#ice writes

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: You are blissfully unaware of how deep exactly Rook and Vil's affections run for you; of the extents they would go for you, and the boundaries they would cross in your name.

Pairing: Yan!Vil x Reader x Yan!Rook

Genre: Yandere

TW: Yandere Vil and Rook, talk of killing someone, Reader is not Yuu/Prefect.

AN: Rook and Vil ily but why are you both so hard to write for 😭 Like, yall are fun to think for but it was so hard to write down the concept in my mind ysgshskejd. I genuinely don't know if I was able to do them justice, please forgive me if they're a bit ooc in this. This started off as a joke thing because of a friend, but then it turned yandere for some reason that I don't know but we're vibing so it's okay ^^

You groaned as you flopped face first onto the couch in Vil's room, uncaring of the fact that you were still wearing your shoes. Vil glanced at you from the corner of his eyes as he sat at his vanity, narrowing his gaze at your unmoving form.

"(Name), remove your shoes."

" 'm too tired," you grumbled, and Rook chuckled from his place on Vil's bed. "My, my Chevalier de Beauté, how bold of you to reject Roi du Poison's order," he teased you, getting up from the bed to walk over to where you were.

" 'm tired," you whined once again, drawing out a chuckle from both of your boyfriends.

"Still, as Roi du Poison's devoted hunter, I cannot let you get away with such a grave crime," he hummed, his voice light and sweet to your ears. Kneeling on one leg, Rook carefully untied your shoelaces, gently placing your shoes on the floor by the couch. Each movement was smooth and reverent; one would think he was handling a priceless treasure with the way he made sure to not make a single noise as he rid you of your shoes.

He watched in amusement as your only reaction was to sigh and turn your head slightly to look at him. Ever watchful, he immediately zeroed in on the eyebags that you had tried to conceal under layers of makeup. Rook removed the glove from one of his hands, raising it to smooth back your hair into a somewhat presentable state.

"Pray tell, what has you so stressed?" He asked, and you could see Vil sit straighter (if that was even possible since his posture was always impeccable) at his words, no doubt listening to the two of you.

"Its nothing too bad, really. I'm just stuck with uncooperative assholes in Professor Crewel's class-"

"Language," Vill gently chided, but you could make out the concern in his voice. You continued speaking, eventually fully ranting to Rook and Vil about how absolutely bull-headed and uncooperative your group members were, and how you were practically the only one working on the project.

Both the boys stayed quiet as they heard you vent your frustrations out to them. Once you were done, Rook gave you a smile. His eyes held a dangerous light, sharp gaze befitting the hunter he prided himself in being.

"Would you like me to kill them for you?"

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his tone, the familiar smile on his face somehow turning malicious in front of your very eyes. Very slowly, like prey trying to not agitate the predator in their bid to escape, you silently sat up on the couch. Your eyes were trained on his, caution and hesitancy swirling in them (a very pretty mixture, if you asked Rook; what he wouldn't give to see that look of confusion and fear in your eyes more often-)

"No killing, Rook," Vil spoke from his seat in front of the mirror, turning completely to face the two of you. Immediately, Rook turned back into the playful boy you always knew, as he chuckled, "Ah, I jest, of course." He winked at you, and you wondered if your senses had played a trick on you as the heavy atmosphere that had been in the room mere moments ago dissipated instantly.

"Perhaps I could speak to these classmates of yours, hm?"

"O-oh, there's no need for that," you nervously chuckled. "I already informed Professor Crewel about it, and he said he'll give them a fitting punishment," you hurriedly explained. Your fingers fiddled with the cuffs of your blazer, a clear sign of your discomfort at the thought of Rook potentially talking to the people from your group. As irritating as they were, you didn't really want to get them on his (or for that matter, anyone's) bad side, especially with how... weird and quite frankly terrifying Rook had been earlier.

Your nervousness did not go unnoticed, as Vil chuckled, crossing his arms elegantly as he looked at the two of you. "Rook, you've scared them."

Vil stood up from his seat, making his way over to you. Carefully, he lifted your face to make you meet his eyes and smiled. "Rook was only joking, my dear. Don't worry." The gentle touch sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach, and the soft smile complementing his words made your earlier worries go away.

Rook looked at you, a mix of surprise and amusement in his eyes as he took your hand in his own. "Ah, dear Chevalier de Beauté, you need not worry at all," he said as he placed a light kiss on the back of your hand.

"You are precious to me, so I cannot help but wish to take care of anything that may displease you. But, my apologies if I went too far with my joke."

His voice was sincere as he spoke, and you couldn't help but smile at him despite his... slightly concerning words. Rook was a weirdo most of the time. Maybe it was just a well-intended joke that you just overthought about?

You chuckled, missing the way Vil's shoulders seemed to relax and how Rook's smile became a little less forced.

"It's alright Rook."

"You nearly gave us away, Rook."

Vil's voice was uncharacteristically cold as he stared down at the hunter kneeling in front of him. You had gone back to your own dorm room some time ago, saying that you needed to finish one of Professor Trein's assignments, giving the two boys some much needed privacy to have this conversation.

"My sincere apologies Roi du Poison. I did not mean to, but to see their beautiful face contorted in such anger, such frustration... it caught me off guard. I was careless in my wish to take away some of their burden, and I shall accept any punishment you deem acceptable, my fair queen," Rook said, his voice repentant as he stared at the hem of Vil's dorm clothes.

Vil sighed after a long and tense silence. How could he remain cross with his beloved hunter any longer, when he was this remorseful? Besides, Vil had been quick enough to salvage the situation in time, and you were still blissfully unaware of how deep exactly their affections ran for you; of the extents they would go for you, and the boundaries they would cross in your name.

"Get up," he ordered, and the hunter rose to his feet, finally daring to look his queen in the eyes. "Go, and find every little thing there is to find about those useless students. Every. Single. Thing. But do not, touch a hair on their heads. That will be your punishment."

Vil's voice was calm and collected, like a queen delivering a death sentence. Rook bowed reverently.

"As you wish, my dear queen."

[iceagebaby]

Courier time!

Backstory under the cut, please give it a read!

Born into the Jackal raider tribe, Vels "Marie" Spolsky grew up in an world of gore and voilence. The Jackals, known for their cannibalism and chem addiction, were a gang in decline after a failed raid at Shady Sands. As a member of this group, Vels was quick to become another raider to shoot on sight. At 19, after countless failures, losses and injuries, Vels's instinct for self preservation and survival kicked in. He abandoned the remnants of the clan and joined up with the Followers of the Apocalypse, who, miraculously, took him in and provided him with an education.

Despite his partial redemption, Vels still struggled with his impulses. As he traveled with Followers caravans, primarily as protection for the followers, he began to take on various odd jobs. During this time, he learned to use a sniper rifle, compensating for his poor eyesight. Eventually, this led him to the Mojave Express, where he took on a delivery job.

After being shot in the head, Vels was left with scattered memories. While he retained parts of his past - his addiction to Psycho, cravings (fo4), feral tendencies, and scars, his sense of self was altered. Despite his almost-membership with the Followers, Vels was far from reformed. He remained a dangerous individual, only slightly less unhinged than his raider days, but at last with a sense of wanting to become someone better.

Relationship with Arcade:

When Vels stumbled into the camp of the Followers of the Apocalypse, bruised, battered and desperately seeking refuge, it was Arcade Gannon who first met him with a mixture of skepticism and unwilling compassion. Arcade, as well educated and morally upright member as any could be, had his doubts about allowing a raider into their ranks. Yet still, something about Vels' determination and willingness to leave his violent past struck a chord in him. There was something about him that piqued Arcade's interest. Perhaps it was the raider's genuine desire to learn or his willingness to engage in discussions and listen to him was somehting that drew Arcade in.

