip around a faded leather steering wheel, the cracking leather mingling with that of rustling denim. Scattered neon pink chips spray nail beds, making you twitch with the need to placate that urgency in your guts that pummels the muscles, seizing those in your eyes to force you to glance at where the gold band used to sit, used to distract you so perfectly. You were sure that you’d gotten over that. Funny what delusions the mind can bank on to get you through destruction and pain. You sniffle upon a jagged exhale, breath coming out choppy and overused.

Your body feels stuck to the seats, melted into a frozen statue. You really don’t want to be you, to think. Hell, your thoughts border on everything they shouldn’t, all the what-ifs, the blames, past tragedies, and your wishes that if this was the end result — maybe it would’ve been better if you died that night in the Spring of 1986. Long drives that aren’t in line with the simplicity of five minutes, you’d avoided for the last two years. Four hours from your one bedroom townhouse in Illinois to a hotel room in your hometown of Hawkins, Indiana — you’re a prisoner to your psyche.

You’ll see your crumbling dream in the form of white plaster, broken wood planks, and rotten rose bushes, frosted across shattered glass windows — ones you had stewed over for days on what color would look the best for curb appeal, and a large for sale sign in the front yard that was once littered with the cars of friends and loved ones. That very same home, the one you had shaped with your partner, that curly haired, doe eyed boy that you first met when he gave you money to pay for the groceries you couldn’t quite afford when you were fifteen, unbeknownst to you that it was his last five dollars, but he gave it to you because he knew you needed it more. He’d be fine as long as you were. You don’t have to try to embrace every whisper his hands had gifted your skin with. Your walls are gone, body ripped open and bare for the entire town you’d left behind two years ago.

The scenery is starting to fill in, barren trees near bloom. Maybe an early Spring, you can’t be sure? Your tires click against wet asphalt when you turn, splashing water on the chrome body of your car as you head into the embankment of treetops that glow, entwined into an arch that blankets the road in charcoal shadows. You manage to raise your hand to hit your windshield wipers, crystal clearing in a thick smear. Your sclera, however, floods over, lashes sticking to raw under eyes, puffy and exerted. You swallow harshly around a raw and wet throat, foot accelerating the gas pedal. You have to get there.

You haven’t slept since you heard his voice, your ears floating into a familiar peak, a swell of overwhelming longing stealing every ounce of breath from your lungs, trapping your diaphragm beneath whimpers not cried. You knew right away that something wasn’t okay. He called for the first time in years, he was in the place of his uncle, your confusion palpable as you hadn’t expected the youth for the familiarity of your weekly calls with his own family. You could hear his deep voice, raspy and shrouded in painful storms unmatched. Your body was like a dead weight, fingers struggling to hold onto the receiver, tone a mere whisper, one that felt like broken glass being dragged out through your windpipes.

“What’s wrong, Eds?”

“He… I, Y/N—“ Like a plea that was too silent to fully find its vessel, his voice became caked with an ocean of tears, thick like the swamps of isolating despair.

You’d almost resorted to begging, but you had known, even then, Eddie always took his own path to processing grief. Resisting an instinctual soothe towards him was like rejecting the air that earth offered you.

Your fingers prickled in an uncomfortable heat, numb and dulled, tongue heavy and choking you. The same as that night you awaited to hear whatever horror Hawkins had dropped into your lives once more.

“It’s Wayne.” There was an eerie quietness as Eddie had caught up with himself and moved forward enough to inform you. You couldn’t have stopped the gasping cry that left your mouth if you’d taped it shut.

He’d wanted nothing more than to reach through the phone and take you into his arms, needing to remember what the heartbeat of another human felt like, more specifically — his human. But you weren’t, you hadn’t been, and he wasn’t calling you to tell you that. You loved his uncle like a father. Having to break this news, to lay a layer of pavement over your spirit and let it dry, driving over it to forget, Eddie guiding your heart into another turmoil — it made him want to attempt to dislocate his own jaw.

“What about Wayne? Please tell me what’s going on?” You lost every piece you’d mangled together, helpless to their violent disappearance.

Eddie had trembled as he sighed, shaky and worn. “He had a heart attack a few hours ago.”

Your organ had begun to lose traction, beating sporadically that you were sure some of your bones had been reduced to ash beneath the forceful erratic rhythm. Leaving behind everything but your shoes, coat, keys, and purse, you were already at your front door, phone cord stretching with you. “I’m coming home. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Yeah. Kay. I’ll be here.” Eddie sounded lost, that light he’d accumulated in his lifetime, part of it was dimming. He couldn’t lose the one person that had been with him his whole life. You were already gone. This would devour him whole.

You sit up straight in your seat, the action causing your back to crack. You take a few deep breaths, engrossed in the glossy branches in your sky view, thunder roaring in the distance, your vehicle approaching the clearing and ready to hit that final road that will take you home.

~*~

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midnightblues444 · 1 year

Text

Hostage |

Now playing: hostage- Billie Eilish

Part one tags: @erenjeagerseggplanttt , @kitkat1690

"Is something wrong?"

Suguru asks, waking you from the daze you didnt realise you were in, bringing you back to the present, you meet his gaze as he expects an answer,

You dont have one yet

If your honest, you'd realised that no matter how much you've tried to make him so, this man is not your Suguru.

A truth you've been afraid of admitting to out loud. Fearing that it will suddenly bring you to reality, the sensation almost like hitting the ground in a falling dream, taking him away from you in an instant.

You didnt want it to go, not yet

In response you lean over reassuringly kissing his cheek, resuming you're position on his chest with your son who is slowly drifting to sleep on your lap. You pretend to focus on the movie ,but really just listen to the soft thuds of Getos heart beating.

It reminds you that he's real to say the least

There was a brief while after he first returned, when you thought he was a hallucination, a cruel manifestation of your love, tasked with ensuring you never move on.

He swept you up into simply accepting his arrival without question. Smoothly weaving himself into your life with cooked meals and games of catch with Takumi, you fell for the cliche sales pitch of what your life could be.

You suppose the idea of having it all was addictive. It may be selfish how youve been playing along, ignoring all doubt, hiding him from the rest of the world, desperately keeping him within orbit of only yours. You haven't even told Gojo or Shoko that he's here.

You wanted this to feel right before you did,

The movie finishes, the credits begin to roll, you take Takumi into your arms, softly rubbing his back as you carry him to his room. He whines and protests, groggily arguing how he could stay up with you guys.

"Ah but Takumi, we're very sleepy and are gonna go to bed too" Suguru says calmly, faking a yawn, the boy looks to you for confirmation and you nod.

"You won't miss anything sweetie, so sleep " you add with a kiss to his forehead. Geto tucks him in, you both slowly back out of the room, hushed until the door clicks shut.

"You didn't answer me the first time y'know" he breaks the silence,

Theres that keen perception you remember, a trick that this Suguru has mastered, where he does or says something that reminds you of the boy he once was, acting as a cruel parallel of your memories

You can only sigh, "I think something's wrong" you slip past him, trying to hide from this moment, unfairly he follows, to you're bedroom where you sit on the edge of the mattress.

"What is it then?" He asks carefully, for your sake and his.

"You're different Suguru...and I don't know what to do with that"

He pauses, thinking of what to say. "Are you afraid then?" He asks, the bed dips under his weight when he sits beside you.

"I suppose maybe a little" you whisper,like you only realise your unease now, he nods slowly, like he was processing what you said. He reaches out to touch you, maybe showing you not to be, his fingers graze the apple of your cheek, softly turning you to look at him.

He has his face, the face you've kissed maybe hundreds of times. It's hard to process that hes not the same, you find yourself unable to tell the difference sometimes, and unconciously fall into forgotten instincts.

Like now you press a kiss to his lips, a tragic one that says, we don't have to talk about this now.

You didn't want to tell him about the unease in your belly, the anger you felt at him for leaving and the confusion as to why hes done all this.

You just want him here

He responds by kissing you back, a silent agreement to live in this fictitious world just a little longer. You kiss so you dont speak.

For a split second it feels right

#jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk #geto x reader #geto angst #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #getou x reader #jjk angst #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst

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cheapbeds · 1 year

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How to Choose Mattress for Sofa Bed

When it comes to picking the best mattress for a sofa bed, there are many options. Different sizes and types of mattresses are available to suit various preferences. Things like thickness, firmness, and material should be considered.

To make a wise choice, it’s best to compare the different types of mattresses. Have a look at this table with the most popular types:

Apart from these, there are hybrid mattresses with features from different materials.

Be sure to check if the sofa bed frame can fit the chosen mattress. It might also need additional support from a foundation or box spring.

Choosing the right mattress for the dreams sofa bed can improve your sleep and comfort. So take your time to pick one that suits you best.

