#this life has put countless cracks and tears in my heart

[bongsavior]

hmm. we really were put on this planet just so suffer huh

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Thanksgiving in Baldur's Gate 🍂༘⋆༄˖°.

| Gale Dekarios x Tav

summary: Tav cannot believe the party has never heard of Thanksgiving, a tradition from their homeland. So, they decide to throw Baldur’s Gate’s first annual Thanksgiving celebration as a reward for weeks of hard work.

cw: tooth-rotting fluff, blood, hunting excursion, implied smut and countless turkey-related innuendos. puns. warm and fuzzy feelings

an: Happy Thanksgiving, my loves! Please take some time over the next few days to acknowledge and celebrate the history of America's Native people, and educate yourself on ways to show up for them today and in the future.

ps i need someone with an ounce of artistic ability to draw Gale holding the flowers with a dopey look in his eye please I BEG

“What do you mean you’ve never heard of Thanksgiving!” Tav shouts, nearly dropping the dagger they were sharpening.

Astarion rolled his eyes. “What the fuck is there to give thanks for?”

“What is Thanksgiving, exactly?” Gale asked, gently taking the dagger from Tav’s hands so they didn’t accidentally stab anyone with their manic gesticulating. “Something from your homeland?”

“It’s a holiday, like a—” How to put it in terms they’d understand? “A feast!”

Karlach perked up. “What kind of feast?”

“It was originally this like, fucked up celebration of imperialism, but now it’s just a day where you hang out with your family, eat too much food and rest,” Tav explained to the confused party.

“Why is called ‘thankstrading’ or whatever?” Wyll asked.

“Thanksgiving,” Tav corrected. “It’s a day to be thankful!"

“Again, what the fuck is there to be thankful for?” Astarion huffed.

Tav deflated a little. “I don’t know. I thought maybe—”

“Would it make you happy, love? To celebrate this Thanksblessing?” Gale asked, placing a reassuring hand over theirs.

Tav nodded. “I just usually celebrate with my family, but since the ship picked me up…” they trailed off, that familiar sorrow wedging itself deeper into their heart.

“Then it shall be done,” Gale said, glaring at Astarion when the vampire opened his mouth to protest. “I think we all deserve a day of feasting and rest, anyways.”

“Fuck yes,” Karlach pumped her fist in the air. “So what do we need to do?”

Tav’s eyes lit up. “Well, first we have to figure out the menu. Stuffed turkey, and potatoes, and fresh bread—oh, pumpkin pie!”

“Stuffed turkey?” Astarion asked, quirking a silver brow, and Karlach snickered. “Stuffed with what, exactly?”

“Uh, stuffing?” Tav responded, rolling their eyes.

“What is ‘stuffing’?” Gale asked, fighting for his life to not crack a smile.

“Poor wizard, doesn’t know what stuffing is,” Wyll tsked, and the rest of the party burst into laughter.

Tav giggled. “It’s like bread and spices that you stuff—place—into the cavity of the bird before you cook it.”

“Stuffed with bread? Sounds awful,” Karlach wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes.

“It’s delicious! And you baste the breast with gravy and—”

Even Gale couldn’t stifle the roar of laughter that burst from him, and a flush singed Tav’s cheeks.

“Now we’re talking!” Karlach howled gleefully, clutching the infernal engine in her chest as it glowed brighter.

“W-what kind of gravy?” Halsin asked, giggling so hard he could barely get the question out.

“I take it all back. Thanksfucking sounds very interesting,” Astarion waggled his brows at Tav.

“I hate you all,” Tav slumped back against the tree, shaking their head with a chuckle.

“We’ll start with catching the bird, yeah?” Wyll asked, wrestling his expression back into a mask of calm. “Tomorrow morning?”

“Perfect,” Tav grinned, excited for Baldur’s Gate’s First Annual Thanksgiving Celebration.

Tav and Wyll rose just after dawn to set out on their hunt. Tav ordered Karlach and Halsin to collect berries, root vegetables, and whatever else they could forage around the property, and sent Astarion and Shadowheart to shop for items in town.

Gale appeared suddenly before Tav and Wyll left, dressed in freshly laundered robes, his hair clean and pushed back from his face. Achingly handsome, but hardly dressed for a hunt. “Is it alright if I join you?” Gale asked, ignoring Wyll’s eye-roll in favor of Tav’s lingering stare. “I would very much like to get some activity in before such a large meal.”

Tav snickered. “Of course, you’re one of those.”

“One of what?” Gale pestered as they ventured into the woods.

“Nothing, Gale,” Tav teased, shaking their head. There was always one nut that felt the need to run a 5k before Thanksgiving dinner, and of course, it was Gale.

“Come now, Tav,” Gale poked them in the ribs. When they continued to ignore him, he started tickling his long fingers over their side, earning a loud squeal of laughter. “Tell me!”

“Stop it!” Tav yelped, attempting to run from Gale’s gentle assault, but he caught them around the middle and hauled them back into his muscular chest.

“Tell me,” he murmured against their ear, his fingers digging into their hips as a shiver rolled down their spine.

“Enough, you too. We’ll never catch a damn thing with your incessant flirting scaring everything off within a ten mile radius,” Wyll hissed.

“We’re not flirting!” Tav argued, swatting at Gale’s hands.

“Fine, fine,” Gale huffed, releasing you. “Don’t get your gizzards in a twist.”

Tav snorted a laugh and Wyll groaned, trudging further up the path.

It was a gorgeous morning in Baldur’s Gate, sunny with a slight chill in the air, fallen leaves crunching under their boots as they walked. Leaves of every color painted the forest, bright against the cloudless, blue sky. If Tav closed their eyes, it almost felt like home.

Though, at home they didn’t have a handsome wizard at their back, who kept tripping over roots and sticks as he stared up at the trees in wonder.

“Look,” Wyll whispered, drawing their wandering attention. He crouched to the ground, pointing at something along the edge of the path. “Turkey tracks.”

