#i need to climb a mountain i need to lay in bed i need to craft with my hands i need to find a creek to rest in i need to run in circles

[jesterguy]

Feeling Most Unwell

[wosofutbolfan]

If You Need Me, Call Me

Alexia Putellas x Explorer!R Pt.2 in the 'I Would Climb Every Mountain With You' Universe.

Hi Guys, Thank you for all the love on the first part in this series. This is part 2 that I didn't expect to write. I have an inability to not write angst. TW: Claustrophobia. Injury. Events are not based on any real life events. Part two of I Would Climb Every Mountain With You. I would recommend you read that first, for some context. But you can do what you want really ;-)

You and Alexia had been together, happily, for a year. And it was happily. Though. ‘Together’ is probably being quite liberal with the word. And. You suppose. ‘Happily’ is also being quite liberal with the word. You loved Alexia. 

And Alexia loved you. 

That was clear to both of you. You admitted it early, before she’d even left UK soil after she’d come back with you from your first meeting. She’d rolled her eyes at you and the nerves on your face as you lay in bed together in your pokey Cumbrian flat, and kissed the words from your lips; ‘well duh, of course you do. And I love you.’ which made you laugh and fall into her lips again. But it wasn’t even 12 hours later that you’d had to separate with her season starting again and her need to be in Spain. Her teammates had teased her relentlessly on her return. How she’d U-Hauled with the Jefa de montaña and ran away to the rainey island she so famously disliked just to spend another day together. She'd rolled her eyes and slapped the back of a few heads but it was true. That is what she had done. She’d been overjoyed when she spotted you in the crowd on the first home game of the season. You’d made the surprise trip to Barcelona at the last minute, employing Ingrid to get a ticket in the friends and family section for you. The smile on the Captain's face as she spotted you could be seen from space. You had winked at her and proudly gestured to your brand new Barcelona jersey, Alexias number proudly splayed across your back. As the game ended, with a convincing win for the home team, she’d made a beeline for you in the stands. Jumping over the barrier and embracing you like you hadn’t seen each other for months (oh how used to that feeling you would become), rather than a couple of weeks. “I thought that you preferred rugby?” she had teased you. “Ah, I do, but no one told me how hot the captain in blue and red was” you’d replied, with a wink. Enjoying the blush you’d created on her face, before it was your turn to blush as Alexias eyes darted to your right and greeted, “Mami! Hola!” and embraced a small women in a shirt matching yours who was definitely standing within hearing distance. Just over her shoulder a carbon-copy of Alexia was lurking, a childlike grin on her face and twinkle in her eyes. “Ah, and this is mi hermana Alba!” she had introduced you. ‘Well, nothing like diving in headfirst’ you thought to yourself, as you were introduced to your apparently-new girlfriend's family, as that's what you had just been introduced as, with a squeeze of your hand and a kiss to the side of your head. The Putellas family embraced you with all the enthusiasm in the world. Alba kept you entertained and asked you a million and one questions as you waited for Alexia to be finished with her media and captain duties. Before you knew it you were at an impromptu meet-the-new-english-girlfriend party at the Putellas residence, sharing food with seemingly everyone who had ever been related to Alexia as well as their next door neighbours. Sharing wine, food, and lots of baby Alexia pictures. So yes. You had both moved fast. Maybe it was the speed which you were going that would soon become your downfall. You were moving a million miles an hour and the warning signs were a blur that you couldn’t quite make out. Of those first 6 months, you were on an exhibition for 4. You had travelled to Patagonia to climb some of the last unclaimed peaks on the planet with the National Geographic Society. They were unreachable by road or even yak. You had to sail to the bottom of South America and then move your way up on foot.  It was arduous, it was treacherous, but you found satisfaction and joy in the difficulty.

You become the first person and only woman to ever summit Orjos del Salado and, as you snapped a picture at the top, all you thought was how excited you were to share your achievement with Alexia. As you’d called her a week later from a dive-bar in a shanty town in central Argentina you could hear the pride and relief in her voice, even through the terrible connection. It was the first time you had been able to contact her in a month.

But you’d gone straight from there to leading some American businessmen through the Amazon on a 3 week river and hiking exploration. It paid handsomely, you’d explained to the disappointed blonde, you couldn’t turn it down.

You returned to Barcelona in time to spend a week together before Alexia left for a two week international camp.  Which was then followed by a week long trip for her to Norway, as part of their group stage champions league campaign.

You’d joined her there, soaking as much time together as possible between her matches and training sessions. Maybe it was then that the cracks had begun to show. As you had woken early to pick her up from her hotel to go for an early morning walk and grab some coffee before her media duties. You had been walking hand in hand in the early morning sunshine. You had been half-way through a story from the day before, where you and Ingrid's mum had gone together to a lake outside of Oslo, when you felt her drop your hand suddenly and took a half step away from you. “Huh?” you looked at her and a look you hadn’t seen before took over her features, “What’s going on Ale?”. “Trust me” was all she’d replied, and then it had become apparent her problem as a swarm of fans suddenly engulfed her, asking for selfies and autographs, which she gave out, graciously. She skillfully extracted herself from the situation before you both continued on your way, but now, you noticed, you were at least a foot further apart and a weird atmosphere had taken over you both. It had been when you were both safely in the cafe that you’d addressed it, “are you ashamed of me?” you asked, unable to mask the hurt in your voice. Hands safely wrapped around your Tea. “No!” she’d replied, aghast, as she pulled your hands from your mug into her own. “mírame cariño” you did, and saw the heartbreaking look in her eyes. “I would never be ashamed of you. Do not think that for one moment.” she said it with such conviction that you couldn’t help but nod. “I am sorry, but it is easier. For you. The media. They will pry into your life. It’s happened before with… partners and… I don’t want that for you. For your family. I love you.” “I won’t hide Ale.” you replied. Firmly. You were a free spirit. It was not in your nature to hide yourself, any part of yourself, for anything or anyone. The thought of it made you claustrophobic. “I know you won’t.” she huffed out a laugh, “I do not want us to hide. I promise. But, maybe, if we do not make their job easy for them? Can we do that?”. The look of desperation on her face broke your heart. “Bueno Ale. Para ti. Yo también te amo.” You’d gone your separate ways from there, you had explorations to complete, she was busy with the team. She’d managed to visit England for a few days when her UCWL matches lined up, and you started to return to Barcelona, rather than Cumbria, as a home base between trips. And that's how it had gone for some time. Your birthday had passed, you’d spent it together in Barcelona, Ale having stolen your trusty-old boots and had them professionally repaired and re-waxed. As she presented them to you, on her balcony with a cute bow on top, your heart expanded in joy. She got you. She knew you didn’t want new-top of the range boots that she definitely could afford. This actually was harder, she’d had to research the dying-art of cobblers in the area. She had to sneak them out of your duffell bag, she must have distracted you every time you went for them as your go-to walking shoes in the week. With all her money and fame. She understood that wasn’t you. You loved what you had. And she got that. As you had turned the boots in your hands, taking in all of the familiarity in all their glory and feeling the waxy leather beneath your fingers she couldn’t read your face. “I hope you don’t mind” she’d taken them gently from your hands and she pulled back the tongue, which showed a piece of jersey sewn into the backing-fabric. Blue and red, with a white AP11 embroidered into it. “It's from my first champions league shirt. I cut a swatch off, and had them sew it in…” she whispered. The moment had been heavy. “I know we don’t get to spend time together like most couples, but this way, I’ll always be with you.” Your throat had burned with the effort to keep your tears at bay, you were unsuccessful when you felt her warm hand cup your face and wipe a tear away,

“I’m sorry, It’s probably way too intrusive and I shouldn’t have taken your stuff, I can ta…” You’d silenced her with a kiss. Intense and hungry. “This is the most thoughtful gift I have ever had. I love you Ale. I love you so much.”  “Good.”... you both take a moment to look into each other's eyes, then you feel a movement as she reaches into her pocket and presents proudly what she’s pulled out, eyes shining with mirth “Then maybe you will consider these laces too, no?” and you burst out laughing whilst you take in the Blaugrana coloured hiking laces. You’ve not got it in you to not agree. But love sometimes isn’t enough. Time passed. You continued your work and she continued hers. Valentines days spent on opposite sides of the globe. You weren’t there when she won the Champions League, instead spending it watching it in a bar in Jordan. She wasn’t there as you returned from reaching an undiscovered island as part of a research crew in the South Pacific, instead being in Munich to film a new Nike ad. When you were together you couldn’t walk the streets of Barcelona hand in hand. You’d kept your promise and she kept hers. You weren’t hidden, but you weren’t showcasing your relationship. When she came to England you had more freedom, the people of Cumbia didn’t know who the Spanish superstar was, they just knew her as your girlfriend. Your fit girlfriend according to the teenage boy who lived next door to your mum. You made it work though, between you. You would send her snaps every time you saw children playing football. Pictures from south pacific islands to the mountain villages of the Himalayas, and every time you would receive the same response; “See, el deporte del mundo, I told you <3” It was a perfect storm. What happened. You’d spent a month in Barcelona, more time that you had been able to spend together in the year you’d been a couple. You’d fallen into a domesticity that you hadn’t experienced before. 

Alexia would train, you would have dinner ready for her. She would wake you up with a cup of Tea from her new kettle she's bought especially for you. You would plan routes and give advice to your online contacts about expeditions they had planned. You would sleep wrapped in each other's arms, Alexia would even let you be the big spoon, very occasionally. 

It felt perfect.  Until one, simple comment.

“Ay, look at you, wifey!” Mapi had exclaimed from her place at the table as you brought in the dinner you had prepared for the group,  you had invited her and Ingrid for a couples night, “who would have thought, “La jefa de la montaña. Tamed!” “Shut up Maria.” Ingrid nudged her girlfriend, with a kind smile she turned to you, “This looks delicious! Thank you” As the group tucked in though, you were distracted. Suddenly, the weight of Alexia's hand on your thigh felt heavy. The walls, too constricting. For you, the heat of Barcelona started to become oppressive. Too predictable. You missed England, you missed not knowing what the weather would be hour by hour. The contact blue skies felt like a false--happiness was being forced on you. The ground at your feet, sun dried, felt harsh compared to the muddy grass you had grown up stomping on. Soft, flexible. The routine started to bore you. You missed the weight of your backpack and the freedom of slinging up your hammock. Alexia hadn’t missed the way you had clammed up, the tenseness in your posture, the way your laugh did not reach your eyes for the rest of that evening. For the weeks following she felt like keeping you was like trying to catch smoke. Like trying to hold sand in her bare hands. She could feel you escape through her fingers for the next few weeks.

Which is why she wasn’t surprised when she returned from an away trip to Mallorca to see you on the couch. Hands nervously twisting and unable to meet her eye.

“You’re going again, aren't you?” she asked, as she dropped her bag at the door and settled next to you, taking your hands in hers. You nodded.

“I’m sorry Ale. It's just. It's not me.” you’d explained then, how you had been feeling. And she listened. Even though she knew. Of course she already knew.

“It’s okay, carino.” you’d assured you. You’d look up then, “it is?”

“Si, Mi Vida. I would never ask you to change. And only you would be bored of the life of a professional footballer, and you must be the only English person to ever complain about the weather in Barcelona” she’d lightened the mood with her joke, and rolled her eyes good naturedly.

“Where are you going this time?” she’d continued, and she should have known from your pause that this wasn’t the usual goodbye.

“Everest.”

“Everest.”  She’d reperated. Joy in her voice, she knew it was your life’s ambition to climb the world's highest summit. “...and Denali, and Elbrus...” you had continued to name the 7 highest summits on each continent that you would spend the next 18 months climbing, without oxygen, as part of an international exploration. Silence filled the apartment. “I….” “No.” “No?” you asked, shock in your voice. “No, what?” “No, you can’t do that. It's too dangerous.” “But Ale…” “No. No ‘but Ale’. I get it. I have been your partner now for long enough. I understand. But this is too much. No oxygen, so many climbs… there is too much danger. No.” her tone firm. Final. Her Captain's voice. And that had made the walls feel like they were closing in for you. And you responded like a wild animal, backed into a corner, defensive. “I wasn’t asking.” She let out a frustrated groan, hands covering her face. “Carino, please no. Listen to me. Being with you…” a huff again… “it is hard.” “Oh well, I am sorry Alexia, if being with me is such a chore…” you started. “No, stop, you are not letting me speak…” but you had started at that point. “You are not the one who is hidden away, you aren’t one who has had to move countries, to miss her family, your life hasn’t changed! You’ve given up nothing for this relationship.” you hiss out at her, hardly recognising your own voice. You're speaking just to hurt her. To make this easier for both of you. And that final sentence, seems to be what breaks the usually cool and calm exterior of your girlfriend and she stands and points her finger at you. “Nothing! ¡nada! ¿Cómo te atreves?” she spits out at you, the anger in her tone surprises you, you have never heard her speak like this, “I have sat here and waited. For months I have waited. For anything from you. Being with you is not like a long-distance relationship. You go, for months at a time, you go. And you expect me to sit here and wait. And I do. You do not text, you do not call. I understand that you cannot but do not say I have made no sacrifice for this relationship. When you got lost in the Gobi desert for weeks, what do you think I was doing? Sitting here! Jumping out of my skin every time the phone rang in case it was your Mami telling me you had been found dead. I did not play in The Copa De La Reinga final because I was so sick with worry. He hecho sacrificio. mi equipo, mi familia ha hecho sacrificio and I will not let you disrespect me or them and let you say otherwise.” 