Their initial relationship was rocky. Arcade's compassion for Vels was restrained by his deep seated moral convictions. He couldn’t ignore the fact that Vels had been part of a group responsible for untold atrocities. Despite that, Arcade couldn’t help but feel some sort of respect for Vels' decision to seek a better path in life. He was snippy and salty in their interactions, often challenging Vels on his past actions and future intentions.

Vels, on the other hand, found himself inexplicably drawn to Arcade. He admired Arcade's intellect and convictions, qualities that were foreign and fascinating to him. However, his upbringing as a raider had left him emotionally scarred and unsure of how to form genuine connections, especially with Arcades reservations for him. His attraction to Arcade was palpable, but he struggled to understand these feelings, often resorting to defensive or aloof behavior.

Thetension between them became more pronounced when they traveled together with a caravan heading to New Vegas. As they traversed the wastes, a tense bond began to form. Arcade couldn’t deny that Vels was a capable protector, as did Vels began to apriciate Arcades prowess with his Defender and found himself opening up, albeit slowly and with great difficulty.

Despite the growing friendship, Arcade remained wary. His interactions with Vels were filled with sharp comments and moral questioning, a constant reminder of the chasm between their world views. Vels, for his part, tried to prove his commitment to change, though he often slipped into old habits under stress.

A year later, after Vels was shot and lost much of his memory, their paths crossed again. This time, Arcade observed Vels from a distance at first, noticing the changes in him. The feral edge was still there, but muted by a haunted look and a sense of disorientation. Vels didn’t recognize Arcade, but there were moments of odd familiarity in his eyes, fleeting glances that hinted at buried memories.

Arcade decided not to reveal their past association immediately. He wanted to understand who Vels became without the burden of his past. As they spent more time together, Arcade saw glimpses of the man Vels could be, not just the raider he had been. Slowly, cautiously, Arcade began to extend his trust, hoping that this second chance would allow them to find redemption and perhaps a deeper connection.

The man before him was different, yet familiar. He couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope that perhaps this time, their relationship might find a steadier ground.

[icedcoffeedisaster]

hello hello!

please, may we have some fluff headcanons about Donna Beneviento 🙏

Of course! Seems the love for Donna is very strong here 👀

Fluff Headcanons for Donna

She's a great cuddler, and once she has you in her grasp she doesn't let go for a good while. Its the kind of hug where you can melt in her arms

Whilst dating, your clothes start mysteriously disappearing, only for you to start seeing Donna wearing them and finding them around her house.

You never get them back.

You do get a black turtleneck of hers to keep, though. It's warm, soft, and smells of flowers, honey and spices

One of Donna's favourite pastimes is reading books on the couch with you beside her. Most likely non-fiction books on plants, yet occasionally will read a fiction book. You've seen a few romance novels laying around.

Her cooking is unmatched. Whether it be a classic Italian dish or something quick and simple, you haven't found better cooking elsewhere.

The pet names are endless, her favourites being "mia cara" and "dolcezza", using them constantly just to see you blush

If you want, Donna gets you to help her during night shifts in the theatre. You paint and work in moderate silence, until more often than not, you feel a hand around your waist or the ghost of breath on your ear

You dont get much work done after that

At the flower shop, you maintain a relatively professional front when the customers are around unless one gets particularly flirty. Jealousy burns its flames in Donna's heart, and she's one to get possessive.

Lingering glances, a brush of her hand on your shoulder as she walks by. On occasion, she will come and stand out front during the interaction, glaring daggers at the intruder until they leave

You're hers. Nobody else's.

Over time, she becomes more confident coming out in public with you, and whilst she's still self-conscious over her scar, she's less afraid. Constant praise and affection from you has lifted her spirits and given her the encouragement she needed

Be prepared for more plants in your dorm room if you stay there. Succulents on the windowsils especially.

Donna brings them as gifts whenever she visits, which is always perfectly timed to when both Dani and Angie are out

Most likely for the better, with what you two get up to

Donna's love language is physical touch and quality time. If she could, she would spend every moment clung to you, probably carrying you around or pulling you to a nearby couch

Have you seen her arms and hands she strong as hell

Eventually, she'll ask you to move in with her. It only takes a few months, we know our girl can't get enough

Before she met you, she had trouble sleeping at night. When you're in the same bed, she sleeps soundly, often curling into you or being the big spoon. She will always have a hold on you in the night.

She sleeps in an oversized t-shirt and shorts. It's very comfy and distracting

She's a very romantic person, and her love and loyalty know no bounds. She's with you for life, and you wouldn't have it any other way

[ashamaxxing]

mom come pick me up they’re defending the divine right of kings on asoiaf twitter again

[bebx]

Tragic brothers.

Dexter: Dexter Morgan and Brian Moser. Genesis by Valzhyna Mort † Abel’s Body to Cain by Joseph Fasano

[ping-ski]

shrödinger's plex fic (they are real to me)

EBY eclipse and y/n ref here!! :3

[gabrielcrossleyart]

Neve! Had a lot of fun with this one!

[fanfictionroxs]

The world calls you 'breakbones', but the first word your son thinks of to describe his father, is 'gentle'.

Harwin Strong the man that you are. Best father in Westeros!

[myladysapphire]

Duty

Robb Stark had kept his oath to house Frey and married you as a result allowing him to win the north’s independence however he now has to live with the sacrifices of duty and must find out if duty is truly the death of love.

word count: 3,992

CW: MDI 18+, slight smut, p in v, angst, arranged marriage, infidelity, childbirth, unhealthy dynamic, toxic relationship? open ending, pregancy, not proofread!

Robb Stark x Frey!Reader

Masterlist | part two

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

Duty.

The word rang in your head as you stared at your husband.

He was yours; you were his but as his eyes wandered across the hall you knew he was not entirely yours.

A mere hour into your marriage and you already felt the strain of an unfaithful husband.

The longing looks he gave her form across the room were the looks you had wished to feel.

You were the youngest daughter of Walder Frey and his sixth wife, Bethany Rosby, and though your older sister Roslin was often called beautiful, you were considered beautiful. It was the one-word Robb stark had said when he saw you, the only word he had said to you beside your wedding vows.

He hadn’t even spared you a glance since the ceremony, most of your conversations had been with his mother, Catelyn. She had been kind, having been the one that choose you as his bride. But you knew it was not your beauty that she chose you for, it helped of course, pleasing Robb if only by a little. You were neither smart, cunning or wise. You were simple normal, with no special skills to sway the eyes of suitors or to persuade your husband. She choose you, the often forgotten daughter, with no influence or means to gain any, for that reason alone.

It was clear to anyone the marriage and alliance was an unwanted one. Especially to your husband and the woman he loved.

He did not dance with you once, offering no words beside the necessary pleasantries, the kindest act he seemed to do was forbade the bedding ceremony. Though there was little bedding done that night, though the act was done, he neither spoke a word to her or stayed the night. And from the whispers she heard the next day it seemed he had gone to her swiftly after.

He had left after that, though he did not say goodbye, or offer to write to you. You were simply left with his mother, set to journey to the Winterfell.

The journey as not long, taking less than two weeks before you saw the peak of Winterfell’s towers. It was a wonderful sight, having never left the twins, and rarely being allowed outside. Seeing the castle of Winterfell was a freeing experience. There seemed to be endless halls, some bare and empty allowing the privacy you had never once had in the twins. The god’s woods was even more magnificent than you had expected, it expanded for acres, with endless trees and countless springs waring both the gods woods and the castle. You felt some peace here, but you had also never felt more alone.

You were looked at as an outsider, talked to as one, and it was clear you were unwanted.

As the moons passed, you felt even more alone, you only heard about Robbs victory through his mother, the one person who didn’t talk to you with resentment.

Then you realised you had yet to bleed since your wedding.

And the word duty once again rang in your head.

You were pregnant, a fact that made you seemed more welcome, people were kinder to you. And yet you felt more alone, suddenly surrounded by people who only cared for you know you cared the heir.