“Does it have to be a turkey?” Gale asked, peering into the trees where the tracks lead. “The turkey is such an ugly beast. Surely we could do something more refined, like a goose or swan.”

“Who the fuck eats swan?” Wyll argued, straightening.

“I”m sure some people do,” Gale argued, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No!” Tav argued. “It has to be turkey.”

“Whatever you say, darling,” Gale purred, his tone instantly changing, sweet and smooth as summer honey.

Wyll rolled his eyes so hard, his head fell back, horns pointing behind him. “Mizora fucking save me.”

“Come.” Gale cast a spell to illuminate the tracks, revealing a winding path into the forest. “Let us apprehend you your hideous fowl.”

An hour later and they had a massive turkey in tow, Wyll carrying it over his shoulder while Tav and Gale rushed ahead to camp.

Karlach and Halsin had returned as well, with a bucket of wild potatoes, freshly pulled herbs, golden ears of corn, and several baskets of berries. Best of all, Halsin held the biggest, orangest pumpkin Tav had ever seen in his great arms.

Tav squealed with delight. “This is perfect! Thank you!”

Halsin blushed, toeing the ground with his boot. “’Course, Tav. Happy to help.”

“I’ll start a fire!” Karlach said, rushing to the pit at the center of camp.

It seemed everyone was getting into the Thanksgiving spirit, and Tav set them each to different tasks to help prepare the food. Gale was on baking duty, his wizard training and eye for finer details making him a natural at pie crust. Halsin cleaned and prepped the produce, while Wyll plucked and prepped the bird, being sure to leave the pail of blood for Astarion to enjoy later. Tav and Karlach set to put together a table and some chairs.

A while later, Gale was sitting by the fire, diligently supervising his pumpkin pie as it baked in the cast iron over an open flame, and Tav tapped him on the shoulder.

“Would you like to help me find some flowers for the table?” They asked him, an inexplicable flush creeping up their cheeks. It was just friends going to pick some flowers for a nice dinner. Not romantic in the slightest.

Gale jumped up liked they’d asked him if he wanted the elixir of life, nodding his head vigorously. “Lead the way, my fearless, uh, leader!”

Tav smiled and together they walked back into the forest, along the more traveled paths where wildflowers grew.

“Thank you for insisting we celebrate,” Gale said after awhile of walking and picking flowers, breaking the peaceful silence. “I think we all needed a little…distraction.”

Tav smiled, heart warming. “Well, if you hadn’t backed me up, we may not be. So thank you.”

“You said before that it was a celebration of being thankful.” Gale paused, turning to face them, a bundle of dandelions, mum’s, and pink snapdragons clutched in his large hands. “Can it be for anything?”

“Of course it can.” The vulnerability in Gale’s eyes made Tav’s throat close, their heart racing in their chest.

“Then, well, uh, I suppose—” Gale cleared his throat, looking at the ground then back to them. “I suppose I’m quite thankful for you, Tav.”

Tav’s heart leapt, a sweet warmth spreading through them. “I'm thankful for you too, Gale.”

Gale smiled, relief crinkling the corner of his eyes. “Here,” he said, fussing with the flowers in his hands before stepping closer and tucking a dandelion behind Tav’s ear. His hand moved to caress their cheek, admiring the way the yellow complimented their skin. “There we are,” he hummed, brushing a thumb over their cheekbone. “Beautiful.”

“Gale,” Tav murmured, leaning into his palm.

“Hmm?” His eyes lowered to their lips, lingering for a moment before flicking up to their eyes.

“They’ll be waiting for us,” Tav said, even as they began to lean in.

Gale brushed his nose over theirs, sharing labored breaths. “Let them wait.”

“Your pie might burn,” Tav teased, sliding their hand up Gale’s chest, the expensive fabric of his tunic divine under their calloused skin.

“I don’t give a damn if the whole camp burns to the ground.” Gale pressed his lips to Tav’s, as gently as he could manage for fear of startling them, and deep, contented sigh heaved from his chest. Tav fisted his tunic and kissed him back harder, a flame of desire igniting in their belly when Gale obliged, opening his mouth for Tav. They licked inside his mouth, tasting pumpkin and and a few stolen blackberries, so unbelievably sweet, and he let out a low groan.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Gale took charge of the kiss, angling their head to the perfect position for him to delve deeper. He relished in the taste of them, the smell of their skin and the eagerness of their kiss, allowing it all to wash months of uncertainty and doubt away.

The orb hummed in his chest, a lavender light beginning to glow between them, and Gale reluctantly retreated from the kiss, his eyes fluttering shut as he basked in the feeling a moment longer.

Tav’s fingers traced over the mark of the orb on his skin, admiring the way his muscled chest rose and fell under their touch, a slack, slightly dazed expression on his handsome face. “We should get back,” Tav murmured, already formulating a plan for sneaking into his tent later that night.

“Right, of course.” Gale’s eyes finally opened, their color like liquid amber, and he offered an arm to them.

They walked arm and arm back to camp, finding Astarion and Shadowheart had returned. Together, the party toiled away the afternoon cooking, decorating, and drinking, enjoying the mundane domesticity of preparing a meal.

Just before sunset, the turkey was finally finished. Tav and Astarion had spent over an hour assembling and decorating the table, and it sagged under the weight of dozens of plates of food: deep red berry jam, golden loaves of crusty breads, herb-roasted potatoes, succulent and crispy turkey with gravy poured over top.

It was everything Tav imagined, and their heart glowed as everyone took their seats. Gale sat beside Tav, topping up their goblet of wine before they stood to make a toast.

“While the circumstances that brought us together may be less than ideal, there’s no braver band of idiots I’d like to travel Baldur’s Gate with than you all. You have my endless gratitude and admiration for your sacrifices, your hard work, and for indulging my many flights of fancy.” Tav wiped a tear from their cheek, raising their goblet. The others did the same, but before Tav could finish, Gale rose.

