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wishing-on-a-staranise · 7 months ago

Text

Kiss it away, honey.

(s.h. x reader)

from the river to the sea. (get in your daily clicks, read about it, donate if you can.)

summary: you have a perfect and loving boyfriend, and everything should be great but something is just not right.

word count: 6.7k

warnings: use of y/n, no pronouns used (gn!reader), use of pet names (honey, etc), codependency, dark themes, a new flavor of jealousy, horror (spookies and scawies), gore, murder

a/n: yall remember when i was yapping about clones and all that? yeah. I went a lil feral while writing this lmao✌️🤪

another banger by @procrastinationprincesses and I on tumblr dot com. Thank her for listening to me babble on and just helping me sift through the different routes this could go and also being what is basically my proofreader

i might write a part two of this. do not ask me when.

masterlist

You haven’t changed out of your work clothes yet, staring at the phone on the wall.

It was silent now but it had rung, blaring, louder than you'd ever heard it before. Five times it had rung.

5 calls– 5 missed calls. Unknown number. No voicemail.

You hadn't picked up. You had just stared, you weren’t sure why– the ringing scared you. you weren't sure why but every fiber in your being had coloured you stuck– immovable even if you wanted to do otherwise.

Now it had stopped, empty as vacuum, dead quiet left in the wake of those shrill rings.

And just when you were about to let out a sigh of relief, just when you thought you could finally get to changing out of your work clothes, it started ringing again, your temples hurt from its shrill notes.

Your nostrils flared, you will not cower, no, you huff of frustration before stomping towards the phone. Its red plastic is just as bright as it had been when you had first gotten it with Steve.

It's probably just a prank call. It's a prank call. A stupid kid doing a stupid prank call. Why the hell is your heartbeat so loud?

You pick up the receiver, gripping it tight, ready to give the prank caller a piece of your mind.

Hello? Hey you stupid shithole, find something better to do with your stupid, pathetic life, why dont ya’? Good fucking night.

“He– hello?”, your voice comes out nowhere near as fierce as you had wanted it to be.

The line is silent for a second or two. But then you hear a gasp and then some rustling, crackle. You strain your ears, the sounds seemingly impossible to decipher, “hello, who– who is this?”

You think you hear muffled crying, after a few seconds they finally speak up, “y/n”, their voice is of a woman's. “y/n–” is all they choke out before breaking out into a sob. She says your name as if she hasn't said it in a long while, as if she can't believe she’s saying it. And you don’t know why but you feel your eyes sting. You press the receiver closer to your ears, the plastic creaks under your grip. you think you recognise her. The realisation hits you that you do. She sounds familiar.

“y/n, my baby where–” you hear a click, followed by beep beep beep beep, indicating that the call has been disconnected. This time you blink, a tear finally trickles down your cheek. You stare at the receiver, the beeping barely audible. You take in a deep breath, and dial the number again, waiting for the ring or the woman’s voice.

The ring never comes, her voice never comes. Invalid number.

You stare at it. If you were to look any harder, you think the plastic would melt. Too many thoughts were running through your head. And why the hell are you crying?

You hear the jingle of keys followed by the sound of the door opening. You tear your burning gaze away from the phone to the clock. 7:08 p.m.

“Steve?”

“Yeah!” he answers back immediately, you hear the door shut, the keys in his hand jingle again followed by the clink of them landing in the ceramic ashtray-turned-bowl next to the door where you keep your keys.

Any other day you would have walked to him, and even if he’d be in the middle of taking his shoes off he’d stop, give you a loving smile, hold his arms up, ready to engulf you into a hug. Any other day, you would have wrapped your arms around his torso, kissed his shoulder before burying your nose into his neck.

He is the only one who could ever fix you, everyday you come from work, bags under your eyes, tired to your bones and everyday he comes and puts you all back together as if it was the easiest thing to do, as if he was made for it. And you want to go to him so bad. Any other day, you would have. But today doesn't seem like any other day.

“Hey honey”, he finally comes around the corner and he gives you that smile you love being on the receiving end of, all lazy and adorning, “haven't changed out yet?”

You look back down at yourself, and you see that you had still been stuck, body still facing the wall where the phone hung. you indeed haven't changed out yet. You barely shake your head before his brows scrunch up, “You okay? Your eyes look all red”

You blink before shaking your head, “Uh, yeah, yeah. I’ll go ch–”

Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

What you were saying is left abandoned, your head snaps towards where the phone is.

“I’ll get it. You go change,” Steve tells you, not noticing your immediate panic. As he ambles to the phone, you slowly shuffle away– moving towards the bathroom, making sure to listen in on the conversation. “Hello?” you hear him speak into the receiver, he pauses for a second and so do you in your tracks, “..oh hey, Henderson'', you breathe out in relief at hearing the familiar name, “Yeah, yep, doing good. How’s the new place treatin’ ya?”

The audibility of his words lessens as you continue on your way to the bathroom. In the small, tiled room, your own breathing echoes, it engulfs you. you immediately regret not just changing in your room because you can't hear Steve’s voice anymore. But you have already locked the door. You weren’t sure why you did– maybe it was your uneasiness and apprehension but normally you never lock the door because your ever clingy Steve loves joining you in, majority of the time there is nothing sexual about it. Most of the time he just stands there by the door, that same adorning smile on his lips.

When you step out of your jeans, it rings in your brain, again and again. The piercing ringing of the phone, the woman’s voice. You know that voice. You know that voice. You know that woman, you are certain. It is like its on the tip of your tongue, like it is obscured behind a frosted glass, like an itch you can’t scratch.

A knock on the bathroom door breaks you out of your thoughts, “uh honey?” the voice comes muffled through the wood, “Are you done? Need to take a piss.”

“Yeah, just–” you quickly hop into your shorts, balling up your dirty clothes and tossy them into the laundry basket before unlocking the door.

And he is there, that smile blooms across his face, “there you are”, and then his lips are on yours, his wide palm comes to hold your face, thumb rubbing softly at your cheeks— he’s a tactile being, your boyfriend, loves holding your face, loves holding you, touching you anywhere.

When his fingers burrow into your hair behind your ear, you somehow manage to breathe out between the deepening kisses, “Thought you had to take a piss”

“Don't bring up pissing when I’m kissing you”

“Oh, but its okay when you wanna hold my hand while pooping?” He once told you he’d hold your hand while pooping if you’d let him– he had been absolutely drunk, maybe high off weed– inebriated, really and didn't remember saying it the next day. you love to tease him about it. he groans at the mention.

“I was high”, he whines, embarrassed, “I told you I didn't mean it.”

“Drunk words… sober thoughts, honey.”

“You said it was endearing”

“It is endearing but still a weird thing to say”, you laugh all toothy and cute.

“Whatever, I gotta piss”, he mumbles trying his best to hide his smile before moving you by your shoulders to swap places with you so it’s him who is in the bathroom. He shuts the door, the sound of the lock clicking never reaches your ears.

You’re left alone with your thoughts again, and your smile fades away– you’re anxious, you know that much. You’re not so sure of what exactly. You plop down on the edge of the bed, leg bouncing restlessly, finger tracing over the pattern of the sheets. The pillows and comforter are set up perfectly for the night– every morning Steve sets the bed while you shower knowing you always get frustrated with the task.

Your back sinks into the mattress, you breathe out, deep and slow, eyes closing on their own accord. You almost fall asleep for a second, but the bathroom door clicks open. A few seconds later, the bed dips beside you, the fabric rustles, “tired?” the question is followed by a groan. When you peak a look, you find him stretching out his arms beside you.

“Absolutely”, you answer.

“Yeah, me too,” he sighs out.

“We still have to make food.”

He lets a frustrated groan tumble from his lips, “can't we just have mac and cheese today?”

…

The night goes by in a breeze, not a lot of talking.

The love is still there though, in the way that Steve holds the corner of the open cabinet door to make sure your head doesn't hit it, in the way he lets you sit on the countertop while waiting for the water to boil over, in the way you stare at him when you think he isn't looking, in the way you pull his hand over your lap and massage the tight muscles of his palm while he stirs the pot with his other hand.

You put on his favourite show when he plates the food, he makes sure to put some chives on your plate to make it look a little more pretty for you. You watch the show in silence, eating under the flickering light of the tv. You let it play in the background while you wash the dishes, it is Steve who watches you this time, his head resting against the cabinets behind him. and he thinks he could watch you all day. Something about doing the most mundane things with you makes him feel all warm and lovely. He is sure that past anything grand and dramatic, its the everyday things that show love. He hopes in every world, he gets to hold you and love you. He thinks he'll give it all up just to be with you, just to watch you wash dishes, just to have you sit beside him while he cooks.

When the dishes are done, he makes sure the doors are locked, you turn off the lights and the TV. Before you know it you’re in bed, and before you know it, you’re already falling asleep.

…

At first you weren’t sure why you were awake. Then you hear shuffling behind you, and you barely even roll over when there is a warm hand on your hip, “honey,” he whispers– voice all scratchy and low that makes you melt, you hum for a response, “I’m sorry honey, wake up please”, his tone is slightly rushed, you’re a bit more awake at that.

Barely did you sit up when he engulfs you in a tight hug. You hold him back without a thought or hesitation. Your hand rubs his back, his arms tighten around you, nose nudging into your neck, his skin warm. your fingers find their place in his messy head of hair like they always do, you card through the strands. He pulls you closer, and then you're in his lap. He holds you like a boy holds his favourite toy– like he doesn't plan on letting go.

“Want some water?” After some time you ask softly. You feel him nod into the junction of your neck.

He loosens his hold on you enough for you to climb out of his lap. Not saying a word, he follows you to the kitchen, and he stays close when you pour him a glass. He is mid-gulp when you ask, “nightmare?”

He nods once, the rogue strands on his forehead bouncing with the movement, and downs the water before saying a soft ‘yeah’.You take the glass from his hands and place it in the sink, and lead him back to bed.

You brush aside his disheveled hair. You tuck yourself into his side, an arm around him, “wanna talk about it?” you ask softly, fringernails scratching his faint stubble.

In the dim of the room, you see his adam's apple bob. Apparently, he does want to talk about it, because he nods– the movement barely noticeable but there. You put your head back on his chest and you wait patiently, trying your best not to fall back to slumber.

It takes him a while before he starts, “You were…” his hand moves to hold yours, “you were sick–in the hospital, these wires and tubes attached to you. Y-You had been there for months. You were sick and you wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't even look at me. And– and…. Then the– the damn heart monitor–”

“Honey–”

His words are frantic and uneven, “I didnt– I didnt know what to do after. I didn’t–”

“Steve—” you hold his face to make him look at you, “I'm here.”

He licks his lips, then swallows, nodding. he pushes his face forward so your foreheads are touching. “I know", his nose is hot against yours, "it was still awful.”

