#i hate to say i hate it here because winter is usually my favorite time of year but fuck. i hate it here.

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Even if someone HATES wearing like, any mask, you’ve gotta admit. Nice thicker fabric ones are great in winter. A mask, hat, and scarf are way more comfortable going to the store than either a naked face or a balaclava. If nothing else then you have to admit that it’s less awkward and stifling in public (you can take off the scarf and or hat and be less hot! Not the entire fucking thing! And if you’ve got a lot of hair, like me, you can let that do whatever) and way warmer than nothing. Even if you hate everyone else and don’t believe in covid, it feels way better than nothing when it’s-20 degrees Fahrenheit and windy outside! Especially in dry cold!

[gimmethatagustd]

morals on sundays | myg

You're still in love with your ex-boyfriend. Yoongi offers some help to get over him.

○ Pairing: BFF!Yoongi x f!Reader

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Friends with benefits, angst, smut, fluff

○ 6 / 100 Drabble Challenge (FWB)

○ Word Count: 2,177

○ Warnings: MC's boyfriend cheated on her, post-breakup blues, questionable decision making, fingering so good you'll try to run away from it, pussy eating, too much tongue sucking probably, Yoongi is a boob guy, they have matching Spongebob and Patrick coffee mugs so why aren't they married?? Idiots

○ Notes: Shout out to @sailoryooons for also writing about a daegu boy eating pussy tonight 😌 And, as usual, I wrote this with scrambled eggs for brains and didn't proofread it, so if you see any errors, no you didn't

○ Post Date: January 22, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? Imported - Jessie Reyez ft. 6LACK

Lately, you’ve felt like disappearing – not into a crowded city street in another country or down an unlit dirt road into the unknown, but into the warm folds of Yoongi’s hoodie. You’re already halfway there, with your fingers interlaced with his, shoved into the large front pocket, and your face tucked into his shoulder. 

“Fuck, I hate taking the bus,” he curses, his words turning into a cloud that disappears into the cold air. 

“How much time do we have?” 

Yoongi turns his head, and his lips briefly touch the cold curve of your ear. 

“You’re mumbling. What’d you say?”

“How much time until it comes?” You squint up at him, cheek still pressed against his shoulder. It’s too warm here to want to move. 

“Can’t check the app on my phone unless you give me my hands.” 

“No.” 

Yoongi chuckles and jostles your head by bobbing his shoulders. 

“I thought our date would cheer you up.” His complaint is playful, eyes sparkling in the streetlights when he returns his gaze to the empty road. You should have gotten a taxi. 

“I’m gonna die alone. Doesn’t matter how much late-night pizza I eat or how many stupid action movies I watch,” you grumble into Yoongi’s shoulder. 

“Even when the action movie lead has a super hot sex scene that’s poorly timed and irrelevant to the plot?” 

“Nope.”

“Even when the coolest guy on the entire planet was the one who took you?” Yoongi smiles cheekily, his gaze back on you. He wiggles his shoulders again, hard enough to bounce your head. 

Annoyed, you straighten up, hands still shoved in his pockets. The movie wasn’t that bad. The pizza was actually great. You’re just depressed. 

“I didn’t think it would take this long…” You whisper into the little space between your body and Yoongi’s. He knows you aren’t talking about the bus. 

Yoongi squeezes your hands inside his hoodie. The rest of you might be freezing in the winter night air, but at least Yoongi keeps your hands warm. He keeps your heart warm, too, with his sincere gaze when he looks at you. 

“You were too good for him.” 

Yoongi’s right. He’s always right. 

You’re sufficiently frozen by the time the bus finally arrives. Yoongi pays for you both because he’s trying to make life easy. No bumps in the road, no unnecessary stress. He lets you sit in a window seat so you can stare out at the blurry night scenery and have your sad main character moment for as long as it takes to get to your apartment. 

Once you arrive, he follows you inside and heads straight to the kitchen while you slump down the hall to your bedroom. The cold seeps so deeply into your bones that the sweatpants and sweater you change into barely help increase your body temperature. 

Maybe it’s because the sweatpants and sweater are your ex-boyfriend’s, and the universe wants to keep your body as cold as his heart was. 

In the kitchen, Yoongi uses a wooden spoon to stir hot chocolate in a small pot, your favorite kind that comes in a block of chocolate that melts with milk. It’s likely been years since Yoongi has made you hot chocolate. Cozy winter nights indoors were once commonplace, the two of you alternating between apartments to make each other snacks and treat cuddles like currency. The appearance of your ex put an end to the comfort you shared with Yoongi. It put an end to most things that brought you comfort. 

As you expect, Yoongi has two mugs out on the counter. You reach for yours, twisting it in your hands as you wait for him to finish. 

“Remember when Spongebob tried to become best friends with Squidward instead of Patrick?” Yoongi asks, turning off the stove. He uses a ladle to pour hot chocolate into his pink mug, then pours some into your yellow one. 

“Yes.” 

“He was Squidward. I’m just mad I didn’t get to blow up his house–” Yoongi laughs and nearly spills his drink when you smack him in the arm, “–with bubbles! With bubbles. I’m not homicidal.” 

Rolling your eyes, you set down your mug next to Yoongi’s, both drinks too hot to drink quickly. 

“Thank you,” you mumble, hooking your finger into his hoodie pocket and tugging lightly, the action absentminded. You keep your eyes cast downward because you don’t want him to see your tears if they run. “I’m sorry I’ve been in such a shitty mood. I know it’s been a while, but, it just… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about him, and everything fucking hurts…” 

Yoongi slips his fingers under your sleeve and circles your wrist, pulling your hand away from his pocket so he can lace your fingers together. They’re so much warmer now, defrosted by the heat blasting through your apartment and Yoongi’s hot chocolate. 

“Maybe you could start by not wearing his clothes?” Yoongi offers quietly. “Can’t imagine it’s easy to get over someone when you keep them on your body like that.” 

You sniffle and nod. Again, Yoongi is always right. 

“Easier said than done…” you mumble, giving him a weak smile when you finally meet his eyes. There’s something there in his expression, something that seems different. 

You don’t move away when Yoongi steps closer, even when he has you backed against the counter, even when you feel like you’re going to swallow your heart. 

“I could take them off for you,” Yoongi says softly. He lets go of your sleeve to pinch the hem of your sweater, tugging it lightly. “If you can’t do it, I can.” 

“Yeah?” You feel out of breath, maybe because you suck in your stomach when Yoongi’s fingers brush against it. 

“Yeah,” he echoes, fingers sliding along your ribs as he pushes your sweater up. “So you can get over him.” 

It’s a terrible idea, but your stomach flutters when he looks at you with sleepy eyes weighed down by the late hour and lust. He bites his bottom lip, and you feel your resolve slip as easily as Yoongi’s fingers do beneath your clothes. 

“I want to.” The declaration is desperate, and for a moment, you can’t do anything but stare into Yoongi’s eyes with an all-consuming sadness that eats at your insides, gnawing on bones and biting holes into your lungs. “God, Yoongi, I want to.” 

Yoongi touches his forehead to yours, making you close your eyes because he’s too close and you’re too much of a coward. 

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispers. His voice is as gentle as his hands on your bare waist, his thumbs caressing your sensitive skin. 

You raise your arms for Yoongi to pull off your sweater. He’s confident when he squeezes your tits, doesn’t even seem caught off guard when he realizes you’re not wearing anything under the sweater. He brushes his thumbs over your nipples as he leans in to kiss you, his tongue tasting sweet from the hot chocolate when he flicks it against yours. 

“Yoongi,” you call out with an airy sigh that harmonizes nicely with the sound of him sucking open-mouthed kisses down your neck. 

“Hmm?” Yoongi hums against the base of your throat, the vibration sending a tingling sensation straight to your clit. He keeps one hand on the counter beside your waist, caging you in, while his other hand cups your pussy over your sweatpants. 

“Oh,” you gasp, your hands immediately finding Yoongi’s firm shoulders when he starts rubbing your clit, occasionally dipping his fingers lower to press against your entrance, soaking the fabric. 

“These are his, too, right?” 

“Y-yes,” you moan as Yoongi pulls down your sweatpants, taking your underwear with them. 

You can’t say you never thought about how attractive Yoongi is; it’s hard to ignore. It’s just that Yoongi is your best friend. If anything were to happen between the two of you, you don’t know if you’d be able to survive losing him, too. You love him. 

But you also love your ex. 

It’s hard to think about that, though, with two of Yoongi’s fingers pumping in and out of your pussy. They’re long, reaching deeper than your own can when you finger yourself, always late at night when you’re lonely. It never feels good after. The clarity always seems to hit too quickly, like being dunked in a pool of ice water. 

Three months. That’s how long it’s been since another person touched you, since you found out your ex-boyfriend had been cheating on you. You didn’t realize how much you missed it until you’ve got your head thrown back and your thighs quivering as Yoongi fucks you with his fingers. You nearly climb up the counter, both wanting him to touch you more and trying to get away because it’s too good. 

Your ex never searched for the spot that would make your legs shake, but Yoongi does. He curls his fingers against your front wall and keeps up his rhythm, moving with your body when you can’t control where it goes. 

“Fuck, right there.” You’re burning up, veins turned to lava that’s rushing toward your core as Yoongi fucks you closer and closer to your orgasm until you’re on the verge of tears because you haven’t been touched in so long and you’re so lonely and you weren’t good enough. You weren’t enough. 

“Wanna make you cum,” Yoongi groans, deep and gravelly, between licking a stripe up your tits and sucking your nipples. 

“Please,” you moan, “Please, I’m so close.” 

Your arousal gushes around his fingers, slicking them up and making your pussy squelch when Yoongi flutters them inside you. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, almost too hard. It stops you from bucking your hips, but you can barely stand as it is. 

Yoongi’s lips are back on yours, red from sucking your nipples until it hurt. He whispers against your lips and opens his mouth to let you suck on his tongue with a pathetic whimper. 

“Not yet, though.” 

“Wha– Yoongi, no–” It’s embarrassing how loudly you cry out when Yoongi slips his fingers out of your pussy. You feel the fire in your core simmer until you’re left with a painfully throbbing clit and your juices smeared on your inner thighs. 

“Shhh, you know I always take care of you.” Yoongi shuts you up with a bite to your bottom lip. He leans down slightly to squeeze the backs of your thighs and hoist you up onto the counter. “Lean back.” 

The cold marble counter sends shivers across your body, but it can’t keep up with the heat of Yoongi’s mouth on your pussy. He kisses your lips so gently that you think you might actually cry before he pushes your thighs back, opening you up. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan as Yoongi goes straight for your clit, sucking on it as he swirls his tongue around it. You dig your hands into his hair and tug the strands hard enough to make him moan into your pussy. “Use your, use–” 

Yoongi laps at your clit in quick, consistent bursts that fall in line with the tempo he’s fucking you to with two fingers again. His free hand presses against your lower abdomen, keeping your body taunt so you don’t buck into his face or curl inward. It’s bad enough that you can’t stop your legs from shaking when one rests on his shoulder and the other drapes over the crook of his arm. 

It’s messy and loud, Yoongi licking and sucking your pussy like he really is trying to empty your mind of everything but the way the tip of his hot, wet tongue feels swirling your clit and the stretch of his fingers when he slips a third inside you and focuses on massaging the sensitive part of your walls. It’s working. He completely consumes your senses, down to how gorgeous he looks staring at you from between your thighs. 

Your Yoongi, fingerfucking you and sucking your clit like you’re his favorite meal. 

You try not to bang your head against the counter when you finally cum, instead focusing the overwhelming energy into pulling Yoongi’s hair to keep his face in your pussy.

He continues fucking you with his fingers through your orgasm, to the point that you can’t lie still any longer. 

“Yoongi, oh my god, Yoongi, it’s too much,” you whimper and gasp, thighs closing around his head until he finally eases his fingers out of you. 

Strings of your arousal connect his lips with your pussy until he swipes his tongue along his bottom lip, cutting them off. His bangs are pushed off his forehead and his hair sticks up from you pulling on it, but his eyes sparkle and his cheeks are just as rosy as his pink, slicked-up lips. 

“Shit,” Yoongi murmurs, leaning over you on the counter to kiss you. He shoves his tongue in your mouth and lets you suck your juices from it. 

You think you taste better on Yoongi’s tongue than on your ex’s. 

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here. 

@jooniesxbby @seokteoksworld @taegeum @dprmoon @chimmisbae

[sleevebuscemii]

.

[bitter-hibiscus]

what are some of your favorite robin jason headcanons

ARGH DONT GET ME STARTED---

Commissioner Gordon isn't allowed to smoke around Robin!Jason. He WILL make puppydog eyes the entire night to try and get commish to give him one

He's the only Robin who's allowed the aud in the Batmobile because he shares Bruce's music taste

Since his room in the manor is Dick's old one, he found Dick's old Flying Graysons poster and taped it above his bed. He uses it as motivation for Robin because if Dick can still be good despite the tragedy of the Graysons then he can too

Selina is his favorite "family" member because she took him to Wildcat's boxing ring the first time they went out together AND she's the only one in that buys him batburgers

He only cooks for himself, because cooking for Bruce makes him think of Catherine's last years :)

He has a huge scar from his lip to his left eye from where Willis' wedding ring caught on his skin once

His favorite book is The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

He spends his first two months in the manor sleeping in the closet instead of the bed

His shower in the Batcave has a bird print on the curtain (when he comes back as Red Hood, it's changed to a fox print)

Jason loves anything chocolate and hates anything strawberry EXCEPT for shortcake. Alfred makes brownies very often

Jason took a knife from the kitchen the day he moved into the manor and hid it under his pillow. Bruce knows but never asked him to give it back. Jason puts it back in the kitchen on the 3 month mark

Jason never has any money despite his allowance being hundreds of dollars because he just leaves them in his childhood friends (Max, Numbers, etc) bedrooms every time

Eddie comes over once every 2-ish months and the first time he's there and Dick comes over Dick is CONVINCED Bruce got another one. Jason runs with it and almost convinces Alfred that Eddie is his new brother

Jason has a winter version of the Robin uniform and the cape has 1) a hood and 2) fur lining. He has to replace it often because he gives it to homeless kids as a blanket more often than not. Bruce is glad to buy him new ones

If he goes to Crime Alley as a civilian, every single crook will ask him if he's "Willis' boy" because when he was still alive, Willis couldn't go more than 10 minutes without telling his coworkers about his little prince

Jason uses a leave-on conditioner for his curls that Dick recommended him. It smells like oranges, and becomes the scent that Bruce associates with him

His favorite piece of clothing is a dark red sweater with two yellow stripes that Clark sent to him for his birthday

Speaking of Clark, his Superman autograph is framed on the wall in his room

He makes friendship bracelets when he's bored!! Most of them he gives to children he rescues as Robin (it becomes Gotham Culture to compare how many Robin friendship bracelets you have. The record is 23). The ones he doesn't give to victims are usually given to Rena or Eddie (and, in one rare occasion, to Bruce. it says "Spooky." Bruce still wears it after Jason comes back)

Robin Jason looks like a doll. He has an up-tipped button nose and eyes three times the size they ought to be, big eyelashes and cupids bow lips. He looks like Sheila as Robin, and like Willis as Red Hood

He has a tattoo in the shape of a batarang on his shoulder because of Willis (which I've written about here)

Okay i just realized how long this is oh my god. I didn't even make a DENT on my Robin Jason headcanons. god help me

[f1version]

( 💙 ) PROMPTS — request a driver + prompt from the following lists ( + idea extra, optional ) and i will write a small fic about it…

lewis + "am i your favorite?" "i like your dog a bit more than you, i won't lie."