“Sorry to interrupt, darling. But I have something I'd like to say." Gale cleared his throat. "There's a kind of magic no spell can bring, and you, Tav, you bring that that magic to our lives every day,” he said, eyes shining with affection. “To Tav!” He declared, wrapping his free arm around their waist and raising his glass with the other.

"To Tav!” The party chorused, aggressively clinking their glasses together so wine sloshed over the table.

They dug into the array of food, trading stories and laughing as the sunset and the stars winked to life, candles illuminating the table and around the camp.

“I quite like this stuffing,” Gale said quietly to Tav, placing another forkful into his mouth. “Perhaps I could show you my personal recipe a bit later?”

Tav nearly choked on their wine, heat scorching their cheeks. “After dessert?” They asked, raising a brow.

“Oh, darling. You are dessert. And I intend to eat my fill.”

“All your terrible flirting is giving me autumn-y ache,” Karlach muttered, trying to hide her smile behind a turkey leg.

“Well, I think it’s a gourd-able,” Shadowheart replied.

“I”m not drunk enough for this,” Wyll grumbled, tipping back his goblet.

“Oh, come now. The meat isn’t the only thing that needs basting,” Astarion teased, and Halsin nearly fell out of his chair from laughing so hard.

“I love it when you talk turkey to me,” Tav murmured to Gale, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

The wizard flushed scarlet and chuckled. “I think Thanksgiving might be my new favorite holiday.”

I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving! 🍂༘⋆༄˖°.

Alsoooooo, I'm collecting ideas for some hoilday fics! If you have anything you'd like to see, feel free to leave a note in my asks! You can see everything I write for in my pinned post, and if you have an idea you don't see there, send it anyways!

[goopysoup]

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..just because I carried it so well does not mean it’s not heavy..

Cicero finds you crying as you speak with the Night Mother.

featuring: Cicero x fem listener!reader

[depressing topics:( inspired by: I don’t love you by MCR + zombie by the cranberries]

[part two?:)]

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The days had become harder, longer, your eyes more tired, body aching with each hit of your sword. When would it be enough? You’d killed Alduin, you’d fought and won the war, you’d done so much for the people of Skyrim but were they truly that ungrateful? Had you needed to of done more? They thought you limitless, a warrior they could use to do their bidding.

It was an odd thing to take in the comfort of the Night Mother, a rotting corpse that had been in that coffin for the gods know how long. But, you understood why Cicero adored her so much. The moment you’d put yourself in that coffin with the mother to listen to Cicero back at the sanctuary near Falkreath, you’d understood. Her body, while rotting and cold, felt comforting and motherly— no wonder they called her the Night Mother, you thought.

Still, while after everything had gone by so fast. The killing of the Emperor, the attack on the sanctuary and the move to Dawnstar- it was hard to keep track of it all on top of your other quests. Being Dragonborn wasn’t exactly what the nords believed it to be, it wasn’t a blessing by the gods. It was a burden on your shoulders and a heavy ache in your soul. Your bones had been crushed, you’d almost died countless times, absorbed the souls of the dragons you’d slayed even if your heart ached for you to have mercy on them, after all you were connected to them by your souls. They were just as much of a family to you as the people of Skyrim was.

Your heart ached as you sat in front of the Night Mother’s open coffin within the Dawnstar sanctuary. It was well into the night, everyone there was asleep- or so you thought.

You looked up at the mother, your kind mother who was always willing to listen to you in the peaceful dark of the night. You were grateful for her, the mistress you worshipped, though perhaps not as much as Cicero.

“I’m at my ends, mother,” you spoke quietly, picking at the cracks in the floor, “why am I not enough for them? I’ve done all they’ve asked, yet they want more from me.”

“Sweet child,” the Night Mother’s spoke to you, her eyes illuminating dimly for only you to see, “they do not understand the burdens you hold, you are aware of this,” you nod, you were well aware. Still, tears pricked at your eyes, “but, it’s not fair.”

“Life is not fair, dear Listener,” the Night Mother knew there was a presence watching, listening, but she knew better than to speak on it, “but you will prevail, you are stronger than many of those I have taken as my children.”

You looked up at her rotting face, your tears falling as you let out a quiet sob, “I hate it,” you softly cried, not bothering to wipe your tears as your body trembled with the force you used to be quiet, “the world is cruel, greedy and selfish. I try so hard to be good enough for them, but I am tired, mother..”

You didn’t hear the footsteps, your trained ears distracted by your breakdown. It was so unlike you, Cicero thought, you weren’t supposed to be vulnerable! You’re the great and powerful Listener, you could take on anythjng, yet here you were: speaking to the Night Mother of the harsh world and the burdens on your shoulders. You were upset and that upset the jester.

“It is okay to be tired, my sweet child,” the mother spoke, “perhaps, a certain Keeper could keep you better company than I?” Her voice was almost knowingly spoke, you furrowed your eyebrows as you finally wiped your tears.

“Cicero?” You ask her, wiping the tears on your hands on your clothes, that’s when you heard a footstep and your eyes drifted to the shadows. This must be a coincidence, right?

“Sweet Listener, who has hurt you?” Cicero finally spoke, walking further towards her, “do we have to kill them? Can we?” He was almost giddy at the thought of killing someone, but in this quiet moment he seemed to be much calmer than he usually was.

“No, Cicero,” you spoke, “if you killed who hurt me, you’d kill all of Tamriel.” Cicero sits down on the floor by you, his hands reaching out to hold yours.

“That’s a sacrifice Cicero and the Listener could make,” he grins almost manically, but you shake your head, “perhaps another day,” you didn’t mean it, of course, but you’d amuse him for now.

“Cicero is here if his Listener needs to share their thoughts or burdens,” Cicero suddenly says, “it is his job to protect the Listener just as it is to protect our mother.” He pats you on the head, it was almost awkward, but you could appreciate the gesture.

“Thank you, Cicero,” you said before the both of you stand and make your way to bed, it was too late to keep your mind awake, you both needed rest.