You both lay that way for a while. Your thumb brushing against his red cheek, he sniffles a couple times. you hate seeing him this way, with his lashes clumped together, his beautiful eyes all red. The moisture glistening under his eyes doesn't let you fawn over his freckles like you'd normally wish to.

When his skin is a little less warm, and his heartbeat calmer beneath your fingertips, you kiss him. Your hand snakes up to hold his face. Fingers, softly rubbing over the spot behind his ear that makes him melt. You kiss him all slow and purposefully, so he knows that he has all the time in the world.

When you pull away, he murmurs, “Can we go back to sleep?” he pulls you closer, face burying into your neck, warm puffs of breath against your collarbones.

You land a quick kiss on his eyebrow before resting your chin above his head, “‘course”

...

You wake up to the alarm clock on Steve’s side of the bed. He turns off the thing before rolling around in your arms onto his back and then turning his head to face you. “Hi”, he smiles that way again and you do the same, sleepy as ever.

“Hi”, you say still half asleep– you ended up not getting a lot of sleep last night. Thankfully you had the day off today, so you plan on being unproductive and sleeping it away.

He stretches, a yawn escaping him, “Jesus, I so don't wanna go to work today”, your boyfriend laments.

You hum, “then don't go” you propose, eyes still closed, “We can both have a day off”

He turns his body so it faces you, leaning on his elbow. His hand moves to your waist before massaging the love handle there “hmm, tempting. I can't though”

“No fun”, you mumble groggily.

“Hey, don't fall asleep on me”, he brushes the hair that falls on your face with the back of his hand.

"But ‘m sleepy", you mumble into the pillow.

"Aw, don't worry, I will kiss it away, honey." He leans down, a smirk painted across his features. His soft lips land on your cheeks first, then one on your nose, they follow a trail that leads to your lips.

You hide your face in the pillow before your lips could meet though, “No, No kissing!” you giggle, holding up your palm to his face, effectively blocking his attacks, “no kissing before brushing your teeth!"

“You're no fun”, he rolls out of the twist of sheets. He stretches his arms, the muscles rippling beneath the skin– he's trying to entice you, seduce you. and if you weren't so damn sleepy, you would have climbed him up like a koala. He gets up to go to the bathroom. When he notices that you haven't moved, he pulls you by your ankle. You let out a surprised shriek that transforms into giggles when you feel his fingers creeping up your torso– tickling you. ”Here comes the tickle monster!”

A fit of giggles erupts from your throat, "What are you–", your question gets interrupted by your own laughs.

"The tickle monster will not relent unless you wake up!"

“No! Okay, okay, I'm awake! Steve! I am awake!”

The two of you share the cramped space of the bathroom. It is small, but its the best you could afford. So when you brush your teeth together, you try to relish it when your elbows bump. And when you're done, he kisses you as if he waited ages.

By now, you're a bit more awake so you decide to get his breakfast ready while he takes a shower. It's simple enough, waffles with banana and some coffee. When he comes back out, he kisses you again when he sees you at the stove, this time on the crown of your head.

When he is getting his keys to leave, he gives you another peck, ��drive safe", you murmur against his lips..

“I will. You get some sleep, yeah?” you hum and nod in response. You both bid your goodbyes before he turns to leave.

You decide to eat the leftover waffles and clean up a little before returning to your bed. You make yourself a plate with the bananas neatly cut and placed beside the waffles. You drizzle maple syrup, and then start eating the sickly sweet breakfast, skipping the coffee. While you're pouring yourself a second helping of the maple syrup, the expiration date on the bottle catches your eye. expired more than a year ago. ew.

Your face scrunches in disgust before immediately throwing it in the trash. And you wonder how the hell either of you hadn't gotten food poisoning yet. then it hits you, from what you remember you bought that bottle only a couple months ago. Did you buy an already expired one?

You open the fridge, the condiments and bottles staring at you. One by one, you check each and every one; ketchup, expired. Hot sauce, expired. Whipped cream, chocolate sauce, milk– expired, expired, expired.

What the fuck?

You throw it all out and make a point to call Steve later to buy everything as he often calls to ask if you had to get something from the store. And that makes you wonder, when was the last time you actually told him he needed to get something?

You try not to think too much about it. Honestly, you don't know what to make of it, so you decide to go back to sleep.

…

You hear your name. Its faint. It echoes. Like a whisper in a church.

“y/n”, you know that voice. “I– I know you’re there, y/n”, the woman says, all shaky but sure. “y/n”, she repeats. Its that voice… again.

Who are you?

“Its me, y/n! Its me!” she exclaims as if that would make you remember.

I don't ... understand.

“Baby, just tell me where you are– I'll find you.”

I’m home.

“Home? No– no baby, you’re not. You haven't been home—” her voice gets cut off. It becomes too loud. You feel as if the veins in your temple are going to explode. Its too loud to even tell what it is you’re hearing. Its a static like a radio or a TV, or maybe its wind, maybe its cars, maybe its screams. You think you hear sirens– you wonder if they’re the police or an ambulance. You hear your own breathing, your own heartbeat. Its deafening. And beneath it all, you hear….. Ringing.

Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

Your eyes fling open and you see your ceiling, you smell the faded mixture of your perfume and Steve's cologne. You’re in your bed. You still hear the ringing. The phone.

You are up in a second. Rushing towards the origin of the sound. When you’re there, you dont wait a second, the plastic is already to your ear.

“Hell– hello?” it comes out all out of breath and broken.

“Honey, you’re– you okay?” its not the voice of that woman.

“...Steve?”

“Who else?”, he chuckles, “you okay?”

“Uh– yeah,”you clear your throat, “I was um– sleeping. I think I just had a dream..” your hand creeps up to the back of your neck, scratching there to try to alleviate a little bit of the ache.

“Oh, well okay sleepy. I just wanted to check if you need me to buy anything? Like, groceries or whatever on my way back.” you give him the entire list of everything you wanted him to get. You would've talked more if Steve hadn't been interrupted by a customer. Nevertheless, you said your 'I love you's and the call ended.

Your heart is still loud in your ears but the ache has dulled down for the most part.

that voice. that woman.

Its me.

I’ll find you.

You haven't been home.

"Home..", you say out loud to yourself. Home.

...

Hours have passed. you think you’re losing your mind because you have turned the apartment upside down. you're surrounded by boxes, most of them filled with normal things, your tattered rollerskates, shoes, old clothes. Most of it was normal, except one.

One unlabeled box you found in the corner of your closet. You haven't touched that box in ages, not since your fallout with your family, lying out of sight and out of mind. It didn't have a lot, all packed in a hurry. things you'd had in your room. picture frames, some books, clothes, papers.

You pick up a frame. The picture was from when you were a twelve-year-old. Wearing what were your favourite clothes back then, your hair in a manner that made you feel a little sorry. You're so different now, yet somehow its still you. There's your older sister, her braces glimmering under the flash of the old camera– her smile wide. Your dad, who doesn't ever know how to pose in pictures. Your mom, she holds you and your sister by your shoulders, a soft smile on her lips, her makeup done perfectly. Another picture from your high school. Another of you with your sister and cousins.

You pull out the books, the pages are slightly yellowed and they have an earthy smell to them that you love. Pages you don't remember reading, dog-eared and written in.

Then there's the papers– some doodles, some notes, a few maps, some scraps and then.... a file. the file that has your name written on it. And when you open it; medical papers. medical bills. They are a little more than a year old. This wasn't a small stay apparently. From what you can tell from the dates on the bills, it lasted months. You don't remember going to the hospital.

Okay, what the actual fuck?

You find yourself reading through all the details of the paper on the floor of your closet.

months. you had been there for months. Steve's dream.

The entire time, you read and re-read the papers. Why don't you remember any of this? Why does Steve not remember any of this? Maybe he does, he had that dream after all, right? Why are there no discharge papers?

Hours pass. It's maddening, how slow the time passes. Its absolutely maddening. What the fuck does it mean that you haven't been home? You are home. and who the fuck was that woman?

You look through the box again, its contents scattered around you by now. The photos. Your family. Your parents. You miss them. You haven't seen them in so long...

Some broken memories have come to you. You had left– run away. You don't remember why. Then you met Steve when you were stopping by in Hawkins for a few months. You fell in love so quickly. Then one day, you asked if he wanted to run away with you. He said yes and you both left Hawkins and came here.

You don't remember much after that.

Wait, where is hawkins? and why did you go there?

...

It is 7 p.m. and you are pretty sure you have lost your mind. Why isn't Steve home yet? You need Steve. He's the only one who could ever fix you. And now, you need him to fix you again. You need him to fix this, to make some sense of this.

You are sitting by the door, eyes fixated on the hands of the clock.

7:01, nothing. Your arms fidget.

7:02, nothing. Your leg bounces.

7:03, 7:04, 7:05, 7:06, 7:07; nothing, nothing, nothing.

Then, 7:08 p.m., rattle of keys and the sound of the door being closed. Steve. Steve is home. Steve.

You're up on your feet instantly, Steve comes in holding a bag of groceries in one hand and his keys in the other, “I was so worried about you!” you say all hysterical.

“Worried, why?" he says, almost chuckling, but his brows furrow before he looks down at his wristwatch, shaking his head,"I don't think I’m late.” He leans in to land a kiss on your lips, but before he could do so, you turn your head away, “whats– whats wrong?”

“Can I ask you something?” you wrap your arms around your torso to somehow collect your thoughts a little better.

"Sure", he assures before moving to put the grocery bag on the beige kitchen counter.

You follow behind him with hurried steps, "When did we buy groceries before this?"

He starts taking out the groceries, "um.. I don't–” he pauses, looking up as if trying to remember himself, “last month probably?" Confusion paints his face, "why?"

"All the stuff in our fridge had gone bad ages ago."

"What?"

“Have you talked to your friends recently? Where are they?” All your attempts to collect your thoughts are all for nought as questions come tumbling out of your lips and you don't even wait for Steve to give a response.

“Honey, why are you–”

“Okay, okay– what about that nightmare you had?”

“Nightmare?” he echoes, brows scrunching together as if he had no idea what you were talking about, “what nightmare?” he asks like he hadn't cried in your arms the previous night.

“Last night! You had a nightmare that I was in a hospital and– and then I was looking through our closet and I find these medical bills–

“Woah, honey. I didn’t have a nightmare. I think I'd remember something like that.. And– what bills?”

Your feet are moving before he even finishes his sentence, you grab the bundle of papers, you show him everything. And he just... stares at them. After some time, all that comes out of his mouth is a “what the fuck...” under his breath.

“I don't understand Steve, I don't remember, you don't remember. And there was this call yesterday–”

“Call? what– from who?”

“From– “ you pause, trying to remember, “ I– I dont…” from who? And then you feel everything you had recalled leaving you. Who called you? What was Steve's nightmare?