ROSCOE AND VIVI ★ LH44

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem! dog mom! driver! reader

summary: You and Lewis fall in love during your dogs playdates.

word count: 681

notes: this was very sweet to write, just pure fluff about two dog parents in love. (readers dog name is vivi)

Lewis has never been a stranger, your lives connected by racing since you were young. Your karting careers took off at the same time, growing in different categories so then you’ll be reunited in Formula 1 in 2009, sharing the track once again. He had been there every step of the way, every win, every loss.

Lewis has never been a stranger, but he wasn't what you would call a close friend. You shared childhood and thousands of intertwined memories, but all of it led to nothing more than the acknowledgment of the other's presence, he was just a colleague. 

Was.

Months ago, over the winter break, you and Lewis locked eyes in a park, he was walking Roscoe, and you were walking Vivi, your dog. You greeted the other and started talking, updating the other on your lives, those you had never got to meet properly. It felt so natural, sharing and laughing together. A friendship was born that afternoon and not just between you.

Now, during breaks, you usually hang out at each other's houses, always a play date for Roscoe and Vivi. You wish it was also a you-and-Lewis date.

Today is one of those days. It's summer, Roscoe and Vivi play while you watch from the sofa on the terrace, your legs resting on Lewis's lap, his hand on the top of them as you talk about everything and nothing at all.

Lewis is talking about his schedule for after summer break when Roscoe and Vivi catch your eye, they are snuggling, Vivi licks Roscoe’s face a bit. You smile.

“Darlin’, are you listening to me? Y/n?” Lewis calls and you turn to him, he’s frowning, but his eyes are stars.

"I think Roscoe is Vivi's favorite playdate," you tell him, looking at the dogs. "She doesn't like to snuggle that much."

“Oh man, are our dogs in love?” Lewis jokes. 

“Maybe” you laugh it off.

“The cherry on top would be us being in love,” He says and you swear the world stops because you are holding your breath “I’m sorry I don’t know why I said that, I do find you attractive- Like, man, you are so beautiful but if you don’t want-”

And here's the thing, you do want, you want so much. These months of hanging out with him have felt like the stars led you home, crossing the toughest of oceans. You like him, so much there’s an agonizing pressure resting on your chest while he rambles. He likes you back. 

“Lewis” 

“-And now this may be so uncomfortable for you because I’m sure you hate it when this type of thing happens. I know. But-”

“Lewis shut up!” You yell for him as your hands find his face, cupping it “You’re overthinking, just breathe and say what you feel like. I’m not uncomfortable, trust me”

His eyes change and he lights up. “Oh god, you-” You nod and his mouth opens in surprise, he seems startled for a couple of seconds “I'm so sorry, give me a second, I’m trying to organize my thoughts”

“No need to be sorry… and I can help you, I think” you answer and take a deep breath “I like you too, so much”

“That’s- I- Fuck it. Can I kiss you?” He says cupping your face, gaining confidence.

“Of course, idiot” 

And his lips meet yours. Everything changes, the universe and its stars watching two constellations unite, giving life to something new. Lewis doesn't let go of your face, you don't let go of his, afraid that this will fade away.

As you part, your temples connect, smiling as if you just won your world championships all over again. 

He speaks first.

"So Roscoe is Vivi's favorite, but... am I your favorite?" A laugh escapes your lips at his question, you want to stay here forever.

"I like your dog a bit more than you, I won't lie"

"You will regret that," he says.

"How so, Hamilton?"

"Tickle attack!" He screams as he gets on top of you, drowning in your laugh.

Lewis has never been a stranger, but right now he was a new unknown, and you couldn’t wait to learn everything about it.

[ilikemicrowaves]

I'm normal about Carnelian (I say as I read her wiki for the 7262763 time)

Anyways, I here's all my hcs off the top of my head that I have. I'll probably add more or make another post with. But any ways, there's A LOT so under the cut

• She calls Turtle, Tortise and Kinkajou monkey because she forgets their names or wants to be a brat

• Her and Winter talk shit 24/7, 365. Mostly about Qibli and some of the gold winglet.

• hates the other skywings except Flame she fw Flame and thinks hus scar is badass (he doesn't believe her, womp womp)

• The only dragon she doesn't name call is Winter, Moon, and Umber. Qibli gets called sand muncher or Kibble.

• after a while she call Moon moron out if affection.

• Hated Scarlet not just because she was awful but tried to execute her for being friends with Peril at one point

• Hunting (or rather killing) is her unhealthy coping mechanism

• Truly dislikes Kinkajou and can't stand her

• likes Bigtail

• HATES Webs. She would have killed Webs during the invasion if she knew

• Prefers the dark

• Really idolized Tsunami and thinks she's pretty cool

• keeps trying to convince Tsunami to add a combat class and mentions it frequently

• rain makes her mad

• allergic to pollen. Blud is not smelling the flowers during spring

• Trying to convince Clay to let her and Flame wear matching Spike collars (he's scared she's gonna use it to kill someone)

• temper issues

• bad memory from ptsd effects

• orphan (parents died lmao)

• Is scared of Onyx (wtf is there an adult here???)

• wants ppl to think she listens to heavy metal but really she likes depressing hypepop and speed core stuff

• speech problems, struggles pronouncing L and S. (S sound like "sh" and L sounds like "y"

• Steals a lot of ppls food when she's to lazy to kill smth (usually from Qibli or one of the skywings)

• hates being looked at

• always squinting her eyes and RBF

• hates her name

• gave herself a nickname that nobody uses (Carnage)

• would wear a lot of baggy clothes and denim (her and Flame are pretty similar when comes to clothes)

• Pretty selfish but she's learning to be slightly nicer (it's not progressing well)

• reluctant to tell people about her nonexistent parents

• what would beak her? An explosion (😀)

• human!Carnelian would have a perm that almost hangs over her eyes and lots of face piercings

• has a husky and hoarse voice.

• HATES the noise of ppl tapping their claws (she does not understand adhd dragons 💔)

• Even though she was in the camp that believed Scarlet was deceased, I think she more of hoped than believed

• She misses her battalion a lot (they miss her skill, but not her.)

• out of her 14 battles, one was the invasion to the summer palace. She killed atleast 20 seawings

• She has a few broken teeth

• Her breath smells like ass (doesn't like brushing her teeth because her broken teeth hurt.)

• Her favorite color is actually maroon

• I based her design slightly off of a Harris hawk

• her and Flame have matching copper bracelets they made in art class.

• has Moonwatcher help her with the homework and reads to her

• Wishes Peril would talk to her (Very self-conscious about it and thinks Peril hates her)

• says dipshit a lot

• She thinks she's badass (she's not in most aspects)

• She looks a few years older than she is because of her squinted eyes and muscular build

• Mad JMA wouldn't let her bring in her spear

• skips music class almost every day

• Would refuse to go to any school dances unless Flame or Moonwatcher would ask her to go. (Most the time it's Moonwatcher, Flame hates the dances too.)

• hates all of the seawings but Turtle (DONT TELL ANYONE!!)

• wants to knock out Pike but restrains herself for Flame. (She's a little jealous of there frenemy-ship)

• Umber/turtle/Carnelian trio!!!!

[goldenfigtree]

Operation: Pamper Condor One

Summary: It’s your one year anniversary and you decide to make it your mission to give Leon the treatment he deserves.

Pairing: Leon Kennedy (any Leon of your choice tbh) x Fem!Reader

Warning: toothrotting fluff

Note: yeah I know, I know it’s spooky season but I’m a lover for the aesthetic of Valentine’s Day and thought it’d make this Drabble even more romantic. Sue me! Either way I hope you enjoy! This one is one of my longer ones.

February 14th was a day you despised with every fiber of your being. The hearts, roses, and the sickly shades of red and pink never swooned you. Any mention of the holiday earned a gag and an eye roll from you in return. Mainly because it reminded you how single you were, but you never said that aloud. Instead you went with the more indirect reasonings when questioned,

“Valentine’s day is just another unnecessary commercial exploitation” was your favorite one to use. But deep down, you envied those who got to celebrate having a significant other, wishing you could join in all of the fun. That is, until Leon Kennedy came along. Being the cliche and cheesy guy that he is deep down, he decided it’d be romantic to ask you to be his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day at your doorstep with an oversized bouquet of roses. One year later and your perception of this romantic holiday had completely been redefined. That’s what love does to you, you guess.

And now here you were, a week before Valentine’s day secretly planning the most romantic evening you have ever planned in your life. To be fair, it was the first romantic evening you ever planned, making it the most romantic thus far. It being the first romantic date you had planned made you all the more excited and anxious to make sure everything was absolutely perfect. Not one candle or balloon was out of place. Despite all the chatter from your friends, saying that it should be the boyfriend planning these sort of dates on this holiday, you didn’t care how you may look putting this together. More important matters were at hand, specifically Leon not really being the same since his last mission.

You remembered clearly how exhausted he looked when you picked him up from the airport, how he practically fell into your arms, how permanent his frown has been since then. You hated seeing him like that. You wish you could take his pain and exhaustion away, but you couldn’t, and that you hated more. So, in hopes to lift his spirits, you thought of Valentine’s day being the perfect opportunity to give him the treatment he deserves, especially on a day that the both of you held dear to your hearts. Screw the tradition, the expectations, all you cared about was getting your Leon back. The Leon who was serious to some but especially giddy and happy with you. The Leon who always had a twinkle in his eye when explaining something he was passionate about. You were getting him back if it was the last thing you did.

The week flew out the window with the fiercely cold winds of winter, and the time had finally come to execute Operation: Pamper Condor One. Wearing a lipstick red chain knit sweater and a pair of jeans, you pull your hair up into a bun at the top of your head and wrap it with a white scrunchy with tiny hearts. Looking in the mirror you didn’t expect to come to this point in your life. You didn’t think you’d ever enjoy today like this, much less with someone who made life worth perceiving at a different, more positive angle. But, you weren’t complaining, you liked this new you and you sincerely hoped that you could bring the old Leon back tonight.

Looking around your apartment with brows furrowed, you murmured your checklist to yourself to ensure everything was in place. It was safe to say that you went all out with this one. Heart shaped pillows replaced your usual everyday pillows on the couch, candles were lit everywhere in the house to the point where it was almost a safety hazard, and most importantly, rose petals scattered on the sheets of your bed. Nibbling on your thumbnail, your mind spirals in a panic as you wait for him to arrive.

Is this too much? Will he hate it?

You thought to yourself looking around the apartment from your couch, your legs crossed and your one heart patterned sock covered foot bouncing anxiously. So deep in thought, you jump at the sound of Leon’s familiar knock, one he came up with so you knew it was him at your door. Standing up so fast, you begin to almost see stars as you clumsily make your way to your front door and swing it open.

“Hey beautiful” Leon greets, his voice soft, sentimental, yet so very exhausted. With an oversized bouquet of your favorite type of flower in his arms, he has to tilt his head to the side to look at you.

“Awe you shouldn’t have!” you gush happily as you tug his arms toward you to lead him inside.

“You didn’t think I’d forget our one year did you?” He grunts as he places the bouquet down on your kitchen counter.

“Never” You reply with a giggle as you watched him lean back to stretch his back,

“Jesus, those are heavy” He groans to himself, “you also have something coming in later tonight”

You couldn’t help but snicker at his obliviousness towards his surroundings, as he continued to speak,

“I also got us a reservation at your favorite restaurant, we’re supposed to be there in… wait what’s all this?” he asks softly, turning around and taking notice of the romantic ambience of your apartment.

“I’d cancel that reservation if I were you, because we’re not going” you say leaning against the kitchen counter, crossing your arms,

“We aren’t?” He asks cautiously, turning back to you. You smile smugly and shake your head,

“Nope, tonight we’re going to be focusing on you” turning him to face you and wrapping your arms around his neck, you place a soft peck on his lips as his eyes turn up in thought,

“Me?” He murmurs against your lips, earning an agreeing hum from you in return,

“Go sit at the dining table, I’ll be there in a minute okay?” still a bit unsure of how this evening was going to turn out, he eventually nods and makes his way to your circle dining table. Noticing a wrapped box leaning against his chair, wondering what it could be.

Not long after, you walk out with a pizza box in your hand, Leon’s eyes immediately light up noticing the emblem on the top lid,

“Is that–”

“Your favorite? Of course” you triumphantly respond, placing the box on the table and opening the lid. The savory aroma of melted cheese and pepperoni filled the air which filled Leon’s eyes with excitement. Something you hadn’t seen in a while, seeing it now made your heart soar. So far, your plan was going swimmingly. Serving him a slice, you place a kiss on his forehead and sit across from him. While taking a bite of his pizza, he looks around at all your hard work and attention to detail in awe,

“Babe, you did all of this…for me?” You look up from your plate and reach out to take his hand with a loving smile,

“Well, you’re always taking care of me, I thought maybe I could do it for a change” You explain, a bashful grin growing on your lips as you squeeze his hand. His eyebrows furrow as his mouth falls slightly, something told him it was because of how he’d been acting since he came home. Guilt washed over him, he thought he had hid it so well. But this extravagant gesture showed him the opposite of what he thought was reality. You had often asked him what happened and if he was feeling okay and in return, he just shrugged it off. Telling you not to worry about him, that he could take care of himself. Little did he know how much that isolated the both of you back then. But he saw it now,

“Baby, I’m sorry for being so off lately and shutting you out. I thought I was protecting you but I think I did the opposite” your eyes softened at his words as you stood from your chair. Kneeling down you take him in your arms and kiss his forehead,

“I know” your breath brushed against his skin, causing his shoulders to drop slightly, “You were trying to tough it out right?”

With a soft exhale through his nose, he nods his head slightly, “You know you don’t have to carry this weight on your own right? That’s what I’m here for” you continue brushing some his hair away from his face,

“I guess, I don’t exactly know how to do that” resting your forehead against his own, you rest your hands behind his neck, the pads of your fingers making his eyes flutter slightly in bliss,

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it easier for you, starting tonight”

A small smile grows on his face, your soft voice always being music to his ears, and knowing you cared this much, to do all this for him. Since you two had intertwined your lives, you continued to show him what he had been missing. What he yearned without knowing. Nodding his head, he leans in to press his lips to yours. His hands gently lifted you closer to him and before you knew it, you were sitting on his lap, legs dangling over his right thigh as your lips failed to pull away. Every kiss rebukes all anxieties and fears from both of your minds. After one last peck, his lashes flutter down as he notices the wrapped present against his chair again. You notice and with a chuckle you reach down and place it on the table,

“Happy One Year my love” you coo nuzzling your head against the side of his. You wished you could take a photo of the look on his face as he eyed the carefully wrapped box. He looked like a little boy on Christmas Day,

“go on, open it” you urge. With a quiet laugh he makes the first tear of the paper and then another tear. With your legs swinging, you watch him open the box and pull out a T-Shirt and read the words. His smile widens as he reads it and out comes a laugh you missed so dearly, like a dream that flees from you the moment you awake.