The heir to a man you did not know, the heir to a man who scorned you on the day of your wedding for another woman. He didn’t even have the respect to at least act like a loyal husband.

You had done your duty, but he had not.

For it seemed she was also pregnant.

You were far along in your pregnancy, near eight moons when you heard the news. The news that was accompanied by your husband’s victory. And the norths independence. Yet you felt little joy only envy at the news of her pregnancy. Envy that she gets to know him and he never once tried to let you know him, even in the fleeting hours they did have together.

The next month was lively, the keep full of servants and lords from all over the north preparing for their kings arrival. The planning of feasts and several other northern events to be held. And you did not know what to think, you had long craved to know your husband, but he seemed to want to forget you even existed, and even more so when he arrived, with her on his arm and a babe in hers.

You bowed your head, clutching your belly protectively as if their presence would harm the babe somehow, and greeted him “husband.” You spoke plainly, not in joy, nor as a move of possessiveness towards her.

He nodded his head, going to greet you in the same fashion but stopping himself at the sight of your belly. “wife” he said in shock, as if the very idea of you being pregnant or here for that matter was shocking.

You smiled, a forced smile and spoke softly, “come, husband we have much to discuss”

She had stayed put, looking lost among the faces of Winterfell.

Though you had started out a stranger those first few months, after your pregnancy was announced, though you had at first received false pleasantries to win your favour, a time that made you feel even more alone. Now you felt rather comforted by the halls and the people with in it.

You took your time to win over the people inside the walls, though you never felt that you could truly be yourself ,as you did not know entirely who you were anymore, but none the less, you no longer felt like a stranger, even Catelin had even started to heavily involve you into the running of Winterfell, and her kindness became truer to you, even more so when news of your husbands bastard spread.

Your basic and natural kind behaviour had one the loyalty of many of the people of the north as they sneered at her, shunning her away as they welcomed the victors back from war.

And from the kind smiles you received as you walked the halls to your chambers, chambers the lord and lady of Winterfell had traditionally shared. It had not crossed your mind about were you would know sleep. Never having shared the bed with another, not knowing what it is to share a bed, let alone with a man. It was also your belongings that filled the room, your tapestries and art, your nicknacks and clothes. His had either gone with him or remained in his old chambers, but know she supposed he was fully with in his rights to move in and perhaps even throw her out.

She did not know if he weas cruel enough to do so, or kind enough to let her stay. You only knew of him through the view of others, mainly his mother. An opinion you held   with restraint, seeing as what mother would not love her son.

He stared at you awkwardly once you entered the room, the realisation of never once talking alone coming to light for you both.

“your with child?” he asked after a moment.

You snorted “of course” you said “though I doubt you care much, seeing as you already have a babe”

“i…” he looked down ashamed, “I do care, though….though we barley know one another… I am your husband”

You snorted again, “really? And where exactly has my husband been? Not once have you acted like one, the only husbandly act you had done was to take my maidenhead!” you were mad, for so long you had been nice and kind, acting as if you cared not for his actions and now months of anger was finally spilling out of you.

He coughed awkwardly, clearly not expecting you to say something like that, especially as one of the first things you had said to him.

“i…I you are right?” he said, clearly unsure of what exactly to say, “I should have said something to you, told you of Talisa”

Talisa.

So that was her name.

“or at least have waited until after we were- “

“until it wasn’t our wedding day?

“yes” he looked down, “though I… I will admit I do not regret loving her”

Loving her.

Hearing it hurt, though you supposed you had to right to feel hurt.

You huffed, your eyes downcast, “must you admit it so freely? I understand we do not know each other, that you did not want this marriage, but it is our duty, and I…” you took a deep breath, looking up at him “I want respect, I want to be treated like a wife, and not” you couldn’t bring her self to say it, you were a woman scorned, scorned by your husband and yet he was a stranger, and in his eyes you hadn’t earns the respect you deserved. “…not like-“ you didn’t say it, he did.

“Like a duty?” He looked at you, “because that’s all that you are, a duty” he seemed to sneer “I once desired a marriage of love and then I was told I would have to marry a Frey” he hissed the name, ‘at first I hoped to find love with my wife, a wife I would not little say in, then I met her” you knew he didn’t mean you, how could he? “Talisa” he whispered “I love her more than I thought possible, and then I met you.” He shook his head “ you are beautiful, more so than she I will admit that, but I do not love you, and I very much doubt I ever will.”

“Why?” You asked, stopping him before he could saying anything more.

He swallowed “how can i? I do not know you-“

“Then get to know me!” You interrupted, moving closer to him, “we are to have a child of our own soon, do you not want to know its mother?”

He shook his head, “let me finish.” He spoke sternly, causing you to step back again.”I do not know if I want to know you, I have her and she for months was all I needed…” he stopped talking then, looking at you, as if hoping you would interrupt despite his words.

“And now i… she had a babe, our babe, a girl. And perhaps some part of me feels And perhaps some part of me the guilt of loving her, despite my duty to you.”

You shook your head, “I am your wife, you should feel more-“ you clutched your belly in pain, as a contraction hit.

 “are you alright?” He asked moving to you.

“I have been having them all day, it is nothing to worry about” you said as you shook it off only to be hit with another contraction.

“Are they meant to come that close together?” He asked worry clear in his voice.

You sneered “I don’t know you’re the one with a bastard, weren’t you there went she gave birth?”

“I… no we haven’t been together since the wedding”

You laughed “oh Im so sorry our marriage was such a inconvenience for your mistress”

He said nothing at that, leading you to believe that perhaps he wanted to continue his relationship with her and she was the one to stop it.

“I’ll fetch the midwives” he spoke suddenly, leaving before you could say anything.

Soon you were on your bed, a midwife between your legs telling you to push.

It was just you and them, woman you had never met, wishing you had met your mother so that she could be here for you and not strangers.

And it seemed the gods were cruel as they sent her in, she walked in saying she was a healer and was simply there to help, and by the worried looks the midwives gave her it seemed you needed it.

She went to touch you, and you flinched back.

“No” you whispered.

“The babe is breached” she said hoping to sway you, but the constant shaking of your head caused her to bite her lip a concerned look filling her face “I have experienced with breached briths, I can help you” she insisted.

“No” you simply said again, but this time she ignored your pleas, moving to sit on the bed and take your hand in hers.

You tried to pull your hand back but she only held on tighter, and leaned in.

“Please let me help you” she begged “neither of us want to be in this situation and I am only trying to help you”

“What so the gods aren’t cruel on you as they have been on me?”

She laughed “sort of I suppose, but also because I have caused you enough pain and wish to mend it.”

You looked at her, she was sincere, it seemed she too hated the situation they were both in, trapped feeling like the other woman, “fine” you gritted out.

She nodded “I need to move the babe” she said placing her hand on your belly and started to turn the babe.

The pain was terrible, the want to push and being unable to and the feeling of you babe moving inside of you, and then finally she said you could push, after that is was swift, and before you knew it cries filled the room, and your baby was placed in your arms, a boy, an heir.

“Congratulations” Talisa breathed, “he looks just like you” she said softly, you smiled nodding you head. He did, he lacked all the Tully features Robb ware, though it was clear the stark genes that skipped him wen to the babe, as he had a tuft of Black hair, and a part of you hoped for the grey eyes most Starks bore. But other than that he was every bit yours, your eyes and nose, he was all you.

“Should we fetch the king?” A midwife asked, and you shook you head,

“no, he knows I am here, let him come to me.” You said, as Talisa went to stand, “thank you,” you whispered.

She smiled “just because we are tied in the same way does not mean we must hate one another” she said, looking at you kindly, and you hoped she was right, because you hated the envy you felt towards her.

“We shall speak on this soon, but for now I shall rest” you said, focusing your attention back on your son.

“Of course,” she nodded. Leaving the room.

Robb did not visit you for ten days. No one did really.