Alexia doesn’t lose any of her anger in her tirade. And the silence that settles over the apartment is heavy. She seems to have surprised herself, as her eyes go wide and she opens her mouth again… but you interrupt her. “No Ale. Do not apologise.” you hold your hand up. “I didn’t think. I'm sorry. You are right. I am not good for you.” This is why you didn’t do relationships. You were a bad partner. You needed to be free, outside, exploring. You lived for adventure. It wasn’t fair.

“No! No Carino, that is not what I said!” tears are in her eyes now, and you knew this would be hard, but you didn’t know it would be this hard. “I love you...” “I love you too,” she quickly replies. Neither of you had even been shy with your affirmations to each other. “I love you so much Ale. But I have to go and do this. I have too. It is who I am. It is my dream. It.. It is my world cup.” She huffs out a laugh as she gently nudges herself into your arms, your attempt at speaking in a way she would understand humouring her. “I know.” she replies, sadly, “but I cannot go through that for 18 months mi amor. I cannot.” “And I won’t ask you to, love.” You move a strand of hair from her face as you kiss her lips, gently, there's a finality in it, you open your mouth again but she cuts in. “I can’t say anything that will stop you, can i?” she asks, as you shake your head, sadly. “When do you leave?” You cringe as you confirm her worst thoughts, “tomorrow.” She takes a deep breath and presses her face into your neck. “Can we do one thing before you go?” she asks you. 

Anything. You would give this woman in your arms anything she asked for at that moment. Apart from stay. And that's how you found yourself swinging on your old lightweight hammock. 

Strung up securely in the Putellas back yard. As you lay on your (ex?) girlfriend's chest, as you both looked up at the stars. You chatted into the night, you laughed and you cried. You fumbled under the blankets like horny teenagers. She asked you to promise to contact when you could. And you asked her to not worry, to concentrate on the Olympics and move on from you. You kept it to yourself that there was no way you were moving on from her.  You didn't know she was keeping the same thing to herself as she promised you she would try.

It was the weirdest break up anyone had ever had.

And, 17 months later, as you lay, trapped, entombed in your own coffin of ice,  you were sure that you could still feel the sway of that hammock, feel the heat of that Barcelona evening and hear the cicadas chirping. As the ice pressed all around you, all you could dream of was being back in that back yard in Barcelona, in the arms of Alexia.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Denali. Done. Vinson. Done.

Aconcagua, Kilimanjaro, Elbrus, Puncak Jaya . Done, Done, Done and Done. You’d faced the heat of Africa, the remoteness of Antarctica, the desolation of Russia. And here you were, finally, on your final summit. Everest. It was somewhat of a dichotomy between the mountaineering community. Everest had become a commercial hub. Have-a-go mountaineers paying big bucks to get a free ride to the highest mountain in the world. But to you, it had always been sacred. You had imagined it, as you climbed hills in the English lakes as a teenager, of one day scaling the iconic mountain. So, why? As you stood on the highest point of earth. After 3 months of acclimatisation. Were you thinking of your ex-girlfriend? Who were you kidding? You knew why. 

Alexia hadn’t been far from your thoughts on any of your summits. Her face popping into your mind at each peak. As you pocketed some rock as had become your tradition you would imagine her face as your hand touched the earth. The same earth she was on, thousands of miles away, probably in lush, manicured grass, kicking a ball around and entertaining thousands. Your group had become your family, and you had grown as close as one. Arguing when tensions got high but snuggling together to share warmth when in survival mode. Joking in bars across the globe and playing so many games of gin rummy that you sure a record had been broken. They teased you relentlessly for the old boots with silly laces you wore on the lower reaches of each summit, before you reached heights that you all had to wear mountaineering boots. Alexia, unknowingly, with you every step of the way. They had even made a game in each country you entered, to help you pick the rudest or funniest postcard to send to Barcelona, snippets of your time you sent to Alexia, keeping the promise you made over a year ago. You could have rang, you know you could. But you didn’t know if you heard her voice you wouldn’t high-tail it to Barcelona. So you sent postcards. It felt old-fashioned. It felt romantic. And you think that really, you liked that she couldn’t reply. It felt anonymous. You took off your snow goggles as you stood at the peak. You had 3 minutes on the highest point on earth without your goggles before you would become snow blind. The sun being about 60% stronger at this elevation. You could see the curvature of the earth.  It reminded you of the curvature of Alexia's shoulders as you held her from behind.

You took in a deep breath of thin air.

Your lung capacity feels like it has doubled since you left Europe.

You have done it. Without oxygen. 7 summits. Your life goal. Complete.

And now. You wanted to go home. 

“Congratulations English Sherpa! You have done it!” Arjan, clamps a heavily gloved hand on your shoulder, his wide smile visible even beneath his snood. Ice hanging from his moustache. He had to shout for you to hear him over the wind. He was a sherpa, he had travelled all around the world with you being one of the experts in the group, he’d affectionately nicknamed you the English Sherpa after he had seen your climbing prowess on your first summit. “We have done nothing yet, my friend. You know you’ve only climbed Everest once you get back down safely” you reply, glee in your voice, fixing your goggles back to your face. “Spoken like a true Sherpa.” he replied, and you both embraced at the top of the world. You didn’t hang around for long. Your entire expedition made it to the top of your final summit and you quickly pictured the moment before making your way down. The biggest risk on Everest is getting stuck in a crowd. It is not as technically difficult as other summits you have done. But without oxygen, a minute can feel like an hour on the highest point on earth. You heard once, it is easier to be saved from the surface of the moon than it is to be saved from the surface of Everest. Luck, however, seemed to be on your side. You had made good progress up, and were making even better progress down. With each step you became more and more gleeful, past 8,000 metres you started to finally feel safer. 7,000 metres, you let the excitement of your achievement settle into your bones. 6,000 metres you let your mind wander to finally going home but why was home seeming more like a sundrenched balcony in Barcelona rather than a green field of England? 5,000 metres, you promised yourself that you would use the satellite phone in your pocket to ring Alexia once you got back to base camp. Tell her you’d done it. Maybe even beg her forgiveness. You were alone on the mountain, ahead of most of your group and low enough now to be unattached to any guidelines, it was a usual affair.  Until it wasn’t.

You felt the ground rumble beneath you. It was barely noticeable. It felt more like the feeling you get when you’re lying in bed and a large truck drives past your house.

But it was enough to instil fear in you as you looked up and saw a wall of moving snow hurtling towards you. It was a slab avalanche, probably caused by the movement of the climbers above, and paired with the lateness of the day, the snow that had fallen and compacted overnight had melted enough to loosen into a wall of ice that was directed your way.

You had about 30 seconds.

You knew to go sideways, do not outrun an avalanche. It's like trying to outrun a cheetah. But this wall of ice looked wide, you ran to your side, moving slowly in the deep snow. As you ran you pulled your goggles back onto your face.

You could feel the earth beneath you falling away as the snow you trod on was unearthed by the vibrations of the snow above.

You ran. You ran for your life, but you knew this wasn’t good. Your training kicked in.

You saw a boulder in front of you and you threw yourself behind it, you created a ball with your body, making sure that you created a hole around your face you would be able to use to breathe. You pulled your ice pole from your back and stuck it into the ground next to you, that would help when you were covered by snow and you didn't know which way was up. Which way you would need to dig. You put one hand in your pocket and pulled the satellite phone in front of your face.

A thunderous rumble. 

And then. 

Silence. Darkness.  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alexia didn’t have her phone on at half time. She never paid it any attention - playing or not she was too focussed on the game.

Today, though, she didn’t know why. But she did.

She felt her phone vibrate in the bag at her feet.

And something compelled her to actually make the effort to dig into her bag and pull it out.

The number looked weird. Not a Spanish number, or an English one, she had gotten used to all the +44’s that had rang her over the year spent with you.

She stepped out of the unfamiliar changing room into the impressive corridors of Old Trafford. A post-season friendly. Barcelona Vs Manchester United. The game didn’t mean anything but it was always exciting to check another famous stadium off the list. A sold out crowd and an evening game. Can’t get much better.

She found a disused office room and managed to press accept on the call.

“Hola?”

At first she thought she’d missed it. Nothing on the line responded to her, as she pulled the phone away to check she saw the call had connected… ‘Scammers’ she cursed in her mind, moving to hang up. But just before she did…

“Hola, Ale.” She couldn’t believe it. Your voice. She dropped her weight onto the table behind her and held a hand to her chest that suddenly felt like it was torn in two. Heart beating faster than any 45 minutes of running could cause.

“¿eres realmente tú?”

“Yes, It’s me Ale.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes and even after everything she felt just the same as she did when she stepped out of that minibus nearly 3 years ago and first set eyes on you.

“Are you okay carino? Did you do it?”  she asked, breathlessly. “I did it, love.” was the response. In her pride at your accomplishment she missed how you hadn’t addressed her first question.

“Nunca tuve ninguna duda, I am so relieved to hear from you. The line is so quiet, are you still there?”

“Si…” a pause which Alexia attributes to the poor connection, “It must be the signal.” she notices you move on, quickly, “Can… can you just talk to me?”. Alexia smiles despite herself, you used to always ask her to talk you to sleep when your mind was whirring, completing your greatest accomplishment must be in that category and she can imagine you fidgeting in pent up adrenaline.

“I can amor, I have a few minutes. I am in Manchester. We are at half time at Old Trafford.”

“Old Trafford, hey?” she hears you laugh, “Finally, a football ground I’ve heard of.” She's missed your teasing lilt.

“Si, even you. It is raining. Why is it always raining here? I imagine you have better weather even at your camp.” Alexia jokes, innocently. The laugh you let out feels a little… forced? But she lets it go.

“I had lunch with your Mami today. We are only an hour or so away from yours, why did you never tell me we were so close?” Again, that laugh that she loves so much, but it felt more tired that she’d heard it before, more muffled. Though. She supposed, you must be exhausted.

“Because then, my love, you would have made us go and watch football matches and I much preferred to spend our time together in my bed.”

“Ah, Si, I remember, you did.” she responds, blushing and not missing a beat. 

“Your Mami is doing well. She is in the stands….” “Tell her I love her, Ale.” you cut in. There's a desperate edge to your voice that sends shivers down Alexia's spine. She stands, “I will. Of course I will. Carino, are you okay?” she realises now, you never answered her first question. “I stood on the top of Everest today, Ale.” you reply. You haven’t answered her question. She opens her mouth to ask it again but you continue, “I stood on the top of Everest and all I could think of was you.” Your words force her to sit again, her spare hand to her mouth, keeping in a muffled sob. “Don’t you think that's insane? That today, Ale. You were in Manchester and someone. On top of the world. The highest point on this Earth. The highest person on this planet. Only about 4 spacemen floating around above me. Had only you in their mind? I think that means you’ve been to the top of the world, Ale. En la cima del mundo conmigo. You were there with me, every step.” You sound drunk, she wouldn’t blame you, thin air for months it wouldn’t take more than half a pint to see you off, the thought of your ramblings makes her smile despite herself, she knows she shouldn’t, but she leans into it. “Everyone here talks like you….” she pauses, “In Manchester. Only me and Ona can understand them. With your flat vowels. It made me think of you more today. Miss you more than normal today. And now you call.” There's a knock on the office door, “Ale, Vamos!” half time has ended. She has never wanted to play football less than right now. “Because we’re soulmates” your voice definitely had a slur to it now, “and I miss you too. I’ll always miss you, my Ale.” you always got soppier when you drank. “You won’t miss me for long, Carino. You will be home soon. I don’t care if you decide that it's England or Spain. Whichever. I will be there. Si?... We will be together soon. We can sort all this out.” “Hopefully, n..to..oo soon.” she struggles to hear you, the connection starting to fail. “Pardon? Amor?” another knock at the door. She feels like she's being pulled in half as she presses the phone closer to her ear. “Amor. I have to go. Well done, Estoy tan orgullosa de ti. Call me when you can.” “I love you, Ale…” “I lo…” beep beep beep. The call drops before she has a chance to respond. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You feel pain all over your body. You had never felt pain like it. It was like every sinew in your body was screaming out in pain. You opened your eyes and immediately closed them again. Blinding white. You heard voices. Alarmed voices. 

Shouting voices. “HERE, HERE!!!” You felt yourself being moved. It made the pain worse. You tried to tell them to stop. 

Your throat couldn't make a sound. And then all you knew was black. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- More darkness. You felt something covering your face. Your body being stripped. Water. Boiling water. It burned. You were submerged. “No no no no no no…” was all you could try to vocalise. A calming hand in your hair. “It is lukewarm water, we are trying to bring your body temperature up…” 

No, no. They were lying. The voice was lying. You thrashed. A pain in your arm. A needle? Darkness took you again. —--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “There is no chance, Arjan.” “Bu….” “No. You are an experienced Sherpa. You are letting yourself get lost. There is no chance. She is too far gone. Air evac is the only way. No Nepalese pilot will fly at this altitude. We need to make her comfortable…” —--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You felt yourself being moved.

Less painful this time.

You felt wind on your face.

This wasn’t natural wind.

The sound of blades. Air moving unnaturally. Choppily.

Your face is covered again. 

The wind gets louder. More mechanical. You feel yourself being lifted up. “You’ve some friends in high places, English Sherpa.” you hear whispered to you, a hand on your forehead. Arjan? Your friend is speaking to you. You feel less alone. You try to open your eyes but the effort feels herculean. And then nothingness. —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This time, when you wake up. You stay awake. You’re in an unfamiliar room. It’s obvious it's a hospital room. But you’re alone. You look around and see yourself wired up to all sorts of machines. But that's it. You try to move to sit up but your shoulder screams in protest. You take stock of your body. You feel a bandage wrapped around your head. Your head is banging now you think about it. Your right arm is completely immobile. Your arm wrapped across your chest and hand completely covered by bandages. You try to wiggle your fingers but. Nothing. God. You hope they’re still there. Before you had too long to spiral the door burst open and you were faced with a smiling, familiar face. “Arjan!” you try to exclaim, voice rough from underuse. “She’s awake. My friend!” his sun-soaked face suits his smile. His bushy eyebrows make his eyes almost invisible as he crinkles them in joy. Arjan settles next to you and fills you in on everything you were present for, but missed out on account of being buried alive or completely unconscious. Your choice to hide behind the boulder had been the first thing to save your life. It had protected you from being swept away by the avalanche and was easier to locate. Before you had called Alexia you had contacted base camp. But your GPS had been knocked off so all they knew was that you were alive. And where you told them you had last been. You’d lost consciousness fairley quickly. Brain starved of oxygen in the small air pocket you had created. Hypothermia had set in slowly.