“My Girlfriend Is Hotter Than You” he reads it aloud and places a smooch on your cheek, “that she is, that she is”

“That’s not all” you say with a smirk, earning an eyebrow raise from him,

“Is there something else in the box?”

“Nope” your hands leave his neck and reach the hem of your sweater, beginning to lift it from your body. A motion, you noticed, made Leon’s cheeks redden. You lift it over your head and drop it to the floor to reveal your matching t-shirt,

“My Boyfriend Is Hotter Than You” in bold black letters matching him. He practically gasps and tightens his arms around you peppering kisses along your neck, making you giggle from his excitement,

“And you said you hated these type of shirts” he points out smugly,

“What can I say? You’re a bad influence on me” you retort back, standing up from his lap and extending your hand,

“C’mon the night isn’t over” Leon’s ears redden from your words, as he takes your hand and lets you lead him into the bedroom. Sitting him on the bed, you grab his shirt and lift it from the bottom, with a shy yet excited twinkle in his eyes, he lets you. Placing it neatly on your dresser, you sit behind him on the bed,

“What are you doing?” Leon asks with a look of intrigue on his face,

“Giving you a massage, duh” you tease,

“Oh, I thought we were gonna…” he clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck with a sheepish chuckle, “right” he adds, sounding a tad disappointed. Pressing a kiss on the back of his neck, sending shivers down the man’s spine, you ruffle his hair and whisper in his ear,

“Maybe later” you almost saw his ears perk up from your words as your hands stroked along the scars littering his back. You remembered the first time you saw those scars. Wanting to kiss every single one of them away, knowing how much of a burden they casted on your lovely boyfriend. Resting your hands on his shoulders, your thumbs knead the area beneath, feeling the pent up tension,

“Does this hurt?” You ask with uncertainty,

“No, feels good” he murmurs, his eyes gently closed. With a sigh of relief you begin to rub down and knead every area of his back. Sighs and grunts escape his lips as he feels his body tense and relax from your touch. You smiled softly, glad to see him receiving the attention and care he deserved. You couldn’t imagine how tense he must have felt using his body so brutally to survive and play hero. You could feel the exhaustion, pain, and stress leave with every manipulation of muscle, “I love you” he murmurs again, his eyes half lidded and a dreamy smile on his lips.

“I love you, too” you softly respond, hugging him from behind, “how do you feel now?”

“Amazing” he mutters under his breath, “Thank you”

You can’t help but gush at his words, always so sweet, so polite. Getting up from the bed you run to the bathroom and take one of your clay masks and place it on your dresser,

“You’re really spoiling me here” he comments bashfully as you also come back with the leftover pizza in the pizza box, his gift and turn on the tv.

You chuckle and begin opening the clay mask and walk over to him. He widens his eyes and holds his hands up, “Wait, lemme do something first” he says, causing you to lift your brows curiously. Grabbing the t-shirt you gifted him, he slips it on and admires the letters spreading across his chest, “Okay now you can continue”

“So you like the shirt huh?” You tease smearing the teal paste onto his forehead,

“I thought I made it obvious” he retorts back sassily, closing his eyes. You roll your eyes and continue smearing the mask on his face,

“There all done, now just relax” you reassure, pressing him farther onto the bed,

“Wait, you’re not wearing a mask” he points out taking the paste from you, “c’mere”

“Leon, this is about you remember” you protest,

“Last I checked, it’s our one year anniversary, not mine. Now come here, I’m not doing this alone” he adds the last part sternly, making you sigh in defeat and scoot over to him so he can apply the paste onto your face. You can’t help but smile as you watch him carefully apply the paste on your face as neatly as possible. After he finishes, he kisses your lips earning a sound in protest,

“Babe, you’re going to make the mask crack” you say sheepishly,

“Tuff” he remarks, hovering his body over yours to kiss you more deeply.

The doorbell rings making Leon pull away, his eyes filled with excitement,

“It’s here” he whispers to himself, hopping off the bed and making his way to the door. Coming back he holds a gigantic teddy bear, the exact one you were eyeing while the two of you were running errands together,

“You didn’t!” You gasp,

“I did” effortlessly, lifting the teddy bear that was half the size of him, he places it next to you, “like it?”

“I love it! Thank you” you gush hugging the bear tightly.

“Alright alright, I’m right here you don’t need to cuddle it now” he adds, a tinge of jealousy in his tone, pushing the bear aside and collapsing onto you earning an,

“Oof” from you as you wrapped your arms around him,

“I think I’m ready to talk about it all now” he says as he lays his head against your chest, looking up at you with puppy eyes. You feel all your worries of this plan being a disaster fall away from his words,

“Well go on, I’m listening” with a long, tired sigh he begins to explain everything. The horrors, the betrayals, the losses he endured to make it home. You kept quiet and let him talk about it. Your hands massaging his scalp to comfort him. Once he was done, he lifted himself up from you to look into your eyes,

“I really am sorry for shutting you out. I was just.. afraid of burdening you”

“What you go through, I want to go through it with you. I wish you understood that, that’s what I mean when I say I love you”

“I understand that now.” He begins to say, “we’re a team right?”

“Exactly, you’re so smart” your compliment causes him to blush and smile,

“What was it you said about doing something later?” He says endearingly,

“I said maybe”

“Is it more of a yes than a no kind of maybe or…” he responds suggestively, pressing himself against you making you blush slightly, “Because I think I owe you something in return for all of this, princess”

“If it frees your conscience, sure” wrapping your arms around his neck you lean forward and share a kiss with your lover. Feeling his smile curve against your own, it was safe to say Operation: Pamper Condor One was a success.

[aryxchse]

okay but this has consuming my mind lately… Percy Jackson x daughter of Persephone?

red rose is for i love you! / percy jackson x daughter of persephone! reader.

a / n : my lovely daughters of persephone, rise up!!

warnings : cursing duh

- it all started with a dare

- and percy jackson is a dare king okay

- leo, who got his ass kicked by you, told that if percy would pick up a rose for him on the secret garden in the forest, he would do anything percy asked

- and percy, who loves challenges, said yes

- it's like beauty and best lmao

- so when he entered your garden to pick up your most precious, pretty, perfect rose, he got smacked by a vine

- "what do you think you're doing?" you asked, on top of some oak tree, making a flower crown for yourself

- percy froozed

- "i uh, i was picking up a rose?"

- yeah, way to save yourself boy, good job

- you effortlessly get down from the oak tree, giving percy death stare

- "move along before i hurt you, jackson."

- "yes ma'am."

- yeah he literally said that

- and left the rose

- this was the first time percy jackson backed down from a dare

- but he didn't backed down from you

- he had a new target now

- the pretties flower in the garden

- you

- okay that was cheesy wtf moving on

- next day, he had a clipboard

- "jackson."

- "hello pretty girl on top of the tree."

- you suspiciously got down again

- "why are you here?"

- "first of all, ouch. second of all, i'm here for good reasons!"

- he told you that he had to write essay about flowers and their meanings for his homework

- good lie buddy

- so you shrugged and helped him, having a chance to yap about your flowers

- and he visited you like this for a month

- "how long is this essay, really?"

- "good work comes with great hardworking.. skills.."

- "what are you even saying-"

- you tried to pay no mind, but you both were getting closer each day

- his evil plan working perfectly

- kidding he isnt evil hes just in love

- and he learned the flower meanings just for you

- he got the chance to learn your favorite flower too

- he hated winter

- because you went underworld to visit your mother

- my boy legit thought getting himself killed by a monster to enter underworld

- but the little reasonable side of him stopped

- because you would be sad then

- and he had school anyways, so he was going to see you on summers anyway

- hes just sad that his date plan got cancelled

- moving on

- it was the last day for his fake essay to finish, and you were kinda sad

- because percy was a fun guy, even though nico was a huge hater

- "percy? really?"

- "boy shut up at least i have a chance with him"

- ouch okay

- "okay so, did we really leave magnolia to last? wow what a shame of us, okay so the magnolia means-"

- "i love you"

- "no that's not-"

- "im talking about you. i love you"

- okay this was a bit sudden

- not saying he wasnt late already but

- like this was sudden

- moving on to you both dating

- your favorite flowers on your door in each special occasion

- but it's usually comes with the roots, with the help of demeter kids

- because he knows how much you hate when someone picks up flowers and just kills them

- you took him to the underworld

- no one was happy tbh but you were so no one didn't said anything

- the garden dates happens often because you usually need help

- and hes your wonderful slave boyfriend so

- kidding (no im not)

- long story short, you guys are the cutest okay??? the best couple fr fr

- and he definetly dreams about opening you your own garden in the mortal world once you both get old

- like you know, selling flowers with their meanings and stuff

- the dangerous flower girl with her slave fr

[bjornswoman]

Nemesis's wish

Author's note: Hello everyone! I'm back with this fic which is my favorite so far. It was supposed to be shorter but eventually it couldn't, so this isn't the end about these two characters. This fic is the first of a trilogy (hopefully). Anyway, thank you for your support and till next time stay safe and have fun.

Pairing: Ubbe x Reader.

Genre: Mini!series, drama, angst, slight romance.

Summary: You were forced to marry a man you despise.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating and pregnancy, mentions of divorce, jealousy and strong language.

My enemy and me masterlist |

Life had always been a challenge for you. And your wedding couldn't be any different. The worst part of it was that your husband, the man you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with, was horrible and you hated him.

Well, horrible wasn't a word people would use to describe Ubbe Ragnarsson. They preferred to call him loyal, reasonable, honorable and names like these, but for you he was horrible. A man you were forced to waste your life on his bloody side.

Your relationship was almost non-existent. Ubbe tried to have a deal with you or even approach you somehow but you wanted nothing with him. So he was never around the house.

You knew that he had affairs with other women, something that he had never admitted. It worked for you until you were with child. His child. It was a miracle that it happened. You almost couldn't believe it but it was the truth. After all, people were talking about you two and this child came to end the rumors around your marriage.

You hated Ubbe but you loved more than anything and anyone in the world your son. He was blonde and his eyes had the same blue as his father's. He resembled him a lot but you didn't care. Your baby was so peaceful, unlike his father and his brothers who were always too loud.

Thankfully for you, most of the year he was not around the town, because he was raiding in the spring and was back in the winter. The unlucky part was that winter was approaching and that meant that Ubbe would be back within some days.

It was like your son had notice your moody self all these days and he was upset as well. He would cry all time and he wouldn't sleep easily, like usual.

Your hands were wrapped around the toddler and you brought him on your lap trying to calm him down.

"Come on baby. Relax please. Just do it for mummy please." You muttered to your son as you tried to calm him down. You stood up from the bed, walking through the room holding the baby on your hands.

You didn't understand that somebody was watching as you were whispering to your son his lullaby. The one you sang every night. The one which could only calm him down, but lately even this specific one couldn't work on him.

"Here, give him to me. He will be delighted when he will see me." Said the guy coming out of the shadows, scaring you so much that you clenched the poor baby on your breasts. You turned your face and saw the person you didn't want to see at all.

Ubbe was standing next to you waiting to have his son. You wouldn't let him lay a hand on him, but you did when you saw the little boy smiling at the sight of his father.

"I thought you wouldn't be back until next week. You came quite early." You were saying as you were placing the boy on his hands. When the baby was on his hands, you took some steps away and placed your hands in front of your chest.

Ubbe's blue eyes were on his son smiling and playing with him. When you finished talking, his eyes left the baby who was almost sleeping on the hands of his father and turned to you. Eyes as blue as you had never seen them before, as beautiful as never before. Or you had never noticed them like that before.

A smirk formed on his face before he started his own words.

"Much to your displeasure, we managed to raid the Christian cities in less time and we decided to come back before the first snowflakes fall." He replied to you and left the sleepy baby on its crandle. The direction of his face returned to you and he placed his hands before his chest, as you did before. You were looking at each other for some seconds without talking, but Ubbe was the one to break the silence. "I didn't think that you would be here when I'd be back home. I was expecting you to take the boy and disappear." His voice was softer than before. Probably because the little boy was sleeping peacefully inside the crandle.

You chuckled when you heard him talking. You were asking that same thing to yourself. You could do that. After all, you were thinking about that all of the months of your pregnancy. You even tried to scheme, but you ended up doing nothing.

To be fair, life wasn't that bad next to Ubbe. At least lately it was quite better and after seeing him back safe and healthy you felt happier and quite more relieved than before. You couldn't find the reason behind all this. The only thing you knew for sure was that you felt strange.

"I thought the same thing, but it wasn't easy to run away when your mother had her guards watching me like hawks." You replied smiling and he smiled as well for a moment. Then, his eyes went darker. The darker shade of blue that you had ever seen in your life.

"I'd never let you go anywhere with my son. You could run away, go wherever, but little Ragnar stays here with me." His words were harsher than any other time before. You felt yourself getting confused. Ubbe had never talked this way to you before this night. He would leave this house and wouldn't talk to you. When he did talk to you he was kind most of the times. He moved closer to you and one his hands made it on your chin.

You moved away from his grip on your face and looked at him all mad. For one moment you thought that you could feel something else than hate and anger for him and he had to destroy these feelings.

"Command your men, not me. And don't be so sure that you will find your son here tomorrow when you would come back from your whores." Your words came out of your mouth like they were drops of poison. You could see his face transforming again. He went mad. If eyes killed, you would be dead by now. If Ubbe was another man, you would be dead by now.

His hands grabbed your neck and he pushed your body on the wall behind you using his own one. You were trapped between him and the wall with his hand around your throat. He could kill you if he wanted to. You were right there at his mercy looking at him angry like before. Looking at him like you weren't afraid of what he could do to you.

"I could kill you for that and nobody would guess it was me." Ubbe whispered to you. His angry eyes were burning your face. You didn't hold back. Your eyes were looking straight at his eyes.

"Go on then." Your voice came out as a whisper due to the pressure on your troat causing by his larger hand.

"Don't test my patience, woman." With that last whisper right above your left ear, Ubbe set you free from his strong grip and walk to your shared bed. He laid on it.

"My name is (Y/N)." You were saying within pauses as you were trying to catch your breath.

"I can recall your name."

"Then use it when you are referring to me!" You raised your voice this time, forgetting about the toddler sleeping next to the bed.

Your son's crying came right after your yelling. You rushed to him and grabbed him from the crandle before Ubbe could touch him.

"You hate me so much that you didn't even care for our son." He said as he sat on the edge of the bed, watching you holding and trying to calm down the crying baby.