“I don't remember!" you exclaim, frustrated, "why do– I'm so– I'm scared Steve. I’m–”

“Hey, it's okay. you have me honey, you have me”, he holds you by your shoulders, to provide you some semblance of comfort, "we'll figure something out.”

“Steve….”, you mumble, tears starting to collect on your lash line, “something's not right Steve…”

“Its okay..”

“No, no– I dont– I keep forgetting stuff. Why don't I remember anything?”

“Hey, honey—”

“And whatever I do remember; none of it makes sense– nothing makes sense!"

“Its okay–”

“Do not tell me to breathe–”, “breathe for me–” you warn him the exact same time he says it.

You have lost it. You have lost your mind. Eyes wide, you ask, “Why do I already know what you’re going to say? How is that– “

“Hey, hey look at me”, he holds your face in his warm palms, “Breathe for me”, he instructs, “please honey.”

“Steve”, you pull his hands away from your face not because you don't want him to hold you. You do, you want him to hold you forever, but dammit, you feel like you’re going crazy, “where did we meet?”

“Honey–”

“Where did we meet?”

“Family video! We met in Family Video! You just came in one day and asked if I could help you pick out a movie to lift your mood up”

“Where is family video? Like, what town? Wh– what state?”

“..Hawkins, Indiana”

“Steve.. There's no town named Hawkins in Indiana”

“Of course ther–”

“No– no. You can look in a map steve. There was a map in one of those boxes. No town named Hawkins. And then– those papers...” you gesture towards the papers in his hand. You stand there, impatiently so, as he scans over the papers once again. For a split second, you think you see a tinge of recognition in his eyes.

“What does it mean, Steve? Then your dream last night–”, he hands you the papers before turning towards the door.

“Steve, hey, steve!” He heads towards the apartment door. “Steve, come back here!” he doesn't stop, doesn't even spare a glance, his movement robotic. Your voice gets louder, more authoritative, angry “Steve! Come back here right the hell now.”

He doesn't stop, not for his keys, not to tie his shoes. Not for you. Tears cloud your vision and your words come out all desperate and weak, “Steve please! Please don't leave me..”

The door slams shut. Its loud, the silence after it.

“No..” you whimper to yourself. Tears, finally streaming down your face.

He'll come back, you know he'll come back, sooner or later. He’ll come back to you. Steve wouldn't leave you. He couldn't.

You wait by the door. hours pass. You fall asleep waiting for him.

…

You wake up to the smell of something sweet in the air. When you open your eyes, you’re on the couch. But you don't have time to think about whether your neck will hurt for the rest of the day because Steve is there, standing over the stove– his back facing you.

“Steve?” your voice comes out croaky.

“Y’wake baby?” he turns to take a glance at you. The furrow between his brows you saw the previous night gone. He smiles softly when you nod dumbly at the rhetorical question, “Well brush your teeth I’m making pancakes”

“Steve..”

He notices that you don’t move, your gaze fixed on him. “Hey, what's wrong?” he leaves the batter he was working on on the counter before walking towards you, “You okay?”

“I’m sorry”

He kneels down infront of you, holding your hands in his– he smells like vanilla from up this close, “Sorry, for what?”

“Yesterday… I didn't mean to upset you. I just– I was–”

“What would I be upset for?”

“Last night.. I–”

“baby, I’m not upset”

“But you just left and..” you sniffle, “when did you come back?”

“I didn't leave. I was here the entire time”, he shook his head, confused.

“But– I… “

“I think you had a dream honey. Freshen up, kay? I’ll bring breakfast. I think we should rot in bed the entire day today. Get some sleep. How’s that sound, honey?”

You nod, he smiles as he pulls you in for a quick kiss, “Good thing we both have the day off– thank jesus for sundays”

…

7:08 p.m. that is what Steve's wristwatch reads and he is standing at your apartment door. Steve isn't sure why he is back. He isn't sure why he left. Maybe he needed some time. And spending nearly an entire day alone... he remembers things. things he wishes he could forget again.

Although Steve is unsure about a lot of things. one thing is for certain. He loves you. He loves you like he was made for it... and he was.

He was made for loving you and not loving you is not living. He's been there before, not having you to love, he remembers the torture of it. You still don't recall it yet and he doesn't want you to, but he does. He remembers it all. All the hurt, the loneliness, the grief, the silence.

The grief that was too much to bear. Silence was unbearable when it wasn't mixed with your heartbeat.

When he turns the door handle– the door isn't locked. He steps in slowly.

He can hear the TV playing, you're on the couch. there's someone else with you. Its him.

Steve watches as he sits between your thighs on the couch– his place, your fingers playing with his hair. He readjusts his head as if can’t quite find a comfortable spot, “You okay?” you ask as gently as you always do.

“Uh, yeah its just–” he sounds just like him, “I just have this nick in my neck”, he says rubbing the back of his neck.

“Here, let me…” you mumble sweetly as your expert fingers move to where he said it ached.

He sees you dig that spot a little with your thumb, “Ah, thanks honey” he almost melts, and it makes him groan the way that always drew a groan out of Steve.

Steve doesn't mind you made him, you probably didn't even know you did, you're powerful like that. But Steve feels something bubble inside him– maybe this is what jealousy feels like. Steve watches, watches as you touch him. He digs his nails into his palm, he feels the urge to touch where you are touching him. He wonders what he would feel when his thumb would run over that area.

His fingers rise on their own accord. Skin barely touching skin, almost hovering. And then he feels… a bump. He isn't sure how to describe it but he knows that that isn't supposed to be there. Not normally, anyway.

He watches as your expert fingers move up into his hair, he always loved when you did that to him.

His own fingers move higher into his hair. He feels another– another protrusion, another bump.

Steve knows what those are, he knows not to press down on them. You have them too. You have them where he holds you when he kisses you. Its the reason you don't remember, its the reason he didn't remember. Just for a day, he didn't have you to hold him like the way you always do and now he remembers.

Steve watches as he leans down to kiss you. And all Steve sees is red. He doesn’t have control over him as he stomps over to where the two of you were. Your heads snap towards the sound. Confusion flashes through both your features.

“y/n”, Steve says. He watches as your eyes flick between himself and the other. Your eyes land on his. Of course you know he is the real Steve. You made him.

He holds a protective hand infront of you, “y/n”, he sounds like him, “y/n, get inside”, he nods towards your bedroom door.

“Look, man I dont know who the fuck you are. But you need to leave”, Steve hates him, he sounds nothing like him. objectively that might not be true, but he isn't him.

“You don't know who I am? Fucking look at me"

“y/n get inside”, Steve doesn't like how he says your name, how he shouts it. It sounds nothing like him.

Steve lets you go, he doesn’t want you to see this.

You can't look away despite not being able to see much through the sliver of the slightly ajar bedroom door. It is only when he lands a punch on Steve, that you move away from the door– eyes closing on themselves.

You hear shouts. Then thuds, knuckles hitting jaws. Some more thuds and then a loud crack. Then nothing. Its becomes too quiet.

You quietly step even further away from the door when you hear footsteps approaching, until you feel your back hit the wall.

The hinges of the slightly ajar door creak. and he is there. Your Steve.

He has a split lip, bruises blooming on his cheekbones. Blood splattered on his jeans, on his hands, his arms. He lifts his arm to wipe his bleeding lip, more so smearing the blood in the process. Your eyes water, heartbeat too damn loud in your ears, eyes wide as a doe.

“It's Steve. your Steve”, he reassures you, holding your face by your chin. From up this close, the blood on him doesn't look quite like blood. Its too dark, too shiny, more viscous than it should be and it doesn't seem to clot. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

“But you already know that. dont you, honey?” Steve coos oh so gently as he thumbs over your cheeks to rid you of the tear stains. He feels sorry when the action instead makes the blood on his hands smear across your skin. He regrets it immediately, to have tainted you with it. He is sorry you have to see all this, to see him like this.

Steve knows he'll give it all up for you. If he ever had something to give, he would give it all up, just like you did.

Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

“It's for you, honey.”

He moves aside so you can go to the phone. It rings loud as it did earlier. You move past the kitchen, you don't see him– not entirely. He is on the floor, you see his hand around the corner of the kitchen counter, lifeless, a pool of that blood surrounding him. The corner of the kitchen counter drips with the liquid, forming a stark contrast against the light beige.

You move past the kitchen counter, eyes not daring to look at him or Steve, you don't turn around to see if Steve is there watching. You know he is.

You move to the bright red phone that is still ringing, blaring. You pick it and hold it up to your ear, “hello?”

“y– y/n? y/n its– it's me”, that woman says. And somehow, now, you know who she is. “it's me, do you–”

“Mom?” you say it before you even realise you did.

“Oh my goodness! Yes baby, it's– it's me!”

“I’m sorry mom, I had to.”

“y/n, what–”

“I have to go now.”

“y/n, no– no. Please don't hang up–” click.

“There you go honey", you feel Steve's warm hands on your shoulder, he rubs into the tense muscles there– surely staining your shirt with the liquid, "there you go."

You turn around and you see his eyes-- beautiful coffee coloured things, moles littered across his skin just the way you've memorized to heart. That smile, adorning and warm as ever. He holds you like he always does, thumb on your cheek, palm holding your face.

He holds you like he was made for it. Your cheek fit perfectly in his palm as if you were made for him. You were made for each other.

You lean in closer and then your lips meet. It isn't hard and fast. Its slow and deep. Like you have all the time in the world, and you do.

When you pull apart and look at him, its just him. Your Steve.

You don't even remember what it was you had been worried about. All you see is Steve, all you feel is Steve. Your lover, your home, your family, your everything. It's all Steve.

You smile up at Steve and everything is right. The blood he had smeared on you was gone. The counter was clean. He was gone. Everything is right, once again.

"So", he starts, walking towards the stove, "what are we feelin' today? pancakes with blueberries, strawberries, or plain ol' choco-chip?"

"Is there an ‘all of the above’ option?"

"For you? always."

...

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington hurt/comfort #stranger things #dark!steve harrington #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x gn!reader

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sockysucks · 7 months ago

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HI TUMBLR!!

ive come to create a incredibly lengthy post about the new mascot horror game called Indigo Park

I need to ramble ( haha rambley ) about it as i have just quit twitter for an indefinite time for my own mental health as an autistic cannot last on there at all

anyway, im going to talk about all the reason why indigo park is so good and what i hope from it!! and any criticisms i have for it, i honestly dont have many even though its so early to talk about.

how i found out about indigo park:

UNIQUEGEESE!! naturally, i was watching one of masons past streams on his youtube playing FNF after having rejoined the FNF community after its update and finding out about the mod HIT SINGLE; the mod masons was playing( people know it mostly for the silly billy song ) and he had mentioned about him making a mascot horror game which i shrugged off naturally because i am not a fan of modern mascot horror as most of it seems to be low effort and genuinely unappealing, i knew he had made something that was definitely made with love but i didnt have the will to check it out until a announcement trailer dropped which i then saw snippets of the game and the characters and environment, which i was definitely intrigued so I played the game myself.