Your hand had been left exposed after using the phone, and you remember wiggling your fingers, seeing them slowly turn black as they succumbed to frostbite. It had taken 3 days to find you. Luckily, you had been the only person caught up in the snow. You remember, now, coming in and out of consciousness. You even recall a bad spell of seeing Alexias face in the boulder your head rested against and talking to it. Maybe you’d keep that you yourself. Bit embarrassing really. Your legs were pinned down by snow. You had used your last piece of strength to thrust your ice pole upwards. You'd chosen the direction based on the way your tears fell. That was the second thing that had saved your life. Arjan had spotted the pole in the ice field. Days after everyone else had given up on ever finding you. You’d been dragged to base camp and they started to treat hypothermia. You were more than halfway to dead. You resembled a corpse. Arjan had told you he'd never seen anyone literally blue. “Pulled it off tho, my friend” he’d tried to joke. “Of course, always” you’d winked back in reply. You'd have no chance of survival whilst still on the mountain. The air was still too thin and your were suffering from hypoxia. Problem was, the air was too thin for an air evacuation and. Well. As you knew. It was easier to be saved from the surface of the moon than it was to be saved from the surface of Everest. The third thing that had saved you. Was Alexia. “You have someone who’s gone to the moon and back for you, my friend.” Once she’d found out you had gone missing she had gone to the UK embassy in London to start a search and rescue campaign. When they hadn’t moved quickly enough she had involved the Spanish government. She’d used her resources and status to launch a media campaign which had pressured both governments. She’d flown to Kathmandu herself and was trying to hire a plane to Lukla when you’d been found. Then her attention turned to locating a pilot crazy enough to fly at such an altitude. Turns out anyone was crazy enough for the right price. And many, many euros later, the highest ever search flight took off from the surface of Everest, with you on board. “She’s a force to be reckoned with, your girl.”

He told you, as he reached to the ground below you, “...and you’ll be happy to hear, I saved your precious boots” he dumped your familiar old tattered boots at the bottom of your bed.

“And some stuff from your tent. But I had to hike it out so I left some of the smellier clothes.” he joked, as you thanked him, he really was a good man. “... Wait… hike it out? How long have I been here?” “You’ve been unconscious for a week my friend. I always told you you were lazy.” You took a moment to take stock. A week. Well. That meant that even if Alexia had been in Kathmandu, she was a million miles away now. The door opens again and you’re too lost in your own thoughts to give any care to the nurse whos been coming in every now and again checking charts whilst you and Arjan chatted. “Ah here she is. La Reina herself!” You turned your head quickly and took in the face that had been the last image in your mind every night, and the first every morning, since the day you had parted. “Ale…” you breathed. Here. She was here. In Kathmandu. In the same room as you. 

She looked as beautiful as ever, hair flowing over her shoulders, blonder than the last time you had seen her. She had gained muscle and her features had sharpened. But everything else was the same. Her smell invaded your senses. That smell that mosquitoes loved so much. You got it. Her eyes were sharp, and directed firmly at you. They looked tired. She held a sense of exhaustion. You wanted her to fall into your arms, but she stood at the door, and you couldn't open them to welcome her in. The moment was heavy and Arjan broke the silence and stood… “I’ll leave you both to it. See you around English Sherpa.” and with a squeeze of your foot he was gone. Leaving you both in a heavy silence. “Thank You Ale.” you said, breaking the silence.

After all Arjan told you, you owed her your life. She didn't respond. But her eyes had moved from your face and were now directed at the boots still on your bed. As battered as ever, Blaugrana laces snapped and re-tied in several places, swatch still visible on the tongue. Maybe you thought that your meeting would be a bit more romantic, not as…tense? She stroked one of the boots gently with her finger, seemingly lost in a trance. “Ale…?” “You have a habit of not telling me important things.” Whatever you expected it wasnt that. “Qué?” “That you speak Spanish, how you feel, I don’t know… that your trapped in a fucking avalanche.” you’d seen her angry before, you’d seen that anger directed at you, but this felt worse. It was directed through you. She kept her distance when all you wanted to do was hold her close. “How could you do that? How could you let us speak knowing that you were about to freeze to death and just chat to me, like it was a normal Sunday afternoon?” “I…I didn’t want to worry you…” you croaked out, you felt like a school child who was being told off by the head teacher. And you deserved it, you supposed. “I will always worry about you, por el amor de dios!!” She started to pace around the bottom of your bed, your eyes moving like they were taking in a tennis match watching her wear the ground down. “...and to think I finished that game. I slept that night at your flat. Happy, finally feeling like I almost had you back. Your mami took me home. And then, the next morning, I walked into the kitchen. And there she was, crying at the table. She could hardly tell me what had happened. And then it all fell into place. You’d called me when you thought you were already in your grave, didn’t you?” All you could do was nod, arms desperate to dry the tears tracking down her face. “I’m glad to see you.” you let out. Unsure of what else to say. “You won’t be. I am so, so angry at you.” “I know you are bu…” 

“No, you did your speaking on that Mountain. Now you listen” Her tears are dry now and the anger is back in her face. “I have sorted a medical flight. We leave tonight. We’re going back to Barcelona. I don’t care if you want to go back to that rainey island or not. It’s not your choice, it's mine. You almost froze to death, you need the sun. The warm. You will come with me every day to the doctors at the club. They will monitor you. Your family will come to visit. You will go to a therapist. You will take your medication. You will not ignore your medication because you think its better to treat yourself with whatever crushed bug or mashed-up leaves you think is better….” She stops for breath. “That was one time…” you mumbled, referring back to the time you insisted that a crushed cucumber was better than antiseptic cream to treat a bee sting. “Nope. You are still listening.” She stopped you, firmly again, but you felt her eyes softening as she took you in, “... and when we get home and you get better, we will talk. We will decide where we are building our life together, but that is one non-negotiable. It will be together. Okay?” She seems to be finished. And she's moved closer to you, close enough for you to reach out and grab her hand with your good one. You nod, and pull her hand to cup your face. “I just have one question.” you ask, seeking permission to speak. She nods as she strokes your face, tired and burnt from over-exposure. “Are these fingers still attached?” you ask, shaking your injured arm at her, “they’re kind of important for my plans, if you know what I mean” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively. Her laugh makes you think maybe you did die on that mountain, because surely, here, with her, you’re in heaven. “Te amo, idiota” —-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You awoke surrounded by soft sheets and sleep-warm pillows. Your once-injured arm tweaked in pain slightly as you stretched out. You had physio later this afternoon, you thought to yourself, you had better mention it. You rolled out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen, still covered in blankets, bed hair resembling a yeti. You almost tripped up over your rucksack which was laying in the hall. Where it had been since your return to Barcelona, months ago. You hadn’t been ready to unpack it quite yet. You could hear Alexia on the phone out on the balcony, and you gestured the international, ‘want a drink’ sign to her, which she shook her head at. You shrugged. God, sometimes she was so Spanish. A good Brit would never let a hot kettle go to waste. It had been months of reconnection, Alexia finally letting go of her anger as soon as you entered the flat. She broke down in your arms that first night, simultaneously telling you how angry she was at you and how much she loved you at the same time. How she had never been as scared in her life. You just dealt with it by pressing kisses into her hairline.

She'd made you sit in the sun of the balcony every chance she got. Morning, Noon and Night. Moving you around to chase the rays. Insisting that you needed the warmth and vitamins of the sun to recover. The image of you pale, cold and frozen in the hospital in Nepal seared into her mind. When Mapi and Ingrid visited Mapi teased you, and had taken to calling you Bagheera. She said you resembled her cat, chasing the sun to lounge in at every occasion. She quickly stopped when Alexia slapped the back of her head. You no longer had to hide your relationship. Alexia had blown the doors off that as she went to the media in order to get the resources to save you. The feeling of claustrophobia that had made you flee from Barcelona had gone. You knew what being trapped really felt like now. And how you ever thought the love of your life and a shared life in this sun-drenched city was suffocating. Well. That was a different person to who you were now. Yeah, you would always love the outdoors. But you had an anchor now. Something that made you maybe not scale that next peak, and instead be excited to share a recipe with. Maybe not stay on the trail for an extra week, and instead pick out a good film to settle down to. Your mum was over the moon. She’d been a regular visitor. You thought she’d be upset, when you decided to stay in Spain instead of going back to England but she seemed offended by the idea. “That girl saved your life you stupid woman, of course will stay here with her.” Alexia didn’t accept it so easily. She was worried you would feel trapped again, that she wasn’t compromising. She would rather move with you than lose you. “Ale. Barna is your life.” you had replied, simply, “...and you are mine.” “It is not!” she had refused, aghast at the suggestion until you said, “United will have me, so will City, my agent has checked, I would even go to the Championship and play for Newcastle, I look great in black!” “Ale, you literally have a floor tile tattooed on your back. We’re staying here.” you said, deadpan. And she couldn’t say much to that. So, much to the despair of every football fan in England. She signed a new contract with Barcelona not two weeks ago. Maybe it was how settled you felt this morning, as the kettle boiled. The soreness in your muscles after the night you spent together in bed, which must be why your shoulder was straining now. Maybe you'd keep that away from the physio. Though, maybe he’d be happy to hear that your fingers were definitely fully recovered. Not as happy as Alexia was though, you'd bet. But something about this morning made you brave enough to finally open that rucksack in the hallway. As you zipped it open your fingers caught on a single piece of cardboard. A postcard. You flipped it over as arms encircled your waist and gentle lips kissed your shoulder. “Carino?” she asked, looking at the postcard in your hands. “I never got to give you this.” you whispered, as you held the postcard over your shoulder, she let you go as she turned it in her hands. She let out a barking laugh as she moved towards the fridge where 6 other postcards sat proudly, waiting for their 7th to complete the set. A woman in a bikini, sat on a yak wearing a cowboy hat, the imposing structure of Everest in the background. A speech bubble coming out of her mouth ‘I’ve seen bigger’. Alexia rolled her eyes at you as she stuck it to the fridge with a magnet showing the message you wrote all those months ago.

“Ale, I’m here. 

One more summit and I’ll be on my way back to you. For good. How can I say it in your language? ‘It’s coming home’. 

fin. 

[caitified]

Could you write something with CC who loves naps like always begging r to lay down with her and cuddle. I feel like her room is def -10 degrees and she uses it as an excuse to practically crawl under your skin

nap time

caitlin clark x reader

this was so personal to me as a nap enthusiast,those sound like my ideal conditions

caitlin loved naps more than just about anything. it didn’t matter how busy her schedule was—practice, games, workouts—she always managed to find time to crash for an hour or two. she swore it was essential for her performance, but you were pretty sure she just loved curling up in her fortress of blankets and dozing off whenever she could.

and since the two of you started dating, she’d made it her personal mission to drag you into her napping habits. at first, you resisted—claiming you had too much to do, that it was too cold in her room, or that you weren’t tired. but caitlin was nothing if not persistent, and her endless whining (paired with her ridiculous pouting) eventually wore you down. now, it had become routine for her to beg you to nap with her, using every excuse in the book to get you to crawl under her mountain of blankets and cuddle up.

so, when you walked into her room that afternoon and saw her already burrowed in her usual spot, you knew exactly where this was going.

“come lay down with me,” she whined, stretching out her arms toward you from her cozy little nest.

“caitlin, your room feels like a walk-in freezer,” you reply, arms crossed and standing your ground. “i swear i saw my breath when i walked in.”

“that’s because it’s the perfect temperature for napping,” she argues, sitting up slightly. the blanket slips off her shoulder, and she immediately grabs it and tugs it back up like a burrito. “come on, it’s freezing—i need you to warm me up.”

you raise an eyebrow. “if it’s so cold, why don’t you just turn the heat on?”

she gasps like you’ve just suggested something heinous. “are you trying to kill me? it has to be cold so i can burrito up. but you’re supposed to be part of this equation. please.”

her pout is devastating. it always is, but you don’t let her win too easily. you stand there for a moment longer, pretending to deliberate while she stares at you with wide, pleading eyes. finally, you sigh dramatically. “fine. but only because i don’t want to listen to you complain all day.”

she grins triumphantly and throws back the corner of the blanket. “come here. you’re not going to regret it.”

the second you climb into bed, caitlin wastes no time wrapping herself around you like an octopus. her arms encircle your waist, her legs tangle with yours, and she tucks her face against your neck.

“see?” she mumbles, already sounding halfway to dreamland. “this is perfect. you’re so warm.”

“you’re like an actual furnace,” you counter, laughing softly as she squeezes you tighter.

she hums in contentment, pressing a lazy kiss to your jaw. “that’s the point. now we’re the perfect temperature. don’t move.”

“i wasn’t planning on it,” you admit, feeling yourself start to relax against her. the chill of the room is long forgotten with caitlin clinging to you like a second skin.

her breathing evens out within minutes, and you glance down to find her completely out, her mouth slightly open and her hold on you still as firm as ever.

just as your own eyelids start to droop, she stirs slightly, nuzzling closer.