It was just you and your son, Cregan. A stark name, though not a common one, you may know little history but the little you did know was about the dance of the dragons, and about Cregan stark. He was your honourable and loyal, traits you would raise your son with.

“Hello” you heard suddenly, as you Cregan was placed in your arms.

It was robb.

“Finally come to meet your child?” You sneered.

“I apologise” he whispered, coming towards you and looking down at your child. “I had matters to deal with”

“of course” you nodded not that you could see how he had not once found the time to visit you and your child.

“I here you named him Cregan” he spoke, softly smiling down at your son.

“yes, I thought it to be a good stark name.”

He nodded, caressing the babes head. “I had hoped to name him Eddard, or Ned…. After my father” he said softly.

“Was that what you were going to name your daughter had she been a boy?” You asked, though your tone was neither dripped with envy or anger, you had said it so nonchalantly, as if you cared not for the answer.

Both the question and your behaviour confused him, he did not know what to make of you, your personality, or how to even start a marriage with you. Or even if he wanted to have one with you. “Yes” he mumbled, “though we ended up naming her Minisa, after my mothers mother” he spoke with such a tenderness, and you realised you could never compete with her, no matter how kind she was, you hated her.

Hated that she was the only reason you could never know your husband, who he was and what he liked. How he looked when you woke up beside him or how it felt for him to hold you lovingly. Your heart broke at the future you would never have.

“Leave” you demanded, pulling Cregan away from Robb. As if Robb being close to him would hurt him the same way Robb being apart from you, had hurt you.

“What?” He asked in alarm.

“I can’t do this” you said, “I can’t, every moment of our marriage has been shadowed by here, I am your wife, not her”

“gods, I know that, and I hate it” he angry spoke back, “we both know neither of us had a choice in who we marry!”

“but you have a choice in who you love, why not try and love me!”

“Because you’ll never be her” He pulled back completely, “I do not want to know you, I only ever wanted her and I will only ever choose her.”

“then leave!” you spoke as tears fell down your face, “I will move out and into one of your over holdings as soon as I am able, and we will not have to put up with this farce any longer”

“good.”

And just like that any hope for a marriage was lost, your son would only know your face and not his fathers for years to come.

As the years passed your rarely saw your husband. With Cregan now five, all hopes of giving him another sibling had disappeared, as you and Robb could scarcely spend longer than a few minutes in a room together.

And though Cregan got along well enough with his siter, Minisa, a part of you resented her. Resented how she was Robbs whole world and Cregan wasn’t.

perhaps it was because you had pushed him away so thoroughly.

That your relation to his heir caused him to resent your son in turn.

And perhaps he hated you more now that Talisa had passed.

The birth of their second child had killed both mother and babe.

Robb had raged.

For months he seemed to only act in anger.

And then it all stopped.

He seemed to return to normal, expect he know insisted he do his duty to you.

Duty.

You hated the word.

Especially as you lay now on the bed, his cock thrusting in and out of you and your moans filling the room.

There was no emotion but hate in the way he fucked you. As if you were the very reason for her death.

As if you were the guilty one in the marriage, when all you had ever done was your duty. As if you existing had caused her death, as if you had killed her and not the winter sickness.

He seemed to fuck you as if you had killed her, pounding into you at a relentless pace.

There was no part about it that could make it seem like he was making love to you.

Not as he bent you over a desk, or pushed you to the floor and hicked up your dress.

Or as he barged into your room as your maids were preparing you for bed, dismissed them and instantly started fucking you.

You hated it. But you also loved it.

Hated how gave you every opportunity to top him, and not once had you.

You happily let him fuck you.

Enjoying the touch of your husband.

The pleasure of sex.                     

“fuck” he groaned as he came, releasing you from his vice like grip.

He rested his head against yours, catching his breath.

It was rare he fucked you on your back, often choosing you to face away from him as he fucked you.

You pulled back from him awkwardly, waiting for what always happened next.

Him leaving.

But this time he didn’t leave.

Perhaps it was because it had been over a year since her death, over a year since her name was mentioned.

Perhaps he had somehow forgiven you for whatever crime you had committed against him in his head.

He had been more…pleasant?

He had been able to spend time in your company without shouting or yelling at you for no reason.

He had had spent more time with his son, though perhaps that had been because you had taken his daughter under your care.

It hurt almost to care for her but apart of you loved her. Having always wanted a daughter for yourself, and for so long believing you would only ever have your son, Cregan. She was the image of her father, with little trace or her mother on her features. She was quite and shy though she liked you. Perhaps it was because Talisa had always been kind to you, at least to your face.

“the maester tells me you are pregnant” he spoke, as he moved to lie beside you.

“what?” you asked in shock. You had only just found out for yourself this morning.

He sighed, turning to look at you, “he said you were pregnant, about three moons” he said as he moved to make himself comfortable in your bed. “i..yes I am…I only just found out this morning”

“as did I”

It was awkward, neither of you knew how to talk to the other. Neither of you had cared to try until now.

you too moved to make yourself comfortable, tucking your self into bed, and turning your back to him. He sighed before moving towards you, blowing out the candle and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“what are you doing?” you asked.

“sleeping with my wife” he said as if it was obvious. You had never shared a bed with a man, and feeling him pressed against you felt strange. It wasn’t comforting, nor was it uncomfortable.

“oh”

“oh?” he mimicked.

“why?”

“well…we are husband and wife it is time we started acting as such”

You huffed, “ we have been husband and wife for nearly six years now and not once have you slept in my bed.

“well that’s going to change” he said, and before you knew it you were both fast asleep.

The next few months had been so different from the previous years.

Though you had not stopped your previous duties as lady of Winterfell. It seemed now with Robb instant on being a dotting husband you had more duties.

He had moved into your chambers, though you supposed they were rightfully his.

He insisted on taking all your meals together, walking in the gods woods every day together.

He had become kind, and for those few moons you thought perhaps you could grow to tolerate his misgivings and be husband and wife.

Then he called you, “Talisa”

He had said it in passing, not even noticing it at first. And then he saw how your froze and realised his mistake.

He had sighed your name in apology.

But you had ignored him. And realised that perhaps it would be better, not to have hope that you were more than a duty to Robb.

That to him you would never be her. Never be the wife he wanted, only his duty.

It didn’t matter how much he liked to play pretend. Giving you flowers and sweet kisses on your cheek. Deep down you knew you could never forgive him, never find the love and happiness you had long craved, that you deserved.

That you would be a wife of duty, and love was always the death of duty, and duty is the death of love.

And he would never stop loving her.

authors note: this took me 3 weeks to write because i couldn’t figure out to make it have a happy ending. it was far to angsty and i couldn’t justify her forgiving him.

taglist

@now-i-have-a-new-obsession @apollonshootafar @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @dark-night-sky-99 @zillahvathek @leavesmealobe @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunbl0gs @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld RAYNETARGARYEN2 @littlebirdgot @eddieslut69 @beebeechaos

to be added to taglist

[mamawasatesttube]

the whole "jason rules crime alley and none of the other bats are allowed there!!1!" thing is so funny like. tim LITERALLY lives in the theater where bruce's parents died,

[riality-check]

The eagerly awaited part 2 of the DILF!Steve concert saga is here!! Part 1, in case you missed it.

"You're not going."

"Come on! I haven't thrown up in an hour!"

"The drive to the venue is an hour and a half."

"Steve-"

"And if you throw up in my car-"

"Oh my God-"

"I'll kill you."

Steve doesn't need to see Dustin's eye roll in order to feel the full force of it through the phone.

"I'll just kill you. You'll have a headstone within the week that says Here Lies Dustin Henderson: Rightfully Murdered for Puking in Steve Harrington's Car," he continues as he packs Capri-Suns into the cooler for the car ride.

He doesn't remember ever being that thirsty as a kid, but if Anna wants strawberry kiwi, Anna gets strawberry kiwi. It helps that it's Steve's favorite flavor, too.