"That's not true!" You whisper–yelled looking straight at Ubbe. "This boy is the best thing that has happened in my life since the fucking day I was forced to fucking marry you!" Tears were dropping from your eyes without your notice. "You claim that I hate you, yes I do hate you, but not more than you hate me! You are horrible to me! The mighty Ubbe Ragnarsson who is fair and reasonable to everyone else treats his wife horrible! I get it that you loved that slave girl and you wanted her, but it insults me." You said and wiped away the tears from your face. After that, you held the baby closer to your body and you caressed his hair and then his back. "Go. Find her like any other night. Hopefully, she might be with child and your mother will free us both." You spoke calmer than before and after this you turned to your baby. His teary eyes were looking at yours. "I'm here, my little warrior." You spoke softly at him and started singing only for him.

Ubbe didn't say a word back at you as you were trying to calm the kid so it could sleep. The only thing he did, was to leave from the house and slam the door behind him. When he left, you let the tears stream down from your face.

That night Ubbe didn't come back home, but it wasn't unusual for him. He wouldn't spend the nights at home when he was back. Probably he was drinking with his brothers at the Great Hall and then he was beding that Margrethe girl.

You didn't sleep more than two hours and not because Ubbe wasn't there, but because of your boy's crying. He would wake up every two hours due to fever.

The day was downing when you heard knocks on your door. You opened just to find Hvitserk holding your drunk husband. You moved your head unimpressed and opened your door fully so Hvitserk could move Ubbe on the bed. Little Ragnar was on your hands crying the whole time.

"Is - Is everything alright?" Hvitserk asked quite uncomfortably and brought his hand at the back of his neck.

"No, but it is going to be." You replied at him, caressing the head of your calm now baby who was sleeping. You tried to force a small smile on your face, but you failed as it was expected.

"Why is my nephew so upset today?" Hvitserk was speaking as his hand was caressing your son's blonde head.

"Your nephew has some fever and he is more cranky than usual." You said to your brother-in-law and your lips met your son's forehead. When you felt his decreased temperature you smiled. "But, he is quite colder than before so that's a good sign." You said again and left the boy in the crandle. After that you moved to your kitchen to offer some of your newly baked bread to Hvitserk. He admired your skills in cooking and you appreciated that. "I baked this some time ago. The little monster wouldn't let me sleep." You said when you offered him some of your handmade bread.

"He always calms down when his father is around and don't try to deny it." He pointed out with his mouth full of bread.

You gazed at Ubbe, then at the toddler and at Ubbe again. It was true. Little Ragnar adored his father, it was obvious. Ubbe had a unique ability to charm him, as everyone else. Those son of Ragnar Lothbrok had this ability in their blood.

"I was - I was not going to deny it. I admit that my son adores his father. Everyone adores him." You turned to Hvitserk.

"Everyone except from you."

"What?"

His words caught you off guard. It felt strange when you heard these words coming out of the mouth of a third person. Not so due to the sound of them, but because after the birth of your child people assumed that your relationship with your husband was better. The relationship that a husband would have with his wife. They believed that you grew to love each other and you let them believe so. You wanted them to believe that. You acted like a loving couple in front of others and you even agreed that neither his family should know the real. They seemed relieved and convinced that you finally loved each other.

Hvitserk's eyes landed on your face. You were upset, he could tell by the look of your eyes. He left the empy plate in front of him and concentrated on you.

"Don't act like the loving wife you pretend to be to me. I know better (Y/N). My brother isn't a good liar or pretender. Plus, he spoke a lot last night. Luckily, it was just me there to hear." Hvitserk spoke to you and your eyes met the darkness that covered Ubbe's figure laying on the bed. Before you could even form a word to defend yourself, Hvitserk spoke again. "He was talking about little Ragnar all the time when we were back on the battlefield, you know. He even talked for you a couple of times. It slipped from his lips that he thought that you prayed to Gods for him to die there and I acted like I didn't hear that." He confessed whispering and you felt a tear threatening your left eye. You fought that tear back, you wouldn't let yourself cry in front of Hvitserk. You had cried in front of Ubbe before, but only in front of him because for a strange reason it felt really hard to keep them in.

As for Ubbe's beliefs about your false prayers. Even if you hated him, you would never pray such a thing for the father of your child.

"I - I never - I didn't—" You stopped for a moment to catch your running breath. You closed your eyes for a second and then you re-opened them and looked right at Hvitserk. "I would never pray such a thing. Ubbe and I are whatever we are, but he is still the father of my baby. This boy right there needs his father and whatever bullshit I have told him and he went mad tonight, I wouldn't leave, not after I gave birth to Ragnar. To be honest if it wasn't for him, probably I wouldn't be here right now, but I don't thing that this matters after all." You said honestly.

Hvitserk run his fingers through his messy hair and stretched. After that he took a deep breath.

"If you wanted to leave (Y/N), you would be gone by now. You had your chances before Ragnar but you never did." He spoke and you frowned. You had never thought things that way. But Hvitserk's words were truth.

It had always been a threat that you wouldn't be there when Ubbe would be back home after the raid, but you had never actually done that. You waited for him even when you didn't want him to come home just yet. You caught yourself bringing him up on your prayers just to make sure that Gods would keep him safe, but away for a little longer.

You didn't know what you should have answered him. On the other hand, he didn't need an answer. Hvitserk, as a third person and outside of all this madness, he knew the reason behind both of your behaviors, Ubbe's and yours.

Hvitserk smiled at you and stood up from tbe wooden chair he was sitting. Before he lay his foot outside your house, Hvitserk turned to you.

"It's not a crime to admit that you care for him. Even if you don't want to see it yourself, you have feelings for Ubbe that are not just hatred and anger. You don't need to argue or convince me differently, not me." Hvitserk spoke after his gaze had landed on his brother just to make sure that he wouldn't hear his words. He didn't wait for an answer of yours, he walked through the way that led to the door, but first he looked back at you again. "My advice is only one and hear me for once. I know I am not the wisest person on Midgard, not even close to that, but you have to believe in me just for this once. Don't do anything stupid and let Ubbe go away. You are reaching the end of the line. Both of you are on the edge. You will regret letting him go. Try to think what you want and if you realize that you feel something other than hatred, change. That's my advice to you sweet (Y/N)." Those were Hvitserk's last words. After them he stormed out of the house and left you sinking in your thoughts.

They couldn't be truth, Hvitserk's words. This would be madness. You hated Ubbe and that was it. You were waiting the moment when this marriage would be over. You were living for this same moment. Hvitserk's words confused and made you reconsider everything you thought you felt before this moment.

You couldn't like this guy even a little bit. That couldn't happen. Never. The only good feelings which were trying to form were due to the fact that Ubbe was the father of your son — the only happiness you got from your marriage to your husband was this child. Your miracle baby.

You gazed over to your son and after to his father. You shook your head to avoid your endless thoughts.

You hated Ubbe and wanted to divorce him that was the situation. It wouldn't change. It couldn't change. You waited a very long time to be free from this man, so you wouldn't change your mind just like that, because Hvitserk tried to push some feelings that you didn't even have for his brother.

You stood from your seat and grabbed your basket. You had to clear your mind from all the thinking and going to the market seemed a good solution. Before you leave, you checked oj your sleeping baby and glanced at Ubbe just once.

When you made it out of the door and walked through the streets of Kattegat, people were looking at you suspiciously and you even cought a couple of them whospering to each other as you passed them. At first, you thought that it was a usual day and all this was normal, because you were Ubbe Ragnarsson's wife or something like that. You started to get suspicious when it didn't stop and their stares were persistent on you.

You tried to find a familiar face to ask about the situation, but you weren't that lucky.

After you bought some things you needed you headed back home, where you found Ubbe playing with little Ragnar.

Them playing together — more like Ubbe tickling Ragnar and Ragnar laughing — wasn't a picture you got to see every day. You felt a strange feeling in your heart. It was like a bird flying inside your chest though it didn't last long, because Ubbe's voice made you feel like your usual self towards him.

"Where have you been?" The tone of his voice was imposing and demanding, like he was questioning you. When you heard him you felt quite angry, but you didn't want to cause one more scene in front of your son.

You moved a little bit from the door and left your basket on the table.

"I have been in the market." You spoke as you left your cloak on one of the wooden chairs. As you were speaking, your hands were organizing your kitchen and the stuff you had bought.

When Ubbe heard your answer clicked his tongue inside his mouth, a sound that annoyed you very much.

"What a stupid excuse to leave your child all alone." He said bitterly. Something which made you to turn and look at him. Ubbe had placed your son back inside his crib and was at the other side of the table whick was standing as an obstacle between you and him.

Ubbe was leaned on the wall and his hands were crossed in front of his chest.

You took a deep breath and tried to remain calm for once more because of your child. It wasn't good for your son growing up in an environment where his parents were fighting all the time.

"I didn't leave him all alone, I left him with his father." You responded and leaned your body on the cupboards and placed your hands in front of your chest, like he did before.

"I was fucking sleeping and he was alone! Alone (Y/N)! Anything could have happened to him!" Ubbe yelled as he came even closer and stood inches away from the table.

You closed your eyes and tried to keep your patience.

"I am telling you he wasn't alone, he was with you. You would hear him crying if anything happened." You reasoned angry in low tone of voice, but Ubbe wasn't a bit pleased by your answer. In fact, he was even more angry.

The crying of your baby stopped Ubbe from saying whatever he was going to. You passed from him and grabbed your son from his bed, trying to calm him down.

Your lips placed on his forehead to check on his body temperature and when you knew that he was hot you placed a kiss on his forehead.

"He has fever." You muttered to Ubbe without looking at him.

"What?" His voice sounded different from before when he was talking to you. He sounded surprised and scared.

Undoubtedly, Ubbe loved his son and was an excellent father for him. This child was all he dreamed about. Ragnar just had the wrong mother.

"How long?" He asked again and this time he was close to you caressing the back of your boy.

It was the first time he was this close to you and you two weren't forced to pretend that you wanted it. This time both of you were anxious about your son's health.

"Since last night." You answered him and finally looked at his worried blue eyes. It wasn't the first time you noticed how lovely they were, but it felt like it was. Ubbe was looking back at you, the exact way you looked at him. "Here, hold him for a while." You told him and placed the boy on his hands.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll fetch some water and a wet cloth. They will help."

Within a minute you were both sitting on your shared bed. Ubbe was holding the kid and you were holding the wet piece of cloth on your son's forehead.

"He seems quite better now" Ubbe pointed out and you agreed, taking the cloth away from your baby's sleeping form.

After that, both of you stood from the bed and Ubbe placed your son back inside his crib and both you stayed there looking at the baby for some time.

It felt strange and weird being that close to him and not fighting. When you stopped looking at the baby, you went back to your kitched and he sat on a chair looking around uncomfortable.

Both of you felt uncomfortable and weird around each other for not reason. It wasn't like you didn't know each other, but you felt like strangers to each other indeed. Like you weren't the ones who were fighting some time ago.

"(Y/N)." Ubbe was the first to break the silence between the two of you and you turned to face him.

"Yes, Ubbe." You muttered.

"I—"

He didn't even get to form a proper word when loud knocks on the door startled both of you. You walked pass the table and opened the door. When you did, you met a very worried version of Hvitserk Ragnarsson. You hadn't seen his this way ever again before.

"Brother, I want to talk to you about something." Hvitserk spoke quickly, without greeting you. Ubbe's expression changed when he saw the one his brother had on his face and you were curious yourself, but you didn't ask anything. "Privately." Hvitserk added and glanced at you.

Ubbe stood up from the chair he was sitting and walked to the door.

"If anything happens with the child, go to the Great Hall." Ubbe told you.

"I know." You whispered before he close the door behind him.

It wasn't the first time he left like that. Actually, those times were countless and you felt nothing about it, you didn't really matter where Ubbe was, until this moment. You could feel the agony inside your chest. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your hands were sweating. You had a bad feeling. Or you were just sick. Maybe you had caught the cold from your baby.

That must have been. It was the only reasonable reason about your feelings.

Fortunately, a soft knock on your door stopped your thoughts and you rushed to open. When you opened, you noticed Torvi's worried look on you and frowned.

"Come in." You were the faster one to start talking, as you opened the door wider for her to come in the house. When she was inside, you closed the door behind her.

"I heard that a certain someone is sick and came to help you. I know how it is to have a sick boy. Hali would get sick almost every winter until he was three." She spoke and you smiled warmly.

"He is getting better now. I hope he will be fine in a couple of days." You said smiling, watching your little boy sleeping. But your smile died when you looked at Torvi again.

She had the same worried expression as when she stood outside your house.

"Is everything alright?" You asked as you moved to your kitchen to prepare some tea for the both of you.

"Well, I didn't come only for Ragnar here, I came to see you, too. You are barely around lately." Torvi's voice was softer than usual, but you didn't want to think too much about it. You were just upset because Ragnar was sick that was all. There was nothing suspicious.

But, on the other hand, too many of coincidences were standing in your way in one day. If you knew one thing, it would be that you didn't believe in coincidences.

"Yes, I know, but Ragnar was sick and you know how I am when is time for my husband to come back from raiding." You spoke and placed a cup of hot tea in the table.

When you looked at Torvi, she was still standing. You motioned her to sit opposite of you and she did it.

You didn't speak much of Ubbe, or the state of your marriage, but Torvi knew. Every member of his family knew the truth about you. They just didn't speak about it. Even Ivar, the brother who was known for his poisonous words, didn't say anything ever, at least not when you were around, and you appreciated that.

Torvi didn't answer you. She was just staring the table speechless which was suspicious. It felt like she knew something and she came to you to tell you, but for some reason which you didn't know she was saying it.

"Torvi." You said her name and leaned closer to her, placing your hand closer to hers. Her eyes met yours and at that moment you knew for sure that something was up. "I can sense that something is wrong, tell me what it is." You spoke again and she her eyes left you for once again. "Torvi, tell me." Your tone was firmer.

You saw her tensing and closing her eyes, then opening them again. Torvi took her hand away from yours and you felt even more confused.

"Alright." She wasn't looking at you when she was speaking. Something that felt even worse. "There is something that I assume that you are not aware of and I think that is unfair for you not to know it. Probably, I am not the one to tell you that and maybe it's a mistake the fact that I am here now, but I consider you my sister and I couldn't keep it away from you." She paused for some seconds and before she started speaking her eyes reached yours. "Margrethe, you know Margrethe, right?" She asked you and you felt you mouth turning bitter at the sound of her name.

Of course you knew her. She was the mistress of your husband. The woman – the thrall girl – he loved and wanted to marry and dreamed about being with her, having the family he always wanted with her, but instead Ubbe stuck with you – the woman he despised the most.

"Are you kidding me, right now?" Your voice was more ironic than you wanted or intended it to be, but when it came to that woman you couldn't keep yourself together.

"I assume you do, considering your answer. Anyways, Margrethe is pregnant." She spilled and you felt your blood turning cold inside your veins.