Fun Fact: Sofa beds have been around since ancient Rome! They were used as lounging beds during the day and pulled out for sleeping at night. The modern version was invented in 1899 by William Lawrence Murphy. Nowadays, it’s a popular furniture item.

For a sofa bed, you need a mattress that can handle the weight of your in-laws without collapsing like your hopes and dreams.

Factors to Consider When Choosing a Mattress for Sofa Bed

To select the right mattress for your sofa bed from a wide variety available, consider the size, shape, type of foam used, thickness and density of the mattress, firmness and support requirements, as well as breathability and cooling features. This section on Factors to Consider When Choosing a Mattress for Sofa Bed outlines each of these considerations in detail.

Size and Shape of the Sofa Bed

When picking a mattress for your sofa bed, it is key to take into account the dimensions and shape of your sofa sleeper. Accurate measurements and knowledge of the form are essential to get the perfect fit.

A table below displays different sizes and shapes of commonly used sofa beds:

Apart from size and shape, it’s important to pay attention to firmness level, material quality and thickness when choosing a sofa bed mattress. It is wise to invest in a quality mattress for long term comfort and decrease the risk of back pain.

The National Sleep Foundation observed that replacing an old mattress with a new one can enhance sleep quality. You need foam that is firm enough to support your dreams, yet not too hard that it feels like you’re sleeping on a pile of textbooks.

Type of Foam Used in the Mattress

Foams come in many types. It’s very important to pick the right foam for your sofa bed. Different foams have different uses. Some are more durable than others, so the right foam can affect the lifespan of your mattress.

A table is useful for comparing foam types. Take a look at this one:

When selecting a mattress for your sofa bed, you must also think about thickness. Generally, thicker foam is more comfortable. But if it’s too thick, the sofa bed won’t fold properly.

Pro Tip: If none of the foam options meet your comfort needs, get an extra mattress topper. Choose a thickness that supports your back, but not too thick.

Thickness and Density of the Mattress

Choosing a mattress for your sofa bed is important. It should be thick and dense enough to give you the support you need for a comfy sleep. See the table below for the recommended thickness and density for various types of sofa beds.

Higher density isn’t always better. Choose something that suits your preferences and gives you comfort. Consider mattresses with proper ventilation, too. They will help improve sleep quality by preventing heat retention and promoting airflow.

Sofa beds have been around since ancient Rome. Back then, they were used as seating during the day and beds at night. Nowadays, they come in various styles, designs, and options. For firmness and support, give it a good ‘get out of my life‘ slap every morning.

Firmness and Support Level

Firmness and support are essential when selecting a cushion for a sofa bed. Comfort is the key to a good sleep and a refreshed feeling when waking up.

A handy table can help decide on the best mattress, ranging from soft to extra-firm. A softer mattress may be comfortable, but it lacks support. Whereas, a firmer mattress has more support, but possibly not as much comfort.

Higher-quality mattresses tend to have a higher price tag, yet they offer better durability and longevity. Investing in a quality mattress can be beneficial in the long run.

The mattress should fit the individual’s preferences; such as softness or firmness. Taking weight, sleeping positions and health conditions into account is also a must.

Sofa beds of the past were known for lacking support or padding, leading to discomfort after prolonged use. However, modern advancements in engineering have created supportive and comfortable cushions for a restful sleep experience. To make sure your mattress stays cool, look for breathability and cooling features.

Breathability and Cooling Features

When buying a sofa bed mattress, breathability and cooling features are key. Ventilation should be good to keep the body cool. The material used should be breathable and moisture-wicking. Thickness is important too, as thin mattresses allow for better airflow and less heat retention.

Cooling technologies such as gel or copper can help with temperature regulation. Those who sweat at night should look for natural materials such as bamboo or cotton. Airflow affects comfort levels and is essential for a restful night’s sleep.

Choose a royal mattress brand and sleep like a king!

Popular Brands of Mattresses for Sofa Beds

To choose the perfect mattress for your sofa bed, you need to be aware of the popular brands available in the market. In this section, we’ll cover ‘Popular Brands of Mattresses for Sofa Beds’ with a focus on ‘Comparison of Features and Prices’ and ‘Customer Reviews and Ratings’ as a solution.

Comparison of Features and Prices

Comparing mattress brands for sofa beds is key when it comes to making the perfect purchase. We’ve got some great info on popular brands here. Below is a representation of features of different mattresses, with brand names, thickness, dimensions, materials and prices.

Warranty periods, customer ratings, and durability are also important factors to consider when buying a top-notch mattress for your sofa bed. Technology has radically improved mattresses for sofa beds. In the past, they were uncomfortable and had short lifespans. Now, people can enjoy comfortable sleep, without sacrificing functionality or design.

Sofa beds were first seen in England during the Victorian era, known as “daybeds”. They were designed to fit small spaces. Today, they come in convertible couches or futons that can be used as beds at night. Lastly, customer reviews and ratings are a great way to make an informed decision.

Customer Reviews and Ratings

Utilizing Semantic NLP language, customer feedback can give valuable insights on sofa bed mattresses. Here are things to remember:

Comfort varies depending on size and sleeping position.

Durability matters as these mattresses are used for many purposes.

Materials must support the back, spine, and neck.

Price is always a consideration.

When researching top brands, consider material quality, comfort level variations, durability, and affordability.

Read product reviews to check if the sofa bed mattress meets expectations. Get your beauty rest from trusted retailers.

Where to Buy Mattresses for Sofa Beds

To find the perfect mattress for your sofa bed, you need to know where to buy them. Buying a mattress from an online retailer, furniture store, or mattress specialty shop are all viable options to consider. Let’s take a closer look at these sub-sections to find the right choice for you.

Online Retailers

Online shopping offers a plethora of options for finding the perfect mattress for your sofa bed. With rated and reviewed products, it’s never been easier to locate the ideal fit.

Internet retailers provide access to a variety of brands and prices, unavailable in physical stores. Platforms such as Amazon, Wayfair, Walmart provide reliable delivery services, which are essential for customer satisfaction.

For those seeking mattresses with exclusive features such as memory foam or custom sizing, FoamSource and Sleeper Sofa Mattress are popular online stores. They are well-known for quality and performance over pricing.

When buying from online retailers, read reviews from other customers to gain insights into their experiences with the product.

Pro Tip: Stick to reliable websites and lookout for discounts or sales to save some money on your purchase. Shopping for a sofa bed mattress at a furniture store is pointless.

Furniture Stores

Are you seeking a new mattress for your sofa bed? Consider your options! Household furniture stores, bedding retailers, and online marketplaces are great places to find what you need. Many of these offer delivery services for ease and convenience.

Remember to check if the stores carry mattresses specially designed for sofa beds. Bedding retailers may give you a wider selection of mattress types and sizes. Online marketplaces are great for comparing prices and having more options to choose from.

When making your purchase, be sure to consider the size of your sofa bed, the mattress’s thickness, and the type of filling material. Don’t miss out on a great night’s sleep – take the time to find the perfect mattress that’ll keep you cozy all night!

For an extra special mattress, try a mattress specialty shop – it’s like finding a unicorn!

Mattress Specialty Shops

Stores that sell mattresses for sofa beds are a great option. They have different types for different sleepers. Plus, they know the best options for size, material and budget.

Online stores are now available too. They provide fast delivery and mattresses that are modern, durable and comfortable.

Major department stores usually carry sofa bed mattresses, but not all do. Check first to avoid disappointment.

For good advice, ask your friends and family who have shopped for dreams mattresses. They can tell you where to get the best quality at a good price.

To keep your mattress in good condition, it takes effort, patience and a good clean sometimes.

Care and Maintenance of Sofa Bed Mattresses

To care for your sofa bed mattress with ease when following ‘How to choose mattress for sofa bed’ guide, you need to learn how to maintain it. In this section, you will discover valuable tips on cleaning and stain removal, flipping and rotating the mattress as well as replacing old and damaged mattresses.

Cleaning and Stain Removal

Sofa beds are a great way to save space. However, they need proper care to keep them long-lasting and comfy. To ensure your sofa bed stays in top shape, you should understand how to clean it. Here’s a four-step guide on cleaning and stain removal:

Identify the kind of stain on the mattress first. This helps you select the right cleaning solution.

Vacuum the mattress with a handheld vacuum or an upholstery attachment on your regular vacuum cleaner.

Scrub away the stains using a mild detergent and warm water. Don’t use too much to avoid soaking the mattress.

Rinse off the detergent with a clean, damp cloth. Let the mattress air dry before putting it back in the frame.

Oil-based stains may need professional cleaning. Also, regularly flipping and rotating the mattress prevents uneven wear and tear.

To avoid future messes, wipe up accidental spills right away. Doing gymnastics for furniture – flipping and rotating – keeps them flexible and avoids any awkward landings.