"I'd need a big ass headstone to fit all of that," Dustin snaps.

"Your big-ass ego would demand no less, shithead," Steve shoots back.

"Swear jar, Daddy!" Anna calls from her room, across the house because while she doesn't listen to Steve when he's right in front of her, she can hear him break the swear jar rule from halfway across the world.

He zips up the cooler, fishes a quarter out of his pocket, and throws it into the half-full soup can next to the stove.

(A quarter doesn't mean much, but Anna doesn't know that. The day Steve teaches that kid about inflation is the day his pockets become permanently empty.)

"Did she just swear jar you?" Dustin asks from over the phone.

"You baited me into it."

"I did no such thing."

Steve rolls his eyes. "You're not coming, though, are you?"

Dustin sighs, and, for all his teasing, Steve does genuinely feel bad. "I still feel like if I breathe wrong, I'll hurl, so, no. I don't think I'll manage the car ride, nevermind the actual show."

"Sorry dude."

"Don't be. Some dickhead will live stream the whole thing on Instagram, anyway. I'll live vicariously through them."

Steve snorts and picks up the cooler. He got Anna dressed beforehand, so it's just a matter of getting her to stop playing with whatever toy she dug up - Play-Doh has been the fixation of the week - in her room so they can go.

"Besides," Dustin continues, and Steve hates where this is going. "Anna loved the show, and you've got a reason-"

"Nope," Steve says, knocking on Anna's door. "Don't finish that sentence."

"All I'm saying-"

"I know what you're gong to say, which means you know my answer. I don't date."

Anna opens her door. From the little Steve can see inside, there are at least three containers of Play-Doh open and strewn across the floor. He thinks her Barbies are involved in it somehow.

"Time to go," Steve says, and he thinks, Please don't let there be Play-Doh in the Barbie hair.

"Five more minutes," Anna tries.

"Nope. Clean up and roll out."

"Hi, Anna," Dustin says through the phone.

"Uncle Dusty!" Anna shrieks, and she starts jumping up and down. "Are you comin', too?"

Dustin sighs, and Steve can't tell if it's at the nickname or if he's still cursing the universe. "No, but you and your dad have a great time, okay?"

"Can you, can you tell Daddy I should get five more minutes?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at her. Anna, to her credit, ignores him wonderfully.

"If you clean up," Dustin says, because he's actually Steve's favorite person right now, "you get to do more headbanging at the concert."

Anna gasps like Steve didn't already tell her that earlier today, and she gets to work on putting her toys away. Steve helps, of course, and he finds that there is, in fact, Play-Doh in two of her Barbies' hair.

Fun. They're going to turn into Buzzcut Barbies when Anna goes to sleep because he can already tell that they are the furthest thing from salvageable.

But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting Anna in the car, deploying the first two of many strawberry kiwi Capri Suns from the cooler, and making the drive to the venue, which Steve does with minimal road rage and accompanied by the Disney radio station.

Success by all metrics, really.

Dinner might as well be now, so Steve shells out a truly disgusting amount of money for overpriced chicken nuggets and fries at the venue. Anna will only eat half her portion but say she's hungry later, but that's what the snacks and water Steve smuggled in via his jacket are for.

They get to their seats, dinner finished up, just as the lights go down for the first opener. Steve looks to his left, half-expecting Eddie and his friends to be there before remembering that they won't be.

He tries not to feel too disappointed. He fails miserably.

The seat next to him, however, isn't empty. There's a note taped to the back of it, one addressed to Steve and Miss Anna, so Steve feels alright taking and opening it.

At the top, there's a messily scrawled phone number. Underneath, it says:

Here's my number. Probably a bad idea to call with all the noise. Texting works, though you should do that after the show. I'll be a little busy until then.

-Eddie

Steve puts the note in his pocket, puts Anna's ear defenders on, puts his own earplugs in, and looks at the stage, where-

Hang on.

He squints at the stage, where four guys have started playing a song that, frankly, sounds too much like literally all the music Steve listened to yesterday for him to care about all that much. The drummer is pretty small, with wild, curly hair. The bassist looks familiar. The lead singer, who is very talented but not to Steve's personal taste, also looks familiar. And the guitarist-

No way. No way in hell.

It's a total coincidence. Lots of guys have long, curly hair and heavy jewelry and big eyes and are wearing formal wear, for some reason, and catch Steve's eye, and-

"Thank you for such a great welcome!" the guitarist says, and his smile totally isn't doing anything to Steve, thanks very much.

Anna stops moving, where she's standing next to Steve, and climbs up into his lap to get a better look at the stage. She looks out, then back at Steve, then out, then back at Steve, making a face as confused as Steve feels.

Some days, he thinks he ended up with a clone, not a kid.

"I'll get off the mic in a second. I only do the talking because Jeff," the guitarist points at the lead singer, who ducks his head, "is really shy."

Jeff. That name is definitely relevant, but Steve is a permanent resident of denial.

"We fought about what song we were going to include next in our set list, so much so that we didn't decide until yesterday and had to consult a tiebreaker."

Okay, maybe Steve is a less permanent resident of denial than he thought.

"So, thank you to Miss Anna, who did great at headbanging for her first time-"

Anna whips around so fast, her forehead nearly collides with Steve's jaw.

"And to Steve, who's a big fan of American Psycho."

At the song name, the crowd loses their minds, and if Anna wasn't sitting right in front of him, Steve would join them.

Because what the fuck is happening right now?

His question isn't answered. In fact, about five more questions pop up in its stead when, during the bridge of the song, Jeff puts on a clear rain jacket and picks up a prop axe.

Please, God, don't let this traumatize my kid, Steve thinks.

Anna, thankfully, doesn't get scared. When Jeff brings the axe down, again and again, Steve's weirdo daughter fucking smiles. And giggles. It's kind of cute, actually.

When the song ends, she turns back to Steve.

"That's Eddie onstage," Steve says, and saying it, somehow, makes it real.

"I thought so!" Anna says, and she turns back to watch the show. Steve puts an arm around her waist so she doesn't fall off his lap when she bangs her head to the music.

The rest of the songs, in Steve's opinion, are better than the opening song. They're more melodic, which Steve can definitely get behind, and each of them has a gimmick onstage, all based off of various horror movies. It's ridiculous, but also really, really cool.

And Eddie, onstage, because it is the same guy who flirted with him and was so sweet to Anna yesterday, is really, really hot.

Steve has never had a thing for guitarists before. He's never had a thing for musicians before. Hell, until a year ago, he didn't realize he had a thing for men.

Eddie is. Uh. Yeah. Really doing it for him.

Steve doesn't know whether it's his enthusiasm, or the way he moves, or seeing his hair tied up, or the fucking dress pants and suspenders, or just his hands, but he does know he has to get himself in check because this is an all ages show and he's here with his daughter.

He already knows he can't add these songs to his grading playlist, not when they're accompanied by visuals of Eddie playing his guitar.

Sweet Jesus.

"Alright, that's our set!" Eddie says. "Thanks, y'all, for sticking around for us, and let's give it up for the next act!"

The crowd, including Anna and Steve, cheer as they exit and the lights go up.

Steve fishes his phone out of his pocket, fully intending to add Eddie's number to his contacts, and is greeted by not one, not two, but sixteen missed calls from Dustin Henderson.

Naturally, Steve calls him back. "Who died?"

"What the fuck?" Dustin yells, and Steve just puts the phone on speaker to save the rest of his hearing. "Did Eddie fucking Munson just personally thank you from the stage?"

"Swear jar, Uncle Dusty!" Anna says.

"Sorry," Dustin says. "But Steve. Answers. Now."

"How do you even-"

"Instagram live. Is Eddie the guy you were telling me about yesterday?"

Steve takes his phone off speaker. Prior experience tells him that this conversation has a less than zero chance of staying PG, nevermind PG-13.