My thoughts playing the game:

and found it surpisingly good compared to any other mascot horror game, it was unique, genuinely had awesome character designs and very high quality’s graphics and beautiful models and lighting were stunning, again really surprised having endured the hideousness of other low quality mascot horror games, to then find a game with fucking great models ( unlike banban, 2 billion polygon remote or whatever lmfao ).

I started the game and to be real as a extremely gay furry who loves little silly furry boys i felt like i was gonna explode during every single rambley voice line and animation played and fell so in love with him, now a massive comfort character and ive draw. him like 12 times prior to the games first chapter being released like 2 days ago lol, ive never gotten so attached so quicky in my life which definitely makes rambley and indigo park a really special game.

I really love this game, the pacing is really well done, the horror isnt low quality, the like actual character models for lloyd and molly are really gorgeous, i just think the hair and some of the texturing is over done slightly, but definitely made me shit myself multiple times despite this, all while i was laughing with my new silly raccoon boyfriend 💜💜💜💜

hugeeeeww shoutout to team neutron for the the absolute gorgeous expressive rambley screen animations and the credits theme that left me almost tbe same way portal 2’s credits effected me the first time i ever played and definitely huge huge props to otterboyva for the super adorable voice of rambley.

what do I hope for the future of Indigo Park

I hope for the future of this game that content farms and bootleggers disregard it, but this doesnt give me hope seeing that one rambley plush that a company made before the first chapter even released that was completely unlicensed. I will be avoiding social media in efforts to not see people start shitting on this game if it becomes on the same level and milked by content farms like what happened to the amazing digital circus ( i watched this on the day the pilot released, and was equally devastated as many others to see it being used as low effort bait in shitty kids cartoons on youtube shorts )

in case you didnt see i did a little animation at the top of this!! very rough but yeah

I love tgis game PLEASEEEE i cannot wait to see more high quality content from this really passionate creative team uniquegeese/mason has formed

in case you wanted to play it for yourself, heres a link to the steam page!! the first chapter is free and a kickstarter started a couple days ago has been completed funded so…. CHAPTER 2 IS CONFIRMED!!

#indigo park #rambley the raccoon #indigo park rambley #good mascot horror

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ohnonononononono567 · 10 months ago

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Fool - Jason Todd x gn!reader (fluff???? angst??? dont quote me)

(I have never written a thing in my life aside from mandatory essays in school, nor posted on tumblr)

You popped into the Red Hoods life suddenly. He was disgusted by it. How gentle you were, how you looked at him as if he could treat you right. It felt wrong.

Your little college student life. How you slept peacefully at night, only to wake up to see a cat at your window and to grab a cup of water. It was nauseating.

He considered kissing you his first mistake. Holding your waist to keep you steady, his mask left on your bedside table, as if it wasn't the last thing countless of people have seen before pain befell them. He did good leaving you for a month after that. Never bothering to show up at your window, nor a bouquet at your door. He should've never gotten you accustomed to that treatment.

Seeing you upset didn't hurt him. You need toughening up. This world needs toughening up. The rats he ate in Jokers hold didn't care if he cried, why should he? Yet he found himself falling into your clumsy, yet tearful embrace, wiping away your tears with a huff, lightly patting your cheek and telling you to get over it. When it didn't work, he did what he always knew to do. Adapt. He tried to make you laugh. He allowed the gentle pads of your fingers infect his skin. He let you see parts of him he locked away for a reason.

He felt disgusting for all of this. He doesn't need any of this. He's hurt too many to even acknowledge what one person may or may not care about.

He kept your apartment clean. He hated if it was anything but. Falling into the soft cushions of your sofa after a long night, just to wake up to your smell having left the dingy little apartment for your 9AM class. Must be nice.

On the worst nights of this infectious disease you've given him, he found himself at your bedside as you rest, hands clasped together as he prayed to whoever would listen you'd be safe. That you'd cure him and he'd leave you alone. That no harm would ever come towards you.

He wanted you to leave Gotham. Every goddamn day. He wanted you gone.

And when you'd leave HIM alone, saying you "respect that he needs space right now", he'd call bullshit. You don't respect him. You will leave and hurt him.

He knew he was wrong, all the goddamn time. Whether it was ordering his men to raid a safe house belonging to the Black Mask knowing it would prove fruitless, whether it was to run away from connecting with Bruce in any meaningful way, or whether even through his fits of just what can only be described as a temper tantrum in his eyes, you still fell into his arms, connecting yourself to him only when he allowed it. The world never deserved you. Reality would hit someday, and one fateful day, you'll learn to be as bitter as him.

But he won't allow that to be today. Today he'll sit with the person plaguing every nerve in his body, on a scrappy leather couch only a college student would see as luxury, and the back of your head will rest on his shoulder. He'll inspect every finger of yours, partly to try and find evidence of the magic you might have contained to make him feel like this, before bringing those fingers to his chapped lips, just to remind himself you're here with him. It's not a mental break. He is not a teenager being electrocuted by a Dr. Harleen Quinzel to learn to hate Bruce Wayne, hallucinating an image of who he assumes to be God and mentally beg for his forgiveness. He is here. With you. And the scars have healed.

Fools call it love. Jason wasn't a fool, but he'd allow himself to be. Just for the moment. He wanted to vomit, but he knew if he did, you'd hold his hair for him.

You're a fool.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #batfamily #dc universe #batman #red hood #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x female reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd imagine #fluff #jason todd fluff #light angst #rawr xd #not proofread

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the-s1lly-corner · 11 months ago

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Shut In (Eyeless Jack x reader oneshot!)

Basic plot: its really cold outside, and you urge Jack to stay in your home with you... he decides to stay despite knowing full well that he will be fine out in the freezing temperatures. You both decide to do things to pass the time and stay warm! Turns out Jack can make a mean cup of hot coco, too

Extra notes: I dont usually write fanfics, and the last one I've written was a personal one from late August... so to say I'm rusty and underexperienced is an understatement! I feel this one ended up a little.. weirdly paced imo but I think I'm still happy with the end result! Dialogue I feel I could have done better on but I'm going to be nice to myself since I mostly write hc posts so this is way out of my comfort zone.. Drafted on Tumblr then sent through google docs to pick up on some mistakes I missed, briefly reread no proper proof reading imo... lets hope this isnt a train wreck + it copied back to tumblr okay!! LMAO

Brief joke about pregnancy/making a pregnancy but its like one small snippet but I know that can make people uncomfortable + implies at least one of the characters is AFAB

Word Count: 2915

Extra Admin's note: I want to say again that I am so so happy about this blog hitting 1k followers, when I first started this blog I was originally going to use it to burn time and have something to do on the side, as well as having a place to put out my cringe ideas and hcs. I never thought this many people would be interested in my dumb thoughts, but here we are! I intend to keep writing this year, and perhaps even make more non-celebratory one shots this year? Maybe? I don't know I guess we'll see the reception on this fic!

It was the middle of the night, around the middle of January. Your boyfriend and you were holed up inside your apartment, you having locked the man up with you after seeing that it was below freezing out, as well as raining. You had to practically beg your boyfriend to stay with you for the night.

Your boyfriend, who also just so happened to be a man eating demon with tar dripping out of his hollowed out eye sockets. Your boyfriend, who was currently sitting still and staring forward, the only sound in the apartment coming from the dripping of your faucet. You had asked him to come visit you, it'd been a while... and he would never ever let you go to his cabin when it's this cold out. So here you both were now.

You pat the palms of your hands on your knees, sucking in one of your cheeks and working the flesh through your jaws for a moment. You were both technically stuck in the apartment now; you didn't want Jack to go out and risk getting sick, and Jack more than likely wouldn't want you to step out for the same reasons. So, you were both confined to what you already had within the space. You were about to open your mouth to speak but Jack broke the silence first. "You're shivering, do you want me to get some blankets?", blunt and almost robotic. He was never that expressive. "Or would you like to go to your room?" He added after a brief pause, his fangs poking just over his lip before he readjusted his mouth. You were both in the living room, sitting together on the couch; the front door to your left and a view of the kitchen to the right. You thought for a minute as your eyes lingered on the kitchen for a moment. You'd already eaten, before your partner arrived... but..

"That's fine, I'm probably going to make some hot coco," You pulled yourself up, stretching up. "Powdered stuff ooor..?" Jack mimicked you. You only shook your head, earning a disapproving look from him. "What?" You questioned, but he only dismissed you. "Why don't you get some blankets, I'll handle it," and he turned on his heel to make his way to the kitchen. "Maybe put on a movie, too, your choice." He added as his voice carried off. "Are you saying I can't cook?" You called back, following after him. No answer as he tugged out a pot. "I'll have you know-" you started once more

"Do you have half and half?" He was already opening your pantry to grab things.

"No, I don't,"

"Heavy cream? Whipping cream? Whatever it's called..." He mumbled as he placed various ingredients on the counter. Cocoa powder, vanilla, salt and sugar. You only nodded, and as he was about to begin working he paused. "Do you want anything else in it? Cinnamon? Nutmeg?" He paused and through gritted teeth, "Coffee?"

It was almost midnight, of course he would be opposed to you having caffeine so late.

"Cinnamon is fine," You watched him get to work. He measured everything out; even mixing the heavy cream with some milk to make a substitute for half and half.... was that really all it was? You weren't sure what you expected it to be, if it weren't..

He pulled his head up and stared at you. It was then that you noticed he had actually taken his mask off and set it at the end of the counter and out of the way. The black ooze dripping from his eyes was slow and posed little threat to dripping into your drink. He had a fistful of napkins on standby to dap his face dry should the flow quicken. "Aren't you going to get the blankets?"

You pat your hands on your thighs, pausing... watching him. His body had a warm glow on him from the old light bulb in the ceiling; it flickered every now and then. Under the yellowed light he almost looked healthy and alive, though there was no glint where his eyes should have been. His sharp nail tapping on the counter brought you back to the moment, blinking a few times. "Yeah.." you mumbled, defeated at the chance of making a drink for yourself stolen from you. But was that so bad?

You backed out of the kitchen, dragging your feet across the floor. Your apartment was.. a little on the smaller side so within a few steps you were in front of your bedroom door. You didn't really pay much attention to your surroundings as you shuffled through the blankets on the bed.. eventually you settled on just grabbing an arm full and waddling back to the living room, dumping everything you had grabbed onto the couch.

The house smelled of cinnamon and chocolate.. with a hint of vanilla.