Flipping and Rotating the Mattress

For optimal maintenance of your sofa bed mattress, it’s important to flip and rotate it regularly. Let us provide you with a 6-Step Guide to make it easier:

Take off all cushions and bedding.

Flip the mattress so head becomes foot.

Rotate the mattress 180 degrees for top to become bottom.

If one side has padding, make sure it’s facing up.

Put back the bedding and cushions before folding the sofa bed.

Repeat every 3-6 months.

Vacuum it too to remove debris. And don’t forget the mattress protector – it’ll protect from spills and stains. Lastly, check the manufacturer’s instructions – they may have extra advice. Now that’s what we call ‘upgrade’.

Replacing Old and Damaged Mattresses

Maintaining your sofa bed is key for optimal comfort. Here’s three steps to make it easy:

Assess the damage: look for sagging or tears in the fabric.

Choose a new mattress: pick one that matches your existing one and provides the right level of firmness.

Installation: remove the old one from your sofa bed frame and replace it with the new one, making sure it is secure.

Regular maintenance is also important. Rotate your mattress every few months and purchase high-quality materials for a longer-lasting product. A friend got a top-of-the-range mattress and it lasted twice as long as cheaper alternatives.

Original Source: Mattress for Sofa Bed

#dreams sofa beds #igel mattress #mattressnextday #dreams mattress sale #dreams sofa bed #clic clac sofa bed #dreams mattresses #hypnos mattresses #hypnos mattress #silentnight mattress #dormeo mattress #tempur mattress

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env0writes · 6 months

Text

Idle Steps 3.16.24 “XXX.99”

Never skimp on shoes and sheets And mattresses I make sure to only buy The best I can afford Clearance sale when my shoes are worn through My feet are bleeding And my sleep is suffering My waking hours I have long forgotten “The American Dream” For even in what little sleep I can afford I do not dream In night nor day So little left is there to skimp As towards my labor, I ardently limp

@env0writes C.Buck Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artist! Photo by @env0

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invisibleraven · 9 months

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“Can I sleep here with you?” Rose & Carlos

"You sure you have everything packed?" Rose asked as she watched Ray put the last of the shirts he had set aside into his duffel.

"Think so, and if not, it's too late now, I've got to get going to catch my plane," Ray hummed. "It's only for the weekend anyways."

"I'll still miss you," Rose said, looping her arms around his neck, stepping up onto her tiptoes to press a kiss to his mouth.

"Mmm, I'll miss you too mi amour," Ray replied, swaying them back and forth. "But the sooner I go, the sooner I get back."

Rose sighed and let him go, but gave him a playful swat to his butt as he passed. "Well get on then, I'll be here when you get back."

Ray smirked and blew her a kiss as he left, and Rose watched the car pull out. The house seemed so empty without Ray-even if it was only going to be a few days. More so with Julie at sleep away camp and Carlos at baseball camp every day.

She wandered through the house, humming to herself, an idle melody that would probably never turn into anything, but she still jotted down bits and pieces of it as she found scraps of paper around. The Petal Pushers were due for another show soon anyways, something new might be just what they needed to get them to be more regular about performing.

Victoria brought Carlos home before supper, but declined to stay, she had a Pilates class that night, but promised to meet up the next day for a morning of yard sales while Carlos had a play date with little Alfie Peters.

"Is papi gone?" Carlos asked as they ate grilled cheese sandwiches in front of the television-Rose wasn't a stickler about eating at the table when it was just her and the kids.

"He is, but he'll be back Sunday night, probably after you are gone to bed. But I'll make him come kiss you goodnight if you'd like," Rose replied.

Carlos hummed, nodding, but his attention was more so on the cartoons on screen than her. Rose got it-she would be more entertained by transforming robots at that age than her own mother. It was a quiet night, cartoons until bathtime, then a story and bed. Rose smiled as she kissed Carlos' forehead, wishing him goodnight.

Then she was left to her own devices-not really sure what to do with herself. She puttered around, finding little things to do, but eventually she found she couldn't stick to any one thing, and decided on an early night. Even if she knew she wouldn't sleep well in that big bed all alone-she never slept well when Ray was on an away shoot.

She had barely drifted off when she heard the door open, and a small voice called out "Mami?"

"What's going on mijo?" Rose asked, sitting up, seeing Carlos by the light of the moon through her curtains and the small glow of the nightlight in the hall.

"Can I sleep here with you? I had a bad dream."

"Of course you can," she said, pulling back her quilt, and patting the mattress next to her. Carlos raced over and snuggled into her arms. "Do you want to tell me about the dream?" Carlos shook his head against her chest, and she patted his hair soothingly. "Well then, let me know if it comes back, and I'll chase it away."

Carlos nodded, and was soon snoring in her arms. Rose smiled as she rubbed his back, watching him sleep. Soon enough he'd be too big for this, seeking her comfort after a bad dream, too big to climb into bed with her. Until then she'd relish these moments, even if she didn't wish nightmares on her children.

She found her eyes growing heavy as she listened to Carlos' breathing, feeling him warm and soft in her arms. And even if it wasn't the same as having Ray in the bed with her, she didn't find it nearly as hard to fall asleep that night-not with her son next to her.

And neither of them had anything but the sweetest of dreams for the rest of the night.

#filled prompts #ficlet #rose & carlos #julie and the phantoms

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devilry-revelry · 1 year

Text

Heart & Home | Male Ghost x Female Human {Part 2}

Mostly unedited rewrite of a thing I did way back when I was (happily) getting force-fed Red Dead Redemption 2 smut. It's a ghost cowboy.

I'm not sorry.

MDNI

: ̗̀➛

“You’ve been mine since the day you walked into this house, Maggie Whittaker. Now that I have you, I ain’t ever lettin’ you go, y’hear?”

: ̗̀➛

Maggie took a shuddering breath. “I think I should go home.”

“You can stay. Unless you want to go, ‘cause yer scared ‘n’ all.”

She caught the quirk of his lips, a gentle twitch upwards that teased the beginnings of a dimple to his right cheek.

“I think we both know that scared isn’t the problem.” The contact between them faded and it became difficult to see him again. He became a fleeting shadow out of her periphery, an image that was there but wasn’t. Maggie took a slow breath, noting the chill brought on by his absence. She crossed the room, taking heavy steps to the front door.

Once she got outside she turned to peer back in.

“Goodbye Elias Jameson. It was nice meeting you.”

She closed the door, locked it, and then left.

Three months later, Maggie Whittaker purchased the cabin. One month after that, she cashed in her vacation time. Armed with an inflatable mattress, a cooler full of food, and a whole lot of cleaning supplies, Maggie returned to the cabin. It was hers now and despite the growing sense of dread, and the distinct feeling that she was biting off far more than she could chew, she was put to ease the moment the cabin came into view. Returning to the cabin felt like returning home, just as it always had.

The day was spent cleaning. While Maggie had another couple of months on her apartment lease she wanted to get the space good and clean so she wouldn’t be adverse to staying the night. If she could avoid going up and down the mountain every day during this phase of cleanup and repair it would be ideal but she wasn’t going to half-ass this. She was going to do this right.

Before starting anything she opened every window she could, and noted any deficiencies she caught as she went. Some of them opened, smooth as butter. Others were practically glued shut. Fresh air wafted through the cabin and Maggie practically melted. This was what she had been dreaming about. Not the cleaning part, or the repairs, but she was one step closer to having her dream home.

Old nails that were falling out were either completely removed or hammered back into place. The bedroom floor and the walls were thoroughly scrubbed. Then the bathroom was given a vigorous cleaning. After that, it was the kitchen. When it came time to patch the hole in the floor (the one that had been made during her last sales visit), Maggie’s sails lost their wind. This was what she had been dreading. She didn’t know much of anything about wood work. The cabin needed a fair bit of it, and she knew there were some things that she was going to have to hire contractors for. But the hole in the floor was a hazard she needed to see to before she stepped into it by accident.

She didn’t have much by way of tools or patching materials and she wouldn’t for at least a day or two, when they’d be delivered. She considered moving her ice chest over the hole. As she idly pondered and tried to plan, she smelled him. Campfire. Woodsmoke. Cigars. Breathing in deep she caught the barest hint of pine, and maybe even leather. Maggie’s mouth watered.

“I, uh, I bought the place,” she announced to the cabin. Perhaps she should have started there. Perhaps she should have asked the resident ghost for permission to move in. “I hope you don’t mind. If you do, I’ll understand.” It was just her life savings going down the drain.

“And here I thought you was never comin’ back, Maggie Whittaker.”

Butterflies infested her whole being. Hearing his voice made her giddy. She hadn’t felt anything similar since she was a middle schooler getting asked out for the first time. She caught a glance of his figure just out of view, and when she chased him with her eyes he vanished.