"Yeah," Steve says. "He is."

"The one who flirted with you, and you forgot to ask for his number."

"Well, I have it now."

"What?" Dustin shrieks, and Steve is incredibly thankful that he didn't take his earplugs out.

"He left me his number on the seat."

"Text him."

"I was going to, until I saw that you called me sixteen times."

"Jesus Christ, Eddie Munson was flirting with you."

Steve rolls his eyes and hands a pack of gummy bears to Anna when she taps his arm. "He could have just been nice. I don't even know if he's into guys."

"Have you looked at him?"

"Wow, Dustybuns, I didn't know you were homophobic."

"I think it's the complete opposite of homophobic to try to get you laid."

"Hanging up!" Steve shouts because a part of him will never see Dustin as any older than thirteen, and no thirteen year old should ever say that.

"Text-"

Steve hangs up the call. "Can I have a gummy bear?"

"No," Anna says, mouth full, in her seat, legs swinging.

"I bought them."

She shrugs. "You gave them to me. Mine now."

Steve stares. She stares right back.

He sighs and opens a new pack of gummy bears.

With his mouth full of sweet Haribo corpses, Steve takes out the note and adds Eddie to his contacts. Before he can overthink it, he sends him a message:

I guess I don't have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we're even on that front, I'm a teacher, and Anna's full time job is preschool.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket and focuses on making this a good experience for Anna, who somehow wormed her way into a conversation with the intimidating-looking couple sitting next to her.

Because it's totally not like a literal rockstar is going to text him back. Right?

Part 3!!

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: "I don't care that you're hanging up lights, get off the roof!"

Pairing: Malleus Draconia x Gn!Reader/Prefect/Yuu

Genre: Fluff, Slight hurt/comfort

TW: Reader falls off a roof (but they're okay, don't worry)

You were a brave human.

Malleus had made this assumption on your second meeting, when you graced him with that silly nickname that he now held so dear. The casual way you interacted with him may have stemmed from your ignorance regarding his true identity, but to see you continue to use it even after learning he was the heir apparent to Briar Valley had left him with a pleasant warmth in his chest and his cheeks.

He adored every part of you, including that bravery of yours that made him fall for you in the first place.

But dear Sevens, that bravery would be the death of him one day.

"Child of man," he called out to you, a mix of puzzlement and concern in his eyes, "what are you doing up on the roof?"

"Hornton!" You visibly brightened as you noticed him, waving your arm so vigorously at him that he feared you would fall from your place on top of Ramshackle's roof. Malleus took a step ahead, worry flashing in his eyes as he looked up at you.

"I'm hanging up some lights for the winter holidays! Ramshackle's gonna look nice and festive this winter," you spoke, showing him the bundle of wires with lights on them that you had next to you.

"Is it truly necessary?" He asked, acutely aware of the pain in his neck from looking up at you. Was this how you felt when you had to look up at him? Now, that would not do; he would have to find a way to make it so that you wouldn't feel any pain in your neck while looking up-

His train of thought was derailed by the sight of you leaning forward almost dangerously. "I'm gonna be fine, don't worry," you told him, a carefree smile on your face.

"Child of man, Ramshackle has no need to be decorated. It is beautiful just the way it is," and so are you, went unsaid. Malleus took a step closer, talking softly and gently, trying to coax you to come down. "Please, come down before you hurt yourself."

"You worry too much Mal-Mal, I'll be fiNE-"

In your attempt to reassure him, you had taken a step ahead on the roof, slipping and getting your leg tangled in the wire.

Malleus' heart nearly stopped as he saw you fall. He casted a spell almost immediately, catching you mid-air with his magic before letting you down onto the ground carefully.

Your legs gave out beneath you from almost falling to your death, and you sat heavily on the ground. Malleus rushed to you, quickly kneeling to check you for any injuries, even though he had saved you with his magic. You rested your hands on his biceps, trembling slightly due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you allowed him to look you over.

After making sure you were alright, he pulled you into a hug, his larger frame hiding you from view as he held you close to his chest. You held onto him just as tightly, and for the next few minutes you both just sat in silence, holding onto each other and thinking of what could have happened had he not been there.

"Now I understand what Lilia meant when he used to say that Silver and I would shave years off his lifespan whenever we went off into the forest without letting him know," he said after a few tense moments, voice slightly shaky. Your hands held on tighter at his words, feeling guilty. One of his hands curled protectively over your head, while the other rested on your back.

"I-" your throat felt dry, tight. You couldn't get your words out, even as Malleus waited for you to finish your reply. So you settled on squeezing him tight, trying to make him feel your apology for scaring him when you couldn't put it in words.

"Next time, please allow me to do this sort of thing for you, my dear. Even with how long my life is sure to be, I would rather not deal with such stress ever again," he told you gently, smiling when you nodded, your face hidden against him.

He picked you up, and took you inside Ramshackle, your plans of decorating the roof left for another day.

Back to Masterlist...

[iceagebaby]

UUUUH dear god i wrote crack fanfiction please give it a read thank youuu

Summary:

After months spent dancing around eachother, Vulpes wants to confront Arcade about the feelings between them, but fails to realize he needs to confront his own beforehand

Vulcade, modern AU

"Hey, Doc," Arcade heard a familiar voice, echoing through the aged, sterile corridor of the public hospital.

He paused in the doorway of his office, already wearing his warmer coat, off clock. He squinted at the lanky figure slumped against the wall, dressed in a faded tracksuit that clung to his thin frame. The last time he had seen Inculta, the young man had been in much worse shape, bruises and stitches from yet another brawl, sitting like a pathetic dog in Arcades flat, barely convinced to get treated. But today, there was no apparent evidence of trouble.

"What brings you here?" Arcade asked, curious. Vulpes was a regular patient of his, but it was rare to see him without fresh wounds to tend to. The young man looked up, a mix of defiance and vulnerability playing across his features.

The younger man shuffled his feet, avoiding eye contact "I just... I just wanted to see you," he murmured, his voice a whisper that seemed to hang in the air.

Arcade's eyes scanned Inculta, looking for signs of injury "You're not hurt? Is there something wrong?" Arcade asked, his voice low and soothing, like the one he used with hurt patients, though Vulpes appeared unscathed.

Vulpes' eyes flicked up, meeting Arcade's for a second with a brief flash of something raw before they darted away again. "No, not really," he said, unsure "But I want to talk”.

"What's on your mind?"

For a moment, Inculta remained silent, his gaze focused on the cracked floor. Then, with a sigh, he spoke "It's... it's about the other night."

The words sent a shiver down Arcade's spine. The ‘other night’ referred to an encounter between them that was far from typical. They had both been intoxicated, friendly mood and judgment loosened, had ended them up in Arcade's bed, exploring feelings never admitted before. It was a night that hung between them, a secret shared that neither knew how to address.

"What about it?" Arcade prompted, his voice steady despite the turmoil of emotions within him.

"I can't stop thinking about it," Vulpes said, his eyes solidly meeting Arcade's for the first time since he arrived. "And I don't know what it means."

Arcade felt pity for the man. The memory of their encounter playing on repeat in his mind, leaving him confused about the boundaries of their friendship. He took a deep breath, trying to maintain his professional composure. "Sometimes things happen when we're not expecting them to," he said gently "But I'm off duty now. Why don't we grab some dinner and talk it over?" 

Vulpes nodded.

———————

They stepped out into the chilly evening air of early autumn. The crunch of leaves underfoot mingled with the distant sound of children playing nearby, a stark contrast to the quiet hospital corridor. Street lamps flickered, painting the usually gray city in warm hues, reflecting off the wet street after a recent rain.

Arcade pulled out a pack of cigarettes, his hands trembling slightly, a silent confession of the stress that came with working in his environment. The action was so natural, so familiar to Vulpes, who had seen it countless times post fight as the doctor tended his wounds. 