For a couple minutes nothing was sounding. You couldn't think properly, or even form a proper word to say. You were horrified.

"I didn't want to say it so straightforward. I tried—"

"Who is the father?"

Both of you spoke almost at the same time.

Torvi took a deep breath and that was enough as an answer for you.

"It's been said....... she said that....... I mean......." She was trying to say that your husband was the father of her bastard child, but she couldn't find the right words about it and to be honest were there any right words about something like that?

Probably not.

"It's fine. I guessed that Ubbe is the father." You voice was calm, as you intended.

You were upset. You were angry. You felt hurt for some unknown reason. But you kept yourself together. After all, that was all you wished for to happen. Now, after Margrethe's pregnancy, his mother would approve to your divorce. People would understand. You were humiliated but took all you wanted.

Also, the looks and the whispering in the market this same day made sense. Nothing was a coincidence at the end of the day.

"Hey, aren't you happy for me?" You stood up, trying to sound happy, trying to be happy. It was all you wanted all this time and now it felt like Hel. "Torvi, Torvi, Torvi, let's not lie to each other, you know my problems with him. I have always wanted to find a getaway from this nightmare and now I am finally free to live by my own rules, without a person I hate. And wanna know something else? I knew it about them and I fucking told him to impregnate her so the queen would let us divorse. See, that's all I ever fucking wanted." Your voice was bitter and poisonous. At the end of your speech, you turned your back on Torvi and placed your hands on the counter to steady yourself.

When you did that you closed your eyes and refused by that way to let tears fall from your eyes.

"(Y/N), you don't mean that. You are just upset right now, I understand, I totally understand, but—"

"Torvi, leave me alone." You said, trying to be calm, or at least the calmer way you could be. "Please." Your voice almost gave you away. It almost broke and Torvi was clever she knew – even if you refused to admit it even to yourself – that you were hurt.

Torvi did as you asked her too, she left without speaking a word behind her. When you heard the door closing, you let yourself break.

You fall on your knees and cried worse than your baby. You cried gor something you claimed you wanted all the time you were married with this man and after he did what you told him to, you felt awful – betrayed that was it.

Two words came to your mind when you cried. Weak and stupid. That's how you called yourself and you felt that way because what you didn't want to happen and hated to even think about happening, happened. You had developed feelings for him and you hated him for that, even more. You hated that you loved him.

Hvitserk was right. Everything he told you was right, but nothing of that mattered anymore. You should have admitted and tried to do something to save the last pieces of this marriage, but now, there was nothing that could be saved.

Even if you wanted, even if you tried, Ubbe wouldn't want you. She was all he wanted all this time and this baby of hers and now he had it all. His biggest dream was becoming truth.

Your son's loud crying brought back for once more. He was your saviour after all and you owed him for that.

Your hands wrapped around his little body and tried to relax him, but it seemed impossible when you yourself was crying loudly too.

It was just the two of you now – like you craved – and it felt lonely and strange. It felt like a piece was missing and you knew damn well which piece was that. All you wanted was to leave him and live all by yourself with the only person you loved in the world, but now it was different. It was hard to let go of him and your life with him.

Only the thoughts of finally getting freed from this painful marriage made your heart ached.

You couldn't fall for him. Especially not now.

"Your father will be always there for you, Ragnar. He will always love you deeply, after all you are his firstborn son, you carry his legacy the most. It's just that you will have to grow apart from him, but that doesn't change anything. And I – I love you more than anything in this cruel world. You are my only child." You whispered leaving your tears to reach your jaw. As you were speaking, your heands were caressing your son's back and your eyes were closed. Your were trying to calm down both of you. "Also, we won't be that far. You can see him whenever you want. He and I just won't be together." You didn't know whether it was your son the one you wanted to calm with these words, or yourself. "Never forget—"

You didn't get to finish because the door opened and closed loudly and the only thing you were able to do was to turn your back at the person who entered – Ubbe. But you failed to cover your wet face. He had seen.

"What had happened? Is the kid alright?" Ubbe asked and by the sound of his voice and the way he stormed inside the house, you could say that he was upset. You could guess the reason, but you couldn't get the reason he was upset. Your wishes were coming true. You wanted to divorce with him and he wanted to marry the blonde slave girl.

"Yes. He is just a little bit upset." You spoke swiftly and gazed at your son's big blue eyes. He was just looking at you now. You smiled at him and kissed him softly on the forehead. After that, you left him inside his cradle.

"What about you?" His voice came out softer than before and almost startled you. You didn't expect him to state anything about you, it wasn't like him to care about your feelings.

Your eyes met his for the first time after you found out about the girl's pregnancy and after overthinking your complicated feelings about him.

"I will be." You mouthed quickly and walked past him, or at lest you tried to, because the man you wanted to despise like no one and nothing before stopped you by force.

His hand wrapped around your arm violently and made you stop just inches in front of him. You frowned out of anger and looked first at his hand and then at his angry face.

"What is that? You are acting weird again." He pointed out and wanted to laugh out of your frustration.

You wanted to yell — yell like a madwoman — after the news you received and his audacity to want to be treated differently. You couldn't act like anything had happened. Neither you wanted to tell him about it. If he had the guts, he would tell you himself.

"I don't get what you mean. I'm just myself like usual and apparently you are acting like yourself." Your answer and the unphased tone were enraging him more. You notice by the way his grip on your arm was tightening. "Now let me go. I have to teat my son." You tried to escape from his grip, but Ubbe didn't let you. He pulled you even closer to him. You were both pissed at each other.

Well, you weren't just pissed at him. Deep down you were hurt. He had hurt you like always, but this time — unlike all the others — the pain was piercing through your guts. This pain was something you hadn't experienced before.

"I just can't understand you and I'm fucking trying!" Ubbe let go of you and started walking in the house with his hands running through his breaded long hair. "This morning we were alright and now you are back to your annoying self — to that hateful woman who despises everything." After he finished, Ubbe turned to face you. Your face hadn't change a bit after his words.

You could feel wrath in your veins, but something bitter was there too.

"That's what you believe of me, huh? Then wanna know what I believe of you?" That last part wasn't even a serious question. You were going to tell him anyway and you were going to be harsh. "You are just as hateful, but trying to pretend that you are someone else so that people like you. You expect them to love you when you treat your wife worse than the thralls. I should not talk about that matter — your way with the thralls. You wanted to belittle me so much that—"

You stopped yourself there. You couldn't continue. You were indeed becoming hateful. For a moment Ubbe was just staring you without speaking as his words were replaying themselves inside your mind.

You had become as heartless as your father was. You treated Ubbe so low, but he wasn't better.

"That what? Why did you stopped? Maybe you understood yourself that all these nonsense you are speaking are bullshit! I fucking treat you the way you treat to me! I have never wanted to belittle you!" Ubbe was yelling — it was one of the very few times that he was so mad.

But you weren't going to hold back your tongue. You were as mad as Ubbe — if not more. You had crossed the line some times, but he was worse. He cheated on you multiple times and even impregnated his mistress.

When you heard his words, you were the one who run her hands through her hair this time. Instead of yell immediately, at first you formed an ironic smile on your face and the next thing you did was to yell.

"You belittle me every fucking night of those you are back in Norway! You are cheating on me with that slave and you even got her pregnant this time. You humiliated me! Everyone in the market was gossiping about your exploits! All Kattegat knows! If not all Norway!" You were yelling without even thinking of what you were saying. You hadn't even understood that tears were streaming from your eyes all the time you were talking. "But that shouldn't mind me! After all, that's the best reason to divorce you. No one can stop me after this. And, of course, they can't prevent you from marrying her! Go ahead take her, but I inform you; this is the last time you are looking at me and my son." At the end, all you could do was whisper at him. It was pointless.

Your little boy didn't even cry this time, like he could sense that even him couldn't stop you from saying all these. He was just playing with some of the toys inside his cradle.

Ubbe's expression changed after all the poison you let your mouth spit.

"I've never intended to humiliate you or belittle you." His voice this time was softer than you were used to. You had never really talked in calm tones. "When we married we didn't love each other — we married for that alliance. At that moment, I loved Margrethe and I was planning to marry her, yes and yes, I had slept with her, but that stopped when Ragnar was born. Well, to be precise, I had stopped some time before I learned that you were with child."

All this time you had your back turned at him and were trying to stop the tears that were falling mercilessly from your eyes. But when you heard his last words, you wiped away some fresh tears and faced him. Ubbe was calm — it was a rare moment — a beautiful moment.

"I was trying to give in to the feelings I felt for you. The way I had you in my mind when I was at the battlefield. Don't ask me how those feelings were formed — I have no idea. I was thinking of you, knowing that you were praying for me not to return. Those feelings couldn't be replaced by any fight we had. At the end of the day, all that stayed in my mind was one of your rare smiles and the way you care for our son."

Those words were even harder to process them than the news about the child of the slave girl. You couldn't even think that Ubbe would ever form that kind of feelings for you.

His confession made the rock walls of your heart to fall one by one.

"I have never prayed for you to die on the battlefield. I did quite the opposite in fact and it felt strange in my heart. I hated — I told my self to hate you — I was telling myself all the things I hated in you so I could hate you. I felt strange for you — my heart was beating in a strange way as much as I tried to avoid it, it exists, still." You spoke truly without daring to look in his eyes. "But it doesn't matter anymore. Our marriage will end. Those rumours is humiliating enough for me to leave you. If I have enough dignity, I should leave you."

Ubbe tried to reach for you, but you stopped him with a motion of your hand. If things were different, you would stay and try to make this marriage work, but you had no other choice but to leave him.

Taglist: @bruher, @utterlyhopeful-fics, @hypocritic-trash-baby

[xoxo-susu]

The ultimate guide to being coquette as a hijabi girlie

Being a coquette hijabi is so hard because so many of the key motifs (mini skirts/more revealing clothing, the literal meaning of the word, for example) go against what we believe in. But it's not impossible. So here are my personal favorite ways to be a coquette girlie without compromising my faith! (p.s thank you to @augusttheicedcoffeeaddict for reminding me to post this hehe ily)

Also!!! No hate to the coquette girlies who do wear mini skirts etc.

The white maxi skirt  🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

Mini skirts are a staple in so many coquette outfits and so many people will try to make you think maxi skirts aren't cute but they're just haters. A cute sweater + a pleated or tiered white maxi skirt + some crafty layering has been such a lifesaving formula for me. Blouses work great for this too. And the things you can put on top of a white maxi skirt are endless. Pretty blouses, mini dresses, sweaters, sweatshirts, even cute tshirts with long sleeved shirts underneath. Same goes for denim skirts. I'm looking for one right now and I can't find any I like, but once I do I'll be unstoppable.

Bowssss 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

Bows. Bows are THE coquette accessory. And, thank god, you don't have to wear a mini skirt to wear bows!

Put them on literally everything. If you want to put them on your hijab, you can use a safety pin to put it on the back of your head, or you could do what I usually do, which is put them in my hijab pins. Depending on the size you can make it as subtle as you want. I have a pinterest tutorial here. (The pic on the left is me!)

Heart shaped sunglasses 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

Another coquette/vintage americana staple you can wear!

Berets 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

Same thing!

Fuzzy white earmuffs 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

These are SOSOSO perfect for winter. (pic on the left is me again heh)

At home 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

So far, this has all been stuff just in the context of going out in public. At home, I highly recommend doing you hair in a coquette way and wearing things you can only have on in front of family. It's such a confidence booster. It's a bit of effort but it's so so worth it!

Her bedroom is the window into the girl's soul 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

The coquette aesthetic is way more than just the clothes and hair. So if you really want to feel coquette, try and make your room as coquette as possible. Put up some coquette posters on your wall. A lot of coquette posters are haramcore and some people don't like putting up faces on their wall, so here are some really cute pics for inspo :3

What's in your bag? 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

Purses can make or break a good outfit. My biggest tip is to match them to your hijab. It pulls it all together. The last thing you want is for your hijab to feel like it's clashing with the rest of the outfit.

What's inside is important too! Inner beauty isn't just for living things. Keep whatever essentials you already have, plus lipgloss, a compact mirror bc no one's out here trying to have a bad hijab day, and a little bit of ribbon. Trust me about the ribbon.

Shoes!!! 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

Please don't wear a super cute coquette outfit and then wear tennis shoes. Just don't. Mary janes, Doc M's, and ballet flats are all really good choices.

Ik I probably sound like I'm obsessing over tiny things, but you kinda have to bc when you're breaking the mold every little thing matters.

Lastly <3 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

Last but not least, do not ever ever let people make fun of you. If you're a hijabi coquette girlie, you probably have some form of a muslim community, and they probably won't dress in your style. That was my case, and when I first started wearing mary janes and lace gloves I got SO made fun of. Not from the adults, but from my friends. One girl called my mary janes dorky and said they annoyed her every time she saw them. I think she expected me to laugh, but you just have to keep a straight face and say to their face that you thought that was rude. She never called me dorky again 🤷‍♀️

Take this post as a reminder that you can stay true to your faith while looking fabulous. If you have any questions pls pls feel free to ask anything. Ily all honeys, bye ♡

[whateverwhyamievenhere]

little lestappen drabble

Hii, so I usually don't post on here, but you know it, it's winter break and the brain rot is brain rotting, so I've started to write a drabble. It's inspired by some of my favorite moments of Charles and Max that can't seem to leave my mind. This is nowhere near anything but a draft, though I thought some of you might enjoy this. Please be so kind and let me know if you like it or what could be improved. Also if anyone has any ideas where this could go plot-wise hmu, because I suck at drawing up plots beforehand. Have a great day/night wherever you are. L <3

The sun peaks right through the tips of his hair. Strands flying, highlights glistening in the golden light. One last lap they said, one more push, till he got to feel the light of the setting sun blind his eyes. He's in Texas, finished his quail lap, scrambled out of the car, and all he searched for was the blue of his eyes.

Like ocean, like storm. Crashing on a shore, there will always be a twist in Charles gut when Max meets his eyes. Inevitably drawn to each other, dancing around each other, desire mistaken for distaste. Green clashing into blue, in a haze of moments Charles is being ripped right out of the calming sun. Media Duty, take pictures, smile, be nice and orderly. Most importantly, get along. Get along with Max. These are direct orders because everyone seems to think they hate each other. Charles thinks they may did once upon a time. Now he’s not quite sure what to make of it all. ____________________________________________________ “Charlie I’ve got some space for you” the words echo in Charles' head, did Max just call him Charlie, normally only Alex or maybe Lando does so rarely. Why in the world of why's does it make feel Charlie all giddy? What does Max think that he's allowed to call him Charlie? Isn’t that reserved for his closer friends? Does Max think they are friends? Sure, he's been acting as such ever since Austin, but what exactly changed? Why aren’t the forcibly nice, why does it seem like Max enjoys his company more than he used to?  And why does he immediately comply and squeeze through to Max, standing at the other side of the room? Brush of shoulders, hands clasping each other, slight shove where his back dips in. Broad smile, teeth on full display, eyes crinkling. Max is flashing him his most Maxie smile there is. Sue him if Max can call him Charlie, at least he can call him Maxie in his mind. Maybe one day he will be allowed to say it out loud, just like Daniel is.  “I thought you’d suffocate over there.” “Yeah, well I’m glad, I didn’t. Any news from Daniel, his party still standing for tonight?” “Do you really think we’d be in Vegas and Daniel would let it slip though his fingers to start the weekend of sober? He’s going to be the death of us!” “Ah no, I think we will manage quite well, you think?” At that, Max slings an arm around Charlies shoulder, slightly shakes his head in dismissal, smirks to himself and moves them after the rest of their friends that were just mingling mere seconds before. Max is leading them towards the press conference that Charles entirely forgot about once he heard Max claim “Charlie” his. ____________________________________________________

[eloise175]

Profile and Masterlist info ^^

𖤐 ̊⁎+˳✧༺ Welcome to my blog! ༻𖤐 ̊⁎+˳✧

Who am I and what do I do?