Turning your gaze to the tv, your eyes scanned across the DVDs you had stacked messily. Nothing sounded good. "Is there anything you want specifically?" You called out as you settled yourself down criss cross in front of the tv and pulling all the cases onto the floor next to you. "Movie wise," You added as you pulled the first case into your hands. The DVD collection for Child's Play.. you had gotten it a few weeks ago, finding it on sale at your local store. You still hadn't popped it in to watch..

"I have.. Chucky, uhm..." You shuffled for the next case. "All the movies by the way.. I have that and.. most of the Friday the 13th movies," You called out. No answer, the only sound coming from the kitchen was the noise of a whisk gently being stirred. "I don't have Jason goes to hell... But!" You pulled out a third case with the Nightmare on Elm Street DVDs. "I DO have Freddy vs Jason," You mumbled and spread the three disks on the floor in front of you. Most of the disks you had, you noticed, were mostly older slasher movies. Still, Jack hadn't answered you. You pull yourself to your feet and trudge back into the kitchen. His back was to you, too preoccupied with the stove... He hadn't noticed you, not yet. An idea blossomed in your head, a smirk pulling itself across your lips. You steeled yourself, trying to force yourself to stop shivering.. Jack was always paying attention to his surroundings, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

You take a step forward and he still doesn't notice your approach.

Another step.

And another.

Jack wasn't the tallest, in fact if you wanted to you could rest your chin on his shoulder... and that's what you ended up doing, while wrapping your arms around his thick waist. You could feel his body seize up just a little bit against you, before relaxing. "You didn't answer, what sounds good?" You pulled your eyes down to look at the pot. Your drink was nearly finished. You view rocked as your boyfriend shrugged, still silent but the twitching of his pointed ears let you know he was listening.

"Anything's fine," Another shrug as he cuts the heat. "You're the one cooking for me, you get to pick the movie," You insisted. He paused mid-whisk, letting out a soft huff. Suddenly he spun around, his face just a few inches from yours. In the dimmed light his eye sockets seemed deeper, it's black ooze lazily dripping down his cheeks. You noticed the smudges on his face, from wiping the streaks. You briefly wondered what it was like to sleep with them, but your thoughts were cut short as he pulled a blackened and clawed hand to your hair; tucking a lock behind your ear. "How does...." He paused, sucking in his teeth. He looked almost embarrassed. "Bride of Chucky sound?"

"What? Want to study the characters again so we can dress up again this year for Halloween?" You tease. You had convinced him a few months ago to dress up with you. With him as Chucky, and you as Tiffany... It had taken some begging and convincing but you ultimately got him to agree. Although you didn't go out to get candy, you were both fine with staying inside watching movies together in costume. It was also that night you got him to watch the movies..

His ears darkened, before he scoffed. "No... actually this year I was thinking of..." He took a long pause, visibly scraping his brain for names of characters, before seemingly giving up. "Look I don't watch many movies I don't know any.. characters.." He grimaced, before gently pushing you off of him so he could turn his attention back to the hot cocoa. "We've still got nine months, more than enough time to come up with something..." You shrugged, then smirked. "Not enough time to make a Glen... or Glenda," You teased before turning on your heel. You held back a snicker as you heard Jack splutter, finally processing what you had just said to him.

"W-"

"I'm gonna go ahead and put in the disc, I'll leave it paused for you," You cut him off, still grinning to yourself as you kneeled down to do as you had said.

Soon enough Jack walked into the room with a mug, as well as a platter of cookies. "You didn't have to," You mumbled as you eyed the treats, but he only waved you off as he placed the plate and mug onto the coffee table. "You don't have to eat them, but I figured you might want a snack while watching the movie," He mumbled. You took the mug, and swirled the drink inside of it. "I hope I didn't put in too much cinnamon," Jack added as he watched you. He leaned over and started the movie.

You took a sip, smiling a little as the warmness crept in. "You did good, probably the best hot cocoa I've ever had." You offered a grin to him. "That has got to be the fakest compliment I've ever heard," Jack shot back, though you could see the corners of his mouth turning up just slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry! I believe this is the most decadent and satisfying beverage I've had ever been graced with in my life, and-" You began, only for Jack to hush you. "I'd rather you throw it on me, don't... say words like that again," He grumbled as readjusted himself into the couch. You took a sip and shrugged, "It's just absolutely immaculate," and he lightly smacked you on the arm. "I'm never making anything for you again," He snorted, before turning his attention to the movie.

You weren't going to lie, you felt a little bad treating yourself to the cookies, knowing Jack was unable to eat them without upsetting his stomach. Being a man-eating monster must really be hard. You purse your lips, and shoot a look at him from the corner of your eye. He must have been doing the same, because he turned his head to look at you. "Do you want to do something else?" He asked lightly, his grin from a few minutes ago already faded. "Do you ever miss eating.. food?" You asked before you could stop yourself. He didn't bother pausing the movie, instead he just fell silent and stared down, into the space between the two of you on the couch.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up, I know it's a touchy subject for you," You mumbled and put the mug on the table. You sucked in the air between your teeth, flicking your eyes up to the movie, before bringing them back down to your lap. It stayed like that for a minute before Jack broke the silence. "I mean... yeah, I do. But at least I don't have to eat every day like you do, means I can have more time to do what I want," He said. Clearly, he was still bothered, tip-toeing around the big.. thing about him. The air was still tense and thick, all of the previous joking gone now. It was nearly unbearable. Nearly.

"You know," Jack began after a few more seconds of silence when you didn't reply. "I've never tried cinnamon in hot cocoa, I didn't know that was a thing people did," He was changing the subject. "You haven't?" You asked, raising a brow. He eyed your mug, but you both knew there was no way he was going to take a sip.

"It's really good," You mumbled, and took the drink, "The combo, I mean," You added. He hummed, patting his knees lightly. You swirled the drink again, watching the... what was it called? Those lighter swirls in the drink.. Did that have a name?

"You've had hot cocoa before, right?" You asked. He hummed again, nodding his head. "Well.. the cinnamon makes it warm. Taste wise.. It makes it.." You took a sip and thought for a minute. "Richer, I guess? It's hard to explain," You muttered, then looked back at him. You tore your eyes back down when you saw he was looking right at you, totally hooked onto your words. "I hear nutmeg goes good in it, too.. but I've only tried nutmeg and chocolate together in baked goods," You shrugged. "You did really good with this, you know... not too much cinnamon.. not spicy, at least." You smiled. He nodded, before turning back to the movie.

"Woody, I hear people describe cinnamon like that," He leaned back into the couch, a dull pop came from his back.

"Woody," You repeated, then took a large sip of the hot cocoa. You put the mug down onto the table, and leaned into your boyfriend as the warmth crept and settled into your bones. You weren't even paying attention to the movie, your mind was now occupied with how tired you were. Your eyes slipped up to the clock on the wall, It was nearly one in the morning. Had it only been an hour since Jack walked himself into the kitchen?

You lean deeper into Jack, not caring about his body's natural chill. His clothing still smelled a little like the cocoa from earlier.. "Gotta invest in some cologne, you smell nice like this," You mumbled into his arm. "The cinnamon?" He asked, not looking down at you. "No.. the cocoa, I mean cinnamon would be a nice touch... but you don't seem like a sweet smelling guy, do you?" You muttered. "Are you already getting tired?" Jack asked, and he leaned over you to grab the remote, pausing the movie. You muttered, the heat of the hot cocoa doing way more than you expected on the tiredness you didn't notice you had. "A little," You shrugged, "But we can still try to finish the movie," You offered, but he shook his head. Of course he would, as much of a hard ass or party pooper he came off as, he was going to make sure you were going to get your rest.

You put your hand in his, the one that had the remote.. you unpaused the movie. He paused it, and you unpaused it again. It kind of kept up like this before Jack conceited and kept it playing, although he did lower the volume.. The subtitles were already on, though. "I win," You smirked up at him, before crawling into his lap. You placed your head on his chest, pausing when you felt him stiffen before relaxing against you. His heart beat for a moment before settling to its barely there rhythm. For a minute you thought about asking about his heart, as far as you knew he explained himself like he was becoming a walking corpse... how does that work?

You decided against it, you already asked about him earlier.. and besides, your mind was already beginning to blank as Jack reached to the side of the couch, and turned the lamp off.. It was dark now. It was still raining, you could more clearly hear the drops outside now that the movie was turned down. Plus, Jack was running his fingers through your hair, lightly massaging your scalp. It wouldn't be long until you finally gave in and fell asleep.

"Are you going to still be here in the morning?" You asked, melting into his chest as he hummed in response. "Plan on it, I still need to clean up the kitchen," He added as he curled your hair around his hand. "It'll still be cold in the morning," He added, "I need to make sure you bundle up before you go out for work," He added. "I'm not that dumb," You muttered and lightly slapped his arm. You swear, if he still had his eyes he would have rolled them.

"How do you see? I know you're not.. a normal person, but," You blurted out, lifting your head. He pushed your face back down, shushing you. "Sleep," He ordered, before loosening his hold on you a bit so you could get comfortable. It wasn't an order but it may as well have been with how your body started to loosen into him within the next few minutes, quickly snuffling out your curiosity and questions.

He'd still be here in the morning, you could pester him then. After all, it's what he signed up for when the two of you started to date one another..

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta imagine #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack imagine #creepypasta fanfic #eyeless jack fanfic

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theaveragepsychoticbitch · 1 year ago

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Idk if the formatting will stay corrupted when I post this ask but it was mad regular when it was just sitting in my inbox?? but uh, Gods bless. I dont think I'm all that good at sub reader, and I may be ass at writing insecurities as I gotta be careful not to trigger myself lol, but I am gonna enjoy writing this thanks for requesting me beautiful (Also, I'm not much of a daddy person but I LOVE Master kinks.)

A/N: OMFG TUMBLR FUCKEF AND I HAD TO DELETE AND REWRITE EVERYTHINGGGG

I proofread like half of it yall imma do the rest in a couple days💀✋🏾

Fem!Sub!Insecure!Reader x Soft Dom Odin || NSFW lol || Breeding kink, Master/Slave use (ion know too much bout that dynamic lmao so you gon have to bare wit me), insecurities, and raw dogging (my staple)

Odin can't help but notice the slump of your shoulders, persistent ever since the other day. You'd gone to see Aphrodite for the first time, wanting to greet the entire greek pantheon personally upon your introduction as his wife. You left all smiles and laughter, yet despite saying it'd gone well, you possessed an air of sadness about you, and it's lingered throughout the week.

You sigh again, pulling him from his pondering. Your seat in the windowsill is backed by a view of the gray sky, ice cold rain pounding the glass. You have to be cold.

You jump upon finding your husband behind you, wrapping you lovingly in a thick blanket. The expression on his face is uncharacteristically soft, and in your heart you know he loves you... but why?

