#the name of the wind header

[sweetteainthesummerx]

✰ sweet nothing✰

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

nhl masterlist !

pairing: quinn hughes x writer! reader

warnings: angst and comfort, fluff

song: sweet nothing by taylor swift

summary: 5 times Quinn knew you were the one, and the one time he let you know...

word count: 2.2 k

notes: quinn my sweet boy!! also sweet nothing by taylor swift because her love songs are so superior

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

outside, they're push and shoving, you're in the kitchen humming

quinn pushes open the door to his apartment, exhausted. His face hurts from smiling at fans, and the triple header really, really took it out of him.

he loves his captaincy, really. he loves his boys, the leading, the responsibility. it's hard, though, to live up to all of the jostle and hassle the spotlight brings.

needless to say, the push and shove of stress has taken its toll on him, and all he needs is a hot shower and preferably 8 or more hours of sleep.

through the walkway, he hears a familiar voice, the telltale clatter of pans, a taylor swift song and the aroma of garlic and tomatoes.

you must've used his spare key he gave you.

he smiles despite himself, something warm tugging deep in his stomach.

he calls your name and immediately flushes with how breathy and needy he sounds. the last thing he wants is to scare you away.

"q!" you pop up from behind the counter, wearing nothing but one of his old shirts that drapes long over your slender shoulders and a pair of ratty sweatpants. your hair is pulled back from your make-up void face.

you've never looked more beautiful.

you make your way over while he admires you, and lock your arms around his waist, smiling up at him.

"missed you," you kiss his cheek, and he flushes again. god, why was he like this still?

the two of you have been dating for over than a month now, but he's still so easily flustered by you. maybe it's because you work with words for a living, but you're the sweetest thing he's ever seen (and tasted).

you think it's cute, and you tell him more often than not, reducing him to a puddle of a blushing mess.

he bundles you properly in his arms, kissing you properly.

you're so soft and warm under his fingers, your mouth hot and pliable.

you indulge him for a moment, savouring the time with each other. his hands wander down to your hips, gripping hard like he's afraid you'll be blown away by the wind.

a timer dings, and you pull back. he chases your lips, letting out a whine when you giggle and push gently at his broad chest.

"quinny, stop! i made you lasagna, and I don't want it to burn."

"mm, we'll order take out," he mutters into your neck, breathing in your familiar perfume.

you let out a sound of protest, finally breaking free of his hold. he follows you like a lost puppy as you set the table, plating him an extra large piece.

as he eats, you watches your kind eyes and easy smile with adoration.

the realization jars him, but settles firm in his bones: he wants to come home to you everyday.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

i wrote a poem, you say, "what a mind", this happens all the time

it's the release of your latest book, and quinn watches as you engage with your fans. the biggest indigo in vancouver invited you to come do a meet and greet along with a signing.

you had spent the morning with quinn, his hands stroking through your hair to calm you down. although your other books had success, this one was your proudest piece of work yet.

quinn had been the first person to read it. he was impressed; he knew you were smart and you had a way with words that astounded him, but the whole book was like poetry.

the words flowed easy from you, as easy as breathing.

now, watching you all flushed and a little embarrassed by the attention from the mass of people who showed up, he all but glows with pride.

a young girl, maybe in her early teens, comes up to you with a wide smile and bright, glassy eyes. he can't hear well, because he's tucked near the back of the room to avoid the crowd, but she says something and your face falls.

he's ready to sprint through the crowd to get to you, but you hug the younger girl. she's crying, he realizes. you squeeze her tight, sign her book and send her off with what looks like encouraging words and another hug.

afterwards, while he drives with one hand and the other on your thigh, he asks what happened.

"she told me she's never felt more seen by anyone before. that my book told her it's okay to not know where to be in the world." your eyes feel wet, and he smiles.

god, you're brilliant.

he raises your hand to his mouth and kisses your pulse.

"what a mind," he murmurs, and you laugh softly.

"you tell me that all the time."

"because I mean it, babe."

now he understands when those cheesy movies say "I want you body, mind and soul".

you are undeniably beautiful, gorgeous even. kindness seeps from your very being, and you're mind is bright and soft.

he wants all of you, forever.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

the voices that implore, "you should be doing more"

ellen sees some of the articles and criticisms of her eldest on the internet. quinn has always been the quietest, the most calm and so stoic. but her sweet boy, who worked too hard and did too much was always being told to do more.

so when she called him and he picked up the facetime groggy and hair still damp, she was surprised.

"hey, mom." he answered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"hi, quinn. sorry, sweetie. i didn't expect you to be asleep. i thought i would check up on you."

"all good." he yawns, and he makes small talk.

she wonders if he's seen all of the speculations about his captaincy on the news and headlines.

he tells her he has, because she asks him straight up. he appreciates the straightforwardness, and he has since he was young.

he tells her that you were there.

"she ran me a bath, with those weird salt things that women love so much-"

"hey! they're very nice." she interrupts, laughing at his antics.

"and she made soup. we ate already and I took a nap. she's out getting groceries, but i'll tell her you said hi, mom."

ellen nods, something tangible and comforting in the air around her. her son is in good hands.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

to you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it

you find him in the empty change room. he's sitting on a bench, wet hair messy, head hung. you expected this; your boyfriend was nothing if not responsible and too hard on himself.

after another loss, his grief and frustration was normal.

you kneel before him, taking his face, hot from the shower in your cool hands. his pretty eyes are rimmed red, and he leans into your touch.

"hey, pretty boy. you did good out there, captain."

he shakes his head, fingers trembling as he pulls you closer so he can push his face into your hair, inhaling your smell.

"i failed them. i'm a shit captain, and i can't seem to break this cycle we're in-"

"you are not a shit captain." you say those words firmly, and it almost surprises quinn. normally you were soft-spoken and slow, but you tell him this with urgency.

"i should be taking care of everyone, and everything-"

"but who takes care of you?"

your words break a dam in him, and he buries his head in your shoulder. the position is uncomfortable, but you don't shift or mention his shaking shoulders.

"you are a good leader. a good leader is one who stands with his team, even during the tough times. the boys adore you, and you will break this rut. but it takes time, and work, my love. no one works harder than you."

he sniffs, a hovering breath touches your neck.

"you are so strong, my sweet boy." you cradle his neck, pressing kisses to the side of his face. this sets off another wave of emotions, and he easily tugs you up into his lap.

his wet hair drips onto your (his) jersey, but you don't mind.

"and if you need to be strong for them, you can be soft with me. i'm here for a reason. another set of shoulders to bear your burdens."

"i love you, y'know that?" his voice is scratchy, vulnerable and thick with emotion. although the two of you have exchanged those three words countless of times before this, it feels like more this time.

"i know, quinnie. i love you too."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

jack hauls his older brother onto the curb, setting him there, praying that he doesn't fall flat into the road. luke runs out with quinn's jacket, draping it over his shoulders.

it isn't often that quinn gets drunk, especially this drunk. but the boys night was a chance for all of them to let loose during the off season.

the small dive bar near the lake house was the perfect place to get away.

"dude, he is hammered." luke huffs, tugging at the sleeves of his own hoodie, the chill of the night starting to surround the air.

quinn says something under his breath as he sways, and jack sets him upright again.

"bro, what did you say?"

quinn repeats your name, louder this time, with the request to see you immediately.

the way he says your name, with so much love and awe makes jack almost wish he was in a relationship.

"sure, man. i'll call her to pick you up."

you arrive a mere 10 minutes later, hair wet, wearing one of quinn's canucks sweatshirts and a pair of sleep shorts.

"hey guys," you greet the other hughes boys. Luke gives you a side hug, and you pat jack's arm in thanks as you move to help her boyfriend up.

"babe!" Quinn only realizes then that you're here. jack has to laugh, seeing his brother so far gone because of the 7 tequila shots they took.

"jeez, guys. how much did you drink?" you ask, laughing, and Luke starts to regale you with the tale of jack's bad rendition of lady gaga.

"i missed you." quinn is now standing behind you, arms firmly wrapped around your waist, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. he doesn't say it loud, but contented and quiet.

jack watches as you smooth your hands over his forearms, rolling your eyes in amusement.

"yes, yes, I missed you too, you clingy baby."

"hey! m'not clingy." he protested, his whole body pressed up against every inch of yours.

jack snorts, giving you a sympathetic look, "good luck with that one."

you jokingly flip him off, as you try to maneuver your much larger boyfriend.

"c'mon, hughes." quinn frowns at this.

"I only answer to quinny, my love, sweetie and baby."

"that's your name?" jack asked, only to be met with a dirty look from his brother. luke snickers as you shrug quinn into the passenger seat.

"thanks for watching him." you say as you walk over to the driver's side.

"thanks for coming to get him. did we interrupt anything?"

"nah, except your mom was showing me your guys' baby pictures." you eyes shine with mirth as they groan.

"please tell me she didn't-"

"yep, the bathtub pictures too." you smile, and quinn yells something from with in the car.

"okay, I should probably get the big baby home. you guys don't stay out too late, okay?" you tell them, and they bid you goodbye.

he watches you guys drive off, quinn probably saying something stupid as you laugh.

"y'know, i really hope she's the one." Luke tells him as they head back into the bar.

jack has never, ever seen his brother so happy. he's never seen him smile so willingly for anyone, and clearly, you have him wrapped around your finger.

"yeah, me too, man."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

+ all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

you're wearing your blue light glasses, a tank top and a pair of his plaid boxers as you sit cross-legged in your shared bed, hair loose around your shoulders.

you're working on something new, and quinn studies your features as you concentrate.

without looking up from your laptop, you grin, "stop staring, stalker."

he laughs, "you love it."

you meet his eyes as he crawls next to you. he lets you wipe at his mouth, where he's sure there's still remnants of toothpastes.

"i love you." you offer instead, and he pulls you onto his lap. his fingers inch up your thighs but stop there.

he just wants to feel you, before he has to leave for another roadie.

"i love you." he tells you matter-of-factly, "and i'm going to marry you one day."

"babe, we've only been together a little over 8 months," you protest, but he sees the glow of joy on your cheeks at his words.

"i know," he says confidently, "but i'm going to make you my wife, one day. all i want is you."

you melt at his words, laying your head on his shoulder, "all i want is you, and your sweet nothings."

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[six-eyed-samurai]

SUMMARY: The other Pillars are convinced Tomioka has something against the latest Hashira, but have no idea your husband is simply looking for you during your pregnancy. A/N: I think something glitched when I was making the header...didn't crop properly. Anyway, enjoy this trash and I'm sorry if it's not up to my usual standard but I just got the random idea in the middle of the night! WARNINGS: Fem Reader, pregnancy MASTERLIST/PREVIOUS FICS

Everyone was convinced Tomioka Giyuu hated you right from the start.

You were first introduced to the Hashira when Oyakata-sama called them all for a meeting on the latest reports of demon activity, but requested them all to stay a little longer before being dismissed. Amane gestured for you to come forward with a gentle smile and you shuffled out of the shadows with your hands clasped together in nervousness but with a bright bream upon your face. The Hashira’s eyes caught yours in surprise, wondering if you were perhaps a new Kakushi since you weren’t wearing a slayer uniform, but instead a traditional (f/c) yukata.

Then their eyes strayed downwards and changed their minds about that, but nonetheless still remained in confusion.

“This is our newest member, (y/n) (y/l/n), the (b/f) Hashira. She was supposed to join our ranks quite some months ago but due to her sudden pregnancy she will for now be an honorary member.”

The only sign of your anxiety was the blush on your cheeks and the hand rubbing at your swollen abdomen. “Hi everyone! I’m so happy to meet you all! I won’t be on the battlefield for some time and I’m sorry I can’t fight alongside you for now, but I look forward to getting to know you all. If you need anything, I’m always at the (e/n) Estate.”

The ice was broken and you were immediately approached by many of the Hashira. Himejima-san cried and wished you and your child good health, making you feel a little embarrassed but thanked him anyway. The Mist Pillar Tokito simply stared at you, then at the sky, then at you again before asking what were you doing here again (later on, he startled you by appearing behind and questioning you in that airheaded manner of his if he could talk to the baby).

You were also tackled by the Love Pillar who introduced herself as Kanroji Mitsuri and your new best friend as well as the calmer Insect Pillar, Kocho Shinobu, who despite slightly unnerving you with her smile touched you greatly when she said you could always stop by the Butterfly Mansion for checkups or simply a visit.

“How far along are you?”

“About five months, I think!”

“KYAAAAAAAAAAH! Your baby is going to be so cute! What’s it’s name? Do you know if it’s a he or a she yet? I can’t wait to be an aunt!”

“Heh, I’m not too sure yet, but I have a feeling it’s going to be a boy!”

Mitsuri squealed again, causing you to laugh at her genuine happiness. She whipped her head behind her and called out to the silently glowering Snake Pillar. “Iguro-san, don’t you think the baby will be cute? I really wish I’ll have some of my own one day!”

You and Shinobu shared a smirk as the Wind Pillar grumpily slapped his friend’s back and dragged the furiously red Iguro away, muttering viciously about not wasting any more time in hunting a Twelve Kizuki.

“Oh look, there's Tomioka-san. Why hasn't he come and said hello yet?”

“Ah well, a lone friendless wolf as always.” Shinobu didn't see you originally visibly brighten at Mitsuri’s words and turn surprised at hers.

Indeed Tomioka was standing awkwardly as always a little - long, actually - way off. What was not as always was that horrified, slack jawed look on his face instead of his usual blank, emotionless one.

“Tomioka-san? Are you alright? You've been making that face for a long time already…” Shinobu's eye twitched, but you didn't notice, suddenly preoccupied with Muichiro’s intense questioning of whether he could play with the baby when it was born.

“She shouldn't be a Hashira.”

The remaining Hashira found themselves narrowing their eyes at the Water Pillar's blunt, if not rude, words.

That would be just one of the many events that further convinced them of his intense dislike of you.

***

You started going over a lot to the Butterfly Mansion over then next few months, becoming a fast favorite among the girls for your cheerful attitude and your baby; even Kanao cracked a smile at you when you came around. When the other Hashira arrived to be healed you always made it a point to go pay them a visit and in turn you pretty soon had every one of them in your back pocket, including the harsh, loudmouthed Wind Pillar Shinazugawa who constantly gave you a jolt with the complete 360 with his attitude around you, to the point you could call him a good friend.

Being friends with him usually meant hearing him grumble about the stupid waterboy.

“Why doesn’t he ever look at you anyway, turning away like that. So rude, that little (beep) (beep) (beep)-”

“Eheh, Shinazugawa-san, don’t swear so loudly, he’ll hear you!”

You had stopped by to Sanemi’s room when Shinobu had mentioned he was there to be patched up after a mission and knowing how busy she was, had offered to go help change his bandages with the basic medical knowledge you had picked up over the years of being a slayer. Reluctantly she had agreed and so here you were, chatting away with him until he spotted Tomioka passing by (he poked his head in actually, otherwise Sanemi would never have noticed him) and started complaining about him once more, especially when you had called out to him and Tomioka had simply whipped his head to the side to stare into the distance.

Really, Sanemi wasn’t the only one to notice how Tomioka avoided you like the plague with that stupid, vacant, red expression of his.

“He’s just shy, he doesn’t mean to be rude!” You defended the poor Pillar, continuing with rewinding the new wrappings.

“Tch, you should see how he acts at the meetings, like he’s better than us or something,” was the growling reply. “(beep) doesn’t know how to (beep) talk with anyone with his (beep) attitude.”

“I don’t think he thinks he’s better than all of you, maybe it’s just something else,” You hum, finishing up. “That’s all! I’m glad the demon didn’t go any further than a scratch.”

Shinazugawa grunted, then his gaze caught yours and softened. “By the way, who’s the dad?”

“Oh, it’s -”

“(y/n)-san!” Three heads peeked in from the door shyly. “Can you come and play with us?”

“Of course! Bye, Shinazugawa!”

Like always the reply was only a “tch”.

***

Another thing was that he never stopped repeating what he said at the first time everyone met you: “She shouldn’t be a Hashira”, going as far as to attempt to prevent you from wielding a sword, although this was only noticed by Tanjiro.

You had agreed to the Kamaboko Squad’s requests (aka demands by Inosuke and begging from Zenitsu) to train together, despite Tanjiro’s worries which you brushed off. The boys were very rambunctious and did tire you out quite a bit, but you were having so much fun and they were so eager you just went on sparring with them until even Inosuke muttered a plead for a quick break, unable to beat your incredible swordsmanship.

“(y/n)-chan!!! Who’s the lucky guy you married?! You never told us and I want to know how he managed to score someone so beautiful like you so I can do it with Nezuko-chan!” Zenitsu simpered, scooting closer, ignoring Tanjiro’s scandalized look.

“What’s married?” Inosuke’s voice was muffled underneath his boar mask and the mountain of onigiri you had brought he was stuffing into his mouth, so none of you heard him.

You giggle, placing a hand on your stomach. “He’s very sweet, although he’s honestly very shy and doesn’t talk much. I’m sure you’ve met him before! Can you guess?”

“Woah, really?” Tanjiro brightened, wondering who it could be, but his next question was interrupted by an interrogative monotone.

“What are you doing? You shouldn’t be training.” Tomioka stood in front of them, the first time anyone had seen him interact with you without just staring at the ground. His face was as empty as the void but there was a tiny crease between his eyebrows and Tanjiro didn’t have to inhale to smell the worry reeking off him.

“I didn’t know you were so concerned about (y/n)-chan, Tomioka-san.” Zenitsu’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his hair while he glowered judgmentally.

Tomioka made no reply, only swiftly grabbing and removing the sword from your hand. “She shouldn’t be a Hashira, much less train. You nearly died fighting a demon not too long ago, you’re in no shape to be doing this.”

With that he abruptly walked off and left Zenitsu and Inosuke to scream at him for being such an un-gentleman and for not fighting with them while you looked away sadly.

Tanjiro wondered why he didn’t once smell dislike on Tomioka. Only fear.

***

“What’s he got against (l/n)?” Obanai joined in on the conversation from his perch on the tree. He’d look for reasons to hate against the Water Pillar all the time, but unlike the others this time round his hatred was justified.

Tengen rolled his eyes flamboyantly. “I know! He’s constantly acting like she’s a pest to be around, but she doesn’t seem to have beef with him. What’s wrong with that bland creature?”

“Oh come on! We don’t actually know if he hates her,” Rengoku protested mildly.

“Then why does he keep refusing to even make eye contact with her?”

“I mean, Iguro, you can’t talk, you only ever look at Kanroji” - Obanai turned away, blushing furiously as Tengen cackled - “but I get your point. The other day I walked in on them arguing. I can’t believe he would keep reminding her of past failures without keeping her current state in mind!”

“Perhaps he only wants to try and convince her to stay safe during this time and discourage her from slaying for now?”

“Rengoku, my best buddy, you’re too optimistic.”