I go by El for short (most used), Eloise, or even Eli if that’s what you’d prefer (though not very used); she/her prononouns.

This blog is focused on VADTD and that only. My main focus most of the time are Callisto and Penelope, I love them so so much and have made it a mission to yap about them constantly <3

I post lots of my personal headcanons, AUs, memes and even episode/character/series analyses. Novel reader so beware of spoilers, there are plenty on my page!!

I'm a VADTD fanfic writer and artist, tho I rarely post my art. You can find my fanfics on Ao3 (I'll link my profile down below) ^^

➠ Callisto and/or Penelope haters DNI with me or my posts, you will be blocked. Yes I will block even if see you hate for no reason, and if I see misinformation being spread!!

What fandoms am I in—manhwas/webtoons I've read?

(These are obviously not all of them, but mostly the main ones);

Villains Are Destined to Die (VADTD/VADD) — my longtime favorite and hyperfixation

Genshin Impact: EU sever; AR 60; Yelan main

Honkai Star Rail (HSR): EU server; TL 67; Acheron main

Sailor Moon — mostly SM Crystal

How to Win My Husband Over — quickly became one of my favorites, may or may not be because I have a thing for men with red eyes (what can I say I’m a woman of culture)

The Siren: Becoming the Villain's Family

A Business Proposal — comfort manhwa, I watched the kdrama too but the manhwa is still my favorite

Daytime Star — comfort manhwa yet again, it’s sooo cute

Positively Yours — comfort manhwa pt.3 :))

Unholy Blood — another one of my longtime favs, Euntae and Hayan my beloved <3

Where can you find me?

I have pages on a few other socials, and I'm usually pretty active except stated otherwise. All of my profiles are still very much dedicated to VADTD or underwent changes to conform:

Read my fanfics on Ao3 — For now I only post my fanfics on Ao3 so if you see them posted somewhere else, that is not me! Please let me know if you come across anything like that, or any sort of plagiarism of my works (yes, it has happened before)

Eloise_175 on X/Twitter — Quite active on there lately, sometimes I post things I don't end up posting on here, like threads and whatnot

VADTD Discord server — I tend to be pretty active on discord and consequently on the VADTD server too, everyone is welcomed to join! (please make sure to read the rules carefully ^^)

calliopeys_ on Instagram — I don’t really post much on there as I’m not an Instagram person, but hopefully I’ll get around to posting more on there as well. Created a new account from scratch to maybe post my art and fanfic updates. If I see an influx of people from here on there, I may do some of those quick asks in the stories :))

calliopeys on TikTok — Empty for the moment, but maybe I'll do some silly memes on there

Tags Directory

(might edit this section later on)

Villains Are Destined to Die | Novel | Headcanons | Analysis | My Fanart | Memes | My Fanfics | Merch | Asks | Incorrect Quotes | Scenarios | Reblogs |

Calliope: Penelope Eckhart x Callisto Regulus

Characters:

Penelope Eckhart | Callisto Regulus | Judith Regulus |Cedric Porter | Ivonne Eckhart | Reynold Eckhart | Derrick Eckhart | Winter Verdandi | Duke Eckhart |

[darling-i-read-it]

Survivor's Guilt

Chris Redfield x fem!reader, Ethan Winters x fem!reader 

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: angst, breakup, lose ending because i cant make decisions, chris’s trauma^tm

Author’s Note: I would totally be down to do a part 2 to this if anyone wants ittttttt. Also I made Mia his sister because I hate her and need her to be so irrelevant lol. I wanted this to be better but alas we are here. I just needed to write something with my favorite resident evil characters. these two will always be it for me <3

Summary: Chris and you had been together for years and partners for longer. He broke up with you when he felt it getting too dangerous. Years later, when your boyfriend Ethan gets lost in Louisiana, you call him for backup. 

Genre: angst, yearning 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Survivor’s guilt is defined as a condition of persistent mental and emotional stress experienced by someone who has survived an incident in which others died. 

When you feel the pain in your chest when talking about an incident that you lived through that you shouldn’t have. When you feel like you are living for so many people that you have lost. When you imagine what it would be like for them if they had taken your place, if you had just been granted access to death. When you are not worthy of the life you are living and constantly being told you're the hero when all you were was the ending. 

Chris Redfield has survivor’s guilt. He could not tell you the amount of people he has known that are no longer walking around with him. He could not tell you the amount of funerals he had been in or been to. 

He knew grief like it was an old friend. He knew the inside of grief, the texture of the walls that caved in around him. He knew it like he was born alongside it. Grief was a twin to Chris Redfield. 

He couldn’t look in the mirror without seeing his companions. Grief and guilt. 

He’d like to think he knew the patterns better than anyone else. If someone were to know what it looked like right before he lost someone, it would be him. He wished death wasn’t so spontaneous. He hoped that one day he would save someone on purpose, save someone that he wanted within the world. 

The warmth in his chest when he saw you was an indicator. It was a warning sign. It was alarm bells. The taste of your lips was a familiar feeling of something he should not have. The feel of your skin was a promise from the world that it would be righted again. You would be taken away. You had to be, so the world could turn, so that he wouldn’t forget the lives he was living for. 

“You’ve been quiet,” you said, gently. You were sitting across from him, two dinner plates between you. His eyes flicked up to yours. You were so good at reading him. You were so concerned, like his personal welfare were your own responsibility. “How was your day?”

“Long,” he said, through a breath. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to scrounge up something else to say. 

“Hopefully they’ll be more bearable once we get jobs together again,” you suggested. The two of you were working for the BSAA and often were sent into the field together. It was helpful for missions if you were both with someone you knew. Usually the job didn’t care that much, knowing that their people were disposable. Warm bodies were not a luxury in a world with 7 billion of them. 

But recently you had a drought of time without each other. Different goals, same organization. You missed having him with you to help. You weren’t used to having to vocalize yourself because Chris could read you like a book. He liked to say it was a talent but you knew the truth. He had just learned you so well that he couldn’t know you any better.

“Yeah.” He swallowed hard. You met his gaze. 

“What is it?” You wanted to make a joke. Don’t like the Chinese take out? or Jeans too tight? but you refrained. Something had been eating at him for weeks it felt like. He didn’t hold you as close. He was a physical person and his bear hugs were like they’re own luxury. 

Chris liked to think of himself as a brave man. He was a lot of things, not a lot of them good, but he was at least brave. He took the steps that needed to be taken. He tried his best to save people for their best interests, not for him. So why was this so hard? 

“I think we should break up.” 

It was like he had broken the sound barrier. You looked around, searching for an indication that this was some sort of joke. Nothing came. 

“What? Why?” 

“I think it would be better for both of us.”

“You can’t speak for me.” 

“I can.” 

“No, no you can’t,” you argued. You were raising your voice now, anger that he was willing to let this go so quickly. “What happened? What did I do?” 

Your voice broke his heart. The desperation, the scrounging for something to blame. He was to blame. Didn’t you see that? 

“We can’t keep going like this.” 

“What?” 

“We can’t keep acting like this life is sustainable for either of us. It was nice while it lasted.” He swallowed hard. “Its’ what’s best.” 

“Is that what you want?” 

There was such a betrayal in your eyes. You had never looked at him like that. Not even when he fucked up on the job, when his mistakes could’ve cost him lives. You never looked at him like he was anything less than perfect. 

“Yes.” He couldn’t say anything else. You would see right through him if he spoke again. You would know why he was doing it, you would know that he wasn’t doing this because he wanted to but because he had to. You couldn’t live much longer. He knew how this went. 

Your breathing was ragged. The gravity sat in your chest like a weight. If you thought about this for one more second you would start to cry. 

“Okay.” 

He closed his eyes. Your voice was childlike. It was as though he had just chastised you for doing your favorite thing. You stood up slowly. Each sound was too loud. You tossed your food into the garbage, movements sluggish. 

You went through the kitchen door and you didn’t come back. 

He sat there until he heard your car start. 

-

You gazed down at your bullet proof vest. You felt it in your hands, the weight of it surprisingly familiar. It had seen action. There were scruffs on the sides from the elements and the relentless nights spent sleeping with it on. There was a sharpie marking at the bottom, messily placed there by Chris. You rubbed your finger along it. 

“What’s that?” 

You looked up. 

Ethan Winters stood in the doorway to the bedroom. He walked forward a bit, looking over you to the object in your hands. 

“Some stuff from when I worked with the BSAA,” you explained dryly. You handed it to him. He took it, assessing the weight. 

“Good thing you don’t have to wear this dumbbell all the time,” he muttered. You laughed gently, successfully being taken out of your nostalgia. 

“It’s like five pounds Ethan.” 

“That’s heavy.” You shook your head, taking it back. You place it into its box. “Ready to go?” 

“Almost,” you promised. 

You and your boyfriend Ethan were moving into a new house. He had insisted on living in this one ever since his sister Mia went missing, just in case she returned looking for him. But it had been three years and you had outgrown it. He finally caved, allowing you to go domestic house shopping together. 

It had been eight years since you left the BSAA. Eight years since you had seen Chris Redfield, eight years since he had broken up with you. Up until Ethan, you had only dated guys around you which was slim pickings. You thought you had a good one with Chris but that breakup wrecked you. 

Then there was Ethan. Then there didn’t need to be anything else. 

You had a new life, one that had nothing to do with bioweapons you had once been so accustomed to. You had one that was, as Chris would say, sustainable. You could grow old in your new house with Ethan. Get married. Maybe even have kids. You never would’ve been able to do that before. 

“The van’s ready when you are,” he said. “I’m gonna call for pizza.”

“Who said I wanted pizza?”

“When do you not want pizza?” 

He left the room. You were alone once again. You shut the box up and taped it. That was then and this is now. 

You carried the box downstairs and placed it among the others. Ethan swung by and got some food, then met you back at your new home. You had already started to unload boxes and by the time they were all inside the sun was down. You sat on a cardboard box, munching on cold pizza, as Ethan plugged in his laptop. 

“That was exhausting,” he muttered. He had shed his jacket and was now in just a tshirt and jeans that he had sweat through. 

“So you’re too tired to christen the house?” He gave you a look. “You wanna finish the pizza.” 

“Yes I wanna finish the pizza.” You rolled your eyes playfully. 

“I need to shower anyway.” You got up, swallowing the last of your food. You hummed under your breath as you dug around the boxes to find your clothes. Ethan scrolled through his computer wordlessly. You patted his shoulder as you passed him with your clothes. 

As you walked upstairs, Ethan opened up his email folders. To the sound of the bathroom door closing, he clicked on the newest one. It had been sent the night before, while he was sleeping. He had taken time off work to move in but this didn’t look like a work email. It didn’t have a title. 

He opened it up. 

Dulvey, Louisiana. 

Baker farm. 

Come get me. 

-

The conversation seemed too rushed. You got out of the shower and there was a bombardment of feelings that followed. Ethan wanted to leave immediately. She wanted him to come and get her, after all these years. He was already looking at flights, at a route that he could drive. The words and pleads came stumbling out of his mouth. 

She needs me. 

She’s stuck there, she needs me. 

The instinct that bubbled in your chest was one you were familiar with. The preparation for a place that no human should venture. You wanted to give him a gun and a vest and let him be. 

“I got out of that life so that you and I could be safe.”

“This isn’t like that.”

“You know it is.” 

You were sitting down to his standing. You looked up at him with real concern in your eyes. 

“What else could it be? That she’s been taken and then all of the sudden sends you a cryptic email instead of calling the police? How would she even know you hadn’t changed your email? Come on Ethan, think about this.” Silence hung in the air, fighting one anothers wills. You and Ethan rarely got into arguments and you still weren’t sure if you had the power in this conversation or not. It was his sister, sure, but something was wrong here. If anyone would know, you would. 

“I have to.” 

“Let me come with you.” Your mind flashed back to the unopened box of your old things. You could put that vest back on. Would there be any coming back from that? 

“No. No, I can’t let you. This isn’t your fight.”

“Your fight is my fight.”

“I can’t lose you both,” he said, voice low. There was an air of vulnerability about him that mixed with his natural headstrong nature. You knew that feeling, the pit in your chest of losing someone in the search for something else. 

“Let’s go to bed. Think on this. Okay? We can talk about it in the morning,” you pleaded. Maybe if he thought about it for longer than two seconds he could stay with you. You could have that sustainable life. 

It took him a moment of contemplation but he finally nodded. You breathed slowly as you stood up. You had nothing but the mattress on the floor. It wasn’t going to be comfortable but it wasn’t going to be awful. You had each other. 

He got his pajamas on slowly. You could practically see the cogs turning in his head. You wanted to argue about this more but you had already stopped the conversation. You had to stick to your guns. He would feel differently in the morning. 

He got under the comforter with you. There was a lone lamp beside his head, giving all the light in the room. He turned it off as he rested his head. 

“Ethan,” you mumbled. He turned his head back to you and for just a moment, his thoughts cleared. It was just the two of you again. It could be just the two of you forever. “I love you.” His smile softened. He moved towards you, throwing his arm around you. You nuzzled into his chest. 

“I love you too,” he promised but his heart didn’t seem in it like it usually did.

-

You woke up before the sun. Your eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the darkness that engulfed the room. You groaned involuntarily. Ethan’s arm was no longer around you. You turned around to face him, ready to make some complaint, when you were met with emptiness. You paused, starring, delirious. It took you far too long to catch up to the obvious reason he was no longer gone. 

Once it hit you, you started to move. 

You threw yourself out of the mattress, running to teh bathroom. The house was still a maze to you. It would be home soon but it wasn’t home yet. The familiarity of it was missing which made it more eerie. 

“Ethan!” you called, voice weak with sleep. You looked out the window, trying to find the shapes of the cars. One was missing. Your heart started to beat faster as you went into a panic. “Ethan!” you called again, louder now. You flung open every door desperately until you were back at the bedroom. Under the lamp there was a note. You rushed for it, almost ripping it while you snatched it. 

I’m sorry. I love you more than anything. 

I’ll be back soon, I swear.

E

You let out a shaky breath. You cursed, throwing the paper down weakly, kicking the wall. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whispered. You had to follow him. There was no other option. He had to know you would follow him. Despite it being 4 in the morning you turned all the lights in the house on. You searched for the box you had hoped to forget. 