The Night Mother watches, almost proud her secret plan was working, she’d get her Keeper and Listener together one day, she knew it.

[obetrolncocktails]

Ignition | Danny Wagner X f!Reader X Jake Kiszka | Part 1

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+. This series will include smut, angst, and fluff. In this part: Depression, and unrequited feelings, with some exciting fluff!

Word Count: 3,325K

A/N: This series has been a blast to write so far. I am literally a Danny girl right now (don't tell Josh)! Parts will be released relatively close to each other, so you won't have to wait long for your fix. I've got 13K words ready to publish!

Summary: Losing your best friend and the possibility for more all in the span of 5 minutes wasn't your idea of a fun way to spend your Friday night. But life is full of surprises, especially when Danny Wagner walked into your life just when you needed him.

“Y/n,” Jake pleaded in his too sweet and too sensitive voice, his fingertips reaching out to comfort you as you withdrew within your own quiet, cracking defense. His voice sounded exactly like the one you’d heard in your head so many countless nights as you imagined this conversation, but the scenarios didn’t match in the slightest. 

“I love you,” He spoke again, slicing another hole through your heart. You heard the three words, but not in the way you’d manifested you would. 

“No. You don’t.” 

He was silent for another moment, slipping his hands into the pockets of his same stupid jeans he always wore. “I’m not in love with you,” he said as quietly as he could muster. “But you are one of the most important and special people in my life, Y/n.”

“Jake, just please,” you sniffled, feeling the tears flowing heavier, blurring your vision. “You’re hurting me.” You could barely muster the words. “So, please just go,” you begged him. The likelihood of this outcome was exactly why you persuaded Jake to let you be the one to drive. 

“You can’t drive like this,” he said quietly. “I can drive you home.”

“No,” you said too forcefully. “I just want to be alone, and I don’t want to be alone with you right now, Jake. So please. Just go.” You looked up at him, sure that your makeup was smearing pitifully down your face. “I will text you that I got home,” you finished, staring down at your steering wheel. Those were the last words that you’d utter to him tonight. 

“Okay,” he answered quietly, picking at his nails in his lap. He wore a pained, regretful expression, which hurt you even more. You felt the pang of an approaching sob ripping through your throat, but you pushed it down until he got out of the car. You watched as he silently reached for the door handle, swinging the door open and stepping out. He turned around like he wanted to say something, then closed his mouth again, his lips pulling taut with indecision. 

“Please let me know when you get home,” he said. You nodded once, tearfully. He closed the door and left you alone. You watched through the car window as he trudged up the dark driveway and into his house. The silence inside of the car was deafening, and if you could have dissociated through the grief, you would have. Wiping away the tears and taking in as deep of a breath as you could manage, you reached forward and put the key into the ignition, cranking the car. As it roared to life, a small feeling of relief pushed you to pull out of the neighborhood and head home. 

Admittedly, you had driven almost entirely out of muscle memory, coming out of your distracted state as you approached the last stop light before the turn-in to your own neighborhood. You didn’t remember exactly how long you sat in your car, letting your head spin and your heart reel, so lost in your own upset. For so many months you had let the scenarios and possibilities of more, something exciting grow and turn into something that you had created that was so unbelievably real to you, that you hadn’t truly processed the possibility of disillusionment. You’d hurt yourself even further by scrolling through your camera roll, searching and scanning for yours and Jake’s pictures taken together, his arm wrapped around you, holding you close. His smile was infectious, and despite the stale tears drying on your cheeks, you couldn’t help but smile. You loved him–you always would, but it had become something more. Those feelings had scared you so deeply, but empowered you to take that terrible risk for the slight chance that he too, felt the same way.

It took everything in you to summon the energy to go inside, and when you did, you didn’t even bother changing out of your clothes. You stepped out of your jeans and got into bed, letting the cried-off makeup seep into your pores. It would have to wait until the morning to be washed  off, because you didn’t care. You had no one to impress. Why did Jake have to be your best friend? Why, now when you were hurting so badly, you couldn’t turn to him for support? He couldn’t come over and talk you through the pain. You couldn’t cry in front of him like you used to, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to be that easily vulnerable in front of him again. Reaching for your phone, you sighed deeply, texting a message to Jake as you had promised.

 “I’m home.”

 Reading the happy-go-lucky messages that had been exchanged before the last had filled you with even more sorrow. You’d just have to wade through the despair tonight. There was nothing that would make this any better. 

Just to hurt yourself more, you decided to look for a playlist of adequately-depressing songs, and pressed play. You stared up at your dark ceiling, watching the blades of the ceiling fan whir. After a while, you welcomed the mindless churn of your consciousness, momentarily compartmentalizing your sorrow into emotionless numbness. 

“Thanks for letting me know. Take care of yourself, Y/n. I’m always here for you.” He responded. Even when you wanted to cast Jake away, set forth on your own mission of shunning, you couldn’t. Jake exuded kindness and care with everyone he’d ever met, and you certainly were no exception. You couldn’t chase away the idea of tacking up a picture of him on an axe-throwing board, and slamming blows through his pretty face until you were either satisfied, or there was nothing of the paper left to shred. Even in your darkest, most self-sabotaging thoughts, images of hearts and kissing still flooded your mind's eye, betraying your feeble attempt at resolve. You weren’t sure when the tears stopped, but eventually they did, though you still felt the drying reminder of them on your skin as you finally laid down in hopes of falling asleep. 

The next day came with your body freezing, having fallen asleep on top of the covers. You felt an itch as you opened your eyes, reaching down to unstick your keys and phone from your legs. You let your head fall back against the pillow as you realized that you had forgotten to charge your phone, and your consequence was to be connected at the hip with a charging cable all morning. Your notifications were scarce and held no significance. If you were honest with yourself, you felt just as insignificant, wanting nothing more than to lay in bed all day and dissolve into the welcome comfort of sleep. So, you did. 