“There’s no other reason he’d give her the cold shoulder 24/7.”

Soon the conversation drifted to other topics, but little would they know Rengoku was the closest to the truth…

***

Shinobu already had enough on her hands with all the screaming, panic and blood, but of course Tomioka just had to show up at the most inopportune moment.

It had been a relatively quiet day as the two of you sat on the engawa, exchanging war stories over tea when with a sudden cry you had doubled over in pain. Your water had broken and you were heading into labour - quickly.

Just barely the Insect Pillar had managed to get you to a bed and sent the Butterfly Girls scurrying for the necessities, hiding her uneasiness at the slight earliness of your boy’s arrival to keep you calm and help you through it. You were doing well under her coaxing to use Total Concentration Breathing, and thankfully Shinazugawa was still around to help you relax with a familiar face.

Then Aoi had burst in with a frantic expression and thundering footsteps from behind that certainly weren’t hers.

“Shinobu-san, Tomioka is demanding to be let in-”

“Keep him out!” Shinobu grimaced, returning her attention to you. She’s heard and seen what he’s like around you, and other than the fact he has no business to be here she didn’t want to send you into a further state of panic. “He doesn’t like her, and if he opens that mouth of his to say anything more I might be responsible for two deaths.”

You dug your nails into Sanemi’s proffered hand, screaming in pain. He winced but said nothing, only looking up with a determined look in his eyes at Shinobu. “I’ll go keep Tomioka out, just make sure she delivers safely.”

Without waiting for a reply Sanemi rushed out to bar the doorway, leaving Shinobu to assure and handle your birthing with the anxious assistance of the Butterfly Girls. The pain in your stomach was surely abominable, intolerable, and Shinobu found herself growing more alarmed with every minute the baby wasn’t coming out.

“(y/n), I need you to push harder, alright? Can you do that for me?”

“N-no - where is he?”

“Your husband? I’ll get someone to call him, don’t worry,” Shinobu lied with dawning horror that in the entire time she had known you…she had no actual idea who you were married to. “But he wouldn’t like you see you like this, right? You can do it. Just keep your breathing under control.”

“JUST (beep) OFF, TOMIOKA!” Shinazugawa’s voice bellowed through the Mansion. His stocky form soon appeared, stubbornly acting as an indomitable barrier against the equally stubborn Tomioka who was desperately trying to barge his way through.

“Tomioka, we don’t need unnecessary people here to worry (y/n) more-”

”THAT’S MY WIFE!”

Whether it was because Tomioka had never raised his voice before or the sheer shock of it all or the fact you reached out for his hand, Shinobu and Sanemi let him through.

***

“I thought I was going to lose you when I heard you screaming like that from outside.” Giyuu nuzzled deeper into your neck, absently stroking your baby’s tiny hand. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

You played with the strands of his hair with a teasing smirk. “You did to, banging into the room like that, with the “That’s my wife!”. It was very romantic of you, Giyuu~”

“I was in a rush.” Giyuu smacked his face into the pillow, embarrassed while you laugh.

“Ara ara~ Are you both done cuddling? I want to perform a quick checkup on your baby now, if you don’t mind, and all the Hashira are here to ask you a lot of things, Tomioka.” Shinobu stood at the doorway with her customary smile, a twitching eye and crossed arms. Behind her were the shadows of the others trying to peek over her shoulder or head into the room to congratulate you on your baby or beat up Tomioka (both for some).

“Ask about what?” Giyuu lifted up his head in confusion. You snort at his obliviousness, cooing at your precious sleeping baby before gently passing him to Shinobu.

“MAYBE ABOUT HOW (Y/N) IS YOUR WIFE AND YOU NEVER TOLD US?”

“KYAAAAAAAAAH! That’s so cute of you, Tomioka!”

“Do you hate us all or something?!”

“No…? No one asked and I thought (y/n) would have told you,” Giyuu said blankly, glancing at you with wide blue eyes. You sheepishly raised your shoulders.

“I tried to tell them but we kept getting interrupted or had no chance.”

“You did make us all think you hated (y/n) with your behaviour, Tomioka.” Shinobu raised an eyebrow. “After all, you rarely spoke to her and when you did it was only to reprimand her, but I can see now it was probably out of worry for your child and her…although rather harshly.”

“Oh!” You burst out laughing, shaking so hard you nearly couldn’t take back your awakening baby Shinobu was handing over. “Giyuu’s just very shy! See-”

You pressed a quick peck to his cheek.

giyuu.exe has stopped working.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Small Injury » Tyler Owens

Pairings: Boyfriend!Tyler Owens x Girlfriend!Reader with Kate and Javi

Summary: You get a minor injury from a tornado.

Warnings: Fluff, language, small injuries, blood, kissing, pet names

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.

The wind was picking up quickly. Rain began to pour down. You, Tyler, Kate, and Javi managed to get everyone your guys saw to safety. While Tyler, Kate, and Javi were running to a building for safety, you seen a woman across the street with her dog. You ran over to her and helped her.

“Come with me!” You tell her.

The woman nodded frantically and held her dog for the life of her. You managed to get her and her dog in a nearby building with ease. As you were running back across to the building Tyler, Kate, and Javi are in, something sharp hit your hand. You didn’t bother checking your hand. You were too focused on finding somewhere safe to wait out the tornado.

“Where’s Y/N?!” Tyler asks, looking all over the place for you.

“I thought she was behind you!” Javi said.

Tyler looked around the room again, but couldn’t find you. He ran to the emergency exit door and opened it. He cautiously poked his head out of the building, looking for you.

“Y/N!” Tyler yells out for you.

You swore you faintly heard Tyler’s voice over the storm. You thought about running out of the alley you found to go to the building your boyfriend is in, but it’s too dangerous to at the moment. You found a place to wait out the tornado in an alley. You held onto a metal pole with all of your strength. Tyler was almost on full panic most. He was about to run out into the tornado to look for you, but Javi and Kate held him back.

“Are you fucking crazy?! You’re going to get hurt if you go out there!” Javi says.

“Y/N is out there somewhere and could possibly be hurt!” Tyler says on the verge of tears.

“I know you want to help her, Tyler. I’m sure she found somewhere safe to wait it out.” Kate says, trying to lighten up the mood.

“We’ll help you find her when it’s over.” Javi promises, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Tyler stared outside, knowing Javi and Kate are right. He closed the door with their help and found something to hold onto. The tornado pasted the building they’re in quickly. It then pasted the alley you’re in. Your breathing picked up. You never realized how scary tornados are up close.

After what it seemed like forever, the tornado finally pasted. Tyler got up from his place on the floor and ran out of the emergency exit door with Kate and Javi following behind him. Tyler looked everywhere for you with help from Javi and Kate. He felt himself about to panic again.

“Where is she?!” Tyler asks frantically.

You slowly let go of the metal pole you were holding onto during the tornado and cautiously poked your head out of the alley, making sure it’s safe to come out, in which it was. You walked out of the alley, looking around for Tyler, Kate, and Javi.

“Tyler, she’s over here!” Kate says from the right of you a few feet away.

Tyler looked over at you. He ran as fast as he could over to you, almost accidentally running into Kate. Tyler hugged you tightly, picking you up in the process. He let out a breath of relief.

“Where was she?” Javi asks Kate.

“I seen her come out of the alley.” She answers, pointing at the alley you were just in.

Your clothes were soaked from the rain, but you couldn’t care less. You were too happy and relieved to be in your boyfriend’s arms. Tyler gently put you back on your feet and kissed you passionately. Your hands grabbed onto his wet button up shirt, clutching the fabric in your hands tightly.

“I was so scared. I thought I lost you forever.” Tyler says, leaning his forehead against your forehead.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, feeling bad. “I saw a woman with a dog and helped them find safety.” You explained. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” You say apologetically.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, darling. You just trying to help someone.” He says.

Tyler caught a glimpse of your left hand, seeing blood on the back of it.

“You’re bleeding.” Tyler points out.

You let go of Tyler’s shirt to look at your hand.

“Oh.” Your eyes widened when you seen the blood on almost half of your hand. “I think something hit me. I don’t remember.” You say.

“Let’s get your hand cleaned up.” He says.

You nodded. Tyler wrapped his arm around your waist and you two walked to his truck. He opened the passenger’s door and you hopped in. Tyler leaned over you to get the travel sized first aid kit out of the center console. Kate and Javi walked up to the truck, seeing blood on your hand.

“Are you ok?” Kate asks with concern in her voice.

“Yes.” You nodded. “I cut my hand on something when I was trying to find safety from the tornado.” You tell her and Javi.

Tyler cleaned the excess blood off of your hand, revealing a cut that was small, but didn’t need stitches.

“I’m not a doctor, but you don’t need stitches.” Tyler says.

Tyler cleaned it the best he could before getting a bandaid out of the first aid kit.

“I want this one.” You say, pointing at a Captain America bandaid.

“Captain America, really?” Javi says with a small laugh.

“He’s cool!” You say, playfully narrowing your eyes at him.

“She has a point.” Kate says, agreeing with you.

“So you’re a Marvel fan, baby?” Tyler asks as he opens the bandaid.

“That’s all I watch when you’re out of town.” You say with a grin.

“You better keep an eye out, man.” Javi said. “Captain America might steal your cowgirl.” He jokingly says.

“Not on my watch.” Tyler says.

You and Kate couldn’t help but laugh when they said that. Tyler put the Captain America bandaid on your hand and kissed your hand over the bandaid. You couldn’t help but giggle.

“Thank you, Ty.” You smiled up at your boyfriend. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” You apologized again.

“I said you have nothing to apologize for.” He repeats his words from a short moment ago. “You were helping someone. Thats understandable. If our roles were reversed, I would’ve done the same thing.” He says.

You leaned forward and kissed Tyler sweetly.

“I love you so much, honey.” Tyler says against your lips.

“I love you more, cowboy.” You say, smiling against his lips.

Kate and Javi smiled at the cute boyfriend and girlfriend moment happening in front of them.

“How long are they going to kiss? They have to come up for air sometime.” Javi says.

Kate elbowed Javi’s arm to get him to shut up. He looked at her and glared at her as he rubbed the part of his arm she elbowed.

“I’m so happy you’re alright.” Tyler says, leaning his forehead against yours.

“I’m so happy you’re alright.” You looked deep in his eyes. “You guys too.” You say to Kate and Javi.

Kate and Javi put a comforting hand on your knees and smiled at you.

“Cowboy here wanted to run out in the tornado to look for you, but we held him back.” Javi tells you.

“I was worried and scared for my girlfriend!” Tyler exclaims.

You giggled softly and hopped out of the truck. You gave Tyler another hug and then gave Kate and Javi one.

“Don’t do that to us again.” Kate says, hugging you tightly.

“I won’t. I promise.” You say promisingly.

🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️

Glen Powell characters tag: @cevansbaby-dove

-Bucky’s Doll

[twinsimming]

Utilities Mod by Twinsimming 💡💧

This mod adds optional power and water utilities for players looking for some added challenge in their gameplay.

This is a script mod that can be placed in your Packages folder. It was built and tested on 1.69 but should work fine on 1.67.

New Objects

Power Box

- Price: §0 - Category: Misc. Electronics/Misc. Appliances - Includes 3 original swatches + 1 recolorable option (3 channels) - Poly Count: 274

Water Pipes

- Price: §0 - Category: Misc. Plumbing - Includes 3 original swatches + 1 recolorable option (3 channels) - Poly Count: 1065

Utilities

The Power Box controls power and the Water Pipes control water (self explanatory :p). Both utility objects are free in buy mode in the Misc. Electronics tab and Misc. Plumbing tab, respectively.

Once placed down on your lot, you can enable one or both utilities. When the utilities are enabled, power and/or water will be cut off to certain objects on your lot until you "Turn On" the Power Box and/or Water Pipes.

While the utilities are on, your sims will be charged between §1 - §3 simoleons for every 10 minutes they use an object that requires a utility, with the charge varying based on the size of the object. The total cost will be added to your next household bill.

If you want to opt out of the utilities system, just use the “Disable Power Utility” and “Disable Water Utility” interactions available on the utility objects.

The utilities system only applies to the active household.

A full list of all of the objects affected by the Power Box and Water Pipes utilities and their usage costs can be found on the mod download page.

Utility Costs and Usage

To check how much you've spent on utilities during the current billing cycle (between when you pay your bills and the next bill payment), click on the "Check Utility Usage" interaction on either utility.

To see your full utilities breakdown, use the new "Check Utility Costs" interaction on the computer.

Also included in the full utilities breakdown is a Green Energy Rebate total.

This total calculates how much money a lot saves by using the Solar Panels and Wind Turbines from the Sims 3 Store and factors that into the total utilities cost.

The full utilities breakdown also shows up when your sim pays their bills.

Lack of Funds

If your household funds fall below the usage cost of a utility, that utility will be shut off and cannot be turned back on until your funds are sufficient.

Bill Delinquency

If you’re late on paying your bills, your utilities will get shut off. Both utilities will be shut off when your bills are two days old.

Tuning

All of the tunable values can be found on the mod download page under the header “Tuning”.

Script Namespace

If you want to turn another object into a power or water utility, open your desired object in s3pe and replace the current script name with the following:

Sims3.Gameplay.Objects.Twinsimming.Utilities.PowerBox

Sims3.Gameplay.Objects.Twinsimming.Utilities.Water Pipes

Conflicts & Known Issues

These are new scripted objects so there shouldn’t be any conflicts.

Credits

EA/Maxis for The Sims 3 and The Sims 4, Visual Studio 2019, Sims4Studio, Blender, Milkshape, TSRW, ILSpy, s3pe, Notepad++, and Gimp.

Thank You

Thank you to gamefreak130, @zoeoe-sims, @greenplumbboblover, and @echoweaver!

If you like my work, please consider tipping me on Ko-fi 💙

Download @ ModTheSims

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚

🕊️a whore's fairytale masterlist🕊️

summary - poor little sleeping beauty (you) has a tough day, from finding out who she really is, and falling into a deep slumber. is the prince able to awaken her?

warning - smut, somnophilia, dubcon (all my characters consent), choking, spitting kink, swearing, creampie, breeding kink, wife kink, kidnapping, cursed.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You were shocked to learn the truth, finding out you were a princess and that your real name wasn’t Briar Rose, you were told your parents had named you Y/n and that they had to send you off with the fairies because a woman named Maleficent cursed you. You had to take a few moments to collect yourself, learning that they were to take you back on your eighteenth birthday, which meant you were due to leave your home any moment now to go back to where your family supposedly lived. 

As the four of you began to head off, your mind was full, thinking about your family, the curse, and the man you had met earlier that day. Oh, he was so handsome. You were saddened to hear the news that you were to be betrothed the moment you got to the castle. You didn’t want to be married off to a man you did not know. It didn’t sit right with you. Maybe if you spoke to your parents, they would understand and let you be with the man in the woods. 

After the long walk, you had finally arrived at the palace, staring up at it with wide eyes, gobsmacked at the sheer size of it. The guards moved out of the way as you walked closer to the entrance, letting you in. Your blue dress that the fairies made as a birthday present clung to your body with each step. Small hands touched your arm, causing you to look down at Fauna. “We will have to leave you for a bit, my dear. We have some business to attend to before you are able to meet your parents.” 

You give a soft smile. “That is alright, Fauna. I’ll be okay.” You assure them, watching as they leave. You begin to look around, admiring the artwork that litters the walls. Suddenly, a wisp of light appears in front of you. Your mind starts to go fuzzy as it pulls you into a trance, and your legs begin to follow as the light moves away from you, leading you toward a secret panel that opens when you are near. You walk up the winding staircase and into the hidden room.

Maleficent’s voice fills the room, coaxing you. “Touch the spindle! Touch it, I say!” Her command fills your ears, taking over your mind, and you have no choice but to obey. Your mind had taken over your legs, causing you to walk over to it. Your hand lifts, finger pointed, before a soft gasp escapes you when the spindle pricks your finger, causing it to bleed. You fall, eyes slipping closed into a deep slumber, not knowing of the dangers that lie ahead. Maleficent cackles as she appears over your unconscious body. “Oh, what a dumb girl.” She smirks as she spies into your mind and sees you dreaming of a man. “Hmm, if you want that man so badly, I guess I could give him to you.”

It was too late when the fairies realised what had happened. They looked at each other with wide eyes. They quickly become their former selves, allowing their wings and magic to take over and lead them to where you are. They would never have expected to be met with you, knocked out into a deep slumber with the one who cursed you standing above you in the same room. Their hearts race as Maleficent looks at the three with a deadly smirk, knowing they wouldn’t be strong enough to stop her. 

“The three fairies! Flora, Fauna and…” Maleficent cocks her head to the side, “Merryweather, I’m guessing?” She waves her hand, scoffing. “Oh, well. I don’t care. I assume you came to get your girl? It is a shame. She would’ve done some good for the world.” She reaches down, running her fingers through your hair. “But, I’m willing to show the princess that the world isn’t so good and colourful. Goodbye.” With a wave of Maleficent’s hand, you and she disappear, causing the fairies to set off in a panic, frightened to tell your father, the king, the news. 

Maleficent lays you on a soft bed, watching you as you sleep. “M–Maleficent, my queen. T–the prince, we found him…” She turns, raising a brow, waiting for her henchman to spit it out. “It seems he is waiting for the princess at the cabin, h–he seems impatient.”

“Hmm, that sounds perfect. Bring him to me!” She waves her hand before looking down at you. “You’re going to have so much fun, little one, and instead of true love’s kiss.” She scrunches her nose as those words leave her lips, not believing in such a thing. “Let’s make it something more… Extreme.” A dark grin appears on her face, knowing what the prince would do once he saw you. Her crow told her how the two of you got along in the woods and how the man couldn’t stop staring at your soft breasts and plump arse. 

Ransom struggled against the henchmen, growling and swearing as they dragged him along. “Get your filthy paws off me! I’ll kill you for touching me! Don’t you know who I am!” The henchmen just shrug and huff, not caring. One of them grabs a cloth and stuffs it into the young prince’s mouth, wanting some quiet. They finally make it up to the room you are held in, throwing Ransom inside. 

“Ah, finally.” Maleficent walks over, tilting his head up with her finger underneath his chin. “Hmm, you are quite handsome.” Her eyes drag across his face, getting what you see in him. Ransom’s brows furrow, unable to speak with the cloth in his mouth, his eyes fall upon your sleeping form, and he begins to wonder what the hell is happening. “But, you are not for me… Princess Y/n continues to think of you, and as you can see, she is currently in a deep slumber.” Maleficent leans closer to his ear, whispering. “Why don’t you find a way to wake her up.” She cackles as she straightens and waves her hand, disappearing in a puff of smoke.