“love you,” she murmurs sleepily, the words barely audible but enough to make your heart swell.

“love you too,” you whisper back, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

thanks for reading! requests are open

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

May I request price with a newborn and freshly post partum wife

The Softest Mission

Pairing: John Price x Reader (Postpartum Wife)

Warnings: postpartum themes, physical/mental exhaustion, brief mention of labor pain and recovery, night feedings, nursing, tears, implied C-section scar, emotional vulnerability, John Price being the softest dad

Author's Note: This is dedicated to the gentle strength of new mothers and the rare tenderness of hardened men who become fathers. John Price may have commanded missions across the globe, but nothing has ever made him softer—or prouder—than holding his newborn daughter and the woman he loves.

Summary: In the days after giving birth, your world has changed forever. Recovery is hard, sleep is scarce, and your emotions are raw—but John is there for every feeding, every cry, and every second you doubt yourself. Together, you're finding your rhythm.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The house was quiet—but not in a peaceful way.

It was that uneasy stillness that comes with holding your breath, waiting for the next cry. You sat propped in bed, exhaustion carved deep into your bones. The baby lay on your chest, tiny mouth parted in sleep, her little fingers curled against your skin. Everything hurt. Your body, your back, your breasts, your brain.

But she was here. And so was he.

John came in on soft feet, cradling a mug of tea and a plate of toast. His shirt was rumpled, hair mussed from running his hands through it all morning. But his eyes—oh, his eyes were warm. They always were when he looked at you now.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said softly.

“You didn’t. She just fell asleep.”

He set the plate down and handed you the tea. Then he crouched beside the bed, leaning in to kiss your forehead… then your daughter’s.

“She looks like you,” he whispered, brushing your cheek with the back of his fingers.

“She has your nose,” you countered.

“And your mouth,” he smiled. “Which means I’m already in trouble.”

You laughed softly and took a sip, the chamomile wrapping around your throat like comfort.

“She was fussy earlier,” you admitted. “I didn’t know what she wanted. I… I felt like I was failing.”

His hand found your knee, and he rested his forehead gently against it.

“You’re not failing,” he said, voice thick. “You’re learning. And you’re not doing it alone. I’ve got you, love. I’ve always got you.”

You blinked back tears. “You haven’t slept.”

“Don’t need to,” he said easily. “Not when I get to wake up to my girls.”

—

2:17 a.m. – Night Feeding

The baby’s cry tore through the silence.

You moved to sit up but winced at the tug of stitches and sore muscles. Before you could get far, John was already up.

“I’ve got her,” he whispered, padding over to the bassinet.

He lifted her gently, already murmuring something low and soft in that voice that calmed both you and her. He brought her to you, helped you adjust your pillows, and settled behind you to support your back.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Tired.”

“You’re doing perfect.”

She latched quickly, and you sighed—part pain, part relief. John’s hand rubbed slow circles along your back while you nursed, and you leaned into him, your tears catching in the dim light.

“You’re not alone,” he whispered. “You’ll never be alone.”

Once she was done, John burped her, paced the room in slow rocking steps, and laid her back into the bassinet with practiced ease.

“She’s got your stubbornness,” he chuckled, pulling you into his arms afterward. “Wouldn’t let go of my finger for five straight minutes earlier.”

“She’s got your charm,” you whispered back, eyes already fluttering shut.

—

Three Days Later – Your First Time Alone with the Baby

John’s return to base—just a half-day—felt like climbing a mountain in bare feet.

“I’ll call you every hour,” he promised, kissing you deeply and pressing a gentle hand over your shoulder. “You’ve got this. But I’ll come back the second you need me.”

You nodded, holding back tears. “We’ll be okay.”

Once he left, you stared at the bassinet for a long time. When the crying started, you scooped her up, heart racing. You rocked her. Changed her. Fed her.

But the crying didn’t stop. It felt like hours before she settled. You were overwhelmed. Sticky. Sore. Unshowered. Crying before you even realized it.

By the time John came back, you were on the couch with the baby asleep on your chest and your face wet with tears.

He dropped his keys and crossed the room in three long steps.

“Oh, love,” he murmured, sinking to the couch and gathering you both into his arms.

“She wouldn’t stop crying,” you choked out.

“And you stayed,” he whispered. “You held her. You loved her through it. That’s more than enough.”

You sobbed quietly into his chest while he brushed your hair back and kissed your temple.

“Tomorrow,” he said, voice low and steady, “we’ll try again together.”

—

That Evening – Nursery Moments

After a warm shower and some food, John tucked you into the nursery rocking chair while he carried in another bag of soft baby clothes someone from base had gifted.

“Look,” he said, holding up a onesie with a little bear on the front. “She’ll live in these.”

You smiled. “She already spits up like a champion.”

You watched him sort clothes, hang a soft pink curtain, and rearrange the stuffed toys you hadn’t touched in weeks. He didn’t need to ask where anything went—he’d been with you through every scan, every shopping trip, every nesting moment.

“You’re nesting after she’s born,” you teased.

“I’m catching up,” he said, flashing you a rare grin.

He crossed to you, knelt between your legs, and rested his forehead to your belly—still swollen, healing.

“You gave me a daughter,” he whispered. “I will never stop thanking you for that.”

You cupped his cheek. “She’s lucky to have you.”

“No,” he corrected gently. “We are lucky to have each other.”

—

That night, you curled up in bed with your daughter sleeping soundly in her bassinet. John wrapped himself around you, hand on your hip, fingers brushing your healing scar.

“You’re more beautiful now than ever,” he murmured against your skin.

You closed your eyes and believed it.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[xi4oyan]

My Dear ~

The Mountain of Flowers and Fruits slept beneath the starry sky, its waterfalls whispering soft melodies while the night breeze made the leaves murmur secrets. Inside the royal cave, the scent of wildflowers mixed with the lazy burning incense in an ornate brazier. Silk curtains swayed with the draft, and golden lanterns cast warm reflections on the carved stone walls. At the center of the chamber lay a vast bed, adorned with soft cushions and sheets dyed in shades of red and gold, fit for a king.

And his queen.

Wukong sat at the edge of the bed, but he was not alone. Small white-furred monkeys clung to him, some coiled around his tail, others climbing his shoulders, playfully tugging at his wild hair. One of them nibbled lightly at his ear while another pulled at the tangled fur on his chest.

"Enough, you little pests" Wukong grumbled, peeling one monkey off his arm only to see it leap back onto his leg. "If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll send you to sleep by the waterfall."

The little ones were unimpressed by the threat. One, particularly bold, grabbed Wukong’s cheeks and squeezed them, drawing an involuntary chuckle from his lips.

You watched the scene from the doorway, arms crossed and a smile playing on your lips.

"What a charming sight," you teased. "The great Monkey King, subdued by his own army."

Wukong lifted his gaze to you, golden eyes glinting with amusement. "My dear, they do not subdue me. I simply allow them to believe they do."

One of the monkeys proved him wrong by climbing onto his head and yanking his hair again.

You laughed. "If you need help, I can rescue you."

He scoffed, pushing the little ones away with a flick of his tail before rising with the grace of a beast. The monkeys chattered in protest but knew it was time to leave. One by one, they scampered out of the chamber, leaving only the king and his queen in the warmth of the room.

"Now," he murmured, predatory gaze sliding over you. "Where were we?"

You pretended to ponder. "Ah, yes. I was just about to go to bed and—"

"Wrong."

He moved. You stepped back.

"Oh?" Wukong tilted his head, tail swaying behind him. "Are you challenging me, my queen?"

You did not answer. You simply took another step back, slipping behind one of the lacquered wooden columns.

He chuckled, a low, vibrant sound. "Running from me, my dear? That’s not very wise."

Before you could blink, he vanished. A moment later, you felt the shift in the air behind you. Heart racing, you spun on your heel and ran.

Your laughter echoed through the cave, mingling with the sound of the wind filtering through the stone openings. You leaped over an intricately carved chest, spinning in the air like a drifting leaf, landing gracefully on the soft carpet. Wukong landed right behind you, agile as ever, but before he could catch you, you slid to the side, escaping through a gap in the silk curtains.

"You can run, my dear, but you will never escape me."

"Perhaps I simply enjoy watching you try, my king."

His eyes gleamed even brighter.

In a fluid motion, he leaped onto a suspended beam high above the chamber, then onto the canopy of the bed, watching you from above like a predator about to pounce.

You knew he would strike the next instant.

You jumped to the other side of the room, landing on a polished wooden table. Wukong followed, but you grabbed a cushion and hurled it at him. He dodged easily, laughing, but the second strike caught him off guard.

"Ah, my queen..." He licked his lips, eyes sharp as a beast’s. "Now you’re just provoking me."

Before you could escape, he lunged. You dodged at the last moment, springing onto the bed in a graceful movement, the soft sheets sinking beneath your feet. He landed right behind, ready to seize you, but you leaped again, evading him once more.

"Getting slow, my king?"

That provocation was a mistake.

Wukong grinned—and in the blink of an eye, he vanished.

You turned your head from side to side, senses sharp, chest rising and falling with quickened breaths. The silence was treacherous.

And then, suddenly—

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back. A soft gasp escaped your lips as Wukong pinned you against his chest, spinning through the air until he landed on the sheets, with you beneath him.

"Got you."

His warmth surrounded you completely, the scent of earth and storm mingling with the incense in the air. You tried to push him away, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he draped himself partially over you, his tail lazily curling around your leg.

"I let you catch me," you argued, feigning indifference.

"Oh, really?" He leaned in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. "Then show me what happens when the queen captures her king."

Your heart skipped a beat. Wukong always knew how to turn games into something more intimate, more enthralling. His fingers trailed along the curve of your face, thumb tracing your jawline.

"Or would you rather have your king conquer you once more?"

There was a playful challenge in his eyes, but also something deeper, more devoted. You slid your hands over his shoulders, pulling him closer, until your lips were only a breath apart.

"My beloved," he murmured, caressing your skin. "My dearest. My everything."

And so, that night, between red silk sheets and soft laughter, the king and queen of the Mountain of Flowers and Fruits found rest in each other’s arms.

Not before, of course, a few small curious eyes peeking through the doorway were met with Wukong’s amused growl.

"Go to sleep, you little pests."

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

I'm craving Honkai waifus, so...Silver Wolf, Stelle and Firefly snuggling or just doing soft things with their S/O after a busy day!

(H:SR) Silver Wolf, Stelle, March 7th, and Firefly relaxing with their S/O

Silver Wolf simply lays in her bed after a mission, not really in the mood to sit on the computer or anything else.

And unsurprisingly, pulls out her phone, dragging S/O with her to either use as a makeshift pillow, or lean against them.

Silver Wolf kicked off her shoes near her bed as S/O leaned against the bed, an arm wrapping around her while she scooted in closer.

Once situated, Silver Wolf exhales in relief seeing that she was in time to log in for her dailies.

(S/O) "...You sounded more concerned about getting that login streak than you were about the mission."

She scoffed, eagerly tapping the screen's prompts.

(Silver Wolf) "Getting the materials needed for this is a pain in the butt. I'll take whatever I can get for free, this game is grindy enough as it is."

S/O rolled their eyes but nevertheless smiled.

(S/O) "Things go well then?"

Silver Wolf shrugged, eyes shifting over to her S/O as her game was loading.

(Silver Wolf) "Yeah, pretty boring though. It was basically a 1-Star mission, at best."

S/O chuckled as she got more comfortable, quickly hearing the familiar tune of her game's menu.

(Silver Wolf) "Gonna do some singleplayer stuff for tonight."

S/O just nodded, understanding Silver Wolf's need to decompress and the two enjoyed a blissful silence. Apart from the...odd noises from her game.

(S/O) "...Silver Wolf is your character moaning?-"

(Silver Wolf) "Climbing a mountain."

(S/O) "And you gotta have that at full volume?"

(Silver Wolf) "Yup."

Stelle yawned loudly as she flopped onto her bed after finishing the rest of her room's renovations.

It was a long and arduous journey, but now she had a proper part of the Astral Express fully to call her own!

She had finished an impromptu celebration with the rest of the crew, understandably giving her some time alone to relax.

Though, she wasn't entirely alone. A fact made known when her S/O laid on the bed, one hand ruffling her hair.

(S/O) "I still can't believe you slept on a cardboard bed the entire time..."

Stelle didn't move her face, her voice sounding muffled on the mattress.

(Stelle) "WhydoyouthinkIalwayssleptwithyou?"

(S/O) "Is there anywhere you wouldn't sleep?"

Stelle raised her head and moved to say something, but nothing came out as a second of complete silence passed.

(S/O) "...Know what, don't answer that. Just c'mere already!"

Stelle gave S/O a cheeky grin and complied, laying her head on their chest and yawning loudly.

(Stelle) "Now I don't wanna leave this room for the next few days..."

(S/O) "Honestly? With the way this room's set up, we can probably spend the weekend here. Or even longer."

(Stelle) "Hm.~"

One of her arms snaked its way around S/O's waist, her expression becoming softer, yet somehow more mischievous at the same time.

(Stelle) "Well, you're spending the night here, right? I have an idea for something fun to do before we head to bed."

She suddenly sat upright, a gleam in her eyes scaring S/O, but not nearly as much as her next words did.

(Stelle) "Take your clothes off."

(S/O) "WHAT?!-"

...

(S/O) "...Is that bath boiling? And are those peppers?! What kind of bath soak is this?!"

(Stelle) "I wanted to see you use it first."

(S/O) "Oh, so you want me to burn alive?!"

(Shush's Voice) "No worries, Significant Other of the Nameless! It'll just give you a whole new pepper-spective on baths!"