***

Days passed unremarkably. You went to work and finished your shifts, blocking out the world around you through your airpods. You regretted it deeply that you had easily let Jake become the center of your universe. You wondered if he missed you, and while you knew that he did, you couldn’t help but selfishly and angrily push away any sympathetic thoughts. But, of course, after you did, you still felt the remaining ache tug at you. 

“Y/n,” Richard, the owner of The Bohemian, the record store that you worked at, tapped on your shoulder. 

“Hm?” You asked, pulling out your airpods. 

“I’ve been calling for you,” he said, looking at you with a quirk in his brow. “You seem a bit distracted lately, and you’ve missed a lot of work. Is everything okay?” Looking down at the chance to avoid his stare, you realized that you’d been shelving records into the wrong area and under the wrong artist. You turned to hide your mistake. 

“Oh, uh,” you paused, fighting to make eye contact with him. “Sorry. Just some stuff going on with family. I’ll do better, I promise,” you quickly apologized. 

“No, no,” He said, placing a friendly hand on your shoulder. “That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I just want to make sure that you’re doing okay. You’ve always been right on time for work. You always have a smile on your face, always so, I don’t know,” he chuckled once, shrugging. “Anyway, I’ve just noticed that spark has been a little dull for a while now.”

Anxiety and embarrassment coursed through your body, your heart rate increasing, feeling each thump pound through your skin. “I’m okay. I will be, at least,” you ensured him.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? It’s been so quiet here anyway,” he offered. “We won’t mention the call-outs,” he grinned, offering a wink. “Go on. Remember to take care of yourself.” He unknowingly echoed Jake’s sentiments.

Initially, you weren’t enthused about being released back into the sadness of the routine you’d created over the last week and a half. At the same time, you had the energy to do something for yourself. “Are you sure? I feel like I’ve been out more than I’ve been in,” you chuckled nervously. He waved you off, dismissing your worries. 

“It’s hurting my heart to see you so miserable. Plus, you’re gonna send customers away with how dreadful you look,” he grinned sympathetically. “Go before I kick ‘ya out,” he said, pushing you away toward the front of the store. 

“Okay, okay!” you answered. “I gotta get my stuff from the back though.”

He shook his head, teasing you. You retrieved your belongings and clocked out. “I’ll pick up some extra hours next week,” you said as you headed out of the front door, the automated bell tinkling.

“Yeah, yeah!” he said, waving you away dismissively. “Enjoy your day.”

***

It was convenient that The Bohemian was downtown. The major inconvenience, however, was that it just so happened to be pouring-down raining outside. It didn’t deter you, though. You decided to take a left at the corner and book it toward one of your favorite places. Apothecary Coffee Co. was a combination coffee shop/bookstore that you loved to go to for as long as you could remember. Throughout college, it was your spot to study, to write, to read, and to hang out with friends. Even in your sadness, the brightness of the converted pharmacy filled you with comfort. As you stepped in from the rain, you were reinvigorated with the welcome warmth of the place. 

“Hey! What can I getcha?” A cute barista asked, her blonde hair collected in a messy bun on top of her head. Her eyes were bright and friendly as she prepared to write on one of the cups to her left. She wore a square name tag with her first name written in a delicate script you could have imagined on any beautiful wedding invitation. Margot. 

You offered her a kind smile. “Can I just get a medium iced caramel latte? With oat milk please,” you asked with a polite smile. You watched her ring it up and give you a total, reaching for a pen to write your name on the cup. 

“Oh, um. Y/n,” You told her, inserting your debit card. She seemed nice. She had beautiful tattoos that snaked around her arms, and up toward her bicep, and she had several piercings. 

“I love your tattoos,” you mentioned with a smile. 

“Oh yeah?” She asked, rolling her arm forward to show you. “I love them, too. I got the full sleeve completed last month.” As you leaned over the counter to view the art on her arm, you couldn’t help but feel a twang of intrigue, and of curiosity. 

“I don’t have any,” you admitted. “But maybe sometime soon,” you shrugged, placing your hands in your pockets as you stepped to the side, in case another customer were to step up to the counter. 

“You should. But make sure you love whatever you want first. There’s a few that I regret,” she confessed. “But I can cover them, so it’s no big deal.” You watched as she wiped the marble counter as your espresso shots poured into your cup. A new customer stepped up to the register, so you ended the conversation naturally, accepting your latte a moment later with a friendly smile of gratitude. 

This was your place. Many times, you’d escape your own mind by coming here to distract yourself with a new project. You realized in the moment of sitting down and taking a sip from your cup, that you felt better. For the first time in more than a week, you’d felt a sense of relief, even if it was in a miniscule way. You heard the tinkling of bells overhead as you emerged from the second chapter of the book you had picked up. The noise pulled your attention upward. As you looked up from your book, you felt your heart squeeze in your chest. You made direct eye contact with Danny Wagner as he walked through the door, his hair shimmering with rain, his leather jacket speckled with dripping raindrops. 

“Y/n,” he said with genuine happiness. “It’s been a minute,” he said, approaching your table. “I haven’t seen you around.” You closed the book and set it to the side. 

“How’d you know I’d be here?” You asked, the question coming out far more accusatory than you had intended. 

“It’s your place,” he shrugged with a soft grin. You could have sworn you saw a flare of scarlet fill his cheeks for a moment. He cleared his throat. “I thought you’d end up here sometime or another,” he said. “May I sit?” He asked, gesturing to the chair in front of you. 

“Sure,” you said, moving your items out of his way. 

“How are you holding up?” He asked gently. “I- I heard what happened,” he continued, looking up at you with an almost sheepish expression. “I’m so sorry.”

You nodded, swallowing back both embarrassment and hurt. “I’m okay,” you nodded as you spoke, mostly to convince yourself that it was true. “He just didn’t feel the same way,” you shrugged. “It happens.”

“He’s your best friend, Y/n,” Danny pushed slightly. “It’s okay to be hurt. You don’t have to pretend around me. I’ve definitely been there. Except I never told them how I felt. And it still hurts.”