His binds and cloth disappearing along with her, Ransom grumbles, shaking his head. “Fucking witches.” He stands, brushing off his clothes, and his head lifts as he peers at you, eyes drifting down your body. “Huh, so you’re the princess I’m meant to marry.” He walks close, tapping the blanket with the tip of his fingers. “I was ready to fuck you as a mere peasant girl, but knowing that you are much more, it’s so much better.”

It’s as though your body knows he is near. Your nipples harden and slick gathers between your thighs, your dreams turning sexual and dirty. You shift in your sleep, letting out a soft whimper as you dream of the handsome man in the woods, bending you over the log and thrusting into your tight cunt. 

Ransom smirks as he watches you squirm. His cock hardens when he hears soft whimpers escape you. “Fuck, sweetheart. You sound so good, and I haven’t even touched you yet.” He strips from his clothes, sighing as his cock springs free from his slacks, no longer feeling tight and suffocated. Ransom pulls the blanket away from your body, his cock twitching when his gaze lands on your dress, wondering if it could get any tighter. He slowly gets onto the bed and crawls on top of you, lifting your dress higher as he moves up your body. “So beautiful, and all mine.” He pampers you with kisses, kissing up your body until he reaches your face. 

Ransom groans when his leaking member connects with your bare cunt, and he grips his thick base, rubbing his swollen tip through your sopping folds. “Jesus, you’re so wet, sweetheart. What or who is making you so wet?” He raises his brow in jealousy, wondering who you could be dreaming of when he is here for you. “You know what? If you’re going to be a little slut in your dreams. Then I’m going to treat you like one.” Ransom growls, sick of competing with someone else when you should only be focused on him. He aligns his mushroom tip with your tight hole before thrusting in. His eyes close as he grunts, never having felt someone like you before. 

Sweet moans pass your lips, dreaming of the handsome man in the woods gently lying you onto a blanket on the ground, pressing his hips into yours as he buries himself deeply into you, making love to you, marking your skin with his hands and lips. Your back arches in your dreams, arms wrapping around him, nails digging into his back. 

Ransom moans, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Shit, sweetheart, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight. You’re sweet walls are fluttering around me like crazy.” He buries his face into your neck, peppering kisses along your skin and thrusting harder and faster into your sweet honey pot. “My sweet little sleeping beauty.” Getting lost in how good you feel around his member, he hastily grabs a pillow and shoves it under your hips before gripping them, giving him leverage. “When you wake, I’ll continue to fuck you. I’ll fuck you every day, even after you become my wife. I’ll pump you full every single day and night. You won’t think of looking at another man when you have me.”

He nuzzles closer to you, pounding harder as he kisses your cheek, moving closer to your lips, his eyes slipping closed, enjoying the feeling of you wrapped around him. “You’re mine, my sweet Y/n. All mine.” The moment his lips connect with yours, magic explodes around the two of you. Your eyes fly open, arms wrapping around him and your back arches. Ransom smirks, tilting his head back as he looks down at you with hooded eyes. “Ah, my sweet little sleeping beauty is finally awake. Do you feel that, sweetheart? Do you feel me inside you? Fucking into you, claiming you?” He fucks into you deeper, hitting against the hidden spot inside you. Ransom cups your cheek, glaring down at you with lust-filled eyes. His thumb lands on your bottom lip, pulling your mouth open. “You’re mine, understood?” 

You whimper, feeling yourself throb around his cock, never having experienced pleasure like this before. Your mind is cloudy, being pulled from your dream to see it come true with the man you’ve fallen for. You claw at his back, digging your nails into his soft flesh. “O–oh, it feels so good, my prince!” You scream, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to pound into that spot, allowing Ransom to spit directly into your mouth, smirking as you immediately swallow. 

Ransom moves his hand between you, rubbing and rolling your swollen clit between his fingers. Enjoying the feeling of you squeezing his thick cock, he continues to pound into you, the hand that cups your cheek, moves to your throat and squeezes. “You’re going to cum for me, sleeping beauty, and then. I will pump you so full of my cum that it leaks out of you for months.” Your sweet moans fill the room, walls tighten around Ransom, your back arches, and you cum, your juices squirt out of you, covering everything. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

He captures your lips with his, thrusting harder and deeper until his cock twitches and his eyes slip closed. Ransom groans when his end approaches, burying himself deep inside you and emptying thick spurts of cum, coating your walls and filling you to the brim. He begins kissing down, resting on your neck, leaving soft kisses in his path. “My sweet little sleeping beauty.” Ransom lifts his head and stares deeply into your eyes, his softening cock still deep inside you, blocking his cum from leaking out. “You’re now mine forever.”

You hum, feeling your eyes begin to droop again. You would later learn not to fall in love with the first handsome man you laid your eyes upon. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[airbendertendou]

I'M IN RUINS! ♡ mitsuya takashi

synopsis : maybe he really is just that nice to everyone. | inspired by the cdrama hidden love

song inspo ; going dumb by stray kids, alesso, corsak

cw : baji!reader ; reader has their period, but no pronouns ; baji is referred to as your brother, but looks aren't stated ; more of a college-ish au ; kazutora favortism briefly got the best of me

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

It's so unfair, you think. Being so close to him, yet not allowing to linger — it's disheartening. You ache ; suffer and beg and cry, thinking of your brother's friend.

Baji sighs as you frown at him. "Do you really need to go?"

"Why am I not allowed to?" You reply. You'd put on your cutest outfit and your favorite shoes. After hearing Mitsuya was tagging along to this little get together, how could you not? "I'm hungry and you're going to eat."

"You never want to go," your brother argues. You cross your arms and tilt your head, raising your eyebrows to look stern. It's the way your mom looks at him ; the way she gets him to listen. Keisuke clicks his tongue, "whatever. Come on, then."

——♡——

By the time Chifuyu pulls up to the meeting area, your stomach is aching. You shuffle where you stand, sending a meek smile to Draken when he looks your way. Kazutora is distracting your brother, giggling together as you wait for the last guest to arrive.

A rumble hits the wind, covering the chattering of the other guys and numerous shoppers. Lilac hair shines in the light and you hold your breath — he's here.

"Boys," Mitsuya grins as he parks his bike. His eyes slide to you, smile growing gentle, less teasing. “Hey, trouble. Make a last minute decision to come?"

You nod silently, holding your stomach and trying to hide your grimace. Mitsuya tilts his head curiously, but gets taken into a conversation with Draken. You tug on the end of Baji's hair, "I'm going to the bathroom really quick."

A chest is pressed to your back quicker than you can think. A hand — gentle and firm simultaneously — leads you to the left. Mitsuya clears his throat as you scowl at him. "I'll show you where the bathroom is."

You want to cry. You're absolutely mortified at what you discover. Your pee is red — the reason behind your stomach pain is clear. Your favorite bottoms are stained and you're unable to wear them now. Having your period is natural, nothing to be ashamed about.

But, Mitsuya noticed. He shielded your backside so that no one else would see the splash of blood.

Leaning against the stall's wall, you sniffle as tears drip down your nose. You'd texted Draken about your current problem — Keisuke had broken his phone just yesterday. The blond was your only hope at this point ; you hoped he'd read your text soon.

"[Name]," a knock to the bathroom door startles you. "Here. I'll wait for you, okay?"

Humiliation — Mitsuya had taken it upon himself to get you supplies. Taking in a stuttered breath, you fought to make your sobs unknown. You dab your face with toilet paper lightly before opening the door. Quickly, you snatch the bag you see and ignore the one standing in the doorway.

He'd gotten you a new outfit, too. The same color as your previous one, so that no one else would notice what happened. Your tears fell again as you situated yourself.

Once out of the bathroom, you sniff and avoid Mitsuya's gaze. Draken is leaning against the wall across from you, looking over you quickly as you walked to him. You brush your bottoms lightly, head to the floor as you stand in silence.

"No big deal," Draken reassures you. He pats the top of your head with a grin, "let me know if you want to go home, okay?"

Your nod is stopped by an arm wrapping aound your shoulders. Mitsuya squeezes you close to him, trapping you in the smell of his cologne. "S'all good, trouble. Tell us if you feel unwell."

The light catches through a window, shining on Mitsuya like a hidden halo. His eyes light up, his eyelashes curving against his cheek as he smiles. Mitsuya's nose scrunches as laughs at something Draken says. Peeking at you with his peripheral vision, he tilts his head.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re so nice to me.” It's said before you can even think. Because he is nice to you — kind, welcoming and warm. Mitsuya squeezes you a bit closer before letting go of you completely. Chifuyu waves your way excitedly. Your small, "thank you," is covered by the noise of the restaraunt.

——♡——

Mitsuya had left the table not long ago. Keisuke shoves your shoulder, causing you to bump into Kazutora. The dual-haired boy gasps dramatically before shoving into your right shoulder, bumping you back into your brother.

Your giggles are drowned out by the sight of Draken shaking his head. Chifuyu speaks through his own laughter, "where's Mitsuya?"

"Flirting," Draken says with a roll of his eyes. Your smile fades, falling from your face slowly at the words. Draken lets out a loud sigh, "can't take him anywhere."

Baji grumbles into your ear, "I'll say."

Kazutora snorts, covering his mischivious grin with his hand. He lays his head on your shoulder, "oh, whatever shall we do with such a pretty boy?"

Your grin inflates again at Kazutora's casual teasing. You ruffle his hair, scrunching your nose as he scowls playfully at you. "You're a pretty boy, too, you know."

Kazutora's eyes widen, his cheeks pinkening at your words as he sits up straight. Your eyes slide across the table. "So is Chifuyu, honestly." You look to your brother and grimace, "don't know what happened to you."

Baji clicks his tongue before shoving you again. Kazutora catches you in a backwards hug, his forearm settling across your collarbones. "Be nice to [name], Baji!"

"Jus' cause you were called pretty..." your brother grumbles to himself.

The chair across from you is pulled out, a loud screech hitting the area you're in. Mitsuya plops down with a stone-faced expression, his eyes focused solely on you. "Enjoying ourselves, are we?"

"Like you can talk," Draken teases. The tall blond flutters his eyelashes and clasps his hands together. "Oh, it's you! From class! The fashion designer!"

"Can't talk to my classmates now?"

Chifuyu snickers, kicking your foot under the table as he does. You shake your head, sinking your chin below Kazutora's arm to hide your grin. Mitsuya eyes your position idly before tilting his head, "you both look comfy."

Kazutora pulls you closer, "[Name] thinks I'm pretty."

"I said Chifuyu was, too!"

The dual-haired boy hums into your ear. "But, you thought of me first."

"As fun as this is," Draken looks up from his phone. He sighs before pocketing the device. "Mikey is calling for us. Want me to take you home, [name]?"

"I'll do it," Mitsuya interrupts. He lets out a sigh, gaze drifting from you and laying on the table. "I'm going to check on my sisters, anyways."

You're waving to your friends as Mitsuya leans against his bike. You can feel him watching you, but you ignore his eyes to grin gleefully at Kazutora.

"He your recent crush?"

"What?" You blink, turning to face the lilac-haired boy. Mitsuya shrugs, making no move to leave as he gazes at you. "Kazu? He's not my crush, why?"

"But, you do have one," he steps closer to you. "A crush."

Gulping, you move away from him and to the back of the bike. "Maybe."

Mitsuya hums, "your brother know?"

"Why would I tell Keisuke about a crush?" You lean beside him now, frowning to the ground. Kicking at the sidewalk with your foot, you scrunch your nose. "He's horrible at keeping secrets."

He nods and you're hyperaware of the way his arm brushes against yours. It's like he's doing it on purpose — moving closer to you. "I'm not. You can tell me who it is."

"No thanks!"

"Why not?"

You grow silent, even as Mitsuya gets closer. His arm is behind your back at this point, his hand sitting on the seat of his bike. "You don't need to know."

"I want to."

"Do you have a crush on anyone?" As he doesn't answer, you finally look his way. Soft, dreamy eyes are looking at you. His gaze feels heavy ; heated as he stares your way. "Mitsuya?"

He blinks and looks away, "maybe."

"Would you tell me who it is?"

"Well, that's not fair," he leans closer, his lips brush against your ear, "is it, [name]?"

You freeze, eyes widening as Mitsuya tilts his head at you curiously. Staring at the ground, you think about it for a second. You think maybe I should tell him ; maybe it's time. Then your mind flashes back to before — to when Draken said he was flirting.

"Oh, is it someone from your class? The one Ken was talking about?"

Mitsuya doesn't answer — that means yes, you think. Downhearted, you frown and scoot away from him, leaving room to breathe. He doesn't allow that, though, scooting until your arms are pressed together once again.

"It's a friend," Mitsuya speaks up. He leans more to the left, his chin almost resting on your right shoulder. "A close friend."

You gasp dramatically, hoping to interrupt the intense atmosphere. "It's Chifuyu, isn't it? Knew it — he's irresistible."

Mitsuya snorts, rolling his eyes. You smile at the sound, oblivious to the way he gazes at you. He bites his lip, hesitant, but nudges the tip of his shoe against yours anyways. You meet his gaze — his eyes flicker from yours briefly before he smiles tenderly. "I'll tell you who it is. Eventually."

You trust he'll keep his word.

——♡—— idk abt a part two for this one... tbh i like how it ends. if youd like to b tagged / untagged in any tokyo revengers content, let me know! ♡

🍓FOREVER TAGS : @straysugzhpe ♥︎ @star2fishmeg ♥︎

🍓 TOKYOREV TAGLIST : @thatpoindexterpixy

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[thef1diary]

Don’t Go | C. Sainz

Summary: You and Carlos broke up over a month ago, however he doesn't want it to stay that way.

Warnings: angst, toxic relationship if you squint

word count: 2.2k

pairing: carlos x fem!reader

"You know what, that's it. We're done!" You yelled at your boyfriend who was blatantly ignoring you while getting dressed for a work event. You didn't even wait for a response from him, mainly because you knew you weren't going to get one. You weren't the type of person to create a scene but your anger got to you. Slamming the door to your shared apartment, you kept telling yourself that you'll be fine without him while tears streamed down you cheeks.

One month later:

It turned out that you were fine without him, mainly because you haven't seen him yet. Carlos had a triple header coming up when you broke up with him, so you knew that he would be too busy anyways which meant you weren't expecting a text or phone call after your dramatic—but much needed—exit from his apartment.

It obviously hurt to leave him, after all you were together for four years. But what hurt more was that he didn't even care that you left. Despite how hectic race weekends could be, you thought that you had at least some sort of importance in his life to at least deserve a phone call.

During that one month, you thought about the four years you spent together and wondered where it went wrong. Carlos was an amazing, loving boyfriend. You understood each other, respected each other, and you truly loved him.

There were moments when he would be extremely stressed out due to his racing results and you completely understood that. The thing was, he would come to you to talk about it all. He would lay his head against your chest and you would play with his hair while he was would tell you everything.

However, the Carlos you knew then was nothing like the one you broke up with. He was distant, cold, and made you feel like you didn't mean anything to him.

You were currently out with your friend at a club because she made it her mission to help you move on. Obviously that meant finding someone else for a night to help you forget about everything but you didn't want that. In fact, you two had been out for a few hours now but you were still completely sober. You were moving on. Not forgetting about it, but accepting the truth. Or at least you thought you were.

You watched as your friend was dancing freely, without a care in the world and you wished that you could be like her. The temptation of wanting to drink was strong, but you restrained yourself because you didn't want to wake up with a hangover. Plus, drinking wasn't your thing. What you needed right now was a cigarette and a lighter, both of the things already in your pocket.

You silently communicated with your friend when she looked at you, telling her that you are going to step out for a moment. You stood in the alleyway where you saw two people making out further away. Turning away from them, you lit a cigarette. Sure this habit was bad, but it could be a lot worse. You weren't a heavy smoker but you always had a pack on you, just in case.

The air was chilly which made the smoke you inhaled feel a lot better than it usually would. The warmth radiating through your body was inviting.

You heard the back door open but didn't face it, thinking the couple went back in. You smelt his cologne before you saw him, and instantly the memories rushed back. Although, you doubted that he knew it was you.

You were right, because he tapped your shoulder and asked for a cigarette. When you turned to face him, he looked quite surprised. He looked good, of course he did, there were rarely any bad days for him. His hair was slightly messy due to the wind outside, and his outfit was quite casual.

He said your name to bring back your attention towards him. You passed him the pack and he commented, "thought you stopped."

"I did." You simply said, implying that you started again after your breakup. You'd still carry a pack on you even though you never touched it, but now things were different.

He nodded, standing beside you while you puffed out smoke. "Thought you didn't smoke." You commented to which he replied, "I didn't."

You could read the implication as well, but you didn't think that he'd ever indulge in this bad habit. He would always tell you to stop, joking around that he will live longer than you.

You didn't like this silence, nor did you want to talk to him. You initially thought that he'd say something, anything. But this silence was deafening.

Throwing the remnants of the cigarette, you turned around to leave but you remembered something so you stopped, "I still have to pick up my stuff, text me a time you're free so I can come by."

The night that you left in anger, you didn't take your keys belonging to your shared apartment, which meant you had to wait for him to be home so you could pick up your stuff.

——

He followed through on your request and texted you a few hours after your last conversation, telling you to come by whenever because he'd be home for the week.

So here you were, standing in front of the main door to the apartment you once called yours. He opened it after a few knocks, and you had to take a deep breath before you entered. It's finally time to get through this, no matter how painful it may be.

The apartment was exactly the same as you left it, if not messier. "Sorry, I didn't really have the time to clean up." He told you, but you shrugged, "it's okay. I'm not going to be here for too long."

There was a awkward tension between you two, and you decided to act civilized, the least you could do to make your time spent here easier. "How was Spain?" You asked, knowing that his home race was the most recent one. You've always attended his home race, so it felt weird that you weren't there this time.

"It was good, got second place." He said, and you didn't have the guts to tell him that you watched the race, seeing him celebrate with his teammate who won. You also saw the trophy that was undoubtedly new, sitting on the shelf among his others.

If you two were together, you'd surely celebrate his race with other friends and family and even more when you two would've gotten home that night. But that's something that will never happen now.

Walking towards your bedroom, the same one you and Carlos shared, you started gathering your things. Either Carlos didn't want to remove your things or he didn't have the time to do so. For your peace of mind, you are hoping the second reason is true.

You had brought an empty suitcase with you, and while you were filling it up with your clothes, his voice made you pause, "don't go." He was leaning against the doorframe, watching you pack up all your stuff and then planning on leaving this apartment without any trace of your relationship behind.

"You should've said that a month ago," you were quick to respond without even looking up at him. Which is why you didn't see him walking closer and crouching down. He held your hand to stop you from folding your clothes, making you look at him.

"I should've said a lot more a month ago, but is too late to say it now?" He asked as he moved his hand up, placing it on your cheek.

For a moment, you let yourself get lost in his eyes. Mainly because it reminded you of the good times of your relationship, before everything went wrong.