Why does he love you, when women as beautiful as Aphrodite exist? The lowest ranking goddesses glow with divinity, an inhuman shine to their very aura that you could never recreate. When you entered that room, you'd never felt more mortal. You were drawn to them, their beauty and grace calling out to you, leaving you with no choice but to gaze in awe.

You think you feel tears on your waterline.

How could he truly love you when surrounded by women like that?

"Women like that?"

You blink, feeling the warm tears slide down your cheeks as your face heats up. You didn't mean to say that aloud, by the gods. But it's too late now, and his simple question and deadpan face have broken the dams you worked so hard to maintain all week.

"Women like that! Like Aphrodite, like the other goddesses. They're beautiful my love, beautiful in a way I can't compare."

He tries to speak, but you rush over him, the snot filling your nose choking your speech and corrupting your voice. "How can you caress my scars when presented with unblemished skin? Look me in my eyes when theirs sparkle with such power? How can you even stand my voice! The goddesses of this forsaken place sound as lovely and hypnotic as sirens, even when their screeching at the top of their damned lungs!"

You cough, gasping for air. You hadn't taken a breath in that entire monologue. Your throat hurts from screaming, and at some point, you'd stood up and thrown away the cover he gave you. The cold air from the window spread goosebumps across your back, down your legs and arms. But it was fear that made you tremble, fear he'd see the logic in your words and leave you in the dust. Fear you'd walk the palace halls one day, haunted by the sounds of pleasure your husband brings out of other women, like so many wives here in Valhalla do now.

Your coughing dies out and leaves nothing but silence. Even your sniffling is quieted under his stare. The rain fades away and you find you can't even breathe as you wait for his word.

"I walk among these women everyday, yet you are the one I've chosen. Does that alone not set you apart from them?"

You blink at his tone– darkened with an unknown emotion, yet somehow still soft on your ears. His hand is on the small of your back, nudging you closer. The other cups your cheek.

"If you think yourself to be in a sea of gold, then you must be the diamond of the bunch. In my eyes, you shine brighter in your mortality then any divine being could ever hope to. Your scars are sweet against my lips, and your eyes as bright as the stars. Your voice is the one thing I bow to, my love, your beauty the one thing I praise."

It's silent again when he finishes, but you hear your heart breaking. Breaking for yourself, because how could you have been so blind? To ever in a million years think this man could do anything other than love you...

He chuckles, kissing your ear. "Say my name, Beloved."

Chaste kisses are placed softly about your face. Your forehead, your neck, your cheeks. And all the while you're crying, you love this man so much. "Odin..."

You try to pull back but find he's holding you to his chest. "Odin?"

"My name."

You blink, then smile. "Baby?"

He smiles into your neck, and you think he's having a rare cute moment. "Not that one."

Your smile takes on a confused twist.

Then, it hits you.

He chuckles again, this one filled with a bit of sadism.

"...Master?"

"Perfect."

In a show of heavenly strength you're transported from the window to the bed in the blink of an eye. As you sink into the bed, he tops you, fitting himself between your legs like coming home.

Your lips come together in a clash of lust and passion, the chastity of earlier long forgotten. Your hands tangle in his hair as he fondles you through your clothes. You could feel his hard on through his clothes, the familiar press against your heat filling you with... love?

Love... that's exactly what it was. You loved this, loved this treatment, loved to see your ever-quiet, ever-composed husband fall to pieces when he touched you. His stoic persona peeling back to reveal a man so head over heels he'd stomp on his pride in his rush to hump you like a dog in heat.

Hell, when he's fucking you like this, how could you have ever thought he'd leave?

Your right hand leaves his hair to help him tug at your clothes, the left sliding down to feel his muscles rippling under the skin of his back. He's finally gotten your chest bare, and latches onto the first nipple he sees, blindly working at the fabric to reveal the other tit. His battle-roughened fingers graze its peak, then pinch, hard enough to make you gasp and jump.

His tongue drags out similar sounds. Flicking the cute bud, circling it, right before sucking on it like it'd fix all his problems. Your fingers do away with his clothes with practiced motions as your eyes close, arching up into his touch.

You can hear him moaning almost silently as he kisses your chest, and you swear you hear him whisper, "Sweet."

You sigh at the feeling, at your adoration for this man.

He pulls back, and in the low light you admire the creases of his chest, the scars that litter his skin like stars in the sky. One hand parts your legs, spreading you open, admiring the sight of your clit twitching while arousal pours over your asscheeks to stain the sheets below.

His other hand takes your wrist to lay your palm flat over his heart. He's dragging your palm across his torso, over his heaviest scars, while rubbing electrifying circles into your clit. You tear up again as your legs twitch at the direct simulation. Even breathes turn to pants, and you feel your hips trying to rut into his touch. But your eyes never leave his. No, no– you hold his gaze and hone in on the feel of his skin on your hand, on the feel of realization like a new dawn in your mind.

"Do my scars horrify you?"

You can't tell if your tears are from pleasure or pain; the emotional kind. But they're pouring worse than the rain outside now, and you feel your nose getting stuffy again. "Of course not, my love."

He didn't mind the slip up this time. "If these do not cause aversion, how could your own bring you such despair?" Two fingers slipped inside you, and you gasp, fucking down on them instinctively. His thumb speeds up to match the pace of his fingers, and you pull him down into a kiss. His tongue tangles with yours, sucking on it and exploring your mouth. You kiss him back just as hard, running your teeth gently over his lips and tongue in turn.

"You are mine. You alone can see me like this. You alone can look at me like that, kiss me like that. I only want you–"

He smirks, and you think you're on the verge of cumming.

"Afterall, who else can take me so well? Who could look as pretty when I'm filling them up, watching my seed pour from their warmth? Do those goddesses beg like a good girl for me to stuff it back in? Present themselves as a willing slave, to be used until I've had enough? Until I've put a baby in them?"

Your eyes roll, your back arches, and the world turns white as you orgasm on his fingers. Trembles shake you, but big, comforting hands are working you through it so well. You rock into him until he pulls away, and despite the looming threat of overstimulation, you whine at the emptiness.

"Answer me, slave."

"N...no one, Master. No one except... Me."

You can't see it as your eyes are still closed, but he's smiling. Just a little, but it's full of more joy than a kid on Christmas.

A haze sits over your mind. His voice is the only thing you know now.

His thumbs take either side of your labia and spread you further, coaxing the juices out. He stares for a long time, unable to look away right up until his dick is so hard it aches. He forces his eyes to close, fumbling to pull it out. You both sigh when it slaps against your cunt.

"Please, Master... Cum inside me."

He looks up to find your eyes are just barely open and trained on him. His demeanor softens even more somehow, despite how out of place it seems.

"Anything for the prettiest girl in the world."

He slides in, fitting as though you were made for him. Your walls are warm and grip his cock like they missed it, arousal continuing to overflow and drizzle out, just barely able to slip around his cock. He puts a hand to your stomach, pressing down and make both your eyes roll as he feels how deep he is.

He thrusts– once, twice, rocking you, opening you up. From there on his pace builds to something fast and rough. Your nails drag down his back till blood is drawn, the pain fueling his manic humping. Screams of Master! Bounce through the air as he fucks you, drunk on the drag of his cock against your gspot. Your own hand goes down to rub at your throbbing clit as tears cloud your vision to the point of blindness.

When you arch, his hand is at the small of your back, helping you, holding you. Your bodies press together and you can't help but think, 'fuck. He's beautiful.'

You allow your eyes to close as a smile spreads across your face. Your husband is beautiful. So you are, you have to be,

"Beautiful."

Your eyes drift to your husband's face upon hearing his voice. Velvety and deep, and filled with roughness from his approaching orgasm. You laugh, a breathless thing. "You too, Master." You say, batting your lashes.

His chuckle is equally breathless, "'M gonna fill you up now, lovely girl. Take all of me."

An order, one you'd jump to obey.

You joined at the lips in a passionate kiss, your finger working your clit hard as the other hand holds the back of his neck. He holds your legs in a mating press and strokes deep, hitting your deepest spot before releasing inside with a shudder and groan.

You throw your head back as your own body freezes from the force of your orgasm. You're wracked by shudders and hear naught but the sounds of your own broken moans. You can feel him inside of you, spilling his seed for you alone to keep. It's warm, and you can't help but relax at the feeling.

Odin stays inside for long moments after, holding it in, before pulling out. You blink at the sudden loss, to exhausted to do much else. You let yourself be gathered in an embrace, lazily enjoy the soft kisses he presses to your face.

"In the morning, we'll shower. For now, we rest." You hum your affirmation. His arms are tight around your body. You have no choice but to sink into his embrace, sink into a deep, deep sleep.

Right before you drift off, you hear him whisper,

"I love you, my gorgeous wife."

You wish you'd stayed awake long enough to respond back.

-------

A/N: yes yes I know this and many other ask have been sitting in my inbox for months😓writing is hard okay?? And I am very very sleepy all the time. This was fun to write but god did I hate writing the smut. Ion know nothing about master kinks, I use them in my own lil way so the formal way is unknown to me😭but uhh, I hope you enjoyed, and requester if you see this I'm sorry🫶🏾🥹I love you🥲

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok x reader #snv odin #snv odin x reader #ror odin #odin x reader #odin #odin smut #ror odin x reader #the psychotics writing

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sparks-polls · 5 months ago

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Tumblr's Favourite Sparks Music Video - The Finale

We have our finalists! Congratulations, When Do I Get To Sing "My Way" and I Predict!

When Do I Get To Sing "My Way"

youtube

Defeated opponents: Edith Piaf (Said It Better Than Me), (When I Kiss You) I Hear Charlie Parker Playing, Music That You Can Dance To, Funny Face, Call Girl

What people have said about this video: #my way hands down #for the whole story #also have you seen russell in that one? #i picked my way specifically because of russell in that video #it's gotta be my way. the drama and the story and the atmosphere is just so good #they're so classy in it - A+ looks and concept. and I love the whole idea of advertising a movie #I need my brothers torn apart by ambition #when do i get to sing my way (the video) inspired me to write a whole-ass novel #i'm happy as long as my way goes through #i voted my way. against this kind of opponent hardly anything stands a chance #my way takes it all #this isn't even a competition #another masterpiece of a video #the story & storytelling & all 3 of them looking amazing in black and white with that lighting #Ron glaring jealously from behind the curtains!!! #THERE'S ONLY ONE SONG I KNOW (iconic!) + RON DANCE (in colour for he gets to sing his way hell yeah) #Russell's smiles #old hollywood drama & the way the texts are displayed (excellent concept) #russell's model turn in my way for president #DO TWO BROTHERS TORN APART BY AMBITION MEAN NOTHING TO YOU? #the gorgeous old hollywood film that is my way is so important and special to me #it's got to be My Way for me - out of the videos left that is my champion <3 #i think my way deserves to win this contest overall #when do i get to sing my way is just so...