“You don’t mind, right?”

“Mind that you bought it? Not one bit. Hoped you’d be the one t’ take it, actually.”

And now she was blushing.

She managed to stammer, “Goo-uh—“ she cleared her throat. “Good. I was worried you wouldn’t want me here. I should have asked first.”

The room went quiet but she could still smell him. The aroma was so strong she could practically taste him.

Before Maggie had committed to purchasing the house she did her best to dissect the reason why she felt so drawn to the place. While she wanted to insist that she purchased the cabin because she felt at home there, or that it fit with her ideal aesthetic, or she liked the stone fireplace, or the spectacular sunrises, or the mountain air, she couldn’t discount the ghost. The ghost that had protected her, the ghost that made her feel safe, and needy, and breathless.

Surely, she thought, she didn’t buy the cabin because she felt a curious attraction to a ghost.

And yet she had ached to see him all day, had anticipated his arrival the moment she started cleaning and pounding nails. She even felt a little down when he didn’t immediately show up. Hearing that the ghost had wanted her to buy the house left her feeling hopeful.

Warmth gathered at her hips, as if someone had come up from behind and grabbed hold of her. Biting the inside of her lip Maggie turned slowly. The warmth dragged across her front and back, big hands smoothing over the contours of her body. And there he was. The ghost of the man who had built the cabin she was so fond of.

“Knew you belonged here the first time I saw you,” Elias replied. Those dark eyes of his glittered in the most captivating way. “I am worried that yer a little over yer head, though.”

Maggie offered a wry smile, “I hope you get along with the contractors I’m going to have to hire.”

Elias edged a little closer, his hands slipping to her back. “Didn’t realize you were the stubborn sort, Miss Whitaker.”

Maggie’s hands slid up his forearms on their own accord as she replied, “What does that mean?”

“You coulda just asked for help. I’m right here, darlin’.”

They were gathering each other closer, like they were a couple of magnets being drawn together. Maggie’s hands dragged up to his biceps, and rested on his shoulders. Elias’s hands had looped completely around her. Maggie wouldn’t consider herself a prude, but she had rarely let any previous boyfriends get so close during their first dates.

Not that Elias was her boyfriend, and this definitely wasn’t a date. Didn’t stop her from wanting to tuck her head under his chin and just breathe him in though.

“I didn’t want to just assume that you’d help me. I shouldn’t have even assumed that you would be fine with me buying the place. I should have asked.”

“Sssh,” he crooned. “Wish you woulda told me so I didn’t think I had scared you away, but I wanted it to be you.” he smiled softly, teasing the lone dimple to his cheek. “But you ain’t gotta be stubborn, ya hear me? You need help with something, you can tell me. I’ll do what I can.”

Maggie replied in a feeble voice, “I don’t know how this works. I don’t know what you can and can’t do. I don’t even know where you go when you’re not here

Elias started to withdraw. He took a step back and Maggie immediately missed his warmth.

“I’ve been watching you all day, girl. I’m always lingerin’ around somewhere but I reckon we’ll have to figure out what my capabilities are together. In the meantime, I think you oughtta get something to eat, and get some rest.”

“I’m fine—“

“You ain’t had nothin’ all day. Don’t lie t’me.” His voice was stern, but not enough to drive her off. The bit of care actually made Maggie smile. “Get somethin’ t’eat, and get some rest.”

She made a show of sighing, “Okay.”

Her hands fell away from him and he shuffled back another couple of steps.

Just before he completely severed contact, he winked and said, “Good girl.”

With more than a little bounce to her step, Maggie did as she was told. She set up her blow up mattress for the night, and dressed it with blankets and pillows. Then she dragged her ice chest to the kitchen area and prepared a quick meal. When she was through with eating she hauled her overnight bag to the room and prepared to relax for the rest of the night. Maggie brushed her teeth and did her evening skin care routine. When it came time to change and get into bed her progress slowed.

Elias said he had been watching her all day. Did that mean that he was in the room with her right now? She glanced about, feeling her body warm. Elias potentially watching her wasn’t the deterrent that she thought it would be. In fact she found herself quite intrigued by the idea. Maggie undressed slowly. Her shoes and socks were tossed aside, and then she shimmied her jeans down her thighs. When she bent forward to gather the bunched up pants to fold them up she could swear she heard a sigh.

A gentle ache blossomed and pulsated between her thighs.

Next came her shirt and then, finally, her bra. She lingered like that for just a moment, fumbling through her bag to get her clothes. When she eventually tugged on her sleep shirt she was sure her panties were wet with her slick. She turned out the light.

On hands and knees she crawled up the length of her blow up mattress, then she slipped under the covers.

“Goodnight,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

The only reply was the gentle teasing scent of camp fire.

Maggie had dreams of him that night. Dreams where he came to her in the middle of the night and worked her to release. When she woke the following morning she felt a little bedraggled, and just a touch bereft. She promptly got out of bed, got dressed and started the day by reopening all of the windows. Elias soon joined her. His presence wasn’t constant but she had caught brief glimpses of him throughout the day, just brief moments where his figure looked just in the corner of her vision. Progress on the house only seemed to appear when she wasn’t watching. If she set her focus on her own tasks when she came up for air something about the cabin would be different.

The hole in the floor was patched. Some of the more crooked cupboards in the kitchen were suddenly hanging straight and closing properly. The splinter-ridden countertops were sanded until immaculate and smooth. By the end of their second day, Maggie was more than pleased with their progress. The busy work was mostly finished. Once she received the delivery from the home improvement store, they could get cracking on the real work. Which she was secretly dreading.

Maggie was a desk person. She did showings of various houses, but the bulk of her work was sitting at a desk and pounding away at a keyboard. The house work, while not substantial in nature, was taxing and left her with various aches and pains in places she didn’t know could ache and pain.

She did some stretches that night before bed. It was some simple movements that she had learned in her weekend yoga classes that tugged at her muscles just so. Special attention was paid to her legs, and her arms, and even her neck. When she moved on to her back and core stretches her muscles thanked her. A throbbing pain had been building in her lower back and a good stretch was definitely needed.

Resting on her hands and needs on the floor next to her blowup mattress, Maggie bowed her spine upwards, dropped her head towards the ground, and tucked her pelvis inward. She held the position and breathed for a straight 10-count then moved her body into the inverse of the position. Maggie’s back arched down, and her head lifted and craned back, her pelvis rolled outward. Another cycle of breathing, and then her head dropped. The final movement started with her head dropping against her back, her back angling downward towards the floor, her pelvis tilting outward–

The sensation of large hands grasped her hips. Something hard bumped against her rear and then there was pressure applied to the cleft of her pussy. It pressed inward against her leggings.

The way Maggie’s arms gave out was embarrassing. The flanging moan that left her was even more so. She peered behind her but saw nothing, not even the fleeting image of Elias. The pressure increased, and slid forward. When it found her clit Maggie whined. It pressed in a little tighter, and then started making tight circles. Her body presented itself at its own whim. The way she parted her thighs and dropped her chest down into the floor was entirely too eager. Her pulse lept. She could feel it drumming in her sex in heavy beats that made her pussy ache.

There was a sudden tug at the leggings but they weren’t pulled off. The leggings were pulled up. The material strained against her ass, pressing in between the cheeks. Another tug pulled the material taut against her drooling nethers. The central seam pinned her clit against her pubic bone, and those fingers worked it mercilessly.

Maggie rocked her hips, grinding herself against the hand, against the inseam. The tightness building in her body was delicious, like nothing she had felt. And with every beat of her heart, and every circle worked over her clit, Maggie grew closer to finding orgasm.

She pressed her face into her arm to hide her embarrassment, feeling as if she should rebuke Elias for taking such liberties but delighting over the fact that he did. She’d been hungry for this. Yearning for it since their first encounter.

The tension in her body reached its peak, drawing her body terribly tight just before she found release. Her core gave a hard, long, almost painful contraction. The fingers worked a little slower now, easing off the pressure but still coaxing little zips of pleasure as her pussy fluttered with the remnants of her orgasm.

She whined, her body quivering.

“Easy, girl…” came the low voice.

Boneless, Maggie’s body sagged to the floor. A warm hand dragged over the curve of her ass, and up along her spine.. She had just been dragged to climax by an invisible phantasmal entity. The idea of it made her body warm all over again.

The hand worked its way up her back and into her hair. With a gentle tug her head was angled just so, and Maggie was rewarded with the sensation of a soft kiss.

“Elias?”

“You did so good, sweetheart. You were perfect.”

Another fleeting kiss, and another caress to her back, and he let her be for the rest of the night.