Carlos took your lack of response to continue, "you know, I miss you" those words broke you out of your trance, "I miss the old you" you responded, making him realize the consequences to his actions.

You moved his hand away, returning back to the task at hand. "Can we please talk about this?" He asked, making you sigh. "I'm sorry Carlos, I don't think that's a good idea." You shook your head.

"Why not? It was a bit extreme no, you just walked out on me."

"Like I said, it's been a month. If you wanted to stop me or talk about it then you should've called me or at least make the effort to contact me. But you didn't, and that's exactly why we're over now." You tried to keep yourself in control, watching your tone. You didn't want to leave this apartment while arguing again.

"I was busy with the races you know that-" he tried to reason but you were quick to stop him. "And that's the problem Carlos, you were busy. You've gotten so busy nowadays that I barely see you. There have been times where I had to wait weeks before I could see you again, and even then all you're talking about is the next upcoming race."

He opened his mouth to say something but you didn't let him and continued, "I get it, it's your career, it's something you've wanted since you were a child. But if your career is that important for you that you can't even spend any time with me, then there's no point of a relationship."  You concluded.

You could see when realization hit him, knowing that things won't be the same anymore. You would feel bad but he wasn't there to console you when you felt like that either. You almost scoffed at the idea of him thinking that everything between you could work out.

"You're really choosing to throw away the four years we spent together?"

"I really didn't want to. Trust me, I really, really didn't want this. But I am tired of being the only one holding our relationship together. In the past year, I have seen no efforts from your side." You were brutally honest with him, and despite his expressions saying otherwise, he needed to hear this.

He held your hands again, "don't do this."

"Carlos, why don't you understand. For lack of better words, I'm freeing you from this. You don't have to worry about calling, texting, or even seeing me." The words you were saying out loud were tearing your heart apart and you had no doubt that if Carlos still loves you, he'd feel the same.

"If you think you're not gonna see me or hear from me again, you're wrong. You will see me, and you will damn well hear from me again." Carlos' mood shifted.

"No-" you began but he cut you off. "You've said your part, now hear me out. If you think I stopped loving you for even a moment, you're wrong. And I know you still love me too. If you didn't, you would completely ignore me and not try to convince me why our break up is a good idea. Although it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself rather than me."

You opened your mouth but no words came out because you were speechless. "You think I didn't have a single thought about you while I was away? You're wrong. You're the only person I thought about, you occupied my mind every second of every day for the entire month."

"If you really want to try this whole breakup thing out, sure go ahead. Walk out of my life like you did a month ago, but this time I am not letting you go. If you think you are not going to see any effort from me, again sorry but you're wrong."

"I am so sorry for everything I've done or haven't done for the past year and truly I have no excuse for my actions. But you, darling, are the best thing that has ever happened to me."

You know what Carlos expects you to say. He wants you to forget about it all and go back to how you two were before. But at the same time, he is challenging you to leave, and you never backed down from a challenge before and you won't start now. As much as you love him, you need actions not words.

"You claim to love me right?" You ask and he nods.

You zip up your suitcase and stand up. "I am going to leave, and you will let me. You say that you'll prove it to me, so until I don't see you taking actions for your words, I am not coming back."

He still looks taken aback, clearly not expecting you to do this. But he settles his emotions and nods, "you can leave, but I'm not letting you go."

Carlos is also the type to accept the challenge, and he will do anything to earn your love again. After all, he never wanted to break up, in fact, he wanted to make you his wife. So if he has to work for that, he will.

[seelestia]

Dunno why I felt compelled to do this, but-

Here's some dialogue I just thought up regarding that angsty af Zhongli oneshot that a certain someone requested (who could it be I wonder 👀👀)

The ones talking are Ganyu and the Reader.

"Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"Your love."

"..."

"I regret not being born earlier."

"I regret not being a goddess."

"I regret not being the first."

"I regret not having the long straight hair he so misses."

"But most of all, I regret not being her."

"But you had no control over any of those! It's not your fault!"

"...That's exactly why it hurts."

We love angst 😩💅💅👍✨

- Ever so sadly yours, 👹✨ Jae (also hi Lia :D been a while since I been in your inbox huehue)

— 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.

a continuation to do you love me? choose a decision at the end! only 1/2 endings available as of now.

summary: a cracked heart is like a cracked jar; it can only hold so much within before it shatters — what if you've come to terms that you cannot take the pain of the truth any longer? (1.2k+ words)

genre: angst, "loves you but not most" trope, lovers to ???? (open-ended / cliffhanger i'm sorry.) + read the alt text on the header for extra summary!

characters: ganyu, zhongli, guizhong (implied).

cw: descriptions of crying, one pet name.

thoughts: you came into my inbox after a while and you brought pain with you. i'm not particularly proud of this but here you go, i cannot be blamed for these buckets of tears any longer. (/j)

✰ main masterlist. // series masterlist.

The night was young in Liyue, the breeze was gentle as it swept across the lands — but oh, how you wished the wind could also blow the sadness in your heart.

Blurry sight, soaked cheeks, sheer and pure numbness. For how long had you been like this? Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. Whatever perception of time you had left just seemed to crumble to dust.

You couldn't help but wonder why? Ha, what irony when you knew very well why.

Wasn't it the truth that was relayed to you some time ago? Wasn't that why you decided to sneak away whilst your lover was sleeping, why you were crying in the company of a concerned friend, why you were here right now?

"I'm so sorry—" you choked out an apology to Ganyu through bated breath.

Your friend was out for a midnight stroll when she saw you and upon seeing how red your eyes were, she didn't leave your side out of worry ever since. You tried to reassure her that you'd be fine alone, really — but she looked so devastated, equally as sorrowful as you were like the very sadness in your heart was her own.

But you felt pathetic; so pathetic and so pitiful.

Nothing had been the same after that day, as much as you wished to deny it. Curiosity did kill the cat, after all; in your case, curiosity was what condemned your soul to a void of nothingness.

They said love was what filled a human's soul and if that were true, then you would be nothing but a shell of a soul. Zhongli gave you a love that you wished to cradle with your all forever — but he was never yours, never completely yours. Yet, how could you blame him? How could you ever blame him for experiencing a love so great he wasn't able to forget it?

"I'm not her. I could never be her," you finally forced the words out, clutching onto the railing of Liyue Harbor until a stinging pain greeted your hands. It had been the simplest conclusion, yet the hardest pill to swallow. A fate you couldn't change even if you wished you could so bad, someone unrivaled you could only imagine holding a candle to. Bitter and self-deprecating were the quiet laughter you let out at the realization.

Never was, never will.

"[Y/N], you don't have to apologize," was all Ganyu could afford to utter. She knew she should've said more, but the words escaped her barren mind; perhaps, it would be better to listen instead of saying something that could make matters worse. You could tell that Ganyu was disappointed in herself for not being able to provide you with profound wisdom or the right words of comfort.

Truthfully, you couldn't help but feel terrible for putting her in this situation, for possibly ruining her night with your mood. But when the Adeptus placed her hand on the crook of your elbow as a physical reminder that she was here for you, you smiled. Then, you turned your head towards the ocean and closed your eyes.

Finally, the pain of crying finally caught up to you, hoping that the blowing night breeze could somewhat soothe the stinging dryness and heavy bags underneath your eyes. As you did so, in the corner of your mind, a single thought passed by and you caught it by its tail.

Was it a thought meant to be voiced or buried? Either way, you brought it to life and wondered out loud.

"...Would it be better if I broke things off instead?"

Your question seemed to take Ganyu by complete surprise.

You knew why so; before your relationship with Zhongli came to be, Ganyu was one of the listening ears to your constant rambles about him. How much you admired him, how flustered you were when he smiled at you, or how you felt like you could float to the skies whenever he spared you a single glance. You recalled the surprised look on Ganyu's face when you first told her about your feelings for her Lord, but she was supportive towards your endeavor.

Now, here was where both of you stood. Oh, how time flew.

"Do you remember when he accepted my confession?" Even with your eyes closed, you could almost feel Ganyu nodding at your words. You were the same, you felt as if you could recall it like it had only been yesterday too. "I was so happy I felt like I could float to the clouds and never return. The man of my dreams is finally mine! I thought," you laughed, but there was no hint of mirth evident in your tone.

"What was it like? Being loved by him?" That sort of question sounded foreign to Ganyu but still, she asked, a willingness on her part to indulge in your nostalgia.

"Warm like having someone wrap a blanket around you and comforting like feeling the steam from a cup with your favorite tea on your face after a long day," you hummed. If loving Zhongli and being loved by him were a feeling, it would've been one that you'd never let go of... but you knew this feeling was no longer the same after the truth.

"I am not his greatest love, yet he is mine," it was something you stated solemnly, having come to terms with that fact yet not being able to fully withstand the ache that came with it yet.

When you continued, your voice broke and you frowned, "Why does it have to hurt so much? I want to stay with him, I want to pretend I didn't hear anything that day, I want to go back to the time where I knew nothing about her — but I couldn't."

The corner of your eyes began to sting once more, welling up with tears at a possibility of euphoria which you could never go to. "If only I could, then I wouldn't spend all my nights awake, wondering why I wasn't her or thinking of ways I could somehow be better than her in his eyes. If I could, I'd be sleeping happily in his arms right now and... I wouldn't feel this pain anymore."

There was no stopping the waterfall running down your cheeks now and you could feel that stinging pain again as a result. "But that's a fantasy," you breathed out. You were just so tired and your knees were beginning to feel weak — but still, you looked at Ganyu through your blurred vision.

"...What should I do? Should I save myself or dwell in blissful ignorance?" You whispered with a smile that was unbefitting of your melancholic question. Ganyu hesitated but before she could formulate an answer, a familiar spoke from behind the two of you.

"...My love," a voice that was all too familiar and a nickname that caused all that was going on in your brain to halt.

You froze, veins running cold.

"R-Rex Lapis?"

Ganyu's shocked yelp confirmed it all.

There Zhongli was, standing there. A few strands of his hair looked amiss as if licked by the wind from a fast-paced trip, as if he had just gone places, as if he just went everywhere searching after waking up with you nowhere to be found in his arms. Maybe, that was exactly what he did.

His amber eyes were downcast and the way he was standing so fixedly instead of looking like he had just arrived instantly made your heart clench — because that could only mean one thing.

He heard everything.

.

.

.

[ WHAT IS YOUR NEXT DECISION? ]

↪ Stay quiet and dwell on your thoughts of breaking up with Zhongli.

↪ Wipe away your tears and put on a smile as if Zhongli didn't hear anything. — COMING SOON!

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

© SEELESTIA, jan 2023. do not repost, plagiarize, translate nor claim as your own.

[littlejuicebox]

Little Lockpick.

Okay this is the last addition for the weekend.

My ADHD hyperfixated on Dadstarion and now I need to focus on my big girl life and job for the week.

Definitely didn’t mean to go this crazy on the writing but hey, when inspiration strikes. 🤷‍♀️

I really need to update these headers at some point. Problems for future Gina.

Summary: Toddler Gale has developed new magic skills and wants Papastarion to open a lock NOW. Right now. Tav has some interesting news after an appointment.

Tags/Warnings: kids, babies, parenthood, fluff, idk what else?

*

Astarion is in his office, trying to work, which is almost impossible with Gale sitting on his lap. The toddler is fiddling with something in his small hands as his father reads over a scroll for the second time, trying to focus on the words. It’s become increasingly difficult to do so as frustrated huffs and grunts escape the almost-three-year-old.

“Daddy! Help!” Gale exclaims, pulling Astarion’s attention from the scroll and down to the little silver-haired boy. The toddler is shaking what’s in his hand up at his father, nose crinkled in displeasure.

“Hmm…” The elf murmurs, taking the little toy — if you could call it that — from his son. It’s a small padlock. The toddler had been trying, quite incessantly, to open it for nearly half an hour. It was enough to keep Gale pre-occupied while his mother went to her appointment, but now the toddler is getting frustrated and his father knows there will soon be a melt down if the issue isn’t remedied.

“Little prince, where did you find this?” Astarion asks while handing the tiny metal lock back to Gale. The silver-haired boy climbs off his father’s lap. Uncoordinated legs take him over to the bookshelf along the office wall, and he points to the bottom shelf.

“Found here! Right here.” The toddler babbles, crinkling his white eyebrows at his father, wondering why the older man is asking him such a silly question. Gale is growing more impatient, upset that Astarion simply isn’t doing what he asked and opening the lock. But no, daddy insists on asking him these questions instead, “Why daddy? Why? Open it!”

Tiny fingers grip the loop of the lock again, trying and failing to release the mechanism with sheer force. The child’s two little arms aren’t strong enough to pry open the lock. Gale is growing more and more frustrated. Red patches flush across his cheeks as he grunts, compelling Astarion to move from his chair and crouch in front of the toddler, intending to placate him.

“We need a key to open the lock, Gale. I was hoping there would be one near where you found the lock but I don’t think—“ The elf starts, but he’s cut off by a high pitched wail escaping his son.

“OPEN! OPEN! OPEN!”

The little boy is throwing himself on the ground now, still gripping the offending toy. Fat, frustrated tears are falling from his gorgeous green eyes. He’s practically the spitting image of his father, and even in his tantrums he is a beautiful, adorable thing. But Astarion begins to panic, knowing Gale needs to calm down, he needs to calm down before—

The toddler shrieks at the top of his lungs and a powerful gust of wind comes from nowhere, knocking Astarion onto his back and sending a flurry of papers shooting off the desk.

It’s ironic, Astarion thinks, that his son is named Gale and the first spell he can unintentionally cast is a gust of wind whenever he’s throwing a tantrum. The elf is groaning in pain as his eyes clamp shut; he is trying desperately to regain his composure before he addresses the toddler. These terrible twos have been… well, terrible. Astarion’s patience is running thin.

He remembers his wife’s coaching. Deep breath in, long exhale out. The poor little prince doesn’t know any better.

The wind scares Gale into silence. He doesn’t yet understand his powers, and when he sees his father knocked prone on the floor, he starts crying again. They’re sticky, snot-filled, guilty tears, this time. He doesn’t understand how he conjures the wind, but he does know that the damage is his fault. Despite his current tantrum, Gale is an overall empathetic and sensitive boy, and the vision of the damage he’s done worries him.

“Sorry, daddy!” The toddler gasps through choked cries, sitting himself up and bunching his hands in tight, worried fists which he brings to the sides of his face, “I a bad boy!”

Astarion rolls himself up to a sitting position and scoops the child into his arms with a belabored sigh, “You’re not a bad boy, Gale.”

He soothes the child in a soft coo as he rubs small circles on the little boy’s back. Gale’s small body continues to wrack with sobs as his father places a kiss on his crown of silvery curls and whispers, “You’re just an exceptionally powerful one. But you get that from your mother, little prince.”

The elf stands, taking his son with him in the process as he walks out of the office, headed towards the bedchambers and still rubbing the little boy’s back as the toddler begins to calm down.

The papers will just have to be cleaned up later.

*

“Again, again, daddy!”

When you find your husband and child, they are both laying atop your bed, facing away from the door. Gale is giggling incessantly and clapping his hands together, asking his father to repeat something.

“There you two are. What are you doing?” You ask as you enter the room, one hand on your stomach. You’ve just come from an appointment with Jaheira.

The two men turn their heads and grin at you practically in unison. It makes you chuckle. It’s truly startling, how similar they are from their looks to their mannerisms. You catch sight of Astarion’s old lockpicking kit between the two of them, and your eyebrow cocks curiously.

“Are you really showing our toddler how to pick locks, Astarion?” You ask as you make your way to sit on the bed with the rest of your little family.

“Yes. But it’s a bit of a story, love. I’ll fill you in on the details later.” Your husband responds, handing the padlock and one of the tools to Gale, where he attempts to mimic the previous motions of his father. His tiny tongue sticks out as he focuses.

Astarion moves to kiss your cheek and then lightly brushes his fingers against your abdomen, subtly greeting the growing life inside, “How did the appointment go?”

“Good…” You murmur in a long, drawled out way. By your tone and the large grin spreading across your face, your husband can tell something is up.

His eyebrow cocks as he assesses your face, trying to decipher the thoughts behind your eyes. Whatever it is, it obviously isn’t bad news, and the knot in his stomach he’d constantly carried prior to this preliminary check-up is starting to finally subside as he analyzes you.

It took a long time to conceive this round; you two had nearly given up. When you finally missed your moonblood, both of you were waiting with bated breath for the first month. This experience was a sharp contrast to Gale’s conception, which happened easily, by accident and without much thought. Both of you had been emotional, nervous wrecks up until now.

“What is it, darling?” Your husband asks, smiling despite himself, simply matching your energy.

“Jaheira is almost certain it’s twins, Astarion.” You respond, and then you’re laughing as you watch your husband’s face turn from shocked to excited to worried to overwhelmed all in the span of a few seconds.

“Twins?” He asks, dumbly, trying to process the new information. A hand comes to rake through his curls as he exhales through the shock, “Love, we might need to hire some more help, I know you said you didn’t want to, but—“

“Yes, I was thinking the same. Especially if they’re also going to show Gale’s same penchant for spells.” You agree, and at the mention of your son’s name he perks up and grins at you, proudly showing you the lock, “Speaking of which…”

You reach into your robe pocket and retrieve a small beaded necklace before patting your lap, and beckoning to your son, “Come here to me, my little love.”

Gale obliges happily, crawling over to settle in your lap. You kiss the crown of his head and then clasp the small necklace onto the toddler. Astarion is watching you curiously, his head tilts to the side as he brings his hand to grasp the necklace and examine it. The toddler sure does love that lock, he’s barely acknowledging either of you as you speak around him.

“It’s a dampener,” You explain, “I was telling Jaheira about the recent development. She gave me this. It won’t completely take away Gale’s powers… but it should help to reduce the strength of his spells until he learns to control them himself.”

Astarion nods with a relieved sigh, “Good. If I’m being honest, darling, I was worried he might accidentally hurt you.”

You nod knowingly and then groan as your stomach begins to growl. The appointment took a bit longer than you thought; it’s past your usual lunch time. You begin to stand, pulling the toddler in your arms with you as you say, “Now how about lunch in the sunroom? I’m starving.”

Astarion hums in agreement, “Go on, my love. I’ll grab the food and join you two in just a moment.”

You nod and carry Gale out, singing softly to the little boy as you head to the sunroom, leaving Astarion to gather his own thoughts for a moment.

The elf throws himself back on the bed with a groan, running his hand through his curls once again. Twins.

Twice the joy. Twice the work.

Astarion cannot help but to laugh, and then smile, even though he knows the next few years are going to be hectic. Perhaps more hectic than he’d imagined. Before long he’s rolling off the bed and headed to the kitchen, planning to prepare a platter of sandwiches and tea for himself and his two — four — little loves.