(S/O) "GAH! W-WHY IS SHUSH JUST STANDING OUTSIDE?!"

(Stelle) "Oh for the love of- GET THE [BANAB] OUT OF HERE!"

(S/O) "...How did you make that noise?"

March 7th's arms stretch over her head, making a cute grunt as she fell onto her bed, exhaling in satisfaction.

(March 7th) "Man, what a day!"

(S/O) "March, we were only outside for a few hours."

(March 7th) "Yeah, but we tasted a LOT of food on the planet today! I could just go into a food coma right now..."

S/O just hummed at that, setting aside some leftover sweets on her table.

Following after her, S/O sat at March's side, one hand sliding over to hers.

Without even looking, she playfully squeezed their hand back and closed her eyes, making S/O smile.

(March 7th) "GUARD IS DOWN!-"

March 7th immediately pounced on S/O, suddenly dragging them down to the bed with her as they yelped in surprise before it quickly turned into laughter.

(S/O) "Hey, that's not fair!"

(March 7th) "Not my fault you weren't expecting it! You think I'd just let you sit down peacefully?"

Well, they couldn't exactly argue with that.

And catching them off guard again, she gave them a quick peck on the lips, both their cheeks flushing red, yet neither of them were bothered by the playful intimacy.

Quickly, the mood simmered into something a little more romantic, with the pecks turning into longer smooches, both of them still smiling the entire time as they cuddled onto the bed further.

Firefly finished changing into something a little more casual, that being a simple shirt with some shorts, pulling S/O's hoodie over her head to finish it off.

S/O meanwhile was already yawning, lying on the bed and smiling upon seeing their girlfriend.

(S/O) "You look super cute in that, Firefly."

Even after being in a relationship, little comments like that was enough to fluster her, Firefly instinctually pulling the bottom of the hoodie further down.

(Firefly) "Thank you..."

With a soft giggle, Firefly hopped onto bed with S/O. Despite the mission she had gotten back from, she wasn't particularly tired, due to her genetic enhancement.

Firefly let S/O hold her, comfortably just chatting about whatever came to mind.

It was moments like these Firefly treasured the most with how uncommon it was.

...Even if the conversation did lead to some odd places.

(S/O) "Hm...I'm hungry right now."

(Firefly) "I can make us something real quick if you want?"

(S/O) "Nah, I don't want you to cook...Oh, I can order pizza!...Hm."

(Firefly) "Having second thoughts?"

(S/O) "Do...you think you guys could get pizza for free if you answered the driver in your armor? They'd be pretty scared right?"

Firefly immediately turned her head, pouting as her hand immediately but lightly "chopped" S/O's head.

(Firefly) "S/O! Absolutely not, I will not abuse my powers like that!"

(S/O) "Hah! Sorry, sorry! It was a joke! Though, I do wonder has anyone tried getting delivery?"

(Firefly) "No, but we usually do takeout."

(S/O) "Takeout? How's that work, wouldn't you guys get recognized really easily?"

(Firefly) "Hm, not really. I'm the one to grab it since most people don't know that I'm Sam, though if we need the food to be hot, I sometimes equip my armor and fly home."

(S/O) "...Firefly, you could make a killing doing food delivery if you weren't a Stellaron Hunter!"

(Firefly) "Oh geez, now you're starting to sound like Caelus..."

[sink-me-in-your-ocean]

𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔥 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 II

How would the Ghouls & Copia manhandle you when you’re being naughty?

Prompt by the illustrious @endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus

NSFW/Suggestive below the cut.

Copia:

At first, he doesn’t realize why you’re doing what you’re doing

But then he puts the pieces together, and it makes his hands twitch

He makes you lay across his knees, never needing to ask more than once

He’s going to spank you with his gloved hands

He makes you count each one

“How many was that?”

“Five.” 

“You’re not counting properly, either that or you’re lying intentionally. I have no idea why you’d do such a thing.”

“I’d never say less with the intention of you giving me more on purpose.”

“I’m beginning to think these punishments aren’t working on you anymore, amore. Let’s try something else...”

-

Swiss:

Won’t hesitate to put you on a leash when you step out of line

When a leash won’t work he’ll resort to other methods

Ties. You. Down.

He will step back to admire his handiwork on you, after a moment of staring he forgets your transgressions because of how good you look tied up

He’s lost in the sauce

“Sweet fucking hells, you’ve never looked better.”

The gag in your mouth keeps you from speaking.

“Remind me, what were you doing that was so bad earlier?”

“Hrmph - ” The sound was muffled.

“Shhh, don’t talk with your mouth full. Now just stay right there.”

-

Phantom:

When you act up, it flips a switch in his brain

Picks you up with ease from the side, lifting you bridal style into his arms

The tightness of his grip on you speaks volumes to his possessiveness 

He scans for an unoccupied room, hells, even a dark corner to take you

He needs you immediately and he knows you need him just as badly

“Oh you’ve done it now, you’ve got my attention, so let’s go.”

“Phantom, slow down!”

“No. You fired me up now you can bring me back down.” He sets you down once you’re behind closed doors. “On your fucking knees.”

You kneel in front of him, eager to please him after misbehaving.

“Oh fuck, yes, such a good girl, just like that.”

-

Dewdrop/Sodo:

Misbehaving is a broad term to this ghoul, in fact, he likes when you’re naughty

Except when you give any attention to his brothers

Now that is a sure-fire way to pour gasoline on his flames

He comes up behind you when you least expect it (see where this is going?)

His long fingers wrap around your throat, pressing intentionally on your arteries, your head swooning in seconds

“Don’t go all limp on me yet.”

“But, Dew -” you whimper.

“Come on, you know exactly what you do to me. It was intentional, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now I’m going to be very intentional with you. I’m not letting you out of my sight the rest of the night.”

-

Rain:

He has infinite patience, at least until you vex him

And boy howdy, once you’ve crossed that bridge you’d better be prepared

There’s a determined look in his eye as he stalks towards you

He grabs your wrist, and even if you try to pull away, it’s impossible, his grip strength is too much

He drags you with him through the nearest corridor to a quiet space

“You’re going to be nice and quiet now for me.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Then I’ll make you.”

His hand clamps over your lips shockingly fast, leaving you a thin line to breathe from your nose.

“I love seeing you get a taste of your own medicine. Don’t like it when I match your energy? Don’t misbehave.”

-

Mountain:

Sits and watches stoically as you make a fool out of yourself 

Doesn’t need to say anything

Doesn’t need to do anything, but he does

He easily scoops you up, throwing you over his shoulder

He could spank you from here, but he prefers his partner underneath him (If you know what I mean)

“You do have to do all of that to get my attention, you know.” He plops you on his bed, climbing on top of you.

“I know, but maybe I’m looking for bad attention.”

“Yeah?”

You whine and writhe underneath him as he smacks (not hard) the thickness of your outer thigh.

“That’s what you want? Just ask next time, little villainess.”

-

Just da bois this time, but if you’d like me to include the ghoulettes pls just comment, I’m happy to oblige a fellow ghoulette lover! ( *︾▽︾)

Ghoulette Version Here!

[crystal-to-bloom]

Chapter 5 : Where It's Soft

Grayson family x child dragon reader

𝟙, 𝟚, 𝟛, 𝟛.𝟝, 𝟜, 𝟝

The house had already begun to settle down. Soft lamps lit up the living room, and the smell of dinner — rice, vegetables, and something fried with garlic — still lingered in the air. It felt like the world was holding its breath, unsure what to do next.

Nolan silently walked upstairs. He hadn't said a word since he saw y/n. No threats, no questions, no accusations. Just a tight line of his mouth and a slow, almost pensive climb up the stairs. Debbie watched him go, still clutching a dish towel she hadn’t put away after washing up. She knew that look. He was still processing.

Y/n remained on the first floor. She sat on the floor near the wall, wrapped in a big fluffy blanket, with only her nose and a lock of white-and-turquoise hair peeking out. Mark sat nearby, having spread out a blanket next to the couch, leaning against it.

— "Hey, you okay?" he asked quietly, not expecting much of an answer.

Y/n just blinked at him. Her eyes shimmered in the low light — large, almost catlike. A little tired, but still wary. She gave a slight nod.

— "That was weird, huh?" he continued, lowering his voice. "But... y'know, it's not your fault. Dad’s just... like that. He needs time."

She nodded again. Barely.

Meanwhile,Debbie stood in the laundry room, digging through an old storage bin. A small mountain of rejected clothes already lay at her feet: jeans that would swallow a full-grown cat, T-shirts worn thin from too many washes, and a hoodie of Mark’s with the words “I’m a dinosaur!” peeling off the front.

“Why did I even keep this stuff…” she muttered, stretching the sleeve of a tiny pajama top to guess its size. “This wouldn’t even fit a doll. Or maybe…”

At the very bottom of the box, her fingers brushed against something softer. She pulled out a gray onesie, decorated with little stars along the sleeves. Brand new. Tag still on.

She blinked.

She didn’t remember where it came from. Maybe a gift someone gave them years ago—something she never returned, never had a reason to use. Until now.

“Well, looks like you’re finally useful…” she sighed, holding it up.

When she returned to the living room, Mark stood to help. He held a small bundle — a blanket and pillow he’d swiped from his room.

— "Think this’ll work for her?"

— "Hope so. It’s not every day you dress a... uh... little dragon girl"

Y/n watched suspiciously but let Debbie help. She carefully laid out the jumpsuit and guided her arms through. Y/n flinched when the fabric touched her back — maybe from the cold, maybe from shyness — but didn’t resist.

— "Well, look at you. Almost like a regular kid" Debbie said with a soft smirk, fixing the collar. "Almost"

Y/n glanced up at her, then very cautiously tugged the hem of the jumpsuit down, hiding her hands. As if checking — is this okay? Will she get scolded?

— "Yeah, yeah. Hide all you want," Debbie said gently. "You’re home"

The evening passed slowly. Too much quiet. Sometimes Mark whispered something to y/n, sometimes Debbie walked by — as if casually — checking whether she was cold or crying. But Y/n just sat, curled up, listening to the creaks of the floor above, where Nolan paced.

When bedtime came, Debbie led y/n upstairs. They stopped at the door of the guest room — the one that was meant to be hers. Inside, it was simple: a bed, a warm nightlight, two stuffed animals on the shelf.

— "If you want, you can sleep here. Having your own room is pretty cool"

Y/n stood at the threshold, watching. For a long time. Then stepped in. Walked around the room. Touched the wall. Tugged on the pillow. Stopped.

She turned and quietly said:

— "Mark"

Debbie blinked.

— "You want to go to him?"

Y/n nodded. Very confidently.

Debbie sighed, but smiled.

— "Alright. Just for one night"

Mark’s room was already half-dark. He lay on the bed with his headphones in, scrolling through something on his phone. When the door creaked open, he propped himself up on one elbow.

— "Oh, hey. Got a guest?"

— "She asked. Hope you don’t mind."

— "No, not at all. She can stay. Carpet’s soft anyway."

Y/n settled on the floor, blanket neatly laid out, pillow under her head, clutching a plush dinosaur. She looked almost comical — small, with twitching ears, her tail sticking out from under the blanket, and a serious stare fixed on the ceiling.

— "You sure you’re okay with this?" Debbie whispered to her son.

— "Yeah" he shrugged. "Besides, she sneezes kinda cute. Even if she frosts my nose"

Debbie chuckled and turned off the light.

The room sank into soft darkness.

Y/n lay still.

The blanket was warm. The pillow, too. But the floor was hard. Cold, even through the blanket. Her tail curled tightly around her.

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t want to cause trouble. Didn’t want to be sent away.

A shift.

A soft creak of the bed.

Mark hadn’t fallen asleep. He was watching her.

Then — a quiet movement. He lifted the edge of the blanket on his bed.

y/n didn’t say a word. Just looked. Very intently.

And then crawled in

The mattress dipped slightly under her weight. Warm. Soft. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move.

She lay still, listening to the soft hum of the house.

Her tail stopped trembling.

previous part 》 4

Chapter 6

[loggiepj]

To Love A Lannister

chapter 12 | chapter 13

Long golden blonde hair. Captivating green eyes as green as the grass in the meadows back in Dorne or from the Reach. Her laugh. Her voice.

Her voice. Agitated. Hurt. Lonely.

I love you.

The first time you stirred awake, it was some time in the evening. You could tell from the darkness in the room, with only the light from the candles lit on your table helping your vision. And as if triggered on, the pain all around your body made itself known.

You let out a small groan, stopped short when you could feel movement on your left. Craning your head to look, you could see someone with golden hair sleeping with her head on her arms.

Cersei. No, it couldn't be her. Because the woman beside you was holding your left hand tight in hers as she slept. And Cersei was not known to be that affectionate. Surely, you were not that worthy to be cared for by the Queen Mother.

Another pain shot up in your head, making you grunt and shut your eyes.

"Y/n?" Cersei's sleepy voice made through your ears before darkness has taken you once again.

~~~

It was day time the next time you were awake. Cersei wasn't there with you, making you think if you had only been dreaming about her.

Instead, there were Oberyn and Ellaria, welcoming you with full smiles on their faces. You could no longer feel any pain in your body. In fact, you were feeling elated, as if you were floating.

"Wa. . . Water," you managed to croak out. Ellaria hurriedly helped you up to give you a tiny sip of water. You had never felt your mouth so dry since the last time you made that silly expedition to Braavos as an act of rebellion against your father.

You looked around the room, looking for a certain woman that had been haunting your dreams. "Cersei?"

Ellaria chuckled. "She left for the Maester."

Oberyn snorted another laugh. "You just woke up from defeating the Mountain and the first two things you look for are water and Cersei."

You smiled from ear to ear, as you raised your arm before you, forefinger tracing the ceiling. "I feel like I'm . . . I'm flying."

"Qyburn has given you milk of the poppy for the pain," Oberyn said. "Probably a lot, I guess."

Eventually, your eyelids droop to a close as you went back into deep sleep, still smiling.