Fixing up the cabin took a couple of months. After Maggie’s initial week off, fixes were allocated to nights and weekends, or to whatever Elias managed while she was away at work. Elias didn’t like it when the contractors came to knock out the big ticket items like the plumbing and electric, but they both agreed they were things to be left to professionals. Whenever the contractors visited, Elias grew notably jealous. Maggie could only imagine that it was because there were tangible, and sometimes good looking men roaming their home. He went out of his way to remind her of his presence on those days. He was quite generous with his attentions. Like she needed it. Maggie grew to be incredibly attached to Elias during their time together. When she wasn’t with him, she would think of him, and when they were together he made it impossible to think of much else.

When she came home from work he was there, quietly working on various things around the home. He would stick around as she cooked dinner, and he talked with her as she ate. When the house was finished and Maggie began to move her things in, and redecorate, Elias made himself scarce. Maggie couldn’t help but feel more than a little lonely. And guilty. She couldn’t help but think that rebuilding the cabin had taken him away and due to its completion he was gone.

She had hoped to make the cabin a space for the two of them, and while she still loved her new home she wanted Elias to be a part of it.

It took all of three days for Maggie’s patience to reach its limits.

Tucked into bed for the evening, fretting over the idea that she killed a dead man, Maggie called into the darkened home, “Elias, I swear to god, if fixing up the house made you move on or whatever, and you didn’t say anything about it, I’ll kill you — you hear me?!”

The response was immediate, “The hell you on about, girl?”

Maggie’s neck twisted to the side, tracking the voice. While she wouldn’t be able to see him in the dark, and she definitely wouldn’t be able to see him without any physical contact, she sent a killing glare in the direction his voice had come from.

“You heard me,” she seethed. “At a minimum, if you don’t want to be here anymore then you need to be a man and say it. You— you—“ for lack of a better word, “—ghosting me isn’t fair.”

“Well shit darlin’, I regret to inform you—“

Maggie snapped, “You know what I mean.”

Warmth gathered at her throat. She could feel the strong fingers squeezing gently just before she was guided back against the bed. The force didn’t hurt, it wasn’t even enough to cut off her breathing, but it was enough to establish a line of control.

“Shit, Maggie. I didn’t mean to make you think I was leavin’.”

“Then why—“

“I wanted you to be able to set up the house the way you liked it. I didn’t want you worryin’ about my opinion. It’s our home but yer the one livin’ here.”

Maggie’s cheeks began to burn with embarrassment. The thumb on her neck caressed gently upward along her skin. “You’re not leaving?”

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” The bed dipped. Maggie felt as though Elias was looming above her. He dragged a kiss against her jaw, her cheek, her mouth. “You’ve been mine since the day you walked into this house, Maggie Whittaker. Now that I have you, I ain’t ever lettin’ you go, y’hear?”

Her panties were teased down her thighs, and she mewled quietly, “You promise?

Without so much as a warning, he was inside her. The movement was beautifully fluid, and it left her feeling stretched and filled to capacity. It was their first official joining, and it was paired by Elias’ low voice rasping in her ear as he undulated his hips.

“Ain’t ever letting you go, darlin’. Ever.”

#Paranormal Romance #Overly Possessive Ghost?#Yandere ghost maybe?#paranormal #romance #ghost romance #cowboy #ghost cowboy #cowboy ghost #monster boyfriend #cowboy monster boyfriend?#apologies to the Call of Duty girlies #male ghost x female human #unedited because im lazy and this has been sitting around for decades #possessive behavior #maybe #dark ending where Elias kills Maggie so they could be together forever where?#minors do not interact #minors do not read

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blake-elladonna · 2 years

Note

Hey, love your writing btw. So I was wondering if maybe you could write a Chuuya x gn reader comfort where the reader wanted to go to a city she has been wanting to visit her whole life but when given the chance it couldn't happen.

@Anonymous

Hi, Anonymous! Thank you so much for your request! I’m so touched you love my writing 🤍 I hope this request lives up to your expectations; although it did turn a bit into a hurt/comfort. 🤍 Enjoy and feel free to request again!

Homebound

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐮 (𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑𝟒𝟒

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 𝟏 𝐦𝐢𝐧. 𝟒𝟏 𝐬𝐞𝐜.

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: For as long as Chuuya — your significant other — could remember, you’ve always yearned to visit your dream destination; but when that is unexpectedly taken from you, Chuuya scrambles to find a way to comfort you.

Chuuya rested his head against the door trim, “Are you gonna come out?” He asked. A stabbing pain cursing his heart with each of your muffled cries from inside your shared bedroom. “Can I— Can I come in at least?”

The bed creaked and your footsteps caused him to lean up. But when the door opened, it was only a crack, “Why?” Your voice was quiet and broken. Chuuya slid his foot in between the door. “Because,” He said. He tilted his head to look at you yet you didn’t make any movement to do the same. “I wanted to see you. Do you know how much of an asshole I feel like when I’m just stuck in the hallway listening to my significant other crying?”

You didn’t answer his question but you did step away from the door without closing it, sitting back down onto your bed that was infested with tissues, dishuffled blankets and untouched snacks. “You are an asshole. You should feel like one.”

“Okay. I deserved that.” Chuuya sat on the edge of the mattress, pushing all of the miscellaneous objects to the side. “But look, I’m sorry. I know apologizing won’t change anything but I don’t know what else to do. I’m an idiot for not checking before we got there.” You scoffed at that.

“A whole gun, Chuuya. In an airport.” The way you said it stabbed him in the back. “This was the first time I’ve ever gotten a chance to go. I’ve always wanted to go and you knew that. Everything was perfect. The ticket was on sale and everything; and then my boyfriend carries a gun and gets us both kicked out.” Your eyes swelled with tears but this time you looked him in the eyes as your lip quivered, “I was so excited.” Then he heard your sobs again.

Forcing him to watch your head fall with your shoulders trembling. He pushed himself up with his knee, crawling to hold you until you hid your face into his leg. “I’m so sorry.” He said.

← Previous Drabble Master List Next Drabble → 💉 Best medicine ♡ Exceptions ♡ 🎊

⇐ Last Chuuya Drabble Next Chuuya Drabble ⇒ 💉 Best medicine ♡ Infatuation ♡ 🎊

𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭? 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

#chuuya x gn reader #chuuya x you #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd #bsd drabble #chuuya drabbles #chuuya request #bsd requests #anonymous request #bungou stray dogs #chuuya nakahara #Chuuya Drabbles 💌#Drabbles 💌#Chuuya Requests 📮

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radiationgroove · 1 year

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Day to Day

I can finally share my piece for the second volume of the @falloutghoulzine Greetings from Gecko! Much like the first, the second volume was a dream to work on. We'll be having our extras sale soon, so watch this space! Be sure to give this some love over on AO3 too!

It’s almost impossible to pin down what Carol could be daydreaming about. The possibilities, Greta learned long ago, were nearly endless.

Most of the time it was Gob and whatever troubles he was in. The young visitor from Vault 101 to the Northwest told Carol that instead of Gob exploring the world, he’d landed himself in some scummy little dive bar well outside the city. Carols’ mind raced with possibilities: Gob somehow owned this bar, or he was the life of the party, the bartender everyone loved, or was this something more sinister? The Vault Dweller seemed to choose their words too carefully. Was Gob in trouble? Danger? Did he need rescuing? Those fugues were broken with bouts of nostalgia; Greta spent countless nights listening half-heartedly to stories about Gob and the years Carol spent with her adopted son.

Sometimes she was trapped in thought and wandering centuries in the past. Those were the days Greta tiptoed around her partner, keeping any outside noise in their little hotel to a minimum the best she could. Those were also the days that more often than not began with Carol waking in the middle of the night gasping for air. She whimpered, sobbed, dropped her head into her hands and cried for her Daddy. Greta couldn’t imagine what Carol saw; her ghoulification had come after the Great War when she was old enough to understand what was going on. Carol watched herself fall apart unprepared.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Carol to just be sad. She drifted about the hotel like a ghost, face soft and distant. Greta caught her staring at the hallway painting in its gilded frame. Greta knew, once, who painted it, what it was called, but that had since been lost to time. These particular bouts of melancholy were sometimes too much for Greta and too hard to break. She spent longer on her smoke breaks, or tucked away in her kitchen. At the end of the day, separation was best for both of them.

Greta hid behind her interactions, her abrasion. She didn’t hold back when it came to the quality of her food (for the few tender-stomached smoothskins that managed to linger in their doorway, anyway), or her malice towards Azrukhal and the not-so-friendly competition his bar held across the hallway. Her patience for indecisiveness was thin; you either knew what you wanted at Carol’s Place or you got the hell out. Free time was spent concocting something new to put on the menu, or at least make something more than palatable.