[ch0c00n]

ive got a weird story for you

anecdote #1: im not into omori -- never played it, never saw gameplay of it, don't even know what it's about -- but someone i recently followed from another fandom is. anecdote

#2: a few months ago, someone in a discord server for a game i play posted a gif of two boys kissing with the caption "hop on [name of game]". when i asked them who the characters were -- because i like mlm -- they said they didn't actually know, much to my disappointment.

anecdote #3: today your blog showed up in my recommended (presumably because of anecdote #1), and when i saw your header image i had to do a double take, because lo and behold --

-- it's those same motherfuckers.

anyways, this is just a long-winded way of me saying a) thanks for helping me finally solve the gay mystery that had been plaguing me, and b) i was able to recognize the characters in your art as being the same ones from that gif despite the art styles being completely different (not even the colors of the clothes are the same??), so take that as you will

insane how you figured out they're the same characters but yw man

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part two)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 6.5k summary: your night with eddie continues to haunt you. and now you have to work together — what could go wrong?

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: smut with a plot, oral (fem receiving), aftercare, suggestive & mature themes, other mentions of sex (nothing graphic), adult language, use of pet names, mutual pining, emotional hurt / comfort, topics of guilt / regret — if i missed anything, pls let me know!

psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

Eddie Munson hurt your feelings.

Granted, you were just as much to blame. Rockstars are always nothing but trouble and you knew that when you jumped into bed with him.

‘Cause why would Eddie Munson be any different from all the other musicians you’d slept with in the past? He gave you no reason to think otherwise. He never promised you anything.

Letting him occupy your heart and mind after only one night together was your own damn fault, though it was easier to blame him. And you could make a list of excuses, reasons as to why you did what you did, but it really came down to one simple thing: Eddie seemed… different. Almost as if he also wanted to continue this past some single fling.

You asked to stay over. He immediately agreed.

Why? If he was only going to say the night meant nothing to him, why did he agree? Why did he pull you under the silk covers and wrap his arm around your bare shoulder, placing a gentle kiss to your crown? Why did he hold your hand close to his heart, allowing you to feel his heartbeat as he opened up about his past? Why did he let you trace your fingers along his scars?

If it was just about having sex with you, why did Eddie act like he cared what you thought of him? He could have kicked you out the second you came down to earth following your orgasm, not kiss you again with a feverness that made you believe he was silently begging for more — which foolishly, you gave him.

Then you didn’t call immediately, like you said you would. Again, only you were to blame here, but in your own defence, you didn’t think he’d act so coldly towards you. It was just one delayed phone call and he knew better than anyone how plans often change when you’re in the limelight.

Proof was in the pudding. Eddie didn’t like you nearly as much as he led you to believe he did — as much as you liked him. 

And it was fucking foolish of you to fall for him the way you did. Holly thought so too. She actually had a lot of opinions after you told her why you bailed on her at the party.

“Boys are all the same,” she stated while applying the finishing touches to your makeup. “They have one thing on their mind and when they get it, no matter how sweet they act towards you, you’re unfortunately disposable.”

“Eddie doesn’t seem like that,” you defended, which only caused Holly to roll her eyes.

“Hate to be the one to break this to you, but Eddie Munson is exactly that type of guy.”

The cherry on top of this godforsaken mess was your Nana who somehow caught wind of your salacious activities with the Corroded Coffin frontman. She confronted you at her charity luncheon of all places and was actually the main reason you had called him with such a delay, meaning she was also partially to blame for how things turned out in the end.

“You’re not to go anywhere near that boy again,” it almost sounded like a threat. “He’s no good for you or your image. Can you imagine the news? America’s sweetheart canoodling with a devil worshipper. You would be ruined.”

“He’s not a devil worshipper—”

“I don’t want to hear you defending him,” your Nana interjected and looked around, probably to make sure no one was listening in on the conversation. “Honey, I’m just trying to protect you. You’re still a little young to understand just how long our mistakes can follow us around for.”

“Right,” you scoffed, “But I guess you have experience in this area.” And with that you walked away. She didn’t follow.

A few days later, after your brief conversation with Eddie, you showed up at her apartment with tears in your eyes, repeating how she was right — not necessarily the devil worship stuff, just the “not being good for you” piece.

Mid-September 1992, Eddie was supposed to be in New York with his band to perform on Saturday Night Live. He told you that in between trailing kisses down your jawline: “Just in case it’s hard for us to find time to see together,” where his exact words, “This one is a guarantee.”.

You half-debated going to the after party. It wouldn’t be hard to get your name on the guest list, just one simple call from your management team. You even knew what you could wear. Chanel had sent you this gorgeous little black blazer-dress from their Fall 1991 collection, gold buttons at the front creating a v-neck that perfectly accentuated your chest. It was tame enough to keep in style with your image, but bold enough to hail the attention of the Corroded Coffin frontman.

As you stared at the dress however, you knew going would be a mistake. He’d likely view it as an act of despair and the last thing you wanted to do is give him any more power in this situation. So you opted to watch the show from the comfort of your own sofa. Your younger sister Valentine, named after the most romantic day of the year (according to your parents), Val for short, came over to watch with you.

Turns out Val is a big Corroded Coffin fan. Luckily, she remains blissfully unaware of what had gone down between you and the lead singer of her favourite band.

Val ended up being the person who pushed you to do the feature on Corroded Coffin’s upcoming single. She is the person who actually got you to listen to the demo in the first place.

The opportunity first presented itself around January of 1993. After weeks of trying to forget about Eddie Munson, and the way his touch made you feel, your team flushed all that hard work down the toilet in one short meeting. They presented an idea you really wanted no part of — a quick feature that was gonna cost nothing, but make you (and them) five times as much, if not more.

Your initial reaction was a plain and simple no. You had brushed it off as their music not being within your wheelhouse and for a second, they agreed. Only Val had come to the meeting with you. She was only supposed to be a silent observer and take notes for her Business Management module. Of course, she didn’t listen.

“Oh my god! Your voice blended with Eddie Munson’s would make for an automatic hit,” she exclaimed and you swore then you were going to kill her. 

“Their sound is just not my thing,” you explained calmly.

“At least listen to the demo before you make any final decisions,” Val reasoned, earning herself nods and yeses from your management team.

Losing the battle, you made your way to the nearest empty recording room with the CD in hand. Knowing this was already hard enough, you asked to go alone. Val was the only one to put up any sort of fight, but older sister rules and she quickly changed her tune.

When the first few notes began to play through the speakers, you felt gratified because the song was totally opposite of what your fanbase enjoyed — just like you rationalised. However, then the melody slowed down. The heavy guitar from the intro was instead replaced by a more acoustic sound, and the loud drums, reduced to a simple beat. They were a mere decoration to the main event. Eddie and his hypnotic vocals.

“Honestly, you got me fallin’ to my knees It’s like ecstasy, this feelin’ inside of me Let’s call it honesty

You’re a devil in disguise No, that’s what I want you to be ‘Cause in reality, hon’, you’re a hypnotic dream An angel for sure To a non-believer like me Oh honesty, what have you done to me, honestly”

You’re not sure at which point of listening to the demo you started to cry, but you did. The tears are slow, trailing down your cheeks as you clutch the empty CD case tight to your chest.

Was it egotistical to think he’d written this song about you? Most definitely. Yet the sheer emotion in Eddie’s voice, not to even mention the lyrics themselves, made it quite hard to say otherwise.

“Why do they want me?” You asked once you had returned to the room, after listening to the demo three times in a row and taking an additional ten minutes to compose yourself. “They can have any female singer on this, why me?”

“The request came from someone above the band.”

It wasn’t the answer you had secretly hoped for, but you agreed to do the feature nonetheless. There was no denying, the track had huge hit potential, especially as a duet. And Val was right, your vocals mixed with Eddie’s were going to make history. Your reasons for saying yes, however, were a little different. You really just needed to be a hundred percent sure Eddie wrote this song about you.

March 1993 and the day you’d been stressing about since you agreed to do the song had finally arrived.

You had put on the most comfortable yet sexy outfit you could find and done your makeup differently to what Eddie would have seen you in. sprayed on some rose-scented perfume and plastered on a big smile, the fakest sincere shit you had become quite the expert at over the years — your trademark.

The band's manager, Marianne, greeted you on arrival. Holly and your bodyguard, Hank, had come with you to the recording session. You asked Holly to be there as emotional support and Hank was there just to get his paycheck. Either way, you were quite glad not to be facing this alone.

Everything’s fine, you told yourself as you followed Marianne across the building and to a studio where the producer and a handful of sound technicians were waiting for you. Finn, Jane, Kit, and Gavin — in no particular order of importance, their own words. Happy to be working with you, can’t wait to make some magic, big fans of your work, etc. You just smiled. Then Marianne opened the door to the room behind the sound-proof glass and a shiver ran down your spine once you walked through.

Although you did your best to not look his way, Eddie’s presence was instantly known to your senses. As though no one else was ever here, all you could feel was his eyes on you and it caused your heart to rattle inside your ribcage. The sheer fact of being in the same room as him again, after all this time apart, was infuriating yet exciting at the same time. You wondered what he was thinking, was he happy to see you? Surprised? Annoyed?

Holly was on your heels, saying her charming hello’s to everyone you had just introduced yourself to. She actually met Jeff at Eddie’s party so the two of them hugged like old pals and within a split-second, they were off to the side, catching up. You lost your protector quite possibly at the worst time.

“And our frontman, Eddie Munson.” Marianne introduced, one hand hovering over your back while the other extended in the direction of the curly-haired man,

You focused your attention on her arm, refusing to look up and meet Eddie’s chocolate gaze. From the corner of your eyes, you could see as he wiped his palms on the pleather of his pants and held out his right hand in your direction. You glanced at it briefly, the smile on your face faltering.

Suddenly, he was right there. Right at your fingertips. Just take his hand, you thought to yourself, it’s not that big a deal, just take his hand and look at him.

“We’ve met before,” you said with little to no emotion, and without meeting his gaze, then quickly turned to Marianne. “Should we just get started? I listened to the song, I have no notes, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

Marianne seemed to be taken aback by your abrupt change in attitude. She glanced at Eddie then back at you. “Uhm, yeah, sure. Of course. Right this way.”

The two of you silently left Eddie’s side, though you continued to feel his eyes burning into your frame. This whole situation was honestly nauseating. Not only were you forced to face the memories of this one magical night you shared with the famous rockstar, you were also about to sing a duet together, a song he most likely wrote about said night. All while pretending you don’t care about him or the night in question.

Marianne propped you in front of a microphone and handed you a set of headphones and shortly after the band had taken their places. You glanced across the room at Holly who gave you an encouraging thumbs up before hurrying out to re-join Finn, Jane, Kit, Gavin, and your bodyguard, Hank.

Your heart was hammering inside your chest. This was so beyond fucked, you almost wished it wasn’t too late to back out. The only thing making this just a little bit worth it was Eddie’s clear discomfort. He was the last to take his place at the microphone placed only a feet away from yours, his movements reluctant. You still refused to look at him, focusing instead on the carpet between your feet, hands now on your hips.

“You know what I’m gonna say,” Marianne’s voice echoed through the room, “The day I don’t say it though is gonna be the day we make a shit piece of art so, here goes, good luck and have fun.”

An unsettling silence filled the air as soon as she closed the door behind her. 

You weren’t sure how their band sessions really went, who took the lead and who followed. You hoped someone would speak so you wouldn’t be the first, but no one did. Eddie’s eyes were burning into the side of your head. At this point you were starting to think the universe was playing some sick joke on you. So you glanced upwards, first behind the glass to where you located Holly who gave you another thumbs up, and then you tilted your head in the direction of the man next to you.

You exhaled softly and leaned in closer to the microphone before saying, “Honesty, take one.”

-

Eddie had thought about you every single day since that fateful night in August. The memory of you, your smile, the colour of your eyes, how you felt to the touch, the pretty sounds you made just for him, it had occupied his mind permanently. And he tried to get over you, really, but nothing seemed to do the trick. Not the drinking, not the weed, not losing himself in music, not even hooking up with strangers after the bands’ shows.

He was a goner, yet too fucking stubborn to call or try contact you in any way.

But now here you are, a mere arms-length away, and you’re singing the song he wrote about you, harmonising with little to no effort as you stare right into his big eyes. Eddie is staring back at you, holding your gaze ‘cause he’s afraid if he’d look away, you’d never look at him again. He wants to know what you’re thinking. He’s trying to decipher the angry sadness behind your eyes. Not like he deserves anything from you, but he wants to know how you’ve been. Most importantly, he wants to know if you even like the song?

“Okay,” Marianne pops her head in as the track ends, “Let’s break for lunch.”

Everyone starts to gather whatever they might need for the next hour — bag, bottled water, smokes — before following Marianne out of the recording studio. You’re still staring at Eddie and he’s thinking now’s his chance to talk to you. However, just as he’s about to open his mouth to start perhaps the most awkward conversation, you drop his gaze and hurry out the door.

“Shit,” the curly-haired rockstar curses under his breath then proceeds to follow you down the long hallway until you disappear into the ladies toilets. “Shit,” Eddie swears again as the door closes in front of his face. He runs a hand through his locks, debating whether he should continue his chase, though, eventually, he decides going inside would be a total breach of privacy. Instead, he leans across from the entrance, lights a cigarette, and waits. You’re bound to return at some point and when you do, he’s going to be here and you would have to talk to him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long.

The door opens slowly and you emerge, wiping your hands on your denim skirt. Attention solely on fixing your outfit, it takes you a second to realise Eddie’s there ‘cause honestly you didn’t even know he followed you. As you take a step forward and his worn-out converse sneakers come into view, you swallow.

Closing your eyes momentarily, a desperate attempt at some kind of composure in this situation. Ultimately, there’s no use in continuing this childish game of cat and mouse so you gaze upon him.

“Hi Eddie,” you say with all the confidence you can muster.

He exhales a puff of smoke, then replies, “Hey, sweetheart.”

Your heart aches at the moniker and you can’t help but wonder if it’s a nickname solely reserved for you, or if he goes around calling everybody he sleeps with. After all, with the way things turned out to be, you were simply a number on his undoubtedly long list of conquests. You weren’t special.

“It’s nice to see you,” Eddie admits, though his words only twist the imaginary dagger he had jabbed into your heart. “You look… great.”

This makes you roll your eyes. Truthfully, you didn’t have high expectations for your first conversation with the Corroded Coffin frontman, but there was something about him casually flirting as if nothing had happened, that made your blood boil.

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

He’s taken aback by your words and the harshness behind them. Obviously he messed up, treated you with an indifference no one deserves to experience, especially someone with a heart as pure as yours. To hear you say that though, mixed with the pure agony behind your eyes, it makes him feel sick.

About to walk away, you turn on your heel. Eddie puts out the half-finished cigarette against the wall, letting the bud drop to the floor, and reaches out to grab your arm. Surprisingly, you don’t flinch at his touch, not at first anyway, which gives him enough time to step in front of you and lift his hands to cup your cheeks.

“Sweetheart…” Eddie begins in a whisper, thumbs caressing along your cheekbones. Your skin is softer than he remembers and it only makes his heart ache more, mournful for the time lost.

“Let me go,” you plead quietly and shake your head, fingers attaching themselves to his wrists, digging at the dips in his knuckles and the valleys of space where his hold met yours, in an attempt to separate the two of you.

Eddie doesn’t budge. He’s stood firm as you claw at him, trying to break free from his grasp. If anything, he inclines closer and in the space of a single heartbeat, you can feel his hot breath as he dips his head to your level, forcing you to meet his gaze. There’s a sense of despair behind his brown eyes and you almost stop fighting.

Almost.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Okay? Is that what you wanna hear?”

His words, although an apology, didn’t sound like one. To you, it seemed like Eddie wasn’t actually sorry for his actions, he just hated the fact that you were giving him the cold shoulder. He wanted to be in your good graces not ‘cause your night meant something to him, but because he had a bruised ego. A cruel joke really. 

So you clear your throat and call on the only person guaranteed to get you away from his situation.

“Hank,” there’s very little power behind your voice and Eddie furrows his brows a little confused at first, but then you move your head to the best of your current ability past Eddie’s shoulder and say his name louder, “Hank!”

“Please—”

“Hank!”

Eddie drops his hold on you then and runs a hand down his face as you take a single step forward, arm brushing against his a little too steadily to be called an accident. Seconds pass and neither of you moves, each staring in a separate direction while your bodies continue to press together. Eddie extends his fingers. You feel the metal of his rings and the air hitches in your throat.

How come one second you cannot wait to get away from him and the next you’re aching for his touch? One second you’re pushing him away and the next your fingers are intertwining themselves with his. It was fucking messed up, hating him yet caring for him at the same time, and you didn’t want to feel this way anymore.

When your army-veteran bodyguard appears at the end of the hall, you snatch your hand away from Eddie’s grasp and plaster a fake smile on your face.

“Everything okay, miss?” Hank asks, glancing between the two of you.

“Can you call the car? I’m not feeling well.”

He nods. “Right away.” Then disappears just as fast as he rushed to your aid. 

You’re once again left alone with Eddie. Only this time, the Corroded Coffin frontman makes no attempt to reach out for you. Instead, he slides his hands in the pocket of his jacket and tilts his head in your direction. You can see him from the corner of your eyes and it takes all the strength you have to not look his way.

“I am sorry,” he says in a defeated tone, “Whether you choose to believe me or not.”

With that, he walks away.

-

The world hadn’t stopped spinning since your earlier interaction with the Corroded Coffin frontman.

You felt sick while recounting the moment on loop. The sad look in his eyes, the defeated sound of his voice. His body language was screaming I wanna be closer to you, unfortunately, you couldn’t figure out if he was being sincere, if this whole situation really weighed on him as deeply as it did you.

Holly had berated you for even indulging in a conversation with him, to which you huffed and puffed ‘cause she’s the one who left you alone in the first place for “not-a-date” lunch with Jeff.

“Hope you at least got some,” you tease, rummaging through your half-unpacked suitcase for the box of smokes you carefully hid in there, for emergency situations only.

Holly laughs from her spot on the sofa. You can’t see her face, but you can tell she’s smiling. “Shut the fuck up,” she deflects with a giggle, “We went for some friendly burgers. I wasn’t looking for anything else.”

“Was Jeff?” You quip, placing a cigarette between your lips and reaching for the ashtray. You carry the item towards one of the hotel windows before lighting the tip, slowly inhaling.

“You’re unbearable, you know that?” Holly jests, shifting in her spot to look at you. “Just ‘cause you’re sexually frustrated.”

You smirk, exhaling some smoke. “What gave you that idea?”

Holly raises a brow, an amused look spread across her face, and points to the cigarette you’re holding onto. Before she can make her point of you only smoking when you’re stressed or craving some action — and in this instance, it’s clearly both — there’s a knock on the door. The two of you glance in its direction then back at each other.

“Where you expecting—”

“No,” you answer before Holly can finish her question, “You?”