~~~

It was Tyrion who visited the chambers next when you woke up the third time. He was reading from a scroll when he noticed you stir awake.

"Lady Y/n," Tyrion said, climbing over a small ladder to see you. "The one who finally beat the Mountain."

You softly chuckled, a dull pain in your head.

"I'm forever in your debt, Lady Y/n," he went on. "Whatever you need, I'll do everything I can to give you."

"Water?" you suggested.

Tyrion only laughed as he helped you drink from a water goblet.

"You know . . . I was wrong."

You glanced at him, your mouth too weak to utter, as you lay back on the bed.

"I thought my sister will never be able to care for someone other than her children. I swore there was one time she almost beheaded one of the handmaidens who took care of you," he chuckled before he went silent, his eyes on the golden necklace with a lion pendant laid on the bedside table. Cersei's necklace. "But I believe you're no longer obliged to marry her, given the news about you offering Yronwood to set you both free from the marriage. Gone are the days of torment."

It made you feel sadness. You had no idea why. It was you who had fully decided to offer it to Tywin the first place. "H-How did she react?"

He only shrugged his shoulders. "I can tell she was a bit taken aback. But I haven't always been able to read Cersei growing up. She doesn't let her emotions show. You don't have to worry though, the future is not yet written. Just take a rest now."

~~~

Oberyn was there to visit you some time later, after Qyburn had changed the dressings of your wound. Apparently, you had broken some of your ribs and there were some bones disalignment, but none the Maester couldn't handle.

Taking advantage of the privacy, Oberyn began discussing to you in whispers that you'd be heading to Dorne soon and that he had something to show you about your birthright.

A lot had happened the time you were asleep. Stannis was executed by the Boltons, led by Lord Ramsay of House Bolton, who was said to be married to Sansa Stark. You could tell luck hadn't been good to Sansa, as you heard tales about Ramsay being a much worse monster than Joffrey.

"Winter is coming," Oberyn said out of nowhere. Your eyes only widened. You knew what he was talking about. You had read about the White Walkers and heard myths about them, but you always thought it was only a drunkard's gossip.

"The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Jon Snow, sent a raven to every Lords in Westeros," he continued, pulling a scroll from his pocket, the same one you saw Tyrion was reading. "He witnessed it firsthand. And I think it's urgent that we moved south as quick as possible, knowing north would be attacked first."

"But . . . We couldn't just leave—"

"She's not your obligation anymore, Y/n," he said, knowing you were referring to Cersei. "But the sooner you get home, the sooner we'll figure out what to do about your succession."

"What do you mean? Daenerys is the Queen."

"You're four years older than her. Your sister Daenerys was born in Dragonstone where your mother Rhaella was last seen, before Stannis . . . before Stannis executed them all."

You could only grit your teeth. "But I'm a bastard. I'm not the rightful heir."

Oberyn looked around the room to ensure it was empty before he went on, "Daenerys is the Queen, Y/n. We're not contesting to that. Do you know why the Martells was the last house to swear fealty to King Robert? It was because we always believe Targaryens are the rightful heirs to the Iron Throne. But whenever someone wants to get that throne, what awaits them?"

There was a small pause. "Death," Oberyn said, "It's going to be difficult for Daenerys to get back the Iron Throne, it might even kill her. That's why she would need you by her side. You're the last two living Targaryens."

~~~

You awoke alone some time that night. Hearing the door creak open, you turned to look at the intruder.

It was Cersei. When she noticed you awake, she hesitated to enter until she stepped forward then closed the door behind her.

And gods, she looked so beautiful, you thought you were already dead upon witnessing such beauty.

"How are you feeling?" she asked as she approached the bed slowly.

"Like I just got beaten by the Mountain," you responded, giving her a weak smile.

She chuckled softly, reaching the side of your bed. Her laughter rarely contained genuine amusement, but not when around you.

"You have the most beautiful laugh I've ever heard," you said, making the Lannister woman meet your gaze. "I've been dreaming about it. Your face. Your eyes. . . Sorry, Maester Qyburn said there might still be after effects from the milk of the poppy."

Cersei laughed as her hand went to hold yours, before letting go, turning her head to avoid your eyes.

"Oberyn said you're leaving the day after tomorrow," she said.

"So I've been told," you confirmed. "Oberyn might be too proud to admit it, but I think he misses their children."

Cersei smiled back before her lips turned into a frown, her eyes meeting yours.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you offer Yronwood?"

You threaded your fingers with hers and she took them. "I . . . I just thought you've been tortured enough that you don't deserve this. You should be allowed to marry someone you love at least. Or not to marry anyone at all if you don't feel like it."

There was silence. Cersei then went to sit on the side of the bed, eyes glistening with tears. "Are you sure it's not just me you're avoiding?"

You lifted your other hand forward and cupped her face, thumb tracing the tear off her cheek. She leaned unto your touch, closing her eyes.

"I will always love you, Cersei," you declared. "But you don't have to love me back."