“I’m sorry, Danny.” You were quiet for a moment. “I just really miss him. I can��t believe I fucked everything up.” You groaned, covering your face and rubbing at your eyes with the butts of your palms. 

“You didn’t fuck it up,” he argued. “In my opinion, honesty is the utmost form of respect. Do you love Jake? Putting your…feelings aside. Do you love him?”

“Of course I do,” you said almost immediately. 

“And I know that he loves you, even if it’s not in the way that you had hoped. He hasn’t been himself since,” he admitted, sitting back in his seat, crossing his arms. “You both are so stubborn that you don't want to be the first person to reach back out. One of you has to clear the air. I don’t know who it will be. Just–” He reached out for your hand. “Don’t lose your best friend, Y/n.” 

You sat there with Danny in a long moment of silence. “I just don’t feel like I should be the first person to say something. I just don’t have it in me to be that…” You couldn’t come up with the word. 

“Vulnerable?” He offered. You nodded. 

“I already embarrassed myself once.”

“You didn’t embarrass yourself, Y/n. Feelings aren’t embarrassing, even if it feels that way.”

“Then why did it feel so awful?” You asked, chuckling softly. 

“Because sometimes having a heart sucks,” he grinned widely. For the first time in two weeks, you smiled genuinely. 

“Maybe I should get that tattooed on my forehead.”

“I’ll do it for free in my back-alley tattoo parlor. We dole out free sepsis with each tattoo!”

“So generous!” You exclaimed sarcastically, playing along. “You know what I’ve been thinking about? Well, since I walked in here?”

“What?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“Doing something impulsive.” You mimicked his expression, raising your eyebrows with interest. 

“What did you have in mind?” He asked suspiciously. 

“I thought about getting a piercing,” You said matter-of-factly. “Right here,” you continued, pinching your ear at the top, outer edge. “A helix.” You bit your lip, smiling with enthusiasm. 

“A cartilage piercing.” He said slowly, nodding his head. “You just decided this now?”

You nodded. “Yup. Wanna come with me?” You asked. “Maybe I could bully you into getting something.” 

“Not a chance,” he said, narrowing his eyes with a mischievous glimmer. 

“We’ll see about that, Wagner.” You rose from the table. 

“Wanna ride?” He asked, standing. 

“You rode the bike?” You asked, craning your neck to look outside. Luckily, the rain had cleared into a thin mist. 

“How do you think I got so soaked?” He asked.

“Don’t kill me on that thing, please,” you insisted weakly. You had never ridden a motorcycle before. 

“I’d never, ever let you get hurt, Y/n. Plus, if we’re acting on impulsive thoughts, you might as well jump on,” he said, reaching for your hand, turning the corner of the shop where he broke out in a sprint. You knew he was trying his best to cheer you up, and though you thought you would have fought it, his presence felt so refreshing, that you would have been stupid to say no. So, you ran, too. 

The motorcycle was beautiful, and from what you could tell, brand new. It was a completely rebuilt vintage Harley, fitted with the sleekest, most attractive body, with a paint job that sparkled even in the overcast weather. More than anything, it was intimidating, and sexy. “Wow,” you said, your face slack from gawking at the vehicle. 

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” He asked, pulling on a leather pair of gloves. 

You nodded, swallowing, because you assumed that it was probably just as fast as it was incredibly beautiful. “I’ve never been on one,” you said hesitantly. He looked up at you with a curl in his lip. 

“After today, you’ll crave it,” He mused, reaching for his helmet and putting it over your head, leaving the visor up so you could see. “I wasn’t expecting passengers, so you can use my helmet.” You didn’t say anything, but the pinch in your gut only furthered your nervousness. 

You watched as he straddled the bike, his tall, strong frame mounting it with full confidence. 

“Um,” you hesitated, stepping back a step. “I don’t know about this.”

“I promise you’re safe, Y/n. Trust me,” He said, reaching out his hand for you to take. “Hop on.” Despite your better judgment, you stepped forward, taking his hand. Swinging your leg over the bike, you swapped his hand to hold onto his shoulders. 

“Ready?” He asked, turning his head over his shoulder. 

“I don’t know,” You admitted. Your ears roared as the bike sprung to life, and before you knew it, Danny had revved the engine and lifted his foot off of the brake, lurching the bike forward, sending you scrambling to wrap yourself around him. 

“Hold on,” He grinned, his curls already whipping around his face. 

You pressed yourself into him out of necessity, thinking that if you didn’t, you’d most definitely fly off of the bike. You heard a chuckle vibrate through his body as he increased speed, feeling you tighten your grip around him. “Still interested in that piercing?” He asked loudly against the wind, slowing down at a red light. 

“I don’t know,” you said, tossed with indecision. 

“Tell you what. I’ll say fuck it and get that same piercing with you if you say yes.” 

You chuckled with disbelief. “Says the guy who said no fucking way?” 

“You’d be surprised, Y/n. I tend to loosen up around pretty girls.”

End of Part 1.

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[zenkor123]