She shakes her head in response. There’s another knock, louder this time. You quickly put the cigarette out and waved the curtain around, your best attempt to somewhat ventilate just in case this was a surprise visit from your Nana who, despite being a heavy smoker herself, would kill you for indulging in the cancer sticks.

While you spray some perfume on, Holly walks towards the door. She shoots you one last glance, making sure you were presentable for whoever was on the other side of that door, then opens to reveal someone you both were least expecting.

Eddie fucking Munson.

“Oh,” he breathes, brows up, “I didn’t think—”

“What are you doing here, Munson?” Holly interrupts, holding onto the door so he knew he wasn’t welcome inside.

“Shit, if you just let me finish.” Eddie grumbles back. “I didn’t think anyone else would be here. I came to see her.” He looks at you then and your heart twists the second your eyes meet his.

Holly tilts her head in your direction and a sigh escapes her lips. There’s a reason she’s your closest friend. She can read you like a book and the expression on your face right now, gaze not leaving Eddie’s even for a second, is telling her to let the rockstar in — whether she agrees with that or not. 

So she drops her arm and pushes the door wider before stepping to the side. Eddie looks at her then back at you. He walks inside, not wanting to waste this opportunity since he didn’t know how long it would last, as Holly approaches you. The girl places her hands on your cheeks, forcing you to focus on her just for a moment.

“If you need me, I’m right next door, ‘kay?” Holly whispers and you nod. “Shout, scream, do whatever. I’ll come runnin’. I’m here for you, this time.”

“Thanks, honey.”

“Always,” Holly affirms then lets go of you. She straightens her top before turning around and walking back to where Eddie stood with his hands in his pockets. She sizes up the curly-haired man, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she shuts the door with a timid bang.

Silence settles in the air. Once again, it’s just you and Eddie staring at one another with immense longing yet sadness. Only, unlike earlier today, you don’t want to run away.

There are approximately three pieces of furniture between the two of you and the longer he continues to look at you with his doe-eyes, you’re calculating how exactly to manoeuvre around them to hug him, putting an end to this entire charade.

Something is still holding you back, however.

“What are you doing here, Eddie?”

He swallows and proceeds to hesitantly walk towards you, past the sofas you were debating jumping over mere seconds ago. He stops about an arms-length away, careful not to totally invade your personal space in fear of you pulling away again. Instead, he leans against the back of one of the couches and tilts his head to the side.

“What do you think of my song?”

You furrow your brows. “What?”

“Do you like it?” Eddie asks, but doesn’t give you enough time to answer, “I’m thinking you do since you agreed to be on it, but then again maybe you don’t and your reason for doing the feature is to mess with my fucking head.” His fingers are at his temple, pointing to emphasise his words.

There’s an ache in your chest. “You really think that low of me?”

Eddie’s face falls at the deflated tone of your voice and he’s cursing himself for hurting your feelings again. He didn’t mean to. Word vomit, is how his uncle Wayne described it back when Eddie was still living in Hawkins, it’s as though Eddie’s mouth and brain didn’t connect.

He sighs, running a hand through his locks. “I gotta get something off my chest, just in case you kick me out and we never get a chance another to talk alone,” he says then takes in a deep breath, “You probably don’t wanna hear this, and you probably won’t even believe me, but I genuinely cannot stop thinking about you.”

Your face softens at his confession, though you remain in place, arms crossed.

Eddie continues. “And I’ve never experienced that with anyone. I certainly didn’t expect to feel these things for you, especially after spending only one night together. Which is why I acted like a dick when you called. I was hurt that you hadn’t reached out sooner considering how near perfect that night was.”

A timid smile circles your features. Briefly, you’re cursing yourself for giving in to his charm so easily. Very briefly.

“Mr. Rock ‘n’ Roll isn’t used to having someone else’s life take priority over his, huh?”

That’s when Eddie laughs, and the second the melodic chuckle falls from his lips, you drop your arms and take a step towards him. Your fingers reach for his instinctively and he takes your hand gladly, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Totally not, no.” He admits. “But I am willing to change.”

“Hmm,” you hum, lifting your other hand to brush a loose strand of his brown locks away from his face. “Hope you’re a man of your word ‘cause I’m booked and busy. Can’t have you throw a fit every time I don’t call you.”

The smile on Eddie’s face widens. His right arm makes its way around your waist and he pulls you in, effectively closing the gap between you. His gaze drops to your lips, if only for a split second as he licks his own, then meets your eyes once again.

“I wanna do this right,” he mutters, his grip on you tightening. “I don’t want us to just jump the gun again and leave things lost in translation, so before we do anything else, I’d like to take you on a date, sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat ‘cause who knew Eddie Munson was such a damn romantic — definitely not you.

“And where would we go on this date?” You muse, “Since we can’t really blend in with a crowd.”

Eddie purses his lips together, pondering your question. He lets go of you and places his hands on his hips as he walks around the room. You’re following him with your gaze, the smile ever-present. Then his eyes twinkle. 

“Well, how about right here, baby? We can order some room service and watch MTV in bed.” The rockstar announces, pointing to the California King and wiggling his brows.

So that’s exactly what the two of you do. 

With a tray of overpriced hotel food between you and the current top tracks blasting through the television speakers, the evening was perhaps the most normal you both have felt in a really long time. Eddie, of course, gave his opinion on every song that played in the countdown while stuffing his face with french fries. Most were unsurprising, like Whitney Houston’s I WIll Always Love You, well Dolly Parton’s is miles better in his humble opinion, or Bon Jovi’s Bed of Roses, the guitar makes the song. Then came number three on the list.

You visibly grimace while moving the now empty tray to the floor beside the bed and Eddie chuckles lightly.

“Not a fan of your own music?” 

Shaking your head, you sit back although closer to him since there was no longer anything between you. “Just not my best song, is all.”

Eddie nods, resting his hand on your thigh and turns his attention back to the TV. Suddenly, you’re feeling nervous. For one, he’s touching you, thumb gently rubbing circles into your bare flesh. Then there was the music video which, as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, Eddie seemed to be totally hypnotised by.

And full transparency, he was. How could he not be? It was a one-shot type video of you singing while walking down the street as it poured rain. The outfit you had on was sticking to your skin as a result, hair wet and makeup smudged. Raw, is the first word that came to Eddie’s mind. Not to mention completely different from your usual vibe.

“You gotta give yourself more credit, sweetheart.” Eddie says after a minute and tilts his head to look at you. “Personally, I like this a lot more than your other shit.”

You meet his gaze. “You don’t think it’s too… desperate? Like yeah, the song is making rounds and charting in all sorts of places, but it’s so—”

“It’s about me, isn’t it?” He interrupts, scanning your eyes for the answer he already knows.

“Yeah…” You exhale. “Like I said, desperate.”

He squeezes your thigh before effortlessly throwing your legs across his lap and pulling you in even closer. One hand remains in your lap while the other makes way around your lower back, settling on the curve of your ass — all without breaking eye contact.

“There’s nothing desperate about you, sweetheart.” He mutters, face now inches away from yours. “I wrote a song too, remember? One we’re actually performing together, which is arguably way worse.”

That makes you chuckle lightheartedly as Eddie continues, “Plus, you look fucking hot in that music video. Anybody that says differently is stupid and/or blind. If anything, I’m glad I inspired all that.” His voice fizzles into something darker for the end of that sentence while his eyes snap to your mouth.

You can feel him under your legs as he presses his forehead to yours, all of him. It doesn’t help that he’s so pretty from this angle. The curve of his jawline. The dips in his cheeks. His doe-eyes focused solely on yours, dimming by the second with longing. And just like that, almost as if no time had passed, you’re back where you both started. Hearts beating in tandem. Eagerly waiting with anticipation for the other to make the first move.

“I really wanna do this right, baby.” He repeats his earlier statement, but the way he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, dragging it down till it bounces back gently in place, betrays his words.

“We don’t have to do anything right now.” And although you mean it, you hope he doesn’t give up too easily.

Eddie exhales. Eyes closing momentarily. He’s fighting every urge ‘cause he doesn’t want to fuck this up again. For once in his life, he wants to see where things can go. But the feeling of your skin, the smell of your perfume, and the memory of you moaning his name so sweetly, well it’s got his heart racing and his dick harder. 

The hand on your thigh tightening in grip, causing you to whimper delicately. And that’s when he loses the internal battle.

“Fuck it.”

He wastes no more time, slamming his lips to yours in an eager sloppy kiss. You immediately kiss him back, hands settling on his neck, nails digging into the sensitive skin. He’s groaning against your mouth at the contact, pushing into you further so that you can feel his cock twitch against your leg. And you’re convinced that if you were standing, it would make your knees buckle.

Heads rotating side to side, nose grazing against one another with each wet kiss, Eddie adjusts your positions so that you were now fully resting on your back as he lingered over you. One of his hands was now on your waist, holding you firmly in place as he starts to grind his hips into yours.

“Eddie…” You moan against his puffy lips.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, pretty girl.” Eddie affirms quietly, trailing hot kisses from the dip of your lips down your jaw. And he desperately wants to stay true to his word so before you get a chance to react, he’s removing your underwear then slides down until his head is between your thighs.

You let out a tender giggle as his facial hair grazes against your skin. Eddie shushes you and after adjusting your skirt for easier access, he begins to place kisses along your inner thigh, drawing closer and closer to his desired destination. Aching for his touch, you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug at his curls. He smirks against your flesh and proceeds to spread your lips with his fingertips, revealing how wet you truly are, then blows several cool breaths over your hot clit. 

He proceeds to gently slide his tongue up and down your pussy, so slowly, you feel every moment of pleasure. Then he flicks his tongue over your clit, sucking and licking the sensitive area until you’re a panting mess. And when you moan his name, Eddie works a little faster. Then continues to increase his speed as his tongue darts in and out of your dripping cunt. 

Just when you think you’re on cloud nine, he forces two fingers into you, his lips focusing on your clit. They arch up to reach that sweet spot he didn’t have a hard time finding the last time and you clasp your hand across your mouth, muffling a scream. He’s relentless in his movements and you find yourself grinding into his face, meeting the pace he’s set with overwhelming frenzy. 

Faster and faster, his tongue licks up and down, spreading your pussy lips further as his fingers dig deep within your cunt, sending you over the edge with every thrust. Your legs start to shake and thighs clasp hard against his head, trapping him in place, while he continues to sucking till you go limp. 

It takes you a moment to recover and Eddie’s feeling mighty proud as he places a tender kiss to your cheekbone before moving to your mouth. You can taste yourself on his lips and it’s enough to drive you crazy all over again.

But Eddie’s got other plans. He’s decided this night is all about you, so despite the desperate hard-on currently concealed by his trousers, he cleans you up before asking where you keep your pyjamas. Your heart soars as he helps you get changed and eventually settled under the covers. 

“Stay with me.” It’s a request he’s happy to oblige. Throwing off his t-shirt and jeans, he joins you in bed briskly. The two of you fall asleep shortly after that, MTV still playing in the background. As first dates go, this one was pretty perfect and you were starting to feel like everything with Eddie was going to be this way. 

Unfortunately, the serene moment was short lived, which, in hindsight, you should’ve known people of yours and Eddie’s stature weren’t privy to normality. 

The following morning, you were both abruptly woken up by a frantic Holly. She doesn’t say anything about Eddie being in your bed, for which you’re grateful, just chucks a newspaper into your lap while you wipe the sleep from your eyes.

Slowly, you sit up then reach for the paper. Glancing between your friend and the guy in your bed, you unfold it. Eddie rests his chin on your shoulder and you both focus on the front page.

“Shit,” he expresses exactly how you’re feeling at that moment ‘cause gracing the front page, with a rather raunchy headline, is a photo, taken yesterday, of the Corroded Coffin frontman towering over you, his hands cupping your face.

[thenameswinterfics]

VISIONS OF HELHEIM

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader Settings: Season 2, episode 4 Summary: Sihtric has never forgotten his mother, whose presence continues to haunt his dreams. And as the Battle of Dunholm draws to a close, you help Sihtric mourn her. Word Count: 6,1 K Warnings: Fluff, angst, missing moments, mention of past abuse, mention on non-consensual relationship (not described in detail), mention of character death, mention of graphic violence (not described in detail). A/N: I'd like to start by saying that it was supposed to be a short fic, but my imagination literally exploded. I'm terribly nervous about this fic, maybe more nervous than the previous one, I've tried to contain the angst so that reading won't be so overwhelming. I know my summaries are terrible, but I swear I'll learn. I'm not an expert in Norse mithology, nor in Pagan traditions, so I apologise in advance if you'll find some inaccuracies. For Elflaed's description I took inspiration by another amazing writer here on Tumblr, giving my own interpretation in some details as well. I forgot the blog's name, so if any of you should know them, please give me the name and I'll quote it! As always, a special thanks to @sylasthegrim, @legitalicat and @sihtricfedaraaahvicius for calming me down during my writing crises (I know it happened once, but your help has been precious), to @lord-aldhelm for helping me fill in some language gaps and to @foxyanon and @zaldritzosrose for a last minute check and helping me with finding a title (Foxy, I love your brain, and thank you so much for sharing with me your knowledge about Norse and pagan culture).

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

A raging storm crossed the lands of Dunholm in the middle of night, the shining moon hiding behind a dense bank of dark grey clouds. The gentle breeze that caressed the tree canopies turned into a violent wind that bent the tree trunks, devastating nature with its destructive force. Drops of rain fell on the ground, saturating the soil and creating small puddles that increased their volume over time. Flashes of light appeared in the sky, creating a spectacle at once majestic and terrifying. 

The bravest men and warriors who dared to face the storm and believed in the Old Gods would say that it was all Thor's plan: enraged by the despicable actions of Dunholm's Jarl and his men, the god of thunder brandished his Mjolnir in the air and unleashed the most dangerous lightning and the most treacherous of the storm. But even the worst of natural disasters could not move the heart of a cruel man.

Elflaed sat on the cold floor of a crumbling hut, feeling the window doors creak and slam violently as cold air and water entered the house. She held her son in her arms, his tiny body curled up against her in search of warmth and protection, his big, mismatched eyes craving comfort in his mother's. Her arms were wrapped around him protectively, adjusting the thick fur on her shoulder and holding him close as her soothing voice sang a lullaby, hoping to shield him from the sounds of the raging storm.

There had always been a hint of sadness in the young woman's eyes, spreading to the sweet features of her face, a bittersweet feeling growing in her chest every time she looked at the little life she held in her embrace. If only the gods had been merciful to her and not given her a son in the most despicable way. 

When she closed her eyes, she could feel Kjartan's large, rough hands exploring parts of her body he wasn't allowed to touch, forcibly stripping her of her dignity, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she felt her pleas ignored. Anger, fear and resentment grew inside her along with an unwanted life, her womb cultivating the seed of a relationship that should never have existed. Elflaed prayed each night with her eyes to the sky, hoping that some merciful god would rid her of the life she was forced to carry. But no child is guilty of the actions of their father, and the young woman learned that the first time she held the infant in her arms, her maternal instincts took hold of her heart as his soft cries filled the room.

And for the following winters, Elflaed raised her son alone, protecting him from a father who rejected one of the many bastards he had across Dunholm. The love for her son grew along with the hatred for Kjartan, which reached its peak as one day she found a bush of black berries in the forest. She was aware of how poisonous those berries were, and had no intention to waste a precious opportunity.

"You will live, sweet boy," Elflaed cooed as she watched Sihtric drift back to sleep, no longer afraid of the storm outside. Her tone was reassuring, trying to calm herself more than him, as her fingers brushed across his tiny forehead, moving strands of hair away from him. “And I will always be here, watching over you.”

It was in that moment that her gaze moved onto the plate of the nightshade berries on the table. She would have her revenge that night.

And her destiny was sealed.

Never before had the night looked so beautiful and so full of mystery.

That was what you thought as you lay on a large pile of hay outside the saddles, your eyes never leaving the great expanse of black veil that rose above your head, adorned with small silver points of light in which you could see all the signs of Ymir's work as he created the planets and all the stars. Your eyes darted in quick motion as you recognised the constellation of Ulf's Keptr, the Fiskikarlar, Kvennavagn and Karlvagn and the Asar Bardagi, your slender finger pointing at the sky and tracing the imaginary lines that connected those small celestial bodies, as bright as the flames that engulfed your house and took away your home and family years ago. 

You couldn't remember what it was about the stars that fascinated you, or how your mind had gotten so lost in a memory you never thought would surface again. But a sense of peace pervaded your mind, every inch of fear and anxiety in your body fading away as you fixed your gaze on the star, losing yourself in the vastness of the night sky. 

It had become a silent ritual that you would perform each night before going into battle, as if to ask the fallen warriors resting within the sacred walls of Valhalla for their protection to survive another day. But attacking an impregnable fortress like Dunholm was no easy task, you knew that. At least not in the way your brothers Uhtred and Ragnar had described it in their reckless plan to take the fortress and avenge your father's memory. It was your first serious battle, and never more than now did you seek the comfort of the stars. 

Your lips parted as you repeated the stories of the origins of these constellations that you had heard as a naive child from the warriors loyal to your father. It had become a habit for you to let your thoughts out loud in your solitude: the cool night air had always been your silent companion through the years, gently tickling your hair and skin as its way of saying it enjoyed your stories. 

But this time was different. Because you were not alone.

Sihtric lay by your side, one hand on his stomach, the other behind his head. He lifted his eyes to the sky, without ever looking at you, while his ears strained to hear your stories of the celestial world. You could tell he was enjoying the little time you spent together by soft humming escaping from his lips, a soothing sound that warmed your heart. But there was something in his eyes that caught your attention: his gaze was distant, pain and melancholy crossing through its bright, multi-coloured irises, his pupils involuntarily dilated.  

Sihtric had always been a shy and quiet warrior, very reluctant to talk about his past and his birthplace unless asked. You could see his eyes flickering involuntarily at every mention of his father, his head drooping and his jaw clenching as the memory of his past came back to haunt him, the shadow of Dunholm walking beside him and never letting go. 

A gnawing vice tightened in your chest every time you saw Sihtric walking around with a blank stare, taking refuge in his tortured thoughts, and not even your touch could save him, pulling back every time your fingertips brushed against his bare arms. And when you found him asleep in the saddles, or anywhere else far from home, you could hear him calling out to his mother in his nightmares, instinctively embracing her as if to feel the motherly warmth he had lost years ago. Sihtric had never spoken of his mother, nor had you dared to ask, until tonight, under a sky full of stars and a fierce war on the horizon.

“Tell me about your mother,” you broke the silence of the night and shifted your position to lie on your side, looking at Sihtric with curiosity. Your sudden question awoke the Dane from his trance-like state, his eyes widening as he rested his gaze on you.

“Lady?” Sihtric asked back, his voice trembling slightly like the hand that rested on his stomach. 