She opened her eyes slowly, meeting yours. And you could tell hers spoke of uncertainty and adoration.

~~~

"I just can't believe it." Oberyn had been staring at you for a while as you helped the crew of the Martell ship.

When you didn't bother answering, your uncle only laughed. You sighed and placed the crate you were carrying on the floor. "What?"

"Y/n Martell," he announced proudly. "The one who finally killed the Mountain. The one who obtained justice for her aunt and cousins' death. I'm sure your father would be proud."

You forced a smile his way as you went back to what you were doing. You were sailing back home that day. Tywin had agreed to trust the Martells after the trial that almost got yourself killed.

Yet, you weren't sure what to expect back home. Oberyn told you there was something he'd show about your birthright. And with the fact you now knew Prince Doran was your real father, it didn't sit well on you how he'd react if he knew the truth.

With Trystane being your half brother, who you only heard from Ellaria that morning was engaged to Cersei's daughter, Princess Myrcella, things only got more complicated.

But that wasn't what you were sad about. It was because Cersei didn't show up and said her goodbyes to you when you left the palace. She wasn't even in the dining hall when you were all breaking the fast with the Lannisters, sending you blessings for your trip.

You didn't even get the chance to say goodbye. Not that she hadn't visited you since that night she cried on your bed with her hand in yours. The only souvenir you got was her necklace, hidden underneath your tunic. Cersei gave it to you that night, saying it was a gift from her mother, that it was special to her. And that was all you needed to know that you were special to her too.

You missed her terribly and you hadn't even left the Capital yet.

"Someone's going to get a farewell's kiss." Oberyn's voice brought you back to the present, making you straighten your posture and glare back at the Dornishman.

Oberyn then motioned his head behind you. And when you turned to glance, there she was, in her red flowing dress and golden hair elegantly braided. Cersei was heading your way, with what appeared were knights, handmaidens and servants trotting along behind her.

You bowed and greeted her when she reached the deck. "Your Grace."

"Lady Y/n," she said with a smile. "Prince Oberyn. I apologize for such a short notice but Tommen has advised me to visit Myrcella following the news of her engagement with Prince Trystane. A daughter will always need her mother's counsel, whether her suitor is good enough for her or not." Cersei's eyes were on your neck, the golden chain of her necklace visible. "Besides, it'll be nice to see Myrcella. I haven't seen her for a long time now."

Your eyes never left Cersei, stunned about what she said. Is she telling you she's going with you to Dorne?

When Oberyn nudged your arm, you finally snapped out of trance. "Yes, yes, we will set you a cabin, Your Grace."

Cersei thanked you before walking past you both, her perfume lingering around. Her servants, handmaidens and queensguard followed her through the ship, your eyes expecting a certain tall golden haired man with a fake gold hand.

"Where's Ser Jaime?" you couldn't help but ask.

"He couldn't come," Cersei replied as she turned back to you, giving you a somewhat mischievous smile before she let herself be led by one of the Dornish crew to her cabin.

[velarisnightsky444]

Scorched Shadows: Part 13

Eris x Azriel's Sister OC

Summary: Estella is the younger sister of Azriel. Like her older brother, she is a shadowsinger and spymaster for the Night Court. When she meets Eris, she initially despises him, but after a bargain is made between them, and they are stuck Under the Mountain together, things begin heating up.

CW: Mentions of Beron, Eris being an asshole

Word Count: 1714

Series Masterlist

Part 12 || Part 14(upcoming)

»»————-　♔　————-««

Year: 34 Year Under The Mountain: 30

     Estella had found herself going into Eris's room when he wasn't around, just to spend her time in it. He would be busy with whatever he did during the day, and she'd sneak in, reading one of his books, or taking a nap in his bed. He'd caught her many times, but he didn't seem to care.

     She had buried herself in his bed, under the covers, savoring his scent that was left behind in the sheets. The scent of cinnamon and bonfire.

     She hid herself further under the blankets as she heard the door open. She pressed her wings down against the bed, since they were too big to fit under the blankets. 

"Are you hiding out in my room again?" he teased, nearing his bed.

"It's warm in here," she defended herself, her voice muffled from all the blankets.

     Eris reached for the covers and yanked them off of her, revealing his mate, who whined, trying to pull the covers back over herself.

"Is this what you do all day?" he mocked her. "Lay in my bed, waiting for me to come back and fuck you?"

"Just sometimes," she flushed. "Your room is nice and warm. Mine is cold."

"I'm aware," he hummed, sitting beside her. He reached a hand out to brush her hair behind her ear. "You know I'm always willing to warm your room up for you." 

"You're never around during the day," she complained. 

"I do have responsibilities, you know," he mused as he stroked her hair.

"I have responsibilities, too," she murmured, narrowing her eyes. 

"Not down here, you don't," he snorted. "Your brother makes sure of that." 

     Estella climbed on top of him, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him. Her wings fell over them both like a warm blanket. She breathed in his scent, realizing how familiar it was becoming. She was falling for him, and in the past few years, she'd stopped hating herself for it.

      She pressed herself further into him, and he held her close. She didn't even have a desire for sex; she was much too tired. She just appreciated being held. She had always needed affection to survive, and down here, he was the only one she got it from. 

     Estella had almost fallen asleep when the sound of a door creaking open made her start. She sat up, separating herself from Eris as they both turned to the source of the sound. 

     The Lady of Autumn stood in the doorway, not looking as embarrassed as she had the last time she'd walked in to find Estella in her son's room. This time, she sighed, seeming more irritated than anything else. 

     Her red hair was unbound, falling in waves over her delicate shoulder. Her russet eyes were set on Eris, a fire behind them that Estella had never seen before. 

"Mother," Eris greeted her, his voice lined with panic. "I thought you were--"

"Save it," she snipped, her voice more stern than Estella had ever heard. "You need to meet with your father in ten minutes. He has important news." 

     She eyed Estella, as if she couldn't share any more details with the girl in the room. Estella understood that. She was an outsider, and part of a court that often went head-to-head with the Autumn Court. 

"I'll leave you be," Estella took the hint, carefully getting out of the bed. Eris didn't even glance at her as she made to leave. 

     She curtsied to the female, but the Lady of Autumn reached out, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder to stop her. Estella noticed a dark bruise on her pale wrist, barely covered by her sleeve. 

"No need for that," she reminded Estella. 

     Estella nodded, hastily leaving the room. Her face flushed red when the door closed behind her, an embarrassed huff leaving her lips. 

»»————-　♔

      Eris was not scared of many things, but at the moment, he could not look his mother in the eyes. Estella had left quickly, and once the door had closed, his mother had advanced on him. 

"What did I tell you about her?" she demanded, anger in her voice that he rarely ever heard. 

"It's nothing, Mother--" 

"If her brothers were to find out, you'd be in more trouble with them than you already are," she scolded. "Not to mention, your father--" 

"Father doesn't care who I fuck," Eris retorted. Normally, his mother would've berated him for such language, but she was already beyond that point.

"He cares who you fall in love with," she snapped. Eris went to deny it, but found that he could not. "I've never seen you keep a girl around for this long." 

     Eris finally lifted his head, meeting his mother's russet eyes. He blinked back tears that were welling in his own. His mother was the only person he cried in front of. It wasn't safe to cry around anybody else--especially his father. 

"She's my mate," he whispered, having never told another soul before. 

     Her face fell, her brows furrowing as she processed the three words that had been ringing in his head for decades now. 

"This is bad, Eris," she said softly, studying her son's face. "If your father finds out--" 

"I know," he said, nodding. "Trust me, I know." 

"No, you don't," she shook her head. "You have no idea the things he would do to her. He will make you marry her, and then he'll use her to torture you. That is, after she provides him with an heir. And if she fails to do that--" 

"I understand, Mother," he cut her off, feeling sick to his stomach. 

"I don't think you do," she scoffed. "Because if you did, I would not have found her in your room twice, now." 

"She's my mate, Mother," he repeated, choking down a sob. "I've tried to stay away from her, but I just can't." 

"I know how that feels," she confessed, her face softening as she stroked his cheek. "And I know that it's hard. Trust me, I do. But for her safety, you must." 

»»————-　♔　————-««

     Estella stayed in her cold room for a few hours, wrapping herself in her blanket and shivering. She had decided to give Eris some time and space before contacting him. 

"Is your mother upset at me?" she sent down the bond. 

     For a moment, there was silence, and that made anxiety eat at her stomach. She waited for a few seconds before finally receiving an answer. 

"No," he replied, a short answer. 

"Come over, please," she pleaded with him, no longer ashamed of begging. "My room is freezing." 

     There was another long moment before his response.

"I'll be there soon." 

     Estella could feel that something was wrong. It made her wonder what his mother had said to him. She likely hated the Night Court, just like everybody else did. She had probably heard horror stories about Rhysand, and couldn't stand that her son was associating with his Spymaster. 

     She waited for longer than she expected, about twenty minutes, when she sensed him getting closer. The string in her chest went taut, a sign that he was just behind the door.  

     The door opened, and when she saw him, a weight lifted from her shoulders. She smiled, getting to her feet and approaching him. 

"Are you alright?" she asked him, noticing his slumped shoulders and his red-rimmed eyes. 

"I'm fine," he replied, not meeting her eyes. 

"Eris," she said softly, cupping his cheek in her hand. "Look at me." 

     His eyes flit to hers, his pupils dilating as their eyes met. She lifted onto her toes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. She pulled away, kissing the tip of his nose affectionately. 

"Come to bed," she murmured. "Warm me up." 

     She led him to the bed, noticing that he wasn't taking the lead as he usually did. She kissed him one more time before lying on the bed. He got on top of her, not saying a word.

     As their lips met, his hands intertwined in her hair, and hers slipped beneath his shirt, sliding up his back. 

     They pulled apart from each other, their breaths mingling. Her fingers mindlessly traced the scars that covered his back, her brows furrowed, and before she realized she was speaking out loud, she whispered, "What happened to you?"

     Eris quickly seized her wrists, pulling her hands away from him. He stood up and turned away from her, adjusting his shirt. 

"I'm sorry," she immediately apologized. "I didn't mean to say it out loud." 

"Of course you didn't," he sneered, his face tinted red. "You don't see me asking about your hands, no matter how repulsive I find them." 

     Estella flinched at the words, at the venom in them. Her lower lip began to tremble, but she bit it, refusing to let him see her cry. 

"Get out," she said quietly. He only scoffed. "Get the fuck out of my room, Eris." Her voice was louder now, angrier. She was on her feet now, pushing him towards the door. 

"Don't touch me," he warned her, flinching away from her. 

"Then leave!" she snapped, pointing at the door. "Get out and don't come back, you asshole!" Her voice was breaking now, her eyes filling with tears. But she didn't care. 

     She shoved him out of the door, and slammed it behind him, locking it for good measure. And then she burst into tears, sliding down the wall until she was sitting on the ground, crying into her hands.

     He was the only male she had ever been with who had never even mentioned her hands. They always brought it up. Asking her what had happened, or saying backhanded things like, 'I expected it to bother me a lot more than it does.'  Or 'They're really not that bad once I got used to them.' Things that were meant to be compliments, but still hurt. 

     But Eris had never brought it up. His gaze had never lingered, he'd never flinched away from her touch, or looked at them in disgust. He treated her like she was normal. And she really appreciated that. To know that the entire time, all of those years, he'd been repulsed. It felt like betrayal. 

»»————-　♔　————-««

Scorched Shadows Taglist: @the-sweet-psycho @hnyclover @lilyevansstudygroup @esposadomd @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @a-court-of-mischief-and-madness @sourapplex @when-you-cant-think-of-anything @i-know-i-can @mp-littlebit @paintedbyshadows @kristijenner19 @kitsunetori @lorosette @bookwormysblog @libraryofshan @historygeekqueen @eyes-capone @prettty-thing @lomahdu @batboyslutt

Eris Taglist:

If there is a line through it, it won’t let me tag you.

Comment to be added to the tag lists!

»»————-　♔　————-««

[thelampisaflashlight]

Mountain, entering his room and climbing into bed, pulling back the sheets: "...And what are you doing in here?" Dewdles, Dew's imp, tucked into bed like he owns it: "...Eep." Mountain, nudging him: "Out, out-" Dewdles: -digging down deeper into the blankets- Mountain: "I will lay on you. I'll do it and I'll make it look like an accident." Dew, appearing from under a pile of pillows on the bed: "Don't crush my imp, he's only a baby." Mountain: "And why are YOU in my bed?" Dew: "..." -pulling Dewdles into the pillow pile- "...I plead the 2nd." Mountain, getting under the covers: "We're not in America, and it's the 5th amendment, not the 2nd." Dew: "...What's the 2nd then?" Mountain: "The right to bare arms?" Dew, sleepy: "Wow, they can't even not wear sleeves in America." Mountain: "Or maybe it's bear arms?" Dew: "They shouldn't take bears' arms, they need those to... do bear things." Dewdles, witnessing the delirium of sleepiness kicking in: "...Eep." Mountain and Dew: "Yes, eep."

[bellarkeselection]

We’re All Family Here

Reader is Carter’s younger sister and she has a prosthetic leg and the reader is worried that Rip and Beth will kick her off the ranch if they found out. Wattpad request from - @Quackity_bwead

Pulling down the Jean of my right leg I sighed staring at myself in the mirror that was in my room in Rip and Beth’s house. My brother Carter was already up for work in the barn but I got to sleep in this morning which was rare. Walking out of the house I headed to the barn with large Y above the doorway. The sun had just started to rise above the mountains and everybody was busy already working. Taking my horse out of the stall I climbed on feeling my fake leg hanging over. “Alright boy, let’s go.”

Kicking my horse we rode off towards the sunset with the wind running through my hair. I was wearing a tan dark cowgirl hat and my hair was tied in a braid. Riding through the fields I saw my older brother Carter who was trying to rope a cafe but it started running at me. “Y/n, watch out!” He cried when the cafe got underneath my horses leg and it spooked causing the horse to throw me off its back.

“Sis I’m sorry. I just couldn’t get a good hold on it.” My brother apologized coming over on his horse while Ryan rode past me to go grab my horse that had ran off somewhere else.

Rubbing the back of my neck I winced feeling some pain but it wasn’t as bas I have normally been through. Shifting my gaze away from my brother I saw that Rip was riding over to us. He dismounted his horse quickly dropping himself on a knee in front of me. “What the hell happened, kid. You can’t be injuring any of our guys!..are you hurt Y/n?”

“No just sore a little.” I shook my head not understanding why his deep brown eyes seemed to be filled with concern.

Rip moved closer to me touching my right leg and he pulled up the fabric of my pant. Once he saw something odd sticking out of your pant leg he knew something must be wrong. “Then what exactly is wrong with your leg here?” He questioned me where I finally noticed that he had seen my fake leg.

“I….uh….” I yanked my leg back feeling my face turn red being embarrassed over this. Carter wasn’t with me the night of the accident. I was just driving back to our place with our dead beat dad until someone rear ended me harshly.

Rip saw that I wasn’t going to answer him so he called to Ryan who had brought back my horse. “Ryan, take her back to the ranch.” Getting to my feet I climbed back on my horse and followed the ranch hand back to the ranch then he went back to work like Rip had asked him.

Laying on my bed inside my room I stared at the ceiling in silence and a pit of nervousness. Sitting upright I knew I had messed up or more so my brother had. I had done my best to keep the fact that I had a prosthetic leg a secret. In fear that if they knew I would be removed from the ranch. Someone came down the hallway and I lifted my head up seeing it was Beth. “Hi mom….uh what’s up?” I nervously asked since she had just started letting me call her that.

“I heard about your fall today from Rip. I’m happy you shook it off but we need to talk about something.” She entered the bedroom before I saw that Rip was also walking in behind her heels.

Playing with my thumbs in my lap I avoided their gazes when they came to sit down on the bed. Well Beth did leaving Rip standing directly in front of me. “So are you going to tell me about your leg or no?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it…” I gulped trailing off in my response already knowing the answer they would give me.

It was hard enough for Carter to prove that he would be a good worker. I already was a good hand but the fake leg wasn’t a good look. John Dutton had the greatest ranch in Montana and that means he should have close to the best people working for him. “You better tell us otherwise things will get ugly.” Beth warned me with her annoyed look and I froze knowingly.

"It's...it's about my prosthetic leg..." Rolling my pants leg, I made it visible to their gaze, and I didn't dare make eye contact with either of them. "I didn't want to tell you about it because I've been sp terrified of what you would say. Even though I get my work done, nobody else on this ranch has one. So I....just assumed that you would kick me off the ranch over it."

Rip put his hands on his hips, tilting my head to the side slightly. "That's totally ridiculous, Y/n. We would never do that."

"This family may be complicated, but we don't abandon our family members." Beth shifted on her spot on the bed, grasping my hand in hers.

Hanging my mouth open I couldn't believe it. "Really but I thought that-"

"That what us having some cowboys from the prison and others in debt wouldn't have given you the message that we take in the trouble so they can have a home." Rip declared, coming to sit down beside me, tucking hair behind my ear.

I parted my lips without thinking I fling my arms around his neck hugging him tightly. Rip stiffened up at the embrace but calmed down after a second and wrapped his arms around me with the same comfort. “Thank you….I didn’t think you would let me stay.” I sniffed against his chest.

“Anyone who has a problem with that will have to deal with me.” Beth responded after I hugged her and she actually hugged me back too to my surprise. I smiled at the pair knowing that Carter and I were gonna do really good here. This wasn’t just a rnhc, it was a family for everybody.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[whoisneo404]

Do you like scary movies?

Summary: You and Nick have sex while you are stoned.

TW: smocking the green stuff, cursing, NSFW.

Note: Sub!Nick and reader is a cis male (so sorry to the trans readers, I’ll make more things for you all eventually).