The scent of tobacco wrapped around Vulpes, familiar and oddly comforting. It reminded him of the night he had woken up in Arcade's arms, the smell of smoke permanently clinging to the doctor's clothes, hair and skin. He didn't smoke, never had, but somehow the scent had become entwined with the feeling of safety he felt when he was with Arcade. He took a deep breath, letting the memory fill him, trying to figure out what it was exactly that had brought him here.

They walked in silence, the only sound the rhythmic crunch of leaves underfoot.

The Legia had been his family, his life, for as long as he could remember. He'd bled for them, fought for them, lived and breathed their ideals. He had been raised to believe that men like Arcade were weak, that they were the definition of that was wrong in the world. And yet, here he was, feeling more alive than he had in a long time.

But he wasn't like that, he told himself. He was a man, a member of Caesars Legia, a fighter. But with every step, the doubt grew louder, thrumming in his ears, until it was a roar, like the chants of the football fans.

“Vulpes?"

The sound of Gannon's voice broke through Vulpes' thoughts, bringing him back to the present. He looked up, realizing they had stopped in front of a small, dimly lit cafeteria.

He opened his mouth to speak, to explain, to confess, but the words stuck in his throat. The denial and fear was too great.

So he lied. "It was just a drunken mistake," he said, his voice tight "It doesn't change anything. I’m not one of those."

Arcade raised an eyebrow, the cigarette still smoldering between his fingers. "One of those?" he repeated "You mean, people like me?"

Vulpes flinched at the words, but he held his ground, his voice laced with anger "Yeah, like you," he spat "I don't do that shit. It's not me."

Arcade's jaw tightened, but he didn't react to the slur. Instead, he nodded, expression unreadable. He took a last deep drag of his cigarette, the tip glowing briefly before he exhaled a cloud of smoke into the chilly night. "Alright," he sighed "If that's what you believe."

Without another word, Arcade turned and started walking away into the dark night, footsteps echoing in the empty street.

Vulpes watched him go, his heart pounding in his chest. He was torn between his anger and the sudden, desperate need to follow. The doctor had always been there for him, patching him up after fights, helping when he had nowhere else to go.

He took a step forward, his sneakers squeaking on the wet pavement. The silence was suffocating, but he couldn't find the words to call out. Instead, he just followed, his breath misting in the cold air. He felt like a stray dog, tail between his legs, unable to comprehend why his pack leader was abandoning him.

In his head, he justified it as a protective instinct. The doctor was too soft, too gentle, he needed someone to watch out for him, to keep him safe from the kind of violence that was second nature to Vulpes. It had nothing to do with the ache in his chest, the way his heart felt like it was cracking with every step Arcade took away from him.

The lights of Arcades apartment block flickered in the distance. Vulpes had been to this place so many times, usually under the cover of darkness, seeking refuge from the pain and bruises of his latest brawl. But tonight was different. The ache in his chest had nothing to do with a bruised rib or a black eye.

Arcade unlocked the door to his flat, the warm light spilled out into the hallway, contrasting the coldness outside. He stepped aside, gesturing for Vulpes to enter, his silence speaking volumes. For the first time, the familiarity of the action made the young man nervous.

Inside, the apartment was as neat as ever, house tidy with an almost  military precision. Vulpes took off his shoes automatically, as he had been taught by the host, and padded quietly to the couch, sitting down into the same spot he had occupied countless times before.

When Arcade returned with two mugs of tea, the couch creaked under the doctor's solid weight as he sat down next to Vulpes, their thighs brushing together. Despite his height, Arcade's presence never felt overwhelming to Vulpes, but now the tension was palpable. He handed one to Vulpes still without a word. He took a sip, the warmth spreading through him, both from the actual warmth of the drink and recognition of it being made exactly to his liking. Of course Arcade remembered. He watched as the doctor beside him turned on the TV, which flickered to life with the muted images of a dated show, illuminating the room softly.

Arcade disappeared into the kitchen, the clink of cups and the whistle of the kettle filling the silence. The couch felt too soft, too welcoming. Vulpes stared at his hands, his knuckles bruised from his last fight, his mind racing.

"Why are you really here, Vulpes?" 

The question hung in the air, heavier than the silence before. Vulpes took a deep breath, his eyes glued to the TV screen, and he placed the mug softly on the small coffee table. He knew he couldn't lie again, not when it came to this. He felt the doctor's gaze on him, as intense as a spotlight, but he couldn't meet it.

"I don't know," he finally admitted. " I needed to see you."

He felt Arcade's hand cover his, warm and gentle, and for a moment, he allowed himself to lean into it, to feel the comfort of another human being. It was a feeling he wasn't used to, and it scared him more than any fight he had ever been in.

"Look at me," Arcade asked firmly. “You don't have to label it. But you can't keep denying it”

“I still like women” Vulpes blurted out, but then leaned in, his hand trembling as it reached for Arcade's face. He felt the doctor's stubble under his fingertips, the warmth of his skin, the rapid beat of his pulse. And then, before he could overthink it, before he could retreat into the safety of his denial, he kissed him.

Arcade's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't pull away. Instead, his hand tightened around Vulpes', and he leaned into the kiss. It was a gentle one, full of uncertainty and yearning, a contrast to the roughness of their usual interactions.

As they pulled apart, Vulpes felt the weight of his own confusion. He searched Arcade's eyes for a reaction, for any clue as to what this meant. But the doctor's expression remained calm, collected. He relaxed once again back into the couch, pulling Vulpes with him, and wrapped an arm around the smaller man's shoulders.

Vulpes leaned into Arcade's soft chest, and he could feel the fabric of the doctor's shirt against his cheek, the smell of stale cigarette smoke mingling with the everpresent faint scent of antiseptic. It was an odd mix, but it was Arcade's, and for that reason, it felt right.

He could hear the steady rhythm of the doctor's heart beneath his ear, a comforting beat that seemed to sync with the calming sound of the raindrops starting to fall outside. The warmth of Arcade's body was like a blanket, making him feel safe in a way that was entirely new to him. His eyes grew heavy as he listened to a soft mix of sounds, and he realized that for the first time in a long while, he felt at peace.

The warmth of Arcade's embrace, the steady beat of his heart, and the hypnotic sound of the rain outside had lulled him into a place of peace he hadn't known in a long time. He was faintly aware of Arcade's arm tightening around him, a soft murmur of assurance that he was okay.

———

When he awoke, the room was bathed in a soft glow from the streetlights outside, filtering through the window curtains. The rain had intensified and was now a steady rhythm against the glass. Vulpes shifted slightly, and realized with embarrassment that he had fallen asleep on Arcade.

The doctor was thankfully still, his chest rising and falling steadily, glasses slightly askew on his face. Carefully, Vulpes reached up and gently took them off, setting them aside on the small table next to the couch. He studied Arcade's profile for a moment, the way his blond hair fell over his forehead, and faint lines around his eyes that spoke of the years of stress and fatigue from his job.

Asleep and without the glasses, Arcade lost his usual stern exterior, revealing a gentle vulnerability that was so rare to see.  He knew he should leave, let the doctor get some rest without his unwelcome burden, but he couldn't bring himself to stand up.

With a sigh, he settled back into the crook of Arcade's arm, feeling the doctor's body heat and the steady rise and fall of his chest. He closed his eyes again, letting the rhythm of Arcade's breathing  and the white noise of the rain calm his thoughts.

As he drifted off, Vulpes felt something shift within him, something he had been fighting for so long. The world outside could wait. For now, he would just rest, and let the rain wash away the day's tensions. All of it could wait until the morning. Tonight, he was content just to be here, in this moment, wrapped in the arms of the man who had seen his darkest moments and still was there for him.

And with that thought, he let sleep claim him once more, finally at peace.

[icedcoffeedisaster]

Ask from @shortstrawberry that I accidentally deleted because tumblr hates me. So sorry!