"You told Lord Uhtred that you were Kjartan's bastard son, whelped on a slave girl. We know everything about that wretched turd," the last word came out in a low hiss, your words as heavy as the resentment you felt for your father's murderer. "But there have been no words for your mother, so I would like to know about her." 

At first you didn't realise how demanding your tone was, but when you regained your composure and saw Sihtric's muscles tense and his breath catch at your request, you bit the inside of your cheek and cursed yourself for being so impulsive. You knew how Sihtric flinched whenever anyone spoke to him in a stern tone, but you were Uhtred and Ragnar's little sister: impulsiveness was in your nature. 

An awkward silence fell over you as you both stared at each other, different emotions mingled in the air creating a heavy atmosphere. Finally, after a few minutes that felt like an eternity, you broke the silence and looked away. 

“Sihtric,” you whispered with guilt in your voice, struggling to find the right words. “My apology, forgive what I said before.” You were about to move when his voice stopped you.

“Elflaed,” Sihtric spoke in a weak voice, and if you listened carefully you could hear the trembling in it. “She was called Elflaed, lady.”

Elflaed. That was the name Sihtric called out every night in his unconscious state, searching for a mother he could no longer hold in his arms. Sadness washed over you as your thoughts returned to your own mother and how you felt your heart torn from your chest the night she died. But you had first Uhtred and Brida, then Ragnar, to help you through your grief, while Sihtric had no one to support him. And the grip on your heart tightened. 

“Was Dunholm her home? Was she a Dane like you?” you asked with a soft voice, and Sihtric shook his head faintly.

“No. She was a Saxon, lady. She came from Hocchale, lady. She was taken in Dunholm as a slave.” the Dane replied, looking down at his trembling hand on his stomach. You could still see his mismatched eyes shining in the pale moonlight, watering as he fought back tears. You held a hand up in the air, wanting to place it on his shoulder and give him all your support, but remembering how your touch was not welcomed by his involuntary shudder, your hand returned to your side.

“Your mother,” you broke the silence for the third time, closing your eyes and squeezing the bridge of your nose as you tried to find the right words. “She… I know I am asking you a delicate question, but… What happened to her?”

And at that moment, Sihtric looked away from the sky to rest his gaze on you, his pupils still dilated and his eyes still watering as he looked around slightly, fearing that some punishment might come if he dared to speak the truth. But when he realised that no harm could come, he calmed down slightly and spoke again. 

"She tried to poison Kjartan, lady," the Dane confessed, mustering the courage to change his position and lie on his side, telling you the truth as he looked into your eyes. "With the black berries. The nightshades, lady," he swallowed a lump that formed in his throat before continuing, his voice breaking with emotion, "I do not know what happened that night, lady. All I remember is that she left me and..." 

A sob escaped his lips and the way his body was shaking made you realise he could collapse in front of you at any moment. Without thinking, you raised your hand and placed it gently on his cheeks: to your surprise, he didn't flinch, but looked at you intently, leaning into your touch.

“Sihtric,” you opened your mouth, but the Dane was quick to interrupt you.

“I loved her, lady. With my whole heart, I swear it,” he said with a pleading voice, clutching the pendant of Mjolnir in his trembling hand, in the same way he did the day he swore his oath to Uhtred.

“And I believe you, Sihtric, you do not need to swear to me,” you replied softly, closing the distance between you and resting your forehead on his. Both your hands rested on his cheeks, your thumbs moving in a circular motion to calm him. You felt a soft breath leave his lips and his breathing slowly stabilised. He found a temporary peace in your warmth and you would be his steady rock, shielding him from his past. 

“I promise you, under this sky painted of stars, that your mother will be avenged tomorrow. Kjartan will draw his last breath in battle and his death will be far from honourable,” you confirmed in a soft yet firm tone, clutching your own Mjolnir pendant in your hands. “Do you trust my words?” 

Sihtric was silent for a moment, your words and actions clearly taking him by surprise. But when he opened his mouth to reply, you saw his hand reach for yours, his frightened eyes soften, a pink hue colouring his cheeks. His words came out in a feeble whisper, but you were close enough to hear them. 

“I trust them, lady. With my life and soul.”

And then, in the middle of the night, the surreal silence was broken by two humming voices saying a prayer for survival in battle.

Tension hung in the air as several warriors gathered to form a square in the courtyard, with Ragnar and Kjartan standing in the centre, facing each other in a duel to the death. Heavy blows of swords and axes against wooden shields came from the human ring, low growls and cheers escaping from their lips as the duel became more bloody and brutal. But Sihtric said nothing, holding his helmet tightly in his hands as he waded through the crowd. 

The battle at Dunholm fortress drained Sihtric both physically and mentally: returning to the place where pain and abuse had haunted him since childhood was a challenge he never wanted to face again. Yet he swore an oath of loyalty to Uhtred, and offered up his sword and his life under the watchful eyes of the gods. If Uhtred wished to attack the fortress, Sihtric would obey without question. 

But even his lord could not prepare him for what he was about to witness. A wave of emotion washed over him as he saw Kjartan, the man who had nothing in common with except the blood that ran through his veins, slowly perish under every blow that Ragnar struck, the scene so crude and sickening that even the bravest of warriors could not watch for long. 

Satisfaction first, then horror, disgust and bitterness as he winced at every blow Kjartan received, the ground of Dunholm painted crimson as blood coursed through his body. Sihtric felt numb, a myriad of thoughts running through his mind, remembering his life as a slave in his own house, how his body and mind endured his father's cruelty, how he tried to impress him and earn love and respect, only to be mocked and humiliated in return. He remembered every scar and bruise he had received, and how his body ached with every blow as he lay stunned on the floor after his punishment was over. 

As he exhaled a ragged breath, unrest was painted on his face, his skin turning pale as his mind returned to the night his mother died, her piercing screams echoing in his mind as they had on that stormy night when she was thrown to the dogs on his father's orders. It was a melody that haunted his dreams, begging his mother to forgive him for not being able to save her. A forgiveness that never reached him.

A gentle grip on his hand brought him back to reality, the muffled voices in his ears crystal clear as reality returned in all its crudeness. Sihtric slowly realised that it was over as his eyes rested on his lord, who was holding an enraged Ragnar close to him. A heavy silence filled the fortress as all the warriors realised what had really happened, neither faction daring to continue the fight. 

Sihtric recognized your touch, but he was too stunned to return the squeeze. And you just stood still at his side, watching helplessly as the ghosts of his past returned to haunt him, while he felt the echo of Elflaed’s voice reaching his ears.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you made your way towards Dunholm's dungeon, the faint flame of your torch trembling with your hands. The damp air didn't help your anxiety, and you tried to manoeuvre through the darkness of the place with cautious steps, the metallic smell of blood irritating your nostrils.

You have won the battle, but at what cost? You asked silently over the flames of the small brazier in the great hall, but the soft crackling of the wood didn't give you the answer you were looking for. 

The attack on the fortress had been successful, and Young Ragnar had honoured Ragnar the Fearless’ memory by taking Kjartan's life. But it was a bittersweet victory for you, for the gods wouldn't give you back your father, who was feasting among them in the golden halls of Valhalla. To your surprise, you found out that Thyra was alive, but hatred burned in her heart as she blamed you all for abandoning her to her fate. Uhtred and Ragnar told you that she was safe in Father Beocca's hands, but you knew that nothing could easily mend a broken trust. 

But your mind couldn't stop thinking about Sihtric, and how he was too overwhelmed and confused to return your touch, and how he remained silent throughout the aftermath. He just stood there in the courtyard, looking at his father's lifeless body with an indecipherable expression on his face, before shaking his head and silently returning to his duties. You thought that taking him to Dunholm would have caused him no small amount of pain, and you had several arguments with Uhtred about sparing Sihtric further suffering. But your brother was adamant, and the young Dane was too loyal to disobey him. 

And in the midst of your thoughts, you felt a strong hand squeeze your shoulder, forcing you back into reality and into the deep blue eyes of the Daneslayer, who looked at you with concern. 

“Sihtric has been missing,” he told you with a low voice, and you jolted on the furred chair.

"I thought he was celebrating the victory with Finan and the others," was your blunt reply, feigning disinterest while a storm of emotion exploded inside you. 

“Finan told me he has not seen him for hours,” Uhtred retorted, and deep down in your heart you knew what you had to do. 

And so there you were, searching for Sihtric in the darkest part of the fortress after a long search on the surface. You thought you would find him in the stables, the place where he usually spent most of his time, meticulously tending to the horses: but to your surprise, he wasn't there, nor was he in the servants' quarters. 

A sense of foreboding grew within you, a sense of claustrophobia struck you as you felt the walls of the dungeon closing in around you, the dim light of your torch illuminating the poorly maintained surroundings, the damp, enclosed smell making you dizzy as you saw your shadow playing tricks on you. You were about to lose hope when you heard a ragged breath from a few cells ahead. 

You moved quietly in the direction of the sound until you saw Sihtric lying on the ground, a thick fur protecting him from the cold floor. Your heart ached as you watched him toss and turn on the ground, his lips trembling and his forehead drenched in sweat as nightmares once again took possession of his mind, his mother's name slipping from his mouth in a whisper. You looked at him with a hint of sadness in your eyes, and unlike the other nights, this time you would have woken him. 

You approached him gently, your touch on his shoulder as light as a feather as you shook him lightly. This sudden action caused him to wake up abruptly, jumping to his feet as he didn't recognise you in the darkness. You jumped back as well, about to fall to the ground in a heap from his sudden movements. 

“Sihtric,” you whispered smoothly, raising your hands as you wanted to reassure him no harm would come, “It is me, do not be afraid.”

You continued to speak in your soothing tone as you allowed the fire of the torch to illuminate your features. Sihtric's body stopped shaking as he recognised you, trying to compose himself as he bowed his head slightly in respect, ignoring the way his chest rose and fell frantically.  

“I wondered where you were. I thought you were feasting with the others, or you were resting in one of the fortress’ rooms,” you inquired, your eyes sad as you thought that sleeping in the cells was a habit he had developed during his time as a slave and imagined him resting in his cold, isolated cell.  

“Forgive me, lady,” Sihtric muttered back in a strained voice, looking down at his feet. The Dane warrior secretly thanked the gods for the poor lighting in this place, hiding the redness of his cheeks. “I… I did not know where else to rest.” 

After hearing his answer, you let out a small sigh, saddened by the realisation that he still did not feel safe at home, even after seeing his father's reign of cruelty end before his eyes. 

“Be free to move wherever you want,” you approached him and placed your hand on his shoulder once more, a flash of realisation came over you: you had promised to be his rock under the starry sky, and you would keep it. 

"Kjartan is dead, Sihtric. Your days of fear and suffering are over, you are a free man now," you said with softness in your voice, locking eyes with him as he raised his head, his mismatched eyes silently yearning for your protection. The Dane warrior nodded his head, his lips curling into a small smile. 

"Come, I will take you to a warm place, now," you said as you squeezed his hand and pulled him towards the exit of the dungeon. Sihtric followed you without saying a word, squeezing your hand back as he followed you, leaving a piece of his past behind as he left the cells.

Convincing Sihtric to spend the night with you was a difficult task: the Dane warrior was afraid that Uhtred might turn up and scold him for being alone with his little sister, but you tried to explain that he would not be arriving for some time, too busy discussing the future running of Dunholm with Ragnar. You let out a defeated sigh as you watched him furrow his brow in suspicion, but soon you were glad that he had at least convinced himself to trust your words. 

You led him into your temporary room, one of the largest in Dunholm, beautifully decorated with carved wooden planks on the ceiling and a few rugs covering the wooden floor. Despite its size, the large fireplace in the centre of the room was able to heat the whole room, the crackling of the wood being the only sound allowed in. 

You handled him with the utmost care, looking down his broad arms for any suspected wounds or cuts that might require attention. Desperately chasing away any impure thoughts about his appearance, you were pleased to find that his flesh was untouched and unblemished, save for a few specks of dust scattered about. You almost cursed yourself for not preparing a warm bath for him, and with what little water you had, you tore off a piece of your clothing and used it to clean his skin. Your touch was as soft as silk on his muscles, and Sihtric did his best to hide the redness of his cheeks. 

“Better?” you asked as you looked at Sihtric, your sudden question bringing him out of his thoughts. The Dane hummed back, his eyes softening in your presence. 

“Thank you, lady,” he whispered, leaning desperately on your touch as you continued to clean him.

Afterwards, you both lay down on the large bed, which was much more comfortable than the one you used to sleep on back in Cumbraland. The warmth of the blankets and furs gave you both a sense of peace and comfort, almost making you forget that a fierce battle had been fought that morning. 

You both looked up at the ceiling, imagining it to be the same starry sky as the day before. A pleasant silence filled the room, and the single thought brought a small smile to both of your faces, too drunk with each other's closeness as your hands instinctively reached out to each other, your fingers intertwined as you both used your thumbs to make small circles on the backs of your hands. 

You both enjoyed this idyllic moment until Sihtric cleared his throat and shyly drew your attention to himself as his big, mismatched eyes stared intently at you. You could see his pupils dilate again, and it was then that you realised something was troubling him. 

“Lady,” the Dane spoke quietly, squeezing your hand, “There is one thing I would like to do before we leave Dunholm.” 

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and looked for a moment at how tightly he clasped your hand, as if he were secretly looking to you for comfort and understanding. 

“What is it?” you asked softly, your lips curving into a sympathetic smile as you waited for him to speak up. You were calm, taming your curiosity and impulsiveness. 

"There is a small place, a little far from Dunholm," he continued in a timid voice, looking down at your joined hands, as if he was regaining his courage by looking at them, "We can reach it by following the path of the small spring from the east wall, it is a safe route to take with our horses. It will be a short walk, and when we see a large hawthorn tree in the distance, we will have reached our destination.”

Sihtric paused for a moment and took a long breath before continuing.

"I buried my mother there. At least..." Another long sigh escaped his lips, this time more shaky than the first. "...where I would like to bury her." 

A heavy silence fell over the room, the calm and peaceful atmosphere vanishing in an instant. You stood still, too stunned by his words to speak. And when you found the courage to open your mouth, Sihtric quickly cut you off, clasping both of his hands between yours. 

"I wish to mourn her, my lady. To mourn her properly," Sihtric murmured, his eyes watering as he looked away from you and down at some random spot on the blankets. "I... I know we could slow the return journey, but I will speak to Lord Uhtred and I-I will take my punishment..." 

With an imperceptible movement, you slipped your hand from his grasp and cupped his cheeks, tilting his head and forcing him to look at you. A soft whisper escaped your lips, interrupting his stream of consciousness, his words replaced by a soft sigh, his head unintentionally tilted as his mismatched eyes rested on yours.

"My brother will not punish you for mourning your mother, Sihtric," you told him in a reassuring tone, tilting your head slightly so that your foreheads touched, "because we will go there at dawn tomorrow and you will be free to pray in silence and honour her memory.” 

There was something comforting in your words, a gentle reassurance that was like balm to Sihtric's heart, wrapping itself around your care and love. As your eyes met, you both felt a comforting warmth spread through your chests, an invisible thread drawing you together as you slowly drew closer, your lips brushing gently before locking in a timid kiss that became desperate as Sihtric poured all his love into you, pulling you closer and deepening the contact. 

After a few seconds he pulled away, both breathing heavily, but with their foreheads pressed together, a small smile crossed Sihtric's face. The Dane knew it was wrong to steal a kiss from his lord's sister, but you had become his shining star in a dark sky, and the flame of your love burned brightly in his heart.

And as the moon shone brightly in the sky, you both fell asleep in each other's arms, slipping into a peaceful sleep, feeling the gentle rhythm of each other's breathing and knowing that you would face whatever came next together.

Morning came and Dunholm awoke to a peaceful atmosphere, the days when Kjartan the Cruel ruled the stronghold fading away like grains of sand in the wind. The aftermath of the battle still left its physical scars, the courtyard still painted red, arrows and broken shields still lodged in the ground, the great ram still lying undisturbed at the foot of the gates. Yet nature was reborn after the death of its tyrant, the grass, plants and flowers seemed to grow with the brightest colours, and the melodious chirping of birds echoed in the air.

A few rays of the dawning sun filtered through the window and gently caressed Sihtric's sharp features, and he groaned softly as he slowly awoke, feeling his body well rested as he slept without nightmares for the first time. Rubbing his tired eyes, he turned awkwardly to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. A sense of worry washed over him when he didn't find you by his side, and suddenly he felt as if he had been transported back in time to when he was in Tekil's service, living under the pressure of impressing a father who was barely aware of his presence.

But his worries quickly vanished when he felt the door to the room open and you appeared behind it with a broad smile on your face. Sihtric was unaware that you had awakened before the sun could greet the earth with a new day, and unnoticed you quietly took your horse from the stables and followed the route he had described to you the night before. 

The ride to the hawthorn tree was very quiet, full of unspoken emotions. Years had passed since he had visited his mother's grave, and he had never thought that he would return to bid her a final farewell and leave Dunholm, burying a past he had hoped to forget, but which had made him the warrior he was. 

After a short walk they reached a large hawthorn tree, and to Sihtric's relief it was the same one he had seen as a child, not even the violent storms of the past few days had wiped it out. His eyes darted down to its roots, and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw: the blank stones that had made up the small mound of earth he had imagined burying his mother many years ago had been replaced by larger, white stones, decorated with symbols he recognised as drawn runes, carefully scattered around the perimeter of the grave. 

A sudden realisation came to him as he remembered the way you had greeted him at dawn, your dirty hands suggesting that you had been to the burial spot and tended to his mother's grave before accompanying him. A small bouquet of hawthorn was placed over the patch of earth, and Sihtric recognised it as the flower Elflaed used to pick when she returned to the forest, remembering her sweet smile as she caressed the white petals with her fingers. 

You both knelt in silence at the foot of the grave, clasping your pendants together as you both silently recited a prayer to the goddess Hel, asking her to watch over Elflaed's soul in the halls of Eljudnir in Helheim. 

As the last words were spoken in silence, the weight of the moment fell heavily on Sihtric, and without realising it, he saw small teardrops fall to the ground and looked up at the sky, thinking that a storm was about to break. But his eyes were too blurred to focus on the orange-blue sky, and he slowly realised that the soil was wet with his own tears. Unable to contain his emotions, the Dane buried his face in his hands and let out a liberating cry, his shoulders shaking with sobs. You reached over and wrapped your arms around his large shoulders, pressing your lips to his temple, leaving a small kiss as you held him tightly in your hands.

"Let it all out," you whispered softly, your voice comforting as you gave him gentle strokes on his back, "I am here with you as your mother, watching over you." 

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder as emotions overwhelmed you as well, and you silently let your tears flow as you cried for your own late mother, whose soul rested in Valhalla with your father and the other fallen warriors. 