She didn’t really do “friends”. At the end of the day all she needed was Carol and the little life they’d carved out with each other at Underworld. They’d been together so long it was hard to imagine a day spent without the other. Sometimes, though she wouldn’t admit it aloud, she wondered if they stayed this way because they always had been.

But, of course, that was nonsense. Love was a rare commodity in the Wasteland, and to have a love that lasted as long as theirs had was rarer still.

Carol’s Place was quiet today. A few of their friends and neighbors wandered in for breakfast and lunch, but the hours ticked by quietly. Tulip stopped by briefly on her break for the special (nothing at all was “special” about the special) and to drop off her copy of Paradise Lost for Carol to thumb through. Even their full-time boarder, Mister Crowley, made himself scarce with little fanfare. It was quiet, and Greta was glad for it.

Lost in the depth of her thoughts, Carol stood at the side of the bed she shared with Greta. She slipped a grimy pillow into a slightly less grimy pillowcase and fluffed. And fluffed. She fluffed again for good measure and centered the pillow on the bed. She bent to tuck the sheets into the mattress and smoothed the comforter over top…and paused.

She was young again, a slip of a thing, all of twenty-six. Carol woke early that morning with the intention of going into town for…who knew? A day of shopping, of selfish consumerism? Sight-seeing, maybe, a stroll through the streets of Washington, DC and take in the Halloween storefronts? Either way, Carol was planning on looking her best. Every blonde lock was tucked perfectly in place. Though her father said she didn’t need it, that she was beautiful as she was, she did her makeup, balancing a face that was all high cheekbones and a strong jawline. Carol smoothed the sheets and comforter over the crisp corners of her bed. It was shaping up to be a beautiful October day. The grandfather clock downstairs in the foyer struck nine o’clock in the morning with distant gong. Her father came barreling into the house, slamming the door behind him.

Father sped to the bunker. Chaos was still in the process of erupting around them. The streets didn’t feel any busier than normal, but people were pouring out of homes with duffle bags and suitcases. Sirens blared high above the city. The longer the sirens sounded, the faster her father drove. A crowd began to gather around the public fallout shelter; the car had barely stopped before Carol was commanded to run. Her father wasn’t far behind.

Until he wasn’t.

Another siren. Carol stopped only a moment, turning back to check on him. A mother, a woman barely older than herself, was struggling with her twin toddlers and new baby. Her father stopped to help, to gather the children in his arms. An explosion shook the ground beneath her feet. A flash of light blinded her. Someone grabbed her arm; she screamed. The shelter door closed behind her and the survivors were plunged into darkness.

It was too quiet. Greta wondered if this was what parents talked about before the Great War; if the children were quiet, there was usually trouble. Wiping her hands on the apron tied about her waist, Greta peeked around salvaged hospital dividers and down the little hallway. Carol remained frozen at the corner of their bed.

“Carol?” Greta murmured, stepping slowly down the hall. Carol startled. “Hon, you okay?” It broke Greta’s heart that the woman she’d spent decades with was so distant.

When they emerged once again, blinking into the sunlight, Carol was face to face with the blackened shape of her father scorched into the wall. She was sick all over the ground. The survivors from the shelter staggered about while DC burned. She just followed her feet forward. Always forward. The Museum of History, a place she treasured visits with her father, a place that would eventually become known to the Wasteland at large as “Underworld,” became a sanctuary. Then it became a home.

It wasn’t until her skin began to peel that she knew there was a problem. Great chunks of it sloughed off all over. Carol spent panicked mornings in the museum restroom examining the changes; what sort of twisted puberty had the bombs brought? Then it was her hair. Her beautiful blonde hair was falling out fistfuls at a time. Between losing her hair and staring at a face full of exposed muscle, it was a wonder Carol didn’t lose her mind as so many did in those first few years.

Carol blinked slowly. Greta didn’t look like Greta for a moment, just a mess of missing skin and clumps of hair that turned her stomach. It was like looking in the mirror in those early days when she was in pain and her body was falling apart. Panic swelled in her chest.

“Hey…hey, you’re okay.” Greta kept space between them for fear of startling Carol further. She lingered some feet away from the bed. To Carol, “okay” couldn’t be further from the truth.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and eventually there was nothing Carol could do to stop the floodgates. They rolled down her cheeks unbidden. Her lips quivered and tension she didn’t know she was holding her shoulders released. Greta sighed and finally closed the gap between the two of them. Carol sobbed as she buried her face in Greta’s neck.

Helplessness was Greta’s least favorite feeling. More than anger, more than disgust, more than malice, it was helplessness. She couldn’t help Carol, not in any way that made a difference as far as she was concerned. All she could do was hold her. Greta carded her fingers through Carol’s hair while peppering her face with kisses.

They sank into the freshly made bed, Greta pulling Carol into her lap. Across the desk, the door opened. The quiet creak was enough to draw Greta’s attention away. Winthrop stood in the doorway and suddenly felt very awkward. He wasn’t sure if it was because of Carol’s tears or…no it was definitely Greta’s glare penetrating into his soul that made him turn tail and close the door behind him.

What had he come here for? Whatever it was he needed could wait.

The breath slowly returned to Carol’s lungs. The trembling deep in her shoulders and the knot in the pit of her stomach lessened. Her grip on Greta relaxed. Tears still rolled uneven tracks down her cheeks, but Carol was coming back into her body and her mind. Soon all they heard was the buzz of fluorescent lighting overhead and their own soft, synchronized breathing.

“Carol? You with me?”

“...Yeah. Yeah, I’m here, Greta”

“Good.”

Greta pressed barely-there kisses to Carol’s forehead and stroked the back of her arm. “Do you need anything?”

Carol sniffled and wiped her eyes and nose with the back of her hand. “No, I don’t think so.”

Another moment of long silence; Greta wasn’t going to pry as to what had brought this on. The options flipped through her mind once again: Gob, her ghoulification, just because? It was impossible to know what made Carol sad.

All Greta knew is that her girl needed her.

#fallout 3 #Carol #Greta #Carol and Greta #Rad Writes

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wouldyoustilllovemeifiwasawyrm · 1 year

Text

Chapter 2 - Girls Like Guys Who Kill Monsters

Dawn’s rosy light crept into the room, warm as the blankets tangled around their legs. Soft blonde hair tickled his chin. Distant Cuccos crowed the morning in. Wake up! Wake up! The warbling crows were so insistent, and so pleasantly far from their bed.

Link opened his eyes, blinking away sleep. Motes floated through the air, illuminated by the light streaming in through the window. And Zelda. Curled against his side, her head resting on his chest. The bed was never really big enough for the both of them. But he didn’t mind. And, as her chest slowly rose and fell, as her eyelids fluttered through the last of her dreams, he could think of no more perfect sight to wake up to.

Ah. No. That’s not true.

He smiled, sinking his head into the pillow.

He wouldn’t mind sharing the small bed with a baby. Would that be dangerous? Several of the women in town slept with their little children in their beds. He didn’t know any who had a newborn. Did they sleep with little babies? There might be some concern for a little baby to get crushed or knocked off the mattress. That wouldn’t be good.

Link lifted his head again, scanning the loft. He could move that dresser over to the left a little to make room for a crib. What else would they need? Toys? Diapers? Definitely diapers. Where would one even get diapers? The East Wind didn’t carry any that he knew of. Maybe people made their own. That would make sense. CeCe only made clothes for adults. He wracked his brain to think of when he’d seen a shop that sold clothing for children. He’d seen toys for sale before, but never clothes. Or maybe he had other things on his mind and didn’t notice if they had any or not. It’s not like baby clothes were high on his priority list when shopping…

Shopping. Right. Arrows. Should pick up more arrows. The boys were probably waiting.

Though he was loathe to disturb her, Link brushed a hand over Zelda’s hair and kissed her forehead. “Wake up. We need to get going.”

Zelda shifted in his arms, stretching out like a cat as she awakened. She rubbed her eyes. “So early?” Her thicker morning voice made his heart skip a beat. While her voice usually displayed the most refined and controlled tone, she reserved the lower pitch for him. First in the morning, when she couldn’t help it. And then in the evening, when she purred in his ear and drove him mad. What a lovely voice to bookend his days!

“’S’only five.” He yawned, sitting up to stretch his arms above his head. His right seemed to stretch a little further than the left. Scars didn’t pull that one back. “Promised the guys we’d take care of the Bokoblins.”

“Hnnn.” Zelda groaned, hugging Link around the waist and curling up again. “Can’t you go and leave me to sleep a little more?”

“Not if you’re holding me, Zel.” Link chuckled. “Besides, you said you wanted to head out early so we could make it to Kakariko before dark, remember?”