Finally, at your feet, was the recently taped box. You tore it open and grabbed the vest out of it. There was no use in dwelling on the signature or the comfortableness of it. You needed to get ready to go. 

-

The Baker Farm was too far out of the way. You had started to lose cell service by the time you finally reached it. You had gone down the same dirt road Ethan had by the looks of his parked car. You wanted to slash the tires out of frustration. Knowing you were on the same insurance plan, you refrained. 

You followed the lightly treaded walkway to the gate of a large house. The gate was locked and too tall to climb. You went around the edge to what looked to be the guest house. 

You just had to hope you weren’t too far behind him. He had hours of a jump on you but you had seen his car. He was here. 

You checked your phone. Nothing. Would you even get any calls out here? 

You pushed forward through the guest house. It looked abandoned, like someone had just picked up and left dinner. The smell of mold traveled through the air. It almost felt like you could see the particles through the setting sun. Someone had left the door in the back open, leading to the long hallway. Something or someone had been pushed through a wall, resulting in debris flying everywhere. Someone had struggled here. Recently. 

You fought the pit in your stomach and forced yourself to think of the best. It was normal. There were no bioweapons all the way out in the middle of Louisiana somewhere. Why would there be? Ethan was fine. Ethan had to be fine. 

The tenseness of your shoulders was familiar. You did not miss the ache or the worry. You turned to go up the stairs. Deja Vu washed over you, brought on by archived feelings. 

Chris attempted to never leave your side but he too often did. You were both used to finding each other again, it was part of the job. You could get separated by a wall or a weapon and you would find each other again. 

It had been too long and the familiar fear creeped into your mind. He was here but you couldn’t hear him. He had to be here, his GPS assured you. The silence was deafening. You swore then to never yell at him again, if he could just emerge unscathed from the rubble of another fight. Could Chris Redfield go down like this? In the middle of some nameless mission, with just you to carry him back home? 

“Here!” 

Relief washed over you as you rushed back to him, moving aside the debris of a fight you had not been a witness too. Dirt covered his face. He was almost unrecognizable in the dried maroon blood that covered his body. 

“Are you okay? Oh God. Oh God Chris,” you whispered, holding him with your hands like he wasn’t real.

“I’m okay,” he breathed. “I’m okay.”

You ached for the relief you had felt then. Ethan wasn’t as capable as Chris had been. Where would you find him? The top of the guest house revealed a larger view of the house. At the bottom was a man, a large mallet over his shoulder, dragging someone away by their feet. 

Ethan. 

He was unconscious but even just seeing him made you feel better. 

Then you noticed the mold. 

Something was wrong with that man, with that house. It was covering the ground, pulsating like it was alive. Instinct kicked in before feelings. You grabbed your phone out of your pocket, watching keenly to see where they were taking Ethan. 

You glanced down at your phone, praying that his number hadn’t changed, and hovered over Chris’s name. You had never been able to do these things alone and you were no use to Ethan if you were dead. 

You closed your eyes so you wouldn’t see yourself click the button. You put the phone up to your ear, listening to it ring, hoping he wouldn’t pick up, hoping you wouldn't be able to make a phone call this far out. 

On the sixth ring you were beginning to lose whatever hope you had. Then he picked up. 

“Hello?” His voice was wary but familiar. It made you weak in the knees, just hearing him speak, his cadence the exact same. 

“I need you.” 

-

You didn’t want to wait but you had given Chris the directions to your car. You didn’t want him to have to play catch up for you the entire time so you waited outside the guest house, pacing. You didn’t know how long you had but he promised he would be there in under an hour. You weren’t sure how he would manage that but you trusted his word.

Sure enough, just about fifty minutes later, he emerged from the bushes. Older. Weathered. His eyes were harder than they had been, less emotion behind his gaze. You reminded yourself you were doing this for Ethan, even as the rush of emotions had returned. You hadn’t seen each other since you had moved out. 

“You came,” you breathed. 

“You called.” You pursed your lips, wanting to thank him, wanting to think about the elephant in the room, wanting to beg him for answers that had been plaguing you forever. Instead you were gentle with your words.

“Thank you Chris.” He nodded once. 

“We’ve been scoping this area. The disappearances here are akin to something consistent with bioweapons,” he said, walking past you. “Where’d you last see your friend?”

“Ethan was out towards the main house. I’ve spotted at least one bioweapon but the ground is covered in some sort of black mass. Do you know anything about that?” He handed you a gun without a word. You took it. It was yours. He had kept yours. It begged so many questions. Had he been using it? Did he even recognize it as yours anymore? Did he dig it out of the rubble, just like you did the vest you were wearing? 

“A bit.” 

“You’re being awfully cagey.”

“This is still work for me.” You nodded once. He was going to stay reserved. It didn’t matter what you two had, he was here for the job. This is exactly the reason you left without a fuss. It would always be the job and then you. 

“Alright. Welll follow me.” 

At the edge of the property was an older house, one that was falling apart at the seams. You managed to get around the bayou to enter it in an attempt to reach the main house, where you were sure they were keeping Ethan. 

“What’s he doing out here?” Chris questioned. You glanced at him. It was like seeing a ghost in his eyes. How could Chris have become a stranger to you? How had you gotten here? 

“Looking for his sister Mia. She went missing three years ago and yesterday he got an email from her with this location.” 

“Not exactly tangible evidence.”

“That’s what I said.” You kept in stride with him. He pushed through doors, turning around quickly to make sure there was no threat. He led. You watched his six. “I told him to sleep on it. When I woke up he was gone.” 

“You’re living together?” His voice showed no sign of emotion. He was asking as though you had never known each other. He was asking like you were a civilian and he was gathering all the useful information. 

“Yes. He’s my boyfriend.” A beat in his step was missed but it was hardly noticeable. You pushed past him. 

“And he didn’t feel the need to tell you he was leaving for Louisiana?” 

“He knew I disagreed with him.” 

“Sounds like someone else I knew.” The first allusion that you had ever once known each other. You walked in front of him as you crossed a bridge into the main yard. 

“I listened.”

“In one ear and out the other,” he argued. He was detached from his words. You wanted to ask him why he had even come. Why hadn’t he investigated this before you called if he knew it was here? What was his angle?

“It always ruminated in my head for a bit.” You reached the yard. The house was vast and unfamiliar. It loomed in the nighttime air. There were lights on upstairs and some lamps in the main room. You approached the front door and attempted to open it. It didn’t budge. You hit it, kicked it, cursed at it. 

“Move,” Chris demanded. He rammed his body against the door. You watched him, watched as he tensed his muscles through his tactical vest. The door remained intact but you didn't even notice after a minute. When were you going to allow yourself to admit that you missed him? 

You looked through the window, cupping your hands around your eyes. You jumped at a face emerging from the other side. 

“Y/N?” 

“Ethan!” You put your palms against the glass. He was on the other side. The window was murky and cloudy but you knew his face well enough to recognize it through the blur. From the faint look, he was okay. He was alive. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m okay,” he said, weakly. It sounded like a lie. You narrowed your eyes but he couldn’t tell. 

“I specifically told you not to come,” you said. 

“It’s too late now.” “Did you find Mia?” He took a deep breath. 

“Yeah. Listen, if you see her you have to be careful. All of the people here are normal one second and then they are something completely different.” You nodded. 

“Can you get through the door?” 

“No. I have to find three keys.” 

“Fuck,” you muttered. “Spencer Mansion all over again.” You glanced at Chris. “Listen, I brought a friend out here. We’re gonna try and get in.” You tried the door again to no avail. 

“I’m gonna try and find the keys,” Ethan said. You didn’t want him to go but realistically couldn’t have him stand there with you, not with the apparent threats roaming the house. You nodded. 

“Please be careful.” 

“You too.” He left then, hand lingering on the glass. You turned to Chris, embarrassed. His jaw was set. “I’m gonna clear the trailer.” You nodded once, watching him go. 

-

Chris tried to convince himself he was happy for you. You had made a life for yourself. That’s exactly what he wanted you to do. He left you so that you would make a life he could never give you. Granted, he never expected to see the fruits of his sacrifice. The longer he was with you the more it became evident to him that his emotions never faded. It was like nothing had changed but everything had. You were the same but different. You caused him to want to smile even at dumb things, like attempting to open a door you knew was locked. You were in love with someone else. He had never seen you in love with someone else. He didn’t like the feeling of watching you with Ethan. 

His sense of duty overrode his emotions but even that wasn’t enough to stop his lingering gazes. 

You adjusted your vest in the trailer mirror. There was a head in the fridge and a gun on the counter. You were glad you had called Chris. He reloaded his gun as he watched you out of the corner of his eye. 

“There can’t be much padding left in that,” he said gruffly. 

“Hm?”

“The vest.” You looked down at it, like you hadn’t even noticed you were adjusting it. Your finger brushed his signature.

“It still does its job,” you promised. “Why, you got an extra?” He shook his head. You turned back towards him. “That’s what I thought. I’d rather have this than nothing at all.”

You kept the vest he had signed. 

He kept the gun you had used. 

How long could you dance around this stupid confession? 

“I’m gonna try to break the window,” you said finally. “To the front house.” 

“You don’t think they have bullet proof windows?” 

“We’re in the middle of Dulvey.” You shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to try.” Chris’s jaw set, nodding curtly. He followed you outside. He was weary of the ever growing black goop gathering outside. You tried to hit the window but nothing gave. You tried to hit it again, causing a more aggressive boom. “Shit. This gun was not made for this. Anything around I can use?” Chris started to look around his feet for something stronger. You moved along the deck. 

Abruptly, there was a squelching sound coming from the middle of the yard, near the trailer. Both you and Chris raised your gun, instinct taking over before the thought process. You watched as the black goop grew into some sort of figure, barely able to stand on its own two feet. You tried to force yourself to act surprised but nothing came. It was life like it used to be. 

Chris shot it first. It stumbled, just barely. You shot its head once and then twice. It came down only when the head was removed. 

“You ok-” you started and was suddenly cut off when something moved behind you. You turned but it was too late. There was something on your shoulder, something wet and cold and big. You had figured because your back was to the house, you didn’t need to watch it. You heard the gunshots but didn’t see them. You breathed deeply as the blackness dissipated. 

You stumbled backwards, hitting something else hard. You jumped, raising your gun, but Chris grabbed your wrist before you could even point it far. 

“Hey, hey.” 

It had been a minute since you were scared like that. You couldn't remember the last time your life was on the line. The shock must have shown in your eyes because Chris was holding your arms gently, looking at you with sympathy. “You’re okay,” he promised. You nodded. Your brain reverted back to where you knew that voice from and the comfort it brought. You cleared your throat, sitting up, swallowing hard. 

“I’m fine,” you promised. “I’m fine.” You stood up, wobbling on your feet. He held your elbow. “I’m just a bit rusty.” He scoffed. 

“Whatever you say.” He looked around. “They come out of the black mass. We watch that like it’s open space from now on,” he ordered. You nodded. 

“Okay. Yeah.” You cleared your throat. The coldness was gone. 

“What did I say?” 

“Black mass is bad.”

“Good girl.” You cleared your throat, flushing. “Now if you ever want your boyfriend out of that house, we have to keep moving.” He adjusted your vest with worry and then walked away like nothing had happened. You followed him with your eyes. 

-

You and Chris were outside debating if he could hoist you up onto the balcony of the second floor when the front door opened. You both looked down, eyes wide, as Ethan fell through the front door. He was clutching his side and a gun was in his hand. 

You ran up to him, almost dropping your gun yourself. 

“Oh God, Ethan? Ethan, are you okay?” He allowed himself to fall into your embrace, wrapping his arms around you tightly. You breathed evenly as you held him in your arms. You pulled away to see him, look him in the eyes. “What’s wrong? What’s hurt?” There was dried blood on his face. Was it his? 

“I’m fine. I’m okay.” You pursed your lips, backing up. You looked him up and down and grabbed his hand. 

“What is this? Are these staples? What is this?” 

“I’m okay.” You gave him a bewildered look, mouth agape. His hand was held together by staples now. 

“I told you not to come. I told you to wait for me.” If you thought he would live through you hitting him, you would. You were relieved he was okay but you were angry he had left without telling you, putting himself in danger. You had shared with him your stressors about past relationships and he had walked right into one of them. 

“Who’s this?” 

Speaking of past relationships. 

You had almost forgotten Chris was there. 

He stood behind you, eyes averted, chin up. 

“Ethan, this is Chris Redfield. He was my partner when I worked at Stars and the BSAA.” Ethan knew the name and he knew the reaction he should have to it. He had driven you to do something you never wanted to do again. Ethan’s actions hadn’t manifested in you calling the man that had broken your heart. And you didn’t look like your heart was shattered. 

“We need to leave,” Chris explained, not bothering with a hello. He was keenly aware of the situation you were all in. 

“I still have to find Mia,” Ethan explained. 

“Did she do that to your hand?” you questioned. 

“There’s something wrong with her. I know where the anecdote is, if I can find that and find her then we can all leave.” 

“She’s a lost cause,” Chris explained. “There’s no use in looking for her now. The BSAA is currently narrowing explosives on this area and we need to be gone before the sun comes up if we don't want to get caught up in his destruction.” 

“I’m not going to leave her here,” Ethan argued. “The family here are infected by something. I think it has to do with the child she was watching before she went missing. I’ve found some infor-”

“In this line of work, we shoot first and ask questions later. I don’t expect you to know that Ethan but we need to leave,” Chris said, cutting him off. Ethan’s face hardened. You could tell the change in his demeanor as he moved his shoulders back, eyes going dark. You had no way of telling what he had gone through in that house and you had a feeling it was going to take a while to get it all out of him. 

“Do you agree with him?” Ethan asked, looking at you. 

“Don’t put me in the mi-”

“You’re in the middle. I’m putting you there,” Ethan said. “Do you think we should leave her and this entire family to just die?” You looked at him with soft eyes. This was one of the hard decisions you and Chris had to make everyday. You missed the naiveness of his viewpoint immensely. You thought you were working back towards it but it seemed the hard work never let you be. 

“I won’t risk your life for hers.”

“I’m not asking you to risk my life.”

“Will you risk mine?” Ethan shook his head in disbelief. 

“We’re losing time being out here,” he said. “I’m going to the old house and looking for that cure. Come with me or don’t, I don’t care.”

“You don’t mean that,” you said, reaching to grab him before he left but he brushed you off. You looked at Chris with pleading eyes, eyes he knew well. “We can’t possibly leave civilians here and nuke the place Redfield.” 

“It’s their choice to leave.” 

“Mia doesn’t have a choice,” Ethan called. He was already walking away. Incredibly conflicted, you stared at Chris, hoping for some guidance. He had never been the one to give guidance in your relationship. 

“Chris.” 

He had only ever turned you down once in his life. The look in your eyes could make him weak in his knees anyday. You could get him to toss himself off a building with that look. His jaw hardened.