I Predict

youtube

Defeated opponents: Beat The Clock, When I'm With You, Johnny Delusional, No. 1 Song In Heaven [Plagiarism Version], All You Ever Think About Is Sex

What people have said about this video: #i predict should win this whole thing #i predict every time. #i made my french class watch the i predict music vid in college. i dont remember why. #but that's how much I loved it #only one answer that i can give #I Predict is just so PERFECT #ron in drag wins #nothing gets better than ron in drag #i predict that i predict will make it very far into the competition #nothing beats i predict i'm afraid #voted i predict because how could I not #i will always root for Heidi #this took zero thought #i predict duh #ron mael striptease should win it all #ron striptease para siempre #if my baby's taking me home can't win (sobs) then I Predict will be an honourable tribute #i predict deserves the win #I Predict is just so much more entertaining to me #and this is coming from someone who doesn't have a huge thing for Heidi unlike most Ron fans lol #i just love how committed he is to the striptease and Russell shining like a star in the audience and the fact that #the whole thing takes place inside an amplifier (a speaker?) #also it feels very Twin Peaks

#sparks polls #sparks band #sparks #ron mael #russell mael #tumblr's favourite sparks music video #favourite Sparks music video #favourite sparks music video finale #when do i get to sing my way #i predict

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pa-pa-plasma · 1 year ago

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apparently people are fucking stupid, so yes, even if tumblr is being extremely annoying about One Piece, even if you hate One Piece, even if One Piece killed your grandma, stop writing entire paragraphs about that & tagging it as #One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #OP #Luffy One Piece #Zoro One Piece etc etc because I've seen multiple posts that have like 20 tags like that & none of them are commentary.

this isn't just about One Piece though! I've seen this in other fandoms, which is why the main post doesn't mention OP by name. This annoyance has just culminated with OP for me. People have lost their fandom manners, this isn't just me trying to shove an anime down your throat. literally block the tag if you hate it, use mobile or any of the 100 tutorials on how to block the jolly roger in the corner, just stop being an asshole about it because 1: the fans & Oda didn't do this, Netflix did, & 2: I can guarantee that assholeishness & entitlement is not unique to the One Piece tag, as I have literally seen multiple times.

anyways, ahem

IF YOU TAG YOUR HATE POSTS IN ORDER TO PUT THEM IN THE MAIN TAG, NO MATTER THE REASON, I WILL KILL YOU PERSONALLY. DON'T BE AN ASSHOLE.

that is all.

I can't believe I have to say this in the year 2023 but if you are going to make a post that is a full paragraph of you saying how much you hate something

don't tag it.

don't put that shit. in the main tag. where people go to see the thing they like. or I will

Kill

you personally

if you don't like the thing, block the tag & don't follow blogs who do like it. That is all.

#just stop being an asshole???#you wanna know why i always censor T*ylor Sw*ft's name? because i dont want people who like her being put down #i FUCKING HATE HER & i'm NOT going to put that in the main tag where people are just trying to have fun #WHERE the FUCK has proper tagging etiquette gone?? what is wrong with people????#anyone who disagrees is getting blocked on sight #if you think writing paragraphs of how much you hate something & putting it in the main tag is okay unfollow me #you are the problem & you are the asshole here #like explain to me how this type of behaviour is okay. you cant. because it's asshole behaviour #oh also yeah if you wanna insult One Piece I will only accept it from people who have actually like. SEEN or READ it #cuz people who have know where its faults lie & people who haven't get it waaaaaaaay off mark #''it's not gay enough to be on tumblr'' you mean the series with a character who gives out free transitions to trans people?#you mean the series with an aro/ace main character??#you mean the series with nonbinary & trans people just hanging out???#ladies ladies please. the faults lie elsewhere.#you want One Piece's faults? well we left everything that's bad in one place. now you just have to find it (1000+ episodes & chapters)#oh also the live action remake is ACTUALLY FOR REAL good so you can't even come for that. you're just objectively wrong #anyway i block liberally so try to argue. i'd like to know i'll never see you dickwads ever again

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sasagehoes · 8 months ago

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THE NECROMANCER

Chapter I; Adventus𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Brandon Star x fem! reader

𓅨˚₊‧⁺⋆♱;; Leaving home to escape a fate worse than death was ideal, yet is it really worth all the pain and suffering that'll come from that decision instead?

masterlist | series masterlist

next chapter

a/n; Hello! This is my first time publishing here on tumblr, I'm really exited to start this series, I hope people enjoy it! (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡ [English is not my mother tongue so please be patient]

CW; This series contains a LOT of sensitive topics. Just like the show, there will be individual warnings for each chapter, I'm not responsible for what you read.

Mentions of rape/ arranged marriage/ child abuse/ graphic depictions of gore / it's a GOT story..Just be prepared for the worst

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

The winds of Winterfell were as cold as ever when Lady Stark received a crow with a message attached.

The seal being from a house in Braavos, House Corvus, inside this letter, there was a betrothal proposal, the youngest daughter of their house to Winterfell's second youngest, Brandon Stark.

"I feel it could be a great advantage to join the two houses, our connections to lands in Essos are little if not unexistent" Said Catelyn Stark.

Lord Stark sighed. "I'll speak with Brandon. See what he says." She nodded and went outside to see her boys practicing archery.. one failing a bit miserably.

𓅨˚₊‧⁺⋆♱

Eddard thought this would be a great opportunity to talk to Bran about the situation right after slaughtering a bear!

"Bran, have you heard of house Corvus perchance?" he asked, looking at him. Brandon thought for a second,"I think I might have, but it's located in Braavos, so I don't know much." He answered

Lord Stark nodded "Well we got word from them today, a crow brought a letter" the younger hummed with curiosity, "A marriage proposal, to wed you and their youngest daughter, once the both of you become of age" he continued.

Bran's eyes went wide and stopped walking. "What if I say no? I've never even heard of them that well, even less of their daughter!" he spoke clearly distraught.

"We have some time to decide, and you can always say no if you meet her and end up not liking her, but just think about the things Winterfell can benefit from this union"

His father added. Bran didn't respond and just kept walking, making his father sigh

𓅨˚₊‧⁺⋆♱

"Robb, do me a favor, could you?"

he asked as he saw his oldest walking around the estate. "Everything okay, father?" he answered

"Everything is alright. I'm sure your mother told you about the marriage proposal for Brandon. Could you go talk to him ?"

Robb chuckled and replied, "He's not very fond of the idea, hm? I'll go talk with him" and left to go look for him.

𓅨˚₊‧⁺⋆♱

The eldest Stark walked around the halls looking for his little brother just as he spotted him, sitting on the floor, the younger said

"You're here to convince me about marrying some stranger, aren't you?"

Robb sighed as he sat on the floor next to his brother

"Yes I am, Bran, listen, if it were different people, they wouldn't have told you until she was on our doorstep," he said before continuing

"And if what I have heard about the women of bravos is true, you might want to accept that proposal," he said with a grinn

with that Bran looked up at him "what have you heard" he said

"Why dont you go ask Theon, yes?"

𓅨˚₊‧⁺⋆♱

"They say if you marry a Bravoosi woman you might be the luckiest or most doomed bastard in the seven kingdoms " Theon said with a smirk

Brandon's eyes shined with curiosity

"Why so?" he asked

"The women of Braavos have beautiful dark hair that shine with the sun, and although their climate is humid and cold they have sun kissed skin"

Robb said making Bran smile ever so slightly.

Theon joined in "I've heard that their hips are made to bear healthy heirs, broad and we'll rounded hips, perfect for grabbing in the midst of-" he stopped to chuckle once he noticed Bran's flushed cheeks

"You'll cross the bridge when you get there"

"But why would I be a doomed bastard?" Brandon asked awkwardly

"She'd leave you dry - ouch!" Theon said before getting cut off by Catelyn hitting the back of his head

"Don't fill his head with scum. He's far too young!" she said, which only made the oldest laugh

"He'll be a man soon enough," Robb said, ruffling Bran's hair before leaving, Theon by his side.

"Off you go, little man, go to your lessons with maester Luwin," Lady Stark said, and the boy complied with a small pout.

₊ ⊹𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐒𝐞𝐚₊ ⊹

The winds started to get rather cold at sea, you had expected that since it was indeed the north where your betrothed lived

he was your chance at living a life without the fear of getting murdered by your own people for something that was out of your control.

The boat was filled with an indescribable emptiness, the spirits were low, you wanted to be left alone, still processing everything that had happened in the place you called home.

your mother had instructed that no man except for the Maester boarded the ship for you and your sister's safety. Yet not many wanted to embark the journey fearing of what would happen once they returned, only a few of the remaining loyal helpers of your mother accompanied you and your sister.

It had been weeks since you fled the castle, weeks since you heard the news of the death of your sister, weeks since you heard the voice of your brother.

you sat on your cabin looking at the floor, as your mind trailed to cries of your older brother, screaming at our father

"How could you let that happen to your daughter!" he screamed

"It was the best for the kingdom," your father said stoic in his throne. Your brother stood up and walked over to him. "She was raped! Then she took! her own life! how was that the best for the kingdom, you just let it happen?!!"

"Are you alright?" A voice took you out of your trance, your sister

you looked up at her and smiled

"Yes, of course" you said

she took your hand in hers and made you go up to the deck, "We are almost there.. Just two more days and you'll be safe," she said, holding your shoulders

you stared at her eyes, as tears started to well on yours. "What about you - will you be safe?" you say trough sobs she squeezed your shoulders "I will I,promise" she grinned but you knew, her eyes betrayed her.

It was only a matter of time before everyone knew that the necromeancers of Bravoos were back.

𓅨

When I woke up, my sister was standing next to my bed. "We have arrived dear, winter awaits" she said gently.

As she left, I stood up and went to look for the attire, I lingered infront of my trunk for a couple of seconds before deciding on the dress I would wear, I hadn't really thought much about it, while leaving Braavos, the only thing in my mind was not getting killed. Yet now that I looked at it - it's not very suitable for the weather in Winterfell

It's not so different to Braavos, but unlike there, the cold weather is not constant, the warm weather is enjoyed and well as the cold

,here, however, no matter how hard you try, the reminder that you're so far up north you feel it in your nails.

And although the winter has yet to come, the cold air fills your lungs and it stays, and it burns, and it won't come out until it is you that gets used to it, used to the cold.

You left your cabin all dressed up and were met with your sister and the Maester. On the deck packing some stuff, on your far left you could see some men proudly holding the banner of their house.

A direwolf decorates them, the animal of their house flowing with the wind as they get closer. You could make out what you guessed was the lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark, from what you've heard.

They stopped as they waited to take you and your sister to Castle Ward, where you would be spending your life once you become of age.