The way Zelda’s fingers dug into his muscles told him that she certainly did remember, and was cursing her sensible self from the previous evening. Last night’s discussion lasted well into candle-burning hours. While Zelda assured him that they must follow the rules of Hyrule’s royal family with regards to the baby, she couldn’t recall what those rules were. Very few alive today recalled Zelda’s own birth, and the ceremonies and procedures that her own parents followed to solemnize the occasion. Kakariko, she decided, would be their destination. Lady Impa and Purah would have the best chance at knowing what took place that day, having been in the service of the royal family since Zelda was very young. If anyone knew, or at least knew where to start looking for the information, it would be one of them. And since Link had already bound himself to leaving at first light for the Cliffs, there was no sense in doubling back and losing two hours of travel.

Which meant, despite Zelda’s groaning protests, Link had to get up.

“Come on.” He wiggled himself free from her, prying her sleepy arms off of him so he could sit up on the side of the bed. His bare feet brushed against the thick rug underneath their bed. “I’ll make breakfast.” Despite his assurances, Zelda still slumped back into the divot where he had lain. “Zel.”

“Not hungry.” She whined, flipping the pillow over her head to block out him and the offensive sunlight. “Ill.”

Ill? Link frowned, placing a hand on the back of Zelda’s neck. Not hot. She didn’t complain of illness last night. So why-?

Oh.

“Some toast at least?” He offered. Would it be like this the whole time? That sounded like hell. Maybe the East Wind had some ginger root.

Zelda lifted one side of the pillow, her face slightly paler than the previous evening’s. “A little toast.”

With a nod, Link rose from the bed. He pulled on a fresh shirt from the dresser, tugging it over his head.

At the bottom of the stairs, the little stove had already grown cold. He tossed in a few cut branches before striking the flint. Sparks skittered across a bird’s nest of leaves and horse hair, catching quickly and smoking as soon as Link tossed the bundle into the metal box. The curling smoke wafted up the flue as the flickers spread to the branches.

He never used to start fires this way. He had little memory of his old life, but a tingle of fear at the back of his neck told him that someone had very sternly educated him on the impropriety of starting fires in the house. And yet, here was this very device, in their kitchen. The rest of Hateno hadn’t yet warmed up (ha!) to the idea of a stove, but Zelda was adamant that they should have one. And were it not for Zelda’s admonishment that he shouldn’t use weapons in the house, he wouldn’t mind it so much himself. Flint couldn’t compare to a fire-lizalfos horn in terms of efficiency. But still, it made her happy to use the flint, and so he would.

He shut the metal door and began to prepare breakfast. Just toast. Not exactly ideal for a long journey. No doubt the smell of anything else would make her even sicker. He glanced over at the basket of eggs, his stomach growling at the thought of one fried with butter. He could boil some. That was almost as good, and easy to carry for later.

When Zelda finally descended the stairs, her hair braided up like a crown over her forehead, Link had just finished plucking the last piece of toast from the irons. He set it on the top of the small stack he’d made. Whatever she didn’t eat, he would finish.

She eyed the toast warily, as if it might bite her first, and reluctantly picked one up and started nibbling on the corner. Like a little mouse! “Thanks…” She swallowed a small portion, testing if she could keep it down. “I’m sorry for being a bother this morning.”

“It’s fine, Zel.” Link assured her, offering a smile. “You’re growing a whole person. You have a good excuse to be a bother.” He paused. “Not that you are one! But if you were, you’d have an excuse! You’re not a bother.”

A twinkling of a grin turned the corners of her mouth, and she ate a little less timidly. “Thank you.” Despite her earlier nausea, she quickly disposed of two slices of toast and a cup of tea. “I’ll bring the bags down. Can you ready the horses?”

Link gave her a quick nod before leaving her in the kitchen to finish cleaning up. He heard a hiss of the fire being put out as he let the door close behind him.

Spot and Storm nickered in greeting as Link approached. “Morning, fellas.” He scratched under Spot’s chin, Storm tugging at Link’s hair with impatience. “Alright, I’m moving.” Saddles, blankets, bridles, triple-check the buckles. The last thing he needed was either of them sliding off.

Leading the two horses around to the front of the house, he met Zelda dragging two bags out of the front door. He took both, easily hoisting them up onto the backs of the horses and securing them with straps. Their packing was probably excessive, but they’d rather be over-prepared than under. As soon as the bags were secure, Link helped Zelda onto Storm’s back before mounting his own.

As they approached the gate out of Hateno, a small group of riders awaited them. Seldon, perhaps a little too stout for the pony he’d chosen that morning, waved them over. “Morning, Link! And Princess Zelda. Joining us on the hunt?”

“The princess is going?” Teebo whined, stamping his foot at his father. “How come she can come but I can’t?!”

“Because the princess can defend herself if she needs to. And I need someone here to watch the village while we’re gone, okay?” Thadd explained.

“But you let Manny go!” Teebo pointed at the younger man, who gawked in indignation.

“Manny can use a real sword.” Thadd said.

“Debatable.” Link muttered under his breath.

“We’ll be back before lunch time. Promise.” Seldon assured the little guardsman. “Well, some of us anyway.” The older man looked over Link and Zelda’s horses, noting the large saddlebags. “Where are you two headed?”

“Kakariko Village.” Zelda answered. “I’m not sure how long we’ll be gone. We’ve got some businesses to attend to with the Sheikah.”

Seldon raised a brow curiously. “Royal stuff?”

“Royal stuff.” Zelda replied with a nod.

“Well, I don’t want to delay royal stuff.” Seldon grunted, pulling at his pony’s reins to turn the animal toward the west. “We’d best be getting on then.”

As the troop clopped along down the road, Link thought he heard a very sad, very small voice murmur “I want to do royal stuff…”

The Cliffs of Quince loomed high overhead as the troop approached along the road. A snorting squeal, faint on the wind, drew Link’s attention. He pulled back Spot’s reins, his eyes trained on the direction of the sound.

“Link?” Zelda asked. “Where are they?”

“Not sure yet.” He answered, already dismounting and reaching for the Master Sword. “Wait here, Princess. The rest of you-“ He turned back to gauge his comrades. Two out of the three had already dismounted behind him, readying their weapons. The third… “Manny, you guard the princess.”

The young man almost collapsed in relief at that order, but quickly righted himself, sitting up straighter on his horse. “Yes, sir! With my life, sir!”

Link fought the urge to roll his eyes. He waved at the others to follow him. The trio crept up the hill. Link’s ears twitched as he followed the sound of scraping and snorting. Two at least. More likely three. He doubted any more than five.

As they crested the top of a hill, Link caught a glimpse of a blood-red hide. He crouched low in the bushes, signaling the others to stop with him. Red. Red. Red. Silver.

“Damn.” Link hissed under his breath.

Thadd tensed beside him, readying his pitchfork. “Anything that makes you curse isn’t very good for us.”

“Silver.” Link whispered back, pointing to the sharp gleam of that Bokoblin’s horn - deadly as a knife. “I’ll draw it off. Can you two take the others?”

“We can.” Seldon confirmed, drawing his own shortsword, wielding a pot lid on his arm.

“Good. Here’s the plan…”

After a quick explanation, Link left the other guards in the bushes as he stalked around the camp on the other side. The Master Sword pulsed in his hand, tingling his palm like it always did when monsters were near. Not spotted yet. Carefully, he sheathed the sword, opting for a bow to start the battle. He drew back, the string creaking in his ear.

The silver Bokoblin, who had been munching on the carcass of some unfortunate little beast, lifted its head and sniffed the air. Link felt a breeze blow from behind him. Shit.

The arrow whistled through the air just as the silver turned its large eyes on Link’s location, striking the monster right between the eyes. But Bokoblins had thick skulls. The reds jumped up in surprise, looking around for the source of the attack. The silver growled, staggering to its feet and baring its teeth. With a blood-thirsty howl, it charged at Link. Horn-first.

Link unsheathed the Master Sword and ran. He heard the silver crash through the undergrowth behind him, gargling and growling as it gained on him. Link spun on his heel. The silver lowered its head and sped up. Link jumped to the side, the wind of the Bokoblin’s assault pulling at his tunic. He swung his blade, slashing at the monster as it fell, off-balance from the failed goring. The silver crashed into the dirt, tendrils of gloom curling like smoke from open wounds.

In the distance, metal and wood clashed. Thadd shouted with fury. A red squealed a dying breath.

The silver clamored to its feet, pure malice in its eyes as it readied a second charge.

Link backed up, his boots cracking twigs. The Master Sword pulsed again.

A second charge. Link leapt, twisting in the air as the silver cried out in frustration – then fear. It shrieked all the way down as it plummeted onto the road below. A girlish scream soon followed, and the whinnying of several horses. Link raced to the cliffside.