You returned to the fortress in silence, following the thin stream of water backwards as you chose your route, your horses dragged by the reins. Halfway you halted your march, your pause forcing Sihtric to rest as well.

"Is something wrong, lady?" he asked, furrowing his brow as he saw you approach in silence, one of your fingers trailing over the pendant of his Mjolnir. You both looked into each other's eyes, your cheeks turning red simultaneously as you both filled your nostrils with each other's scent.

“Promise me that, when we have a baby girl, we will name her Elflaed,” you confessed light-heartedly with a shy smile, and the Dane warrior looked down at his feet as his face turned completely red, the redness reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“A-A baby girl?” he muttered, swallowing a mix of air and saliva while his mind was filled with endless thoughts. 

Sihtric fell in love with you the night he failed in his mission to kidnap Uhtred and was taken prisoner, the compassion in your eyes a thing that never left his mind. He secretly wanted to find the courage to confess his feelings for you and take you as his wife, but something prevented him: he was not afraid to face Uhtred, he knew that you were more stubborn than his lord and that your brother would have given you everything, however reluctantly. He was afraid of himself, afraid of failing to please or impress you. Uhtred was the rightful heir to a land he sought to reclaim, and though in exile, Finan was still an Irish prince by blood. Sihtric was only a bastard son, with no land to claim and no royal title to flaunt. 

"I... I am afraid I cannot satisfy you, lady," the Dane gently declined your offer, which was met with a puzzled look from you. He let out a sigh before speaking again, "I-I have nothing to offer you, lady. I have no land to rule, nor enough silver to give you. I am a nobody, lady, and as much as I love you and want to take you as my wife, I fear I could not make you happy."

"I do not need a rich and powerful lord to be happy," you replied, shaking your head as a light chuckle escaped your lips. You placed your hand gently on his cheek, tracing the scar on his cheekbone with your thumb. "There could be many lords in all of England who would be willing to claim my hand, but in my heart I know that the only man I will ever allow to be by my side is you," you continued, still holding his pendant in your other hand.

A pleasant tension filled the air as you both stared at each other, the wind the silent intruder in your union. Sihtric's large hands rested on your hips, your thumb still tracing his scar, a soft hum vibrating in the Dane's throat as he surrendered to your touch. 

"I love you, Sihtric Kjartansson," you said softly, your eyes full of love as you rested your gaze on his alluring bicoloured eyes, "to Valhalla and back.”

"And I love you, lady," Sihtric replied shyly, returning your gaze with the same intensity as yours, "to Valhalla and back."

And the distance between you disappeared.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it!

Taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm

[mossgh0st]

By Any Other Name (Jean Kirstein x Reader)

Summary | Jean realizes not all nicknames are bad.

Contents | Fluff, No use of y/n, Eren and Floch are little shits, Mikasa manhandles Eren, snarky!Jean

Pairings | Jean Kirstein/You, Eren/Mikasa

Notes | This was inspired by @fandominfestation‘s post. Header image credit goes to Portgas D. Ace on Pinterest.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He hates it.

The snark of Eren Yeager matched only by himself, the holler of his cackle makes Jean Kirstein’s spine stiffen.

What’s worse than his cackle? Only one thing.

“HEYO ~Jean-boy~!” The high pitched whine of Eren’s voice bellows from down the hall. There could not be a worse nickname, coming from a worse person. If he didn’t know better, Jean would say even the bricks lining the walls of Mitras’ capital building shuddered in embarrassment for him. Floch’s (fucking fuck that guy, Jean thinks) stupid laugh follows quickly behind, his wheezing sounding more donkey than human.

He can’t stop the lava-hot anger boiling to the surface, shoulders rising and fists clenching at his sides. Now they’re both laughing, and he wants to deck them both in their stupid, snide faces. Jean turns, eyes narrowed to a slit, “Where’s your bodyguard, Yeager? I don’t see your usual evil brooding shadow.” Smirking, he knows he hit Eren right where it hurts, in his puny runt-sized heart. Fuck it, if he wants to play hardball and mock my mother, I’ll play, he thinks.

Eren short circuits and Floch’s jaw falls open. Before Eren becomes his usual flash of rage induced, uncoordinated, off-balance flurry of flailing limbs, Jean stalks off not quite fast enough to miss the tail end of a devastating loss.

Mikasa grabs him by the collar before he can wind himself up, “Why do you always do this shit?”

Jean smirks to himself. “Oh, hey Mikasa. Didn’t see you there!” He calls.

He’s rounding the corner when Yeager grounds out a retort that’s followed by an “Oof,” where Mikasa yanks his collar a little too hard.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Yeager still tries his patience, incessantly. Jean blows him off nowadays, his temper no longer simmering just below the surface. When his pest’s favorite insult doesn’t even make his skin prickle, he knows he’s fucked.

There’s a new factor at play, and Jean’s too preoccupied to care much about Eren being a little prick. All because of you.

It’s not his fault, he thinks. You’re so sweet. If they bottled and sold you as a drink, no one would get enough. It’s in the way you smile, eyes twinkling. How you immediately flush when paid too much attention, or address a group. Your soft voice and desire for the quiet. Jean knows you’re not a pushover, you’ll knock someone on their ass. The difference is in how - with few words spoken and gracefully, swiftly, without hesitation.

So when Jean spends the night in your quarters, warm and wonderfully devoid of the regular scout racket, his mind is far, far away from fucking Yeager and Floch. And, when you beckon him closer in the lamplight, finger under his chin and a glint in your eye; when you whisper “Come here, Jean-boy,” before bringing your mouths together… well, he’s never loved the sound of his own name more. Yeager can eat a bag of dicks, he thinks, right as your lips part and let his tongue explore the softness of you.

With one hand on your waist, the other in your hair, and you on his lap, hands around his neck, he knows for certain that he is absolutely and unequivocally fucked.

Bonus: Eren tries it again and the unintended effect is that Jean gets a raging boner.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

I’ve been thinking about insomniac!reader and Bucky with nightmares that keep him up at all hours of the night— Bucky coming into the kitchen to get a warm glass of milk, but instead finding reader just pulling out a fresh batch of cookies from stress-baking. Maybe they have a nice little conversation and wind up falling asleep and snuggling together?

No pressure to write anything, I totally understand either way 🩵🩵

Cookies, Conversations, and Cuddles » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader

Summary: You and Bucky stay up and eat cookies and have a nice conversation when the two of you can’t sleep.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Insomniac!Reader, nightmares, cuddles, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found it on Pinterest.

Bucky gasps loudly and sat up, leaning his back against the headboard of his bed. He sat there panting and covered in a thin layer of sweat, trying to gather his surroundings in his dark bedroom. Once he regained his breath, he got out of bed and went to the kitchen, not bothering to put on a shirt.

He stopped a few feet from the entrance to the kitchen. The kitchen lights are on and he heard noises in there. He cautiously walked in the kitchen, only to see you taking out the second tray of cookies out of the oven.

“Y/N?” Bucky approached the counter. “What are you doing?” He asks.

“I’m baking.” You answered. “I couldn’t sleep.” You tell him. “What are you doing?” You asked.

“Nightmares.” He answers.

Your heart broke for Bucky. He has told you about the nightmares he has from when he was the Winter Soldier.

“Here…” You pushed a plate of cookies towards him. “These might help.” You say.

“What flavor are they?” He asks, picking up a cookie.

“Chocolate chip.” You answered.

“My favorite.” He smiles and took a bite. “These are amazing!” He compliments.

“Thank you.” You say with a smile.

Bucky watched as you put more cookies onto another plate as he ate some from a different plate.

“Let’s go sit down.” Bucky suggests. “We can watch TV or talk.” He says.

You stared at the cookies on the plates in front of you, wanting to make more, but you do want to have a nice conversation with Bucky. You washed your hands before following Bucky to the lounge room with a plate of cookies.

“What else can you bake besides cookies?” Bucky asks curiously.

“Anything.” You answered. “Cake, brownies, muffins.” You listed off.

“I love muffins!” He tells you excitedly. “I remember when I was a kid, my mom made me and my sister muffins every weekend for breakfast. I wanted chocolate chips and Rebecca wanted blueberry so my mom combined the two and made chocolate chip blueberry muffins.” He says.

“Those sound good.” You took a bite of a cookie. “I can make those for you sometime if you want.” You suggested.

“Yes please!” He says happily.

You made sure to keep that noted in your head. It gave you an idea.

You and Bucky continued to have a nice conversation till you felt yourself getting sleepy.

“You getting tried, doll?” Bucky asks.

“A little.” You yawned. “But I don’t want that to ruin our conversation.” You say with a pout.

Bucky readjusts himself on the couch and laid down.

“C’mere.” He motions for you to lay on top of him. “You can lay on top of me and we can keep talking.” He says.

You smile at him before crawling on top of him and got comfortable.

“Are you sure I’m not crushing you?” You asked to be sure you’re not hurting him.

“I’m sure.” He smiles. “I like you on top of me.” He pauses when he realizes what he said. “Sorry.” He apologizes. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He says with a small chuckle.

You could help but giggle when he said that. You and Bucky continued talking. You eventually laid your head on his chest with your face facing the TV. Bucky stopped mid sentence and looked down at you, thinking you were watching TV. It didn’t take him long to hear your even breathing pattern. He looked over at the back of the couch and found a blanket draped over it. He grabbed it and covered the two of you up with it. He then wrapped his arms around you protectively.

“Goodnight, doll.” Bucky whispers and kissed the top of your head.

Bucky fell asleep after a few minutes. The next morning, Steve heard the sound of the TV. He went to the lounge room to turn it off, only to find you and Bucky cuddled up on the couch and sleeping peacefully. Steve knows you and Bucky get little to no sleep so he didn’t bother waking you guys up. He put the TV on a low volume and adjusted the blanket on the two of you before letting you two get more sleep.

Steve walks in the kitchen to see a couple plates of cookies on the kitchen counter and dirty dishes in the skin from when you were baking last night. He also knows you stress bake so he didn’t mind it. He loves it when you bake. Steve couldn’t help himself but take a couple cookies.

“I smell cookies!” Sam says as he walked in the kitchen.

“I’m guessing Y/N stressed baked again.” Natasha says.

“Yes she did and shh.” Steve quietly shushing them. “Y/N and Bucky are sleeping in the lounge room. Don’t wake them.” He tells them.

Sam and Natasha nodded and got some cookies. The rest of the Avengers came in the kitchen and got some cookies too.

A few hours later, you were still on top of Bucky when you woke up. You rubbed your eyes and looked up to see Bucky looking at you with a smile on his face.

“How’d you sleep, doll face?” Bucky asks, his voice raspy from waking up.

“Good.” You answered. “How about you?” You asked.

“Good.” He answers. “I feel like I sleep better when we’re cuddling.” He says, smiling.

“Me too.” You say with a smile.

You got off of Bucky so the two of you could stretch. You looked up at the clock on the wall and read 12:15pm.

“Wow, we really slept in.” You told Bucky. “I think we missed the meeting.” You say.

“It’s ok. Steve will fill us in later.” Bucky says.

You two then went to your bedrooms and got dressed. You went back to the kitchen to clean up your mess from last night. Bucky walked in the kitchen and grabbed a couple cookies before sitting down at the table, watching you do the dishes.

“Do you have any plans for today?” Bucky asks.

“Nope.” You answered. “I do know what I want to bake next though.” You say.

“What is it?” He asks excitedly.

“A true baker never reveals her secrets.” You jokingly say.

Little does Bucky know that you’re going to the store to get the ingredients to make the chocolate chip blueberry muffins he was telling you about last night. You made sure Bucky was busy doing something so you can bake them and surprise him. You knocked his bedroom door and he gave you permission to come in.

“Are you busy?” You asked.

“I’m never busy for you, doll.” Bucky says with a smile.

You couldn’t help but blush and smile when Bucky called you doll. You love it when he calls you that. It makes you feel special.

“I have a surprise for you.” You tell him.

“Ooh, what is it?” He asks curiously.

You held the container of muffins out for him. Bucky took the container from your hands and sat down on his bed. You sat down next to him. He was speechless when he opened the container.

“Chocolate Chip Blueberry Muffins.” Is all he said.

He picked up one and took a bit of it, humming at the taste and savored it.

“I know it’s not like how your mom made it for you and your sister, but I tried.” You say.

“Are you kidding? These are amazing!” Bucky exclaims.

“Oh… thank-” Bucky kissed you before you could finish thanking him. “You.” You finally said.

“Sorry.” He mumbles softly. “I didn’t mean to do that. I haven’t had these in years and-” You kissed him before he could finish his sentence.

“It’s ok.” You tell him. “If this is what I get for baking you something, I look forward to your kisses.” You say with a smile.

Bucky kissed you once more before sharing the muffins with you. Let’s just say yours and Bucky’s love story started with chocolate chip blueberry muffins.

🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

-Bucky’s Doll

[sadembryhours]

Can you a Josh x reader where the reader helps Josh cope with his sisters’ death?

HUMAN! ♡ josh washington

synopsis : you try your best to help him live ; allow him to grieve and hold his hand as he does. silently, he’s forever thankful.

cw : heavy mental health talk / depections , josh is unwell , reader takes care of him

song inspo ; human by dodie

🪷 if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked. 🪷

Blue and red lights surround you, bouncing off of the freshly fallen snow. Jess is sobbing into Mike's shoulder, Emily holding her hand as they talk to two officers in their uniform. Sam is laying her own head on your shoulder, her hand squeezing yours as you both sit in silence.

Chris stands with Josh, who only stars at the mountain view around him.

You shiver as the wind whips by you, carrying a conversation your way. Two other officers look at Josh warily before looking back at the lodge. It was a crime scene now — closed for everyone until further notice.

"With me," your voice cuts through. Josh's watery, unseeing eyes seem to find you. With a frown, you look back towards the officer. "He can stay with me."

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🪷ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The silence of the drive home follows you as you lead Josh inside. He treks in slowly, boots heavy, laced with snow and distress. Lifelessly, Josh all but falls onto your couch, perching there stiffly.

You frown, "Josh? Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

He mumbles, but you can only hear him saying his sisters names. Crouching, you meet his gaze as best as you can. Your fingers lace into his — they're cold ; frigid and frozen as he simply twitches at the touch. "Josh. Are you with me?"

He still doesn't speak, no movement or sound comes from him at all. You hold your dismay in, concealing it and composing yourself instead. You stand, shuffling Josh out of his shoes and jacket until he's left in his sweater. Taking off your own outside clothes, you turn the tv onto something silly and absent-minded. With a stroke to the top of his head, you leave Josh to make something warm to eat.

It'll take time, you think to yourself. The stove comes to life, warming your house up even more as you cook. The living room is silent — Josh sits as still as a statue. You don't even know if he's blinked since coming in — since Sam woke him up from the horrible prank that was played on his sisters. It'll just take some time.

You blow on the food you'd made, setting it on the coffee table in front of you. A cup of Josh's favored drink goes to the left of it as you leave to get on your own plate. The couch dips as you sit beside him — he's still blank, even as you nudge him gently.

"Eat before it gets cold," you say quietly. Gentle — Josh needs gentle, tender words to help him come back ; help him heal. He merely blinks. "Should I feed you, then?"

A twitch of his lips — it's not much, but it's enough to get a grin out of you. Leaning forward, you meet his eyes. "I will! Is that what you want? The royal treatment, your highness Josh?"

His lips spread into a small, delicate smile before creaky, frozen joints start to move. He grabs his silverware with shaking hands, settling the plate on his lap. Josh stares at the steam, "thanks."

"Eat up," you respond. You squeeze his free hand for a minute before letting it go. Josh looks at you through his eyelashes and you smile at him. "There's plenty more if you're still hungry."

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🪷ɞ˚‧｡⋆

No longer catatonic, Josh still only spoke quietly and sparsely. He ate one meal a day, if that, and only because you pestered him to do so. A week had went by with him simply sitting. He turned the tv to a news channel, eyes wide and seeing each and every emergency broadcast.

Simply waiting for any news of his sisters.

"Hey," you lean on the doorway between the kitchen and living room. Josh turns his head only an inch, eyes cemented on the current weather updates. "Want to shower? It'll warm you up."

Josh's hands twitch in his lap as he blinks. You bite your lip, going to stand in front of him. It's as if he's looking through you ; as if he can still the tv you stand in front of. "Josh?"

With no response, you take matters into your own hands once more. A warm washcloth is held in one hand, a bowl of steamy, soapy water in the other. You kneel on the floor in front of Josh, the bowl off to your right. Dipping the washcloth in the water, you wring it out before wiping Josh's face tenderly.

He blinks at the warmth, inhaling the scent of your soap slowly. Life trickles back into his eyes, sea foam brightening surely until he's looking at you. "[Name]."

"Hi," you grin at him. You set the rag down, hands in your lap as Josh stares. "Doing alright?"

"Yeah." Looking at the damp cloth in your hand, Josh blinks. "I don't think I can stand."

You shake your head before he finishes his sentence. You lift yourself to your knees, raking your fingers in his hair. "Don't worry about it. This is enough for now."

Josh's eyes flutter at your touch as you continue to give him a half-hearted bath. His hands unclench, leaving his side to wrap around your elbows. You pause, rag against his neck as you look at him curiously. He breathes out, "thank you."

"I'll get you a change of clothes when I'm done, hm?"

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🪷ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The nightmares seem to start then. The more Josh continued to come back to reality, the meaner his mind became. Trying to get him in a bed was useless — your guest room was absent of a tv and he needed to see the news.

Whimpering wakes you from the small sleep you'd drifted off to. You never had a deep sleep now, always keeping one ear open for Josh. Letting out a sleepy sigh, you stumble into the living room.

He's already awake by the time you find him. Curled up on the floor in front of the couch, knees to his chest as he cries. "Sorry," Josh stutters, "sorry, I'm so sorry."

You don't know if he's talking to you or someone — something else.

Slowly, so you don't spook him, you take a seat to Josh's left. Your eyes droop as you lean your chin on the table, hand inching to his. You entertwine your fingers with his, taking them from where Josh was pulling and tugging at his hair.

Josh jumps, eyes wide and startled as he searches for you in the darkness. You smile his way softly, "let's sleep in my room tonight. I'll keep the tv on."

You're already half-asleep when Josh curls around you. Turning, you open you arms to welcome him into your embrace. A heavy, withering sigh escapes his mouth and causes his chest to tremble. Josh burrows his face into your chest, "thank you, [Name]."

"You have to stop thanking me," you slur sleepily. Tender, tickilish nails scrape against his scalp lightly, bringing him closer to you. Josh sighs and relaxes further. "I don't mind taking care of you."

As you drift off, a tentative, burning kiss is left at your clavicle. Josh breathes you in once more before he delves into blissful, happy memories of his sisters.

————

sadembryhours © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the name airbendertendou.

[luvnami]

welcome to ai's love shop! ⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆

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