I feel especially bad because that was the first ask I received 😔

Either way, I hope you enjoy! And feel free to sneak back into my askbox if you want

Just A Cold

Donna x MC (Reader)

Summary: You caught the flu and haven't been to the shop in two days. Donna is concerned and comes to check on you

It was quiet. Too quiet. The shop had been almost empty for the past two days with just Donna to tend to the duties. Luckily, not many people had swung by apart from Cassandra, making her record appearance of three times in one day for three girls she was desperate to avoid the wrath of.

Golden rays of light cast through the pristine windows of the shop as the silence of the day persisted, her phone laying quietly on the side with no messages since the one two days ago informing her you weren't feeling great. Donna was set on coming to care for you, but you had insisted it was just a cold and that you'd be fine for work the following day.

She stared at her unanswered messages, the 'delivered' status haunting her thoughts even when she was trying to continue her work earlier. It wasn't like you to get this sick, what if something had happened to you? What if you weren't OK?

She was going to come see you, and make sure you were OK. You were her everything, so why should you recover alone?

Her movements determined, Donna set about closing up the shop and the mess from earlier. In her distracted state, she had dropped a plant pot full of soil, successfully coating her smock and gloves in dirt. It also ended up with a streak on her face when she wiped her brow unknowingly.

With the lock turned and the closed sign up, Donna got in her car and drove above the speed limit to reach you.

/ / / / / /

You felt like death. Probably looked like it too.

You felt the cold sweat coating your skin and forcing your clothes and hair to stick to your body. It was uncomfortable in all the worst kinds of ways, and you were desperately trying to warm up under the copious amounts of blankets and comforters that you had wrapped yourself in. Your body was aching. Every movement felt like you were being chained down, and yet there was no position that granted you respite. Breathing itself was a struggle, an effort to get a decent amount of air in. The mountain of blankets probably didn't help here, but you were too tired to care

It was hell. And the one angel of your life was out of reach as your phone had become lost in the sea of blankets that you dare not search in. Long since dead, the charger had been stolen by none other than Angie on the night you two and Dani had gone drinking. Those fireball shots would be the death of you.

A gentle knock interuppted your train of thought as you cast a weary glance towards the door, sceptical. It knocked again, slightly louder.

"Dolcezza, may I come in?"

A smile etched its way onto your features, yet all you could muster was a cough when you attempted an answer. To your luck, the door opened, and light was cast into the dark cave of your room. Donna shut the door behind her before rushing to your bedside, the back of her hand immediately against your forehead as she frowns, eyes meeting yours.

"This isn't just a cold, mia cara. Come, let me help you."

Her voice was gentle, yet firm. Something told you she wasn't going to accept no as an answer.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around you and pulled you up, dragging you close to her as she helped you stand. Shivers wracked your body as you held onto her, burying your face in her neck with a whine in an attempt to get closer. A gentle squeeze and whispered encouragements warmed your heart and soul as Donna moved you to the living room, dragging a spare blanket behind her, which she draped over you once you were settled on the couch.

With a regretful smile, Donna detached herself from you, her hand coming up to cup your face as she kissed your forehead before moving away.

The smell of something cooking drifted over from the kitchen shortly after, where a pot of something sat on the oven with Donna stood by it, lips pursed in concentration. Her smock lay folded on another counter with her gloves on top, leaving her in her work shirt with the cuffs folded to just above the elbow. You turned to get a better view, content to just watch as she worked in content silence.

You were pulled from your thoughts by Donna moving towards you, two bowls of soup in hand as she sat beside you. Her own bowl she placed on the table in favour of helping you eat yours, her smile growing wider as she saw how much you enjoyed it.

Nothing could beat Donna's cooking.

It took a while, but the pair of you were finished, bowls neatly stacked on the table. Whether or not they'll make it to the kitchen is another question.

Warm, slender fingers traced patterns on your back as you leant against her, snuggling as close as possible in your confined space. You lay curled against her, her arms around your middle and legs intertwined under the blankets. A comfortable silence lay over the pair of you until she spoke.

"Why didn't you tell me, love? You worried me." Donna's eyes met yours, a furrow in her brow.

You hesitated before answering, voice scratchy from the illness.

"I didn't want you to worry, I just didn't think it would be this bad. I would have come in today, but i didn't want you to get sick either"

"I know. But don't leave me in the dark next time. I will always be here for you, dolcezza, you know this. You're mine, and I won't have you facing this alone"

A smile broke out on your face as you pulled her closer, relaxing against her as you felt the tension melt out of your body. You stay like that for a while, with Donna rubbing your back and eventually moving her hand to the back of your head, where she ran her fingers through your hair before she spoke again.

"Rest love, I've got you"

And for the first time in two days, you drift off to a peaceful sleep.

[moonlightcycle571]

Wouldn’t it be funny if Billy could only give powers to one person at a time, so the Vasquez kids take turns being Captain Marvel Junior (as they still look like kids) and they make everyone thinks it’s one shape shifting child.

Reporter: Captain Marvel, who is this new protoge worth you?

Marvel: you’ve met Junior though?

Mary, who wanted to take over: yeah we talked last week.

Reporter: ah what

At first it’s just Mary and Freddy (mostly Freddy cause he’s really into being a superhero) so everyone thinks Captain Marvel Junior is a shape shifting gender fluid kid and Marvel is a supportive dad.

But then the other Vasquez’s join in the fun

Reporter: Captain, new protoge?

Eugene, in it for shots and giggles: Claire, it’s me, Junior

Reporter: … you’re Asian now?

Eugene: woooooowww

Marvel: that’s low even for you

Reportee: but I-

Eugene: Both Captain and I have lived lives of many genders, colours and have been in many cultures. And yet you shame me for feeling nostalgic and reverting to an ancient form of mine.

Reporter: I- w h a t

It’s sparks a lot of debate of cultural appropriation for shapeshifters in general, with a lot of people invoking Martian Manhunter, fae and other shapeshifters. So naturally Pedro steps up

Captain Marvel and Junior both volunteering at a homeless shelter.

Reporter: … junior?

Pedro: yes?

Reporter: what are you doing

Pedro, making an ancient Mexican recipe he got from the Library in the Rock: making a dish I learned a couple of centuries ago from my then family.

Reporter, really doesn’t want to get cancelled: ok

Naturally this takes a lot of coordination, and a lot of people test them by giving info to one kid, and different info to the other. Solomon sees right through them cause the divine group chat is connected to Billy and the chosen Junior. Things were starting to chill for a bit. Then Darla joined in.

Darla, visibly younger than the other forms: Hi :D

Reporter: why do you keep getting younger and younger???

Darla: :3

At this point the reporter is so done. Are you a child with a lightning emblem on you? You are Captain Marvel Junior. And it seems to work most of the time.

Billy: *gets deaged as Cap*

Reporter: oh junior! New form? This one looks closer to Cap!

Billy: I’m not Junior???

Reporter: *bluescreens*

Bonus:

In a Justice League Meeting

Flash: So is Junior like a mantle? If so why is it only one kid at a time?

Hal: yeah, what do the others do when you take one at a time?

Billy, an absolute troll at heart: what do you mean, it’s the one kid?

Superman: what???

Billy: yeah so Junior hasn’t settled into which form they like the best and switch it up. I think they like it better that way.

Martian Manhunter, troll n2: *nods along* finding ones main form is an important part of self discovery. On Mars, many like to alternate between forms as they could not be tied down to one.

JL: ah

Bonus 2:

Batman: *slowly puts away the ‘Not An Adoption Problem’ Support Group invite*

Bonus 3:

Dudley: please please please please

Billy, fed up: WHY

Dudley: it’ll be so funny.

Billy: you know what, fine!

Later Dudley is given some powers but decides to only let the Reporter see him.

Reporter: … Junior????

Dudley: no one will ever believe you *flies off*