Peeta Snaps Concept

Fires burn fires burn FIRES BURN the demons, THE DEMONS, they scrape me and rip me apart. I try to be a great mutt in the service of the rebellion, rhis is what I was preparing for right? To harness the fires and aim it at the capital! BUBBLES SHINEY BUBBLES!! all the windows in my mind break, trains derail, fires burn, wires crack. Hold it together Peeta Boggs is Dead, BOGGS IS DEAD Coin murdered a valient warrior, the best Panem had to offer. I attack and kill a demon but I fight it was no Demon that was Holmes! And I almost hurt Katniss! Who appeared like one of ths demons. I run towards the water it looks so peaceful I run towards it so I can know it's peace. Hallucinations of coin and Snow tell me "no, you have to kill Katniss " but I put my middle finger in the air and say "Fuck you Coin!!." I can't hear much but Annie screaming. I see my life play before me it's all hazy and I run towards the peaceful water, I will become one with the water. Everything then turns black am I dead yet? Is there an afterlife and am I there? BUBBLES SHINY BUBBLES!!! But I hear Johanna and Katniss talking and I cry. I am useless, it's bad enough that I have to be part of an execution by Coin but I have to witness myself kill the squad. There will be no salvation. The misery unbearable so I see if I can feed the rats using my handcuffs. But it does not work, then I try to leave the room and jump out the window. I run out of the closet door, Annie is in the other closet. And Katniss screams "Peeeta!" I am restrained by Jackson and Katniss but I try to break free to die. I am thrown to the floor and the Demons come back to hurt me. I shiver and my skin is filled with hives. I can't hear anything anyone is saying, but feel paralyzed Katniss grabs my hands, so hard that it is one of the few physical sensations I can feel until she presses her lips into mine. I remember countless things and feel safe, when the demons that guard the memories poke at me I focus on Katnisses lips and the pain goes away. When we have to grasp her air, I pull her back in so more memories can return to me. She pulls me in the next time. I feel warm all over my body. I pull her in again. She says stay with me, I associated "always" with rape prior but there was no rape, there was no rape. I promised to stay with her and without me she will wither. I renew this promise and feel like crying. She collapses on top of me I accidentally pulled her down and rests her head on my heart she is pressing her chin there very hard and holding my face to the point of pain. "Don't let him take you from me" she says fiercely, I say "He never will as long as I have fight in me" Eventually I begin sensing the world around me which stops being shiny and blurry. That is the worse episode I have ever had. Katniss has Boggs holo. I feel determined to ripp off the skin of the white imp, and keep his head as a trophy. There's no better death then that done in the attempt to melt the toxic snow. Feeding him to the mutts would simply lead to the death of the mutts from all the poisons that are in Snow’s veins. His blood itself could be used as a poison. I'm glad we are dead and see a clearer view of events from the capital, considering that I'm a mutation, I don't lose it over the death of Holmes besides the occasional tear. I suggest when Gale asks the next step I suggest either breaking down holes in walls in residential houses, or going into the sewers. I don't care who I kill as long as I get Snow’s head barbecued on a trident. So I don't mind being unhandcuffed. But then Octavia finds smart cuffs for me and Annie, should we lose it the elastic smart cuffs will tighten, Katniss has the key to it. When Katniss asks how I am and brushes my hair I tell that "only two things are holding me together, you and the image of Snow's unrecognizable mutilated corpse"

I go over the mutts that we will face In the capital give a layout of the mansion and whatever I know about the snowman unit defending the mansion known as the Presidential guard

(The change in Peeta's syntax is due to him finally snapping)

[like-what-the-fuck-scoob]

Thirty Seconds (Little!Eddie Munson x Caregiver! Reader)

This fic is a combination of these ask requests:

Summary: Little!Eddie x Caregiver!Reader. A clingy Eddie refuses to let you go to the bathroom alone. So, you come up with an idea to help keep his tears at bay. In this fic, it is implied that Eddie is regressed to a very young age. He is nonverbal, and struggles to walk without support.

Word Count: 1.2k

Content Warnings: Age regression (sfw only). Eddie crying. Eddie being clingy. Eddie is nonverbal. Eddie is too regressed to walk without support. Fluff.

Authors Note: This type of fic has been requested a few times! And I've finally gotten round to writing it. Little Eddie has my heart ❤️

****************************************

"One moment sweetheart, I gotta nip to the bathroom, kay?" Your voice soothing and gentle, you tried to make this as easy for him as possible.

Since the ordeal of Vecna's curse, Eddie hadn't been the same. His mental state in decline, his trauma responses had been sadly worsening through the months, the metalhead desperate to escape the shackles of his mind.

Though, one particular coping mechanism was rather unexpected to say least, with both Wayne and yourself needing to put certain measures in place should Eddie slip. Today was one of those days.

Surrounded by plushies, blankets, and toys of every variety, the brunette sat contently in his soft play area, enjoying the simple pleasures of life outside of adulthood.

Though, with that, came some more difficult nuances to his regression. Needing constant supervision, the curly haired menace couldn't be trusted alone, with countless head bumps and knee scrapes telling of his true lapse in age. Not to mention his visceral need for reassurance and company, as the little fought his inner demons.

With Wayne working, that left you to play the role of caregiver; a role you were now greatly familiar with, something which you often found yourself enjoying as you tended to the needy metalhead. Whether Eddie needed play or comfort, you didn't hesitate to provide either, a privilege to be trusted by your damaged partner.

Yet, now, as you turned to make your way to the bathroom, it seemed there was a small problem on your hands. With wide eyes and a quivering lip, your little guy outstretched his arms to you, a silent plea to let him come with you.

"Honey, I'm so sorry." You cooed, lacing your fingers with his own. "You can't come, but I'll only be thirty seconds, okay?"

Unfortunately, for the brunette, thirty seconds was still thirty seconds too long. Being away from you felt unbearable, his thoughts and anxieties creeping up on him with every moment he was left alone. Shaking his head, tears began to form in Eddie's eyes at the thought of you being out of sight, left to fight the darkness, his darkness, on his own.

"Oh, sweetheart, please don't cry." You hushed him, pulling him into your chest as you raked a hand through his curls. "I'll be back before you know it!" Trying to focus on the positives, you cracked a smile, in hopes of your partner holding on to the thought of you coming back, rather than you leaving. But the little guy was smart, and he saw straight through your words. Despite his state, Eddie was no fool, and your heart ached to see him finally break down.

Sobs wracking his form, he clung to you with clawing hands, his eyes desperate and searching, begging for some kind of compromise. "U-Um, um, um..." His voice a panic, it was as if his throat had closed up, leaving him tongue tied, unable to articulate as his emotions overwhelmed him. In his anxious brain, he knew what he wanted to say: Please don't leave, I need you, please stay, I don't feel safe. But the words never came.

Holding him, reassuring your love was all you could do. Drawing soft circles on his back, you stayed with him for a few minutes, whispering sweet nothings until his breathing began to slow. It was a welcome moment of calm, but you knew the moment you stood up, the tears would start again.