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Thank you so much for getting this far, can't wait to continue this series!! If you'd like to be added to the taglist,let me know ♥︎

(っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡

DO NOT;; RE-UPLOAD, TRANSLATE NOR COPY MY WORKS!!

This belongs to;;

-SASAGEHOES

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rand0mfangurlstuff · 9 months ago

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I'll Look After You - Part 3 Bucky x Y/N

I feel like I'm slowly getting the hang of actually making posts on tumblr. I'm still not great but bare with me. I'm still utterly obsessed with John 'Bucky' Egan and since I'm running out of fics to read I feel I need to make my own. Part 2 kinda got away from me but I think I have a bit more of a clear direction for this now. This includes jealous! Bucky. Enjoy:

When Bucky awoke the next morning, he was dissapointed Y/N was not by his side. He had hoped he would get to see her beautiful face again when he woke up. But the chair was empty and the book left on the bedside table. She must have left once I fell asleep he tought to himself. And who could blame her? That chair hardly looked comfortable. I wonder is she working again today? Maybe she will come by again soon. He looked to the book on the table. The hairpin stuck between the pages told him there was still a few more chapters left to read. His chest swelled with hope. She might come back again tonight. Bucky thought about relaxing into the small hospital bed and being comforted by her beautiful voice once more. As he imagined that gorgeous voice, he heard it from a short distance away. Almost as if he had magically made her appear. He couldnt see her, thanks to that godforsaken curtain; but it was her. He heard her melodic laugh. Who is she talking to? Whats so funny? Bucky couldn't help it. Suddenly he felt.. jealous. Why on earth would he feel jealous? Because he wanted to be the once to make her laugh. Thats why. But Bucky did his best to quell those jealous thoughts. She was probably just talking to one of the other nurses.

'I couldnt help it, I just started spewing everywhere!' It was awful.' Bucky knew that voice. That was not a nurses voice. 'Oh Major Crosby, why on earth did you become a flight navigator if you suffered from air sickness!' She said in between giggles. Crosby. Crosby was making her laugh. Well at least she was laughing at him. 'I didnt know I suffered from it till I was already in the air! You gotta help me Y/N, I need more of the stuff the doc gave me but he's not back till Monday!' 'Okay, okay, here you go.' 'Thanks Y/N I really appreciate it.' 'No problem Major.' Bucky heard footsteps, then Croz's voice again. 'Y/N?' 'Yes Major?' 'Please, call me Harry. I was just wondering if I could pay you back, for the pills?' 'Oh theres no need Harry.' 'I know, but I want to thank you properly. Are you working tonight?' 'No, thankfully for the first night in what feels like weeks I'm off for the night.' Bucky's heart sank at this news. There goes his plans of a lovely nights sleep. 'Oh great! Theres a dance on tonight in the main hall, are you going?' 'I hadn't thought about it, but I guess it would be fun!' 'Oh great, well I'll buy you a drink there, to thank you.' 'That's very kind Maj- Harry. I'll see you there.' 'Great! I'll see you there Y/N!'

Bucky's blood boiled. Croz was going to be at the dance with Y/N. Croz couldnt even dance! She would have a terrible time with him. It should be Bucky buying her drinks and sweeping her off of her feet. Not Croz. Pukes-a-lot Croz. If only his ribs would hurry up and heal. Then he could go to the dance and show her a real good time. Bucky tested himself, trying to get out of bed. It was painful, but maybe managable? Just as his first socked foot hit the ground, the curtain swung open and there she was, Y/N.

She went to Bucky's cubile to find he was already getting to his feet. 'Haha! Great minds really do think alike! I was just about to get you for physical therapy.' Bucky looked at her like he was caught with his pants round his ankles. 'Physical therapy?' he questioned. He sat at the edge of his bed, one to look 'non-chalant' and two because he was afraid his legs would gave in from under him with the pain in his side. She smiled at him 'Yeah, didnt the doctors tell you? It's about time we get you up and moving Major! Cant expect you to be in the air if you cant even be on the ground. Come on.' She stepped close to him and held out her hands, waiting for him to take them. He stared. 'Come on, lets go for a walk.' He did want to, but he felt angry. How could she be so kind and nice and smile so beautifully at him when she had just agreed to a date with Crosby. He looked at her, eyes shining and smiling a smile that could probably wrap even Hitler himself around her finger. He gave in and put his hands in hers. It was electric. He never wanted to let go of her perfect, soft hands. He didnt think it was possible, but her smile grew even bigger. Maybe she feels it too. This connection between us. She stepped back, giving him room to stand. He towered over her. She looked up at him, and all Bucky wanted to do was kiss her. All her had to do was bend his neck a bit, tilt his head to the side slightly, and his lips would be on hers. But no, she was Crosbys girl. He was the one going to kiss her. His blood started boiling again at the thought. 'Lets get this over with.' He said with a scowl. The sooner this was over, the sooner he would hopefully be able to stop thinking about her. As if I could ever think of anything but her. He thought. Her smile faltered, not expecting him to be anything other than his charming self.

They made it to the hallway, their steps slow and steady so not to hurt Bucky too much. Y/N tried to be encouraging, often praising him at how well he was doing. But Bucky barely responded. Eventually, she decided the silence was too much. 'Whats your favourite type of cake?' she asked. 'What?' he looked at her confused. 'Cake! Mines chocolate. I absolutely love chocolate cake. Whats your favourite?' 'I don't have a favourite type of cake.' he said. 'You like them all then huh? That's fair. If I'm honest I like all kinds of cake. Except carrot. Carrot and cake should not mix. Everything else is great -' 'I really don't care for or about cake!' Bucky snapped. As soon as he said the words he regretted it. Her bright smile vanished, and she physically recoil from him. She put as much distance between them as she could. Deciding she no longer needed to hold his hands. He immediatly missed the warmth of her hands in his. Longed to grab them back and never let tem go. 'I think you're okay with walking. Turn around back to your bed. I'll be behind you if you need me.' Bucky didnt know what to say, so he just turned around and slowly walked back to his bed. She was right on his heels though, being a good nurse and making sure nothing happened to him. He could sense her hand hovering over his shoulder, ready to catch him if he faltered. She never said a word though. Bucky wanted to break the awkward silence, but how? He had no idea what to say. She helped him back to bed and made a quick exit. 'Anoher nurse will be around later for evening rounds. I'm done for the day.' Without another word she walked off. Bucky cursed himself. He was a dick to her even though she was always kind to him. He would be pushing her even further into Crosby's arms now.

The day turned into evening, the evening into night. Everyone else in the infrimary was asleep, but not Bucky. He didnt know what was keeping him from slumber; the thought of nightmares or the thought of her and Crosby at the dance. Y/N and Croz at that dance is my worst nightmare. Bucky realised. What if they're dancing? He's a terrible dancer. I would be far better at dancing with her. What if they're slow dancing. What if he holds her a little too closely? What if he kisses her? Bucky tried to stop his racing mind before he had a stroke. He looked at the book again. Exactly where she left it. He didnt even want to read it. He knew the story word-for-word by now. He just wanted to hear her read it. That wasnt going to be happening tonight.

Y/N was enjoying the dance. The music was great, and everyone was in good spirits celebrating someones 25th mission. Harry was ever the gentlemen, buying her a drink and making sure she was okay. She liked Harry. He was kind, funny and charming, dispite his issues with air sickness that everyone cruely made fun of him for. She sat at a table with some of the other nurses and a few soldiers. 'Would you like another drink?' Harry asked her, noticing her empty glass. 'Oh I'm fine, thank you Harry.' 'How about a dance?' his hopeful smile was too much for her. 'I'd love to.' They made their way to the dance floor, a lively jazz song being played by the band. Harry wasnt the best dancer, but he had fun and made her have fun too, which was the most important part.

After their dance, Y/N needed to catch her breath. It was then she looked up at the clock and saw the time. 'I didnt realise it was so late! I better get going.' 'I'll walk you home.' Harry said, holding out his elbow to her. 'Oh thats very kind Harry, but theres no need. I'm going to head to the infirmary to check on some patients before I go to bed. You stay with they guys and enjoy the party.' 'Are you sure?' Y/N could sense some dissapointment in his tone, but chose to ignore it with a warm smile. 'I'm sure. Enjoy yourself.' She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and headed for the door. JUst as she was about to leave, she remembered she was meant to grab something...

At midnight he was still awake. He knew the party would be ending soon. He thought of Crosby walking Y/N home. Ever the gent. What if he tried to kiss her? would she accept his kiss? He hoped not. What if she did? He couldnt help picture Harry Crosby with his hands on Y/N, kissing. Hands moving to places he would sell his soul to touch. He was fit to scream. He couldnt hack it. Just when he was about to bang his head against the wall to rid himself of the terrifying mental images, he heard a voice. 'I'm not too late am I?' I'm hallucinating, Bucky thought. The pain meds must be very strong tonight. Y/N stood at the foot of his bed. Wearing a beautiful red dress, hair in flowing waves. Red lipstick he would love to smudge. 'What are you doing here? Weren't you at the dance?' She smiled, 'I was, but when it was almost over I thought I'd come check on you. Not that you deserve it. You were very cranky earlier.' 'I'm sorry Y/N I-' she cut him off 'There's no need to appologise. Physical therapy can be very difficult. Your body has been through a lot it's okay if it takes time to recover.' She was a literal angel. After how poorly he treated her, she still showed him so much empathy. More than he deserved. Even after her date with Croz, here she was checking in on him. 'Thank you. There's no need to check on me though. I'm fine. You should head back.' She moved closer while pulling a paper bag from behind her back. 'The dance is over now. Besides, I think theres about two chapters of Great Gatsby left. I brought some treats for us to eat while we read it.' She pulled out two small pieces of cake from the bag, white frosting on each piece with jam in the middle. 'You wouldn't tell me what kind of cake you liked, turns out it didnt matter because by the time I got to it this was all that was left anyway.' Cake? She had brought him cake? She was at the dance, with another man, and she thought about bringing him cake in the middle of the night? Bucky almost cried. 'You didn't have to do that, thank you. That's very kind.' She looked at the chair next to his bed. Her back already hurt before she even sat on it. 'Do you mind moving over a little? That chair is horrendous.'

Bucky was sure he heard her wrong. She wanted to sit in the bed with him? He stuttered out a response as he slowly moved as much as he could in the small bed. 'Sure, be my guest.' She sat beside him with her back againt the headboard. The sides of their bodies touching from their shoulders to their ankles. If Bucky's heart wasnt racing before, it was now. She handed him his piece of cake and picked up the book. 'It was when curiosity about Gatsby was at its highest that the lights in his house failed to go on one Saturday night....' She read to him, occasionally taking a break to bite into her cake. They sat like that, eating and reading, with Bucky never taking his eyes off of her beautiful face. Slowly, his tired eyes fluttered closed. He dreamed of cake, Gatsby's mansion, and her.

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