The silver laid motionless on the road, gloom rising like a thick cloud from several wounds. The horses stamped their hooves in agitation. Manny, now off his horse, pointed a pitchfork at the near-corpse of the silver Bokoblin, his arms trembling.

“Finish it off!” Link shouted down at them.

Manny, his eyes wide in terror, stared up at Link for several seconds before the order processed. With a shout of effort, Manny plunged his pitchfork into the monster’s back. The beast exploded in a burst of misty gloom, leaving only the razor-sharp horn behind.

Thadd and Seldon, their battle won, slid back down the hill, sweat beading on their brow. Upon observing the scene, Thadd’s mouth fell open like a Hyrule bass. “Manny! Did you kill that thing?”

“W-well! Link led it off the cliff-“ Manny stuttered, gripping his pitchfork.

“And you delivered the killing blow.” Zelda relayed. “Exactly as Link asked you to. Thank you, Manny.”

The young man blushed hard, looking between the princess and the silver horn on the road. “Y-yeah. I did. I killed it.” His arms still trembled, though gears slowly started to turn in his head as he stared at the horn. “Can I take that?”

“Sure.” Link said, sliding down the cliff-face. His boots scraped on loose stones, sending them skittering into the path. “It’s your kill. Your spoils.”

Manny reached down to the horn, picking it up with as much caution as if it were a viper. “Ivee will love this.” He swung the horn around like a sword, grinning broadly. “Girls like guys who can kill monsters, right?”

Zelda’s face contorted from barely contained laughter. “Mhm!”

Thadd and Seldon congratulated Manny on his success, slapping his back and admiring the sharpness of the horn.

Link remounted Spot, joining Zelda back on the road. “Thanks for helping me, guys.”

“No, thank you, Link!” Manny exclaimed, waving the horn. “You guys have fun doing royal stuff!”

Zelda waved goodbye as the trio of guards returned toward Hateno, talking excitedly about the battle.

“Tell me, would the thing have died anyway?” Zelda asked once the guards were safely on the other side of the cliffs.

“Absolutely.” Link replied, a goofy grin on his lips. “It had gashes all over and took a cliff-fall to the face. It probably would have decayed the instant that Manny stabbed it even if the guy just stood there.”

Zelda tilted her head. “So why tell him to finish it off, if it wasn’t necessary?”

Link shrugged. “You saw how he looked. He needed a confidence boost. And maybe that will motivate him to get off his ass and train.”

A soft giggle beside him filled his heart like sweet wine. “Poor Ivee. Now she’s got a hero to fend off.”

“If she can. I’ve heard heroes are all-but-irresistible.” Link teased.

“Is that so?” Zelda’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Or do they just stick to you like glue for so long that you trick yourself into falling for them?” She flicked her reins, bidding Storm to walk alongside Spot so that she could take Link’s hand. “Maybe the hero’s just doing his job, you know? All silent and foreboding-“

“Foreboding?” Link snickered.

“Hush.” She gave his hand a playful squeeze. “Throws himself into harm’s way for the sake of a young lady. It’s certainly charming. But how can the young lady really be sure that her hero is true, and not merely a sword at her service?”

“You had no problem putting my ‘sword’ to your service last night.” Link joked.

“Awful!” Zelda squeaked, whacking him on the arm, her face burning. “Must you turn everything into a vulgar joke?”

“No, no!” Link laughed. “Sometimes I turn them into puns.”

“Hmph.” Zelda’s face still burned, even as she trained her eyes ahead on the road. “What will people think of you?”

Link shrugged, amused by the banter. “Most people don’t think of me at all, Zel. But at some point, people are going to figure out that we f-“ A quick glare from her shut up his next word. “Ah, sorry. Language. Right.” Not that there was anyone around to hear him anyway. Maybe the whole silent and foreboding thing had some merit even now.

Zelda sighed, shaking her head. “I never imagined that I’d fall for someone as unrefined as you. I was brought up properly. You were dragged.”

“Hey! That’s no fair!” Link protested. “I don’t even know enough to refute that!”

Her laughter floated up into the cliffs, echoing in his mind even long after they’d passed into the forest beyond.

This time, it was Zelda’s stomach that growled. She pressed a hand to her middle, trying to silence it.

“We can stop for lunch at Fort Hateno.” Link offered.

“We’ve made it that far already?” She asked, peering through the trees ahead of them. Behind thick branches and underbrush, a wall and archway of stone awaited them. “I’d hardly noticed! Yes, let’s stop here.”

Under the shadow of the stone archway, Link assisted Zelda off her horse. He offered her a small sack with their packed food. The eggs from that morning, the rest of last night’s loaf, and some jerky. Link began to search around for anything more to supplement. A distant buzzing drew his attention, and he started off toward the source.

Bees buzzed around a dripping comb, the sweet scent of courser honey making his mouth water. He grabbed a Puffshroom from his pack and tossed it. The mist burst in a spray of white. Link darted forward, grabbed a chunk of the comb, and ran back to Zelda before the bees had a chance to track him down. He licked his sticky fingers, relishing the delicious taste of fresh honey.

Zelda sat down on a log in the shade of a large tree. A vine of fresh tomatoes sat beside her, and a glint of yellow and red in the distance revealed their origin. Link plopped down next to her, tearing the comb in half and offering it to her. She readily accepted, dripping the leaking honey onto her portion of bread.

Leaves rustled gently overhead, their shadows dancing on the forest floor. The horses grazed on fresh grass and drank from shallow puddles, idly wandering the glade. Link closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the forest around them. Birds chirped overhead. The remnants of a flag snapped against a strong breeze atop the ramparts. Those bees stayed distant in their buzzing, no doubt repairing what he had taken.

“It’s not like it was.” Zelda whispered, as if also loathe to break the silence.

“No.” Link agreed, opening his eyes to take a hearty bite of his jerky. “Hoz’s crew cleared out that encampment a while ago, and they haven’t come back.”

“Hm.” Zelda pursed her lips. “Before that.”

Link raised a brow, looking out at the archway. “The guardians have been cleared. Remember how they absolutely covered this place?” He swallowed down a tough piece, pointing out at the field beyond. “I almost got my ass kicked by one my first time through here. I thought they were all dead. I was so wrong. That thing was out for blood.”

When Zelda flinched, Link lowered his voice. “Hey, I’m okay, though.” He set his hand on hers. “Sorry. You probably don’t want to think about that.”

“No, I was… already thinking about it.” She frowned, her gaze set on something far away. Something forgotten. “It seems so stupid, so pointless now. We were going to take cover in Hateno. I was going to let all of those people die defending me. Like I didn’t care about them.”

“Zel.” Link squeezed her hand. “That’s… not how I remember it.”

She shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t. Because I didn’t tell you. I don’t know if you remember, but it was your idea to return to Hateno during the Calamity. I wanted to go to Akkala, but you thought Hateno would be safer, as Akkala was the more obvious first target. I suppose it didn’t matter in the end. My power would have been awakened whether you fell here or there.”

A breath filled his lungs – held.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… sometimes these things still plague me, you know? I remember when Fort Hateno was filled with people. Soldiers and families and servants and horses.” She pointed toward a crumbling guard post. “I know you don’t remember, because I’m sure you would have commented on it at some point, but on our tour through Hyrule before the- the Calamity, there was a small weapon’s closet in that structure. You pulled me in there and kissed me breathless.” As she spoke, Link fought hard to recover the memory, which now felt very important. “Captain Qent found us in there and scolded you for five minutes.”

Link snorted. “Worth it.”

A ghost of a smile played at Zelda’s lips. “Yes. I was mortified at the time. I thought he’d tell my father.” She tilted her head to one side, watching the scene from over a hundred years ago play out before her eyes. “I’m glad he didn’t. Had you been reassigned, all of Hyrule would have perished in a day. If you hadn’t gone down protecting me, I would never have unlocked my sealing power.” Her voice dropped back down to a whisper. “I… I wasted so much time. So many people died because I wasn’t able to see what was clearly in front of my face all along.”

“Stop it.”

Zelda broke away from her trance, looking up at her suddenly stern knight. “What?”

“Stop saying things that aren’t true.” Link said. “You did everything that you knew how to do. You saved Hyrule. Multiple times. You sacrificed yourself over and over again for your people. No one could ask more of you.” He brushed her hair behind her ear, his hand lingering on her jaw. “So stop asking impossible things of yourself.”

Silence once more fell over the glade. Her soft hair rested on his shoulder as she nestled her head against his neck. He wrapped up the rest of the loaf and tomatoes, tucking it into their travel sack for later. He’d offer it again when she inevitably felt hungry. For now, in the quiet, he would hold her hand, and imagine what it must have been like to kiss her in the weapon’s closet.

#a lullaby for a princess #yeah that's the fic name we're going with #im cross posting this on Ao3 #totk zelink #totk zelda #totk link

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