You could die without him. 

You could die with him, he thought. When had he ever been able to save others before?

“Chris,” you pleaded. 

“We have four hours till sunrise. You and I will be gone by then.” You nodded curtly. He approached you before you could walk away. “But you’re not going to run around in that vest,” he muttered. He unbuckled the one he was wearing, untightening it as he lifted it over his head. Your eyes softened. He was still trying to protect you. Maybe he had been trying to protect you all along. 

“Chris I won’t let you-”

“I’m stronger than you.” You smirked, looking up at him. He had a smug look in his eyes. 

“I don’t remember you being forceful.”

“I never had to be. You were always a willing participant,” his voice was soft but disregarding. You glanced at Ethan who you could barely see in the shrubbery as he walked away. He took off your vest and placed it on the ground as he put his own over your head. “You need it more than me.”

“I’m just a little rusty.”

“I can’t risk a little rusty.” He tightened it around your waist, the same way he would help you mid mission before. It was warm. Was it humid out here or was it just the way his fingers brushed your skin? 

“Thank you,” you breathed. He nodded. He put your old one over his head. He had left all the things in his tactical vest. “You want any of these?” 

“I could do with a knife what you can do with a bomb.” You raised an eyebrow. 

“You better watch out Redfield. I might show you up even with the rust.”

“I’d like to see you try.” You wrapped your hands around the straps and leaned back, tilting your head. 

“I missed you.” He tried not to show any emotion but the words seemed so magical he couldn’t help it. He took a deep breath. 

“You know I did it to protect you right?”

“I know now,” you said quietly. 

“You have a life.” 

“I have a life,” you repeated. It was like you were trying to convince yourself of it more than him. You looked at Ethan. In the moment nothing seemed more appealing than leaving with Chris and being safe somewhere other than here. You knew what you had to do regardless. “You know, in another life, I wouldn’t have minded dying in your arms,” you said quietly. He had that sad look in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have lived through it,” he admitted. You gestured with your head. 

“Yes you would’ve. Come on. We have things to do.”

Part 2

[honeybewrites]

OC Questionnaire Tag

Thank you @the-letterbox-archives for the here and here and @the-golden-comet for the tag and @willtheweaver for the tag!!

Rules: Answer the questions provided with your own OCs perspective. Then create new questions for those tagged to continue the game.

Rage

If you could live anywhere, where would you chose?

I think somewhere tropical. Like by the ocean. Not a big town though, I would want somewhere cozy and close knit. Away from all the hustle bustle and war.

Are you confident in yourself?

For the most part, yes. I think it comes with age. When I'm in healing mode, tending to patients, I don't second guess. You can't afford that, especially if their life is on the line. There's aways days here and there where I'm a little less sure of myself overall, but for the most part, I'm confident in myself and my abilities.

Why do you keep the company you do?

Mostly due to necessity. Being in the Mors means I end up talking and working with... less desirable people. I don't have any problem with then, usually. Though I will say there are a few people I'd still talk with even if I wasn't in the Mors. They're good people and I care about them.

Asset 703

Who are you closest to? How do you feel about them?

It's complicated. Fres... they were my partner for the longest time. We were intertwined. I used to be able to tell you everything about them. But they left. I haven't known anyone like that since. I suppose Rage is the closest and he's... nice. Very nice.

What kind of music do you like most?

I don't listen to much music. The few Mirralian parties I've attended as security, I liked the traditional songs and dances they performed.

What do you think your future will be like?

Bloody. This war isn't going to end anytime soon. I know I'll certainly die, painfully and gruesomely, before it ends.

Fres

Do you know how to dance? If so what kinds?

I guess technically I do know how to dance, but I don't really do it these days. Most of the dances I know I learned in the Mors for specific missions and they're all traditional dances. Waltz, slow dances, that kind of thing.

What's the season you hate the most? What's your favorite season?

I hate winter. It's so cold! Sure the snow can be pretty, but it doesn't make up for the freezing. Summer is defiantly my favorite. I do much better being hot than cold, though that's probably due to my ethnicity. Plus, it's sunny out! Hard to be sad when it's sunny.

Do you have any unusual fears?

Aside from the Mors? I guess the cold, which is pretty weird. What I really mean is like being stuck someplace cold for a long time. Snow storms, freezers, even just outside when it's cold and nowhere to go. It's... I guess you could say it's a trigger for me. I have some bad memories involving that kind of thing.

Rage

What is your favorite kind of music?

I'm partial to older rock music. It's fun to listen to, even though most people would disagree with me on that.

Can you cook? If so, what do you like to make?

I love cooking and I've been told I'm pretty good at it! I think my favorite thing to make has to be pastries. I know that's technically considered baking, but it really is my favorite. Plus you get something delicious out of it!

What is the one thing you would not wish on your greatest adversary?

The wrath of the Mors. It's terrifying, really and honestly no one deserves it.

Once again, leaving this as an open tag because I am desperately trying to catch up on all the tags I have :D

please, send help, I am drowning over here

Your guys questions:

Spiders or snakes?

What three things are you bring with you to an abandoned island?

Do you like to read? What's your favorite genre?

[riahlynn101]

Whumptober: Day Eight - Alternative Prompt: "Shaking."

Trigger warnings: Implied/referenced kidnapping and murder, and major character death.

Please, ignore that this is three hours later than usual.

Word count: 1,430

--

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, when Mike can’t force himself to sleep. He wanders out of his room and down the hall. All the way to his….

He stares at the off-white door. Garrett’s name is still printed across the top in red letters (“red is my favorite color, because it reminds me of you.” Mike never understood what his brother meant by that, and now he never would). He hesitates, hand on the door knob. 

Mike takes a quick glance towards his parents’ room. His mom and dad wouldn’t be happy to see him up so late (they don’t seem happy to see him ever. Not after…), but their door is shut and all the lights look to be off. 

His heart is beating fast in his chest. Not out of fear. He’s been in here so many times. The room is practically his safe haven from a world that has changed so much since his brother went missing. 

Mike closes the door behind himself, quickly and quietly just in case his parents decide to mosey down the hallway. The room smells clean. Unlived in. It feels wrong. His brother was naturally tidy, but this….

Mike swallows down his anxieties and lays on the tiny twin-bed. Once upon a time, this bed belonged to him. It’s funny how time works. 

He lays on his back, closing his eyes. It’s hard now, almost two years later, to remember the sound of his brother’s voice. It shouldn’t be. Mike had been twelve. Not three. He should be able to keep the memory of Garrett in his head. So many people told him before, during, and after the “funeral” (which was pointless, because he’s sure his brother is out there somewhere. Alive and well and healthy and…and…) that Garrett will forever remain in his heart. He hated that. He hated it so much. Especially when the memories he holds so dear are starting to leave him. It feels like his brother’s leaving for a second time. 

“.......Mike…….” 

His eyes shoot open. He sits up, looking around the room. Everything seems to be in place. His mom liked to clean the room every so often to prevent dust and mildew. 

“Mikey…..” the voice says again. 

He scrambles out of bed, heart resuming its previous task of beating against his ribcage. “Gar-Garrett…?” He whispers into the darkness of the room. “Where…where are you?”

“Follow my voice,” his brother tells him, and Mike would know (even if it’s almost entirely faded from his memory) Garrett’s voice from anywhere. 

He wanders out of the room, not even bothering to check if his parents are up. Mike has more important things to do.

“I miss you, Mikey,” his brother murmurs, voice drifting down the hallway. He follows it without a second thought. 

“I miss you too.”  

Mike is led down the stairs and towards the front door. He pauses in the doorway. It’s the dead of winter, and bitterly cold outside. And he only has a tee-shirt and pajama pants on. 

“Mike…?” His little brother asks, voice somewhere outside.

“I…I can’t go outside. It’s too cold.”

“But Mike,” Garrett whines, “I want to play with you.”

“Let me grab a-”

“Please.”

Maybe it isn’t that cold outside. And as long as he isn’t out for a long time, it’ll probably be okay. 

“Okay,” Mike gives in, stepping through the threshold. He closes the door behind him. 

“Yay!” His brother cheers. 

“Where are we going?” Mike asks, starting to trek down the icy driveway. He crosses his arms to stay warm. 

“That’s a surprise.”

They walk for a while until Mike can’t bear the cold anymore. “I…I think I need to go home. It’s too cold out here.”

“But I want to play with you.”

“I-I kn-know, but…but my fe-feet and hands are starting to r-r-really hurt. I…I d-d-don’t think it’s s-s-safe to-to be out here.” He vaguely remembers hearing on the news that the temperatures were supposed to drop to dangerous levels. 

“Please,” his brother begs. “I miss you a lot.”

“I…I’m c-c-cold,” Mike gets out between chattering teeth.

“You’re almost there.”

Against his better judgment, MIke nods, ignoring the pain radiating from all of his extremities. “O–okay.”

He’s led to a small diner. It looks old and abandoned. The lights are all turned off, and there’s a ‘closed’ sign in the front window that has several layers of dust on it. 

“Wh-where are w-w-we….” Mike stutters, mind slowing down. 

His brother doesn’t answer, but the padlock on the chain around the front door falls away. Not wanting to stay in the cold a minute longer, Mike lunges at the doors. He has to force them open, as they either haven’t been used in a long, long time, or the below-zero temperatures have frozen them together. 

The diner is warmer, but just barely. It’s obvious no one has been here in years. “Hello…?” He calls out. “Garrett?”

But no one answers him. 

Mike shivers, teeth still chattering together. “Garrett? Where are you?” He goes deeper into the restaurant, hoping (at the very least) it might warm him up.

He passes a small stage. There’s two spots where it's obvious something heavy stood for a long time. 

Mike yawns, drowsy. “Garrett?” 

“Almost there, Mike,” his little brother calls to him. “I’m in the backroom.”

Nodding, Mike stumbles his way down the hall and over to a large metal door. The words: Parts and Services are labeled across the top in big, blocky letters. He opens the door. 

The inside of the room is somehow colder than the rest of the restaurant. Mike’s shivering becomes even more evident. “G-Gar-Garrett…?”

A sudden clatter to his right makes Mike jump. He throws his arms up, ready to attack whoever or whatever made the noise. The movement almost throws him off balance. 

An old bear animatronic sits in the furthest corner. One of its eyes has been torn out and wires protrude from the socket. It also only has one ear, the other one reduced to bits of metal and wires. Its costume is tattered and dirty, and if Mike squints he swears he can see dark stains around the thing’s mouth. 

All the alarm bells  should be going off in his head, but the feeling of wanting to curl up and sleep is starting to become harder to ignore. He stumbles closer, staggering from side to side. His feet and hands are almost numb, but his teeth continue to chatter together. 

“You found me!” His little brother cheers. The voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere near the suit, but when Mike looks, there’s no one there. 

“Wh-where…?” Mike slurs his words, almost falling when he takes a step forward. 

“Right here.”

“I-I d-don’t see you.”

“In the suit.”

“Oh,” he says, like that’s normal.  

“Come sit next to me. I’m sure you’re very tired.”

Instead of answering, Mike finds himself wobbling the last few steps over to the broken down animatronic. He falls to his knees next to it, arms still wrapped around himself. Mike curls into a ball next to it, the back of his head resting against its leg. 

“Goodnight, big brother,” his little brother says. 

Mike murmurs a response, but it comes out garbled and incoherent. 

It doesn’t take long for sleep to claim him. 

-x-x-x-

William stomps down the hallway. His security cameras alerted him-two hours later-of someone entering the diner. Probably a squatter or a very brave (or foolish) teenager. Though, according to the grainy footage, they haven’t left yet (unless they did so while William was away from his monitor).

He checked the entirety of the restaurant. Under tables, behind the counters, in the kitchen, and even the bathrooms. So, there’s only one more place they can hide. 

He slams open the door to the backroom. 

In the corner of the room, Fredbear, noticeably powered up, stares at him. Cradled in its arms is likely the person who broke in. 

For a second, William just stands there. “Who is that?” He asks, like Fredbear is actually going to answer him. 

The animatronic bear huffs, joints creaking as it tightens its hold on the person’s body. William laughs. He comes closer. His eyes sweep across the body. 

A young boy, either a preteen or in his very early teens. The boy looks almost angelic nestled in Fredbear’s arms. A few of his dark curls have fallen onto his face, contrasting with his unnaturally pale skin.

William’s heart stops. 

His entire world screeches to a halt. 

Because the boy in Fredbear’s arms is……

“Michael….?”

[staliamazing]

weekly tag game that i'm bad at xoxo

name: sarah

age: 21

astrological sign: taurus

upon which continent do you reside: australia

tell us how you're feeling right now using 3-5 emojis: 🎃👩‍❤️‍👩🍫🤒😴

whats your favorite flavor of gum?: grape hubba bubba tape

whats the last movie you watched?: challengers! best movie oh my gosh that's why i've been reblogging so much stuff from it. i don't usually watch them so it's really blown me away. patrick zweig the man that you are.

what was your worst subject in high school?: geography! it didn't really click for me but i really hated my teacher who refused to call me my name and only called me "miss insert last name here". i say i was bad at maths but got a band 5 in it for the HSC aka like, a B/B+ for the non-aussies?

whats the job you stayed at for the shortest period of time?: an aussie lingerie company! i was only a christmas casual. it was actually my first ever job and i was very scared of the manager but it helped me rip off the bandaid.

whats your favorite thing to do at an amusement park?: bitch NOTHING. eat some ice cream and go home. i am not a thrill seeker, i hate people and not having two feet planted firmly on the ground. even then the food would probably make me sick.

what condiments go on top of the perfect hot dog (meat or plant-based)?: bbq sauce and onion. by hot dog i mean bunnings sausage sandwich.

cincinnati chili, thoughts?: very few! but chili is yum, i have been enjoying spicy stuff lately. hearty meals as it's getting to be winter!

do you sleep with a plushie?: yes! well they sleep on my bed. i get too overstimulated when i have to touch them at night cos sleep is very difficult. they are named wags and shaky and are my absolute best friends, i don't know what i'd do without them. they're a bit saggy cos they're both around as old as me.

how do you feel about thunderstorms?: not great! the last thunderstorm i endured i was HOME ALONE listening to ethel cain so safe to say i was certain it was my final, doomed hour on this earth. only in the past year have i stopped going into mums room when they get really bed. i am a naturally very fearful person who is convinced i'm unsafe a lot.

what's the last animal you touched?: my sister's cat, norton. who is being a bully to his sister so i was patting him gently and telling him to not be mean.

grab the nearest item with words on it that ISNT a book and tell me the final word: "VEGAN" - my body shop mango lip scrub because mine are always weird and chapped.

have you ever forgotten to do an assignment until the night before its due?: most certainly not! if it's the night before and it's not done, that's a purposeful choice. i'm not sure what it is in me but if i feel like i'm gonna flop i just. stop. can't fail me if i already failed MYSELF, babygirl.

thanks for tagging me @iansw0rld aka the only person who will read this probs LOL. they're fun!

@randomuser-05 if you wanna add some answers u can xoxo