A Friday night out ended up like it always does, 3 random Instagram users written on my hand, my eyes red, a can of mountain dew on my hand and me walking to Nicks house. My head fuzzy and my pants tight with the thought of his soft legs bringing me closer to him.

I hear my phone ring, and as I take it out of my front pocket, I can see that Nick is calling me, probably because I haven’t replied to the 15 messages, he has been sending me since I told him I was heading his way. I answer.

-Yellow?

-Why haven you been texting back? You’ve got me worried, you stupid fuck. - He sounds annoyed more than angry.

-Sorry love. - I mumble back, my pants getting insanely tighter around my crotch just from hearing his voice.

-Don’t call me love…

-Oh, but you love it when I whisper it into your ear as I slide in so-

-ENOUGH!

I laugh as I stand on the porch of his house, grabbing my set of keys where I keep the key to the front door, one he gave my many months ago.

-Do you like scary movies? – I whisper to the phone as I open the door, entering the house and locking it behind me.

-Yeah… - Nick whispers back, the house is dark, empty, besides the two of us.

-What’s your favorite scary movie? – I walk to his room, my boots making the tiles squeak with every step, I can see a dim light shine through Nicks closed door.

-I don’t know…-He whispers, I hear him walking around his room. I laugh once more and I hang up on him as I open the door, he lets out a little gasp that makes my chuckle even harder. – God, knock next time.

-Why would I? – I walk to him and hug him, squeezing his body to mine, takin in his scent. – you are my final boy after all, and now I have you. – I kiss his cheek, down to his jaw and then to his neck.

-You are so dumb. Fuck- wait, you just got here.

Nick tries to squirm away from me but I push him to the bed. He lands on his back, pushing himself up with his elbows.

-Come on, love. I need you; we can talk after… if you are not too tired. – I wink at him and his cheeks blush a bit. I unzip my pans as I watch him take of his shirt (which is actually mine, one that I left many weeks ago and now he uses to sleep from time to time), I climb on the bed, crawling to him.

-You always fall asleep first. -Nick mumbles out, his hands sliding to my stomach from underneath my shirt, lifting it.

-That’s because I always leave you satisfied. – I smirk, helping him take off my shirt and tossing it on the floor, probably to never see it again, because he will steal it.

-Whatever, just shut up. – Nick looks away, I lean down, kissing his jaw softly as I move my hands all over his waist and hips.

-Mhm, is my baby shy? – Moving my hands down slowly, his sleeping shorts glide down smoothly. I slide down my jeans and I press my hips against his, my hard length rubbing over his. Pushing my body to his, I kiss him, messy lips crashing against each other, his hands wondering on my neck, hair and chest.

With a little of help from him I completely take off his shorts and boxer, his leaking tip hit his tummy, white drops smearing all over his abdomen. I smile as I watch him, my cheeks a bit red, my right hand takes his length and starts stocking it softly, my other hand goes to my waistband and pull down my boxers. I lean down and kiss his cheek softly, pressing both of our members together. Nick gasps, his back arches, his cheeks red and his eyes filled with need.

I rub my hips back and forward until I need more. “Turn around” I whisper into his ear, and on a swift roll Nick is laying on his chest, his legs keeping his hips up, his back arched prettily. I reach out to his night stand drawer and take out the bottle of lube half empty, pouring a bit on my dick and some on his entrance, rubbing it all over and inside of him.

-You ready baby? – I ask, his eyes meeting mine over his shoulder, he nods. – Words love, talk to me. – Nick whines.

-Yes! I’m ready – his voice is shaky, his hips move a bit, backing onto mine.

-Okay pretty boy. Be as loud as you want.

I stroke my length a few times before softly pushing it in, biting down on my lip, Nick buries his face into the pillow and I could hear his small whines and gasps.

-Come one, sweetheart. Let me hear you.

I grab a fist full of his hair and pull it gently, his head softly raises and I start pounding him slowly, long and controlled thrusts. As Nicks moans and pleads get louder my hips buckle into him at a messier pace, my chest heavy, my head spinning as I squeeze his hip.

-Fuck… - I pull out, grabbing him by the hip and shoulder make him turn around, laying on his back, I grab both of our cocks, gently pressing and rubbing them. Nicks back arches, his body pressing against mine.

I shut my eyes, biting down on his neck, strong to leave a mark but not enough to hurt. I feel the way his legs shake and my breath starts to steady as I feel the warmth dripping down my hand to his stomach.

-God, I love when you go partying. – Nick whine sunder his breath.

-I know sweety, I know.

Taglist: @freshloveforthefit @shywolfapricotfan @sturnphilia @matty-bear @thenickgirl @stvrniolvsp @paige05 @soursturniolo @miloisdone1 @teenagetrash00 @lovely-calypso @h3arts4harry @malirosee

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Entangled with you in hand.

pairing: soft y! girlfriend x f! reader

wc. 454

“Do you think this will last forever?” you breathed, tickling the little hairs on her nape—an uncomfortable sensation, yet she would rather climb a mountain with bare hands and feet than ever admit to that; for your warmth was the blanket of comfort she couldn't live without.

“I hope so.” the reply came fast yet soft, subsided almost, tentative. She feared her intensity, feared that it could scare you away and out of her arms. Feared for you and with you; that one day when she awoke and pushed the curtains back in your idle little cottage, that she wouldn't catch sight of you sitting on the front porch with your morning tea, soaking in the first few rays of the sun like a cat.

God, yes, she not only hoped, but needed this to last forever, for you two to always lay mingled, finding pieces of eachother in one another, melting and morphing until she nor you knew where one began and the other ended.

“I love you.” you admitted and she could have cried in that moment alone—bundled up with you in the soft blankets, sitting on your shared bed with your cat on your lap, your baby as you called her. You would be a great mother, tender, kind, the right kind of petty when needed to be, so loving and devoted. She could imagine it, you round, with another heartbeat under yours, carrying a child that she could love till her last dying breath.

“I love you too.” she entangled her hand from yours, cupping your cheek, “So, so much.” her voice fell into a whisper, her gaze falling with it towards your lips, misty gaze locked on what was hers; what you had allowed to be hers.

And then she kissed you.

Kissed away the furrow in your brows, the confusion about the tears in her eyes and reassured you with soft moving lips that she was nothing more than a fool in love, but never sad. Not with you, anyways. Not when you melted in her arms like butter on pancakes on Sunday mornings and not when you let her deep inside of you, so deep that it might've made you bleed with anyone else, but not her, she wouldn't mess with you, wouldn't dare to hurt you, she would only kiss, caress, admire.

Consume you with hungry kisses and subtle touches and sink her teeth into your flesh, only when you begged for it so nicely.

For she wasn't a monster; she was yours and you hers. So no, she didn't think this would only last forever.

This was meant to last longer.

Forever and more.

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

[a-yciecat]

To Hell With It! @grievetheliving3311

Satan x Overworked GNReader fluff drabble!

You had been staying up very late recently, doing schoolwork, projects, and the like. All of the brothers had noticed your change in demeanor, but Satan especially. He decides to offer some well needed relaxation.

Tags\\ fluff, cuddles, stressed reader, Satan is worried for you, one minor profanity

You had fallen asleep at your desk for the fourth time this week, and it was Tuesday. A pen in your hand as your head rocked off of the arm it was resting on, causing you to accidentally draw a line on your cheek.

Suddenly, your eyes shot open, and you sat up straight at the feeling of a papercut-covered hand tapping your shouder.

"I didn't mean to scare you, only to wake you," The bookworm chuckled, "This isn't good for your back."

With a tired smile, you turned to face him in your chair, "No shit; I didn't mean to fall asleep here."

With a yawn, you looked to the clock. It said 5:30 pm.

"Dinner is ready. I believe I speak for us all when I say I would appreciate if you ate with us," He rubbed your shoulder, then lifted his hand to rub at the pen on your cheek.

"Then I'll join you. Who cooked tonight, again?" You began to put together some of your papers, as to be organized for when you came back to your room.

A moment of silence passed by until you opened the door, "Asmo did..."

"I haven't died from his cooking," You rolled your eyes, drowsily leaving the room.

"Yet," He added on.

Dinner passed, and you managed to only eat the edible parts of Asmo's beautiful cooking, or God-forbid ingredient-combining.

You get up to head back to your room, not even bothering to do more than dump your dishes in the sink, when Satan once again grabs your shoulder.

"I know you're heading back to your room," He scowls.

"And why would you think that?" You shoot back.

"You've been doing so every night," An unimpressed expression presents across his face.

"Oh," You drop your head in realization, "I guess I have..."

He removes his hand from you, relocating it onto his hip, "Come take a short nap with me. You deserve some rest that isn't at your desk."

He has a point, and you know he does.

With a sigh, you oblige. Snaking your hand into his as you go up the stairs, he pretends not to notice.

Going down the hallway, you hear him mumbling something to himself about 'I wish they'd be more aware of their own limits'.

"Hm?" You question, looking up at him.

"Nothing," He hums back.

"You sure?" You squeeze his hand.

"Mhm." He chuckles, letting go of your hand only to throw you over his shoulder effortlessly.

You let out a yelp and try to sit up straight with a whine. He doesn't let up. Instead, he teases you about how you were apparently wobbling when you walked. By the time you come up with an argument, he's already reached his bedroom door.

He sets you down gently, "Come, let's go lay down."

You let out a hum, weaving your way between his mountains of books. Once you find his bed you climb in, hiding yourself in his blankets.

"Wait, Mc, don't sleep in your-" He frets, but you cut him off before he can finish.

"Yeah, yeah, I know..." You mumble, crawling back to the edge of the bed.

He pulls your tired form to your feet, hugging you for a moment. You've never seen him so tender and kind. Then again, maybe you're just too tired to remember.

After the soft hug, he practically parkours to his closet to find you a t-shirt and some shorts that will barely fit you.

He comes back, handing you the clothes before he goes to wait in the hall. You quickly change, laughing at how big his shirt is on you, but I guess that's the least you can expect when wearing a demon's clothing.

After asking if you're done, he comes back in, chuckling at the size of his clothes around your form.

The two of you crawl back into his bed, and he lays on his back so that you can puddle onto his chest. And that you do.

You wrap your arms around him, letting your ear rest over his heart, and the sound of the peaceful beating alone is almost enough to send you into a more healthy sleep than before.

"Would you like me to read to you?" He hums, and you nod in response.

That's your last straw. The sound of his voice and heartbeat, and the comforting warmth of his body and blankets have you drifting off in minutes.

Finally, you'll take a break. He rubs your back; maybe he should take a nap too.

Ft. My cat

© a-yciecat

[the-kr8tor]

This cute idea just spawned into my head but imagine the girls asking reader and hobie about their youth 🥹 like “how did you two meet?” And when they complain about having too much homework they say “I bet you didn’t do your homework when you were younger” to Hobie

Thank you for the adorable request!! 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Mom! Reader, Dad! Hobie, Twin AU, Billie and Ramona AU, cw food mentions, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You feel a gentle tug on your apron whilst you make dinner, the savory smell of spaghetti and meatballs wafting around you, covering you with a thin smoke that you had to fan away to get a good look at the disheveled curls below you.

“Mummy?” she tugs again and you fan the smoke away from her face. You should really turn on the exhaust.

Quickly pressing the on button, the fans roar to life making your daughter call you louder above the noise. You crouch down to her height, now eyelevel, you see Billie with her face scrunched up, pouting and with a crumpled paper clutched in her tiny hand.

“What happened to your hair?” You chuckle, trying to get it away from her pretty face with your palms. “Was your head all itchy?”

She stomps on her tiny foot, frustrated. “I can't do my homework!” Whining, Billie sniffs, clearly upset. You rub her arms lovingly, trying to calm her down. “And Mona fell asleep and daddy locked his door!”

The thought of Mona taking a nap before dinner has you internally groaning, knowing that you have to wake her up which is a job and a half for both you and Hobie. She clearly takes after her dad in that department.

“And I'm your third choice?” You feign hurt, joking to lighten her mood. It doesn't work when her frown deepens, brows knitted together. She takes after you in this department. “Okay I'm sorry, baby, what do you need?”

She raises her homework to your face, getting a facefull of her maths problems. Leaning away, you skim over the numbers: five plus seven, ten plus twenty and so on.

“I need help, mummy.” Her tiny broken voice sends your instincts into a frenzy, but you remain calm with your hands rubbing soft circles around her shoulder blades just like you always did when she was just a baby.

“And mummy will help you, okay? Can you grab your pencils for me? Then we can sit down and finish it.” You lift her chin up, pressing a sweet kiss on her chubby cheek. “And maybe I'll give you some ice cream for a job well done.” You whisper it to her like a secret to make your daughter giggle.

Truthfully, you were already going to give her some after dinner, if Hobie saw the entire thing he would've patted your back.

“Okie dokie.” Billie changes moods quickly, smiling and skipping towards the bedroom. She leaves the door wide open, giving you the opportunity to watch Billie hastily pick up her supplies from the messy pile on the foot of her bed.

You shut off the stove and the exhaust whilst peeking at the girls' bedroom. Spotting Ramona slowly sitting up, waking up from the ruckus that her sister was making. Yawning, her eyes droopy from sleep, she scowls at her sister but when she sees you peeking from the open doorway, she smiles, giving you her signature toothy grin.

Copying her smile, you scrunch up your nose and narrow your eyes, Mona giggles as Billie finally makes her way towards the kitchen table with her arms full of school supplies that are definitely not needed for a maths homework.

Billie huffs like she just climbed a mountain. She sits down on the dining chair with little effort, when just last year she still needed yours and Hobie’s help to get up on the chair.

“Mum!” She calls, legs swinging and tapping her pencil on the table.

“Coming, baby.” You wipe your hands on your apron. Sitting down next to her, you feel Mona lay her head on your arm wordlessly, sleep still clinging to her lashes.

Lifting her up, you place her on your lap. She embraces you, head placed on your chest.

“Sleepy?”

“Mm-hmm, homework got me tired.” her words are muffled by your shirt.

If only Hobie can see you hogging all the attention from his girls, he'd probably be complaining jokingly, saying that his girls are playing favourites.

You help Billie with her homework and with every question answered her pout becomes deeper. She's so done with it already even though she still has an entire page left.

Mona has even started to help her sister, giving her extra fingers using her own hands so Billie can count higher using both her and Mona's fingers.

Nine questions left, Billie's on the brink of tears.

“‘m hungry” she whines, flicking eraser shavings off the paper.

“I know, cheese, just one more and we can have dinner then we can continue right after.”

“I bet you didn't have to do homework back then!” Billie throws a crumpled piece of paper across the table. Mona frowns, upset, looking at you for answers.

Hobie senses his girls' distress, he can't ignore it any longer while he was working on a new web fluid. With measured steps, he unlocks the door with a click. Making his way towards the kitchen, his heart melts at the sight, if only the twins were actually smiling it would've been better. Webbing up Billie's homework, he reads it out loud while closing the distance.

“‘If Charlie had ten cookies and his dad gives him eight more, how many cookies does he have?’” he scoffs, plopping himself next to Billie and across from you. “Diabetes, Charlie has diabetes.” placing the paper down, he watches the girls grin from ear to ear.

His girls giggles, music to his ears.

“Dad!” Billie slaps her dad on his arm, Hobie feigns hurt, groaning in (fake) pain. They laugh louder, Billie's frustration forgotten.

You smile at him, practically giving him heart eyes. He winks, laying his foot on top of your knee that's under the table. His way of saying ‘thank you’ and ‘you did a good job.’ So to show your appreciation, you wink back and he acts like Cupid's bow hit him right on his chest.

Mona laughs while Billie acts disgusted by the gooey scene in front of her.

Hobie sits up, or as properly as Hobie can. He places his elbow casually on the table, chin placed on his palm. He shakes his head, “not true at all, froggy, mum and I did a lot of homework back then.”

“You mean fifty years ago?” Mona jokes, followed by loud laughter from her and Billie.

“Rude!” You squeeze her in your arms, swaying her from side to side. “We raised rude children, Hobs.”

“This is what we get for letting uncle James babysit you eh?” Hobie pokes Billie on her side, earning a yelp from the younger twin. “You know who didn't do his homework? Uncle James, and look where he is now.”

“He’s living in a castle, dad!” Billie exclaims, excited to hear a story from before they were born.

“It's his dad's, scrunkly,” he pats her head before sloshing her head from side to side. She giggles again, holding his hand that's on top of her head. “not uncle James'” stopping his attack, he continues. “Have I told you that your mum and I’s first date was a study date?”

“No!” Mona and Billie shout excitedly.

You quirk a brow but you let him tell the story even though you know he might be telling it a bit differently than you remember.

“Yep, you see mum was havin’ a hard time with biology—”

“What's biology?” Mona asks.

“Study of plants, animals and humans.” Hobie says without elaborating or they'll be sitting there for hours.

Mona looks up at you from your lap, smaller hand tapping your clavicle. “Did you fall in love with dad during homework time?”

“Yes, he impressed me with his biology prowess.”

“Taught her anatomy—” You kick Hobie under the table before he could finish his sentence. He silently groans, staring softly at you.“—we held hands under the table.” Both girls listen intently while you smile at the memory. “I'd squeeze her hand every time she got an answer right.”

“Woah! You still do that!” Billie moves her head from Hobie and to you. Smiling delightfully at her parents.

“Yeah, we do. But with fewer biology questions.” Hobie taps the paper, “what's ten plus eight?”

“Eighteen,” Billie answers quickly and you look at her surprised. Hobie smirks triumphantly. “How'd you two meet?” she asks curiously, elbows on the table, and eyes sparkling.

Her twin does the same, her knees digging into your thighs. But you don't mind as you make googly eyes at Hobie.

“Tell you what, cheese, finish this and we'll tell you.” Hobie throws you another wink, sending you back in time when he used to pick you up from class.

You knead at his leg, tapping in morse code a simple ‘I love you.’ He appreciates it with a message of his own. Tapping Billie's eraser on the table, he sends a message through it. ‘Love you more, study anatomy later?’

Tapping a quick ‘yes’ he hides his smile when he pretends to look over Billie's homework.