Wracking your brain, you decided to try something new. Albeit a little risky, it seemed the only practical solution. "Hey bubba, you really wanna come with me?" Eddie's eyes lit up in an instant, nodding eagerly, an adorable smile lighting his previously sorrowful expression. You chuckled, "Okay then sweetheart, c'mere you." Supporting his weight, you helped him from the play area, walking him over to the bathroom at the opposite end of the trailer. It was almost endearing, to see the dungeon master, usually goofy and hyper, stumble and struggle as he shuffled under your hold. His legs buckling, Eddie sank to the floor, perching on his knees by the door.

Reaching for the doorknob, you gently batted him away. "Nu uh, you can't come inside honey." Carefully wrapping your arms around his torso, you adjusted him slightly, positioning him leaning comfortably against the wall. "But I'll be right here. Just on the other side of this wall, is that okay?" Predictably, the brunette whimpered, fresh tears brimming the corner of his eyelids as he gazed up at you. Though expected, his cries nonetheless broke your heart every time. Untangling yourself from his embrace, you finally stepped into the bathroom. "I'll be thirty seconds bubba. You got this. You're so strong." Blowing a kiss to your little man, you gave one final reassurance before closing the door.

Almost immediately, Eddie's sobs echoed through the wood, his voice wavering as he tried calling for you, "U-Um, um, UM, UM." Tears of your own threatening to spill, the panic in his tone was evident, unable to settle without you.

In desperation, you attempted to calm him, to prove to him that you were there. With a deep inhale, you began to softly seranade him, a familiar song in your relationship.

~ Wise men say, only fools rush in ~

The melody seemed to snap the brunette from his mental torture, finding peace and clarity within the song. Within your voice.

~ But I can't help, falling in love with you ~

Sobs faded into small hiccups, screams dissolved into faint whimpers, and a hopeful hum escaped Eddie's lips as he gazed at the bathroom.

~ Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?

For I can't help, falling in love with you ~

Finishing up, you leant an ear to the crack in the door, only to hear the low sniffles from tears that once were. You smiled to yourself, proud of him, proud of you both, before heading out.

At the first turn of the doorknob, the metalhead gasped in anticipation, before beaming a toothy grin as you bounded towards him. "Hi baby! You did so good!" Praising the little menace, you crouched beside him, peppering kisses over his delicate cheeks before he engulfed you in a tight cuddle. "Come on sweetheart, let's get you back to your play area hm?" You guided him between giggles, again helping him maneuver to his usual safe space.

Ruffling his hair, you breathed a sigh of relief as your partner played contently with his plushies, your attention captured by the book in your hands as you settled next to the dungeon master.

"Um." Eddie's sweet sound caught you off guard, the little usually only stuttering when he felt upset or scared. Yet, as you gazed up from your book, your eyes locked with his brown ones, radiant and glistening he stared at you. A finger pointing to your chest, he bounced up and down with a smile.

With a loving gaze, you interlocked your pinky with his outstretched finger.

"I love you too, Eddie."

[kasienda]

Bend the World Around It - Ch 1: Tell Me It Was Real

Written for @marimbles for the Little Bugs' Secret Santa. Inspired by @blur0se's Jubilation post.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1: Tell Me It Was Real

“Tell me it was real.”

She can’t look at him. She can barely stand the pain in his voice. She definitely can’t face it. 

“It wasn’t.”

He shakes his head, and turns to her - his eyes swirling in their intensity. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Tell me that you were there. We were there together, having the same dream.” 

She squeezes her eyes shut. She wants to lie to him. She needs to lie to him. 

But she can’t. 

Lying would be like it never happened. But it did happen. And if it’s all they get to have, she wants him to know it. 

“I think we were having the same dream,” she whispers, unable to meet his eyes. 

“We got married? Had four kids?” 

She nods. 

He sucks in a breath. “That means… you want it too.” 

“I…” but she still can’t lie to him. “We can’t,” she says instead. 

“Why not?!” he asks, but his voice cracks. He’s crying. 

She’s crying too.

“Because… because when we did the world ended.”

“What?” 

“When you and I got together, we lost and the world ended.”

… 

No. He can’t – he can’t believe that. 

“How do you know that?” 

“I saw it. Bunnyx pulled me to another time, you knew my name, and the world was… gone, and I had to fix it. You told me our love destroyed the world, and she told me we couldn’t know each other’s identities.” 

He stares at her. “So then, that’s it? We love each other and it doesn’t matter?” 

He doesn’t know why this hurts more than not having his feelings returned. 

“L-Love is a weakness,” she says. She won’t even look at him. 

“Love is a strength,” he bites back.

“Chaton,” she says gently. “You almost cataclysmed a person. A victim .” 

His right hand – his cataclysm hand – tightens into a fist. He knows that, as a hero with the power of destruction, he needs to put everyone else first, and he definitely never wants to hurt anyone. But he’s tired of always having to sacrifice everything he wants. He’s been doing that his whole life.

Except it’s Ladybug who is crying. Not him. Tears silently slip down her cheek, unacknowledged and it kills him. He never wants to make her cry even if his own heart is breaking.

He’s being selfish. She’s hurting too. She has to give up their love, their marriage, their shared life just as much as he does. And on top of that, she has to be the strong one to make sure nothing happens between them now in the real world. 

He slumps down, ashamed. He won’t make her do this alone.

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

“Honestly? I get it. I wanted to cataclysm him, too.” 

“Or at least the alarm clock,” he says, smiling. 

“Oh my god! I’m gonna hate alarm clocks even more now!” 

He laughs. “Me too, M’lady.” 

Sunday mornings had always been his favorite, where they lingered in bed together for hours.

But those Sundays never happened. 

He needs to get over it. 

“You shouldn’t love me,” he tells her.

She laughs. It’s a watery laugh. “Oh trust me, I have tried not loving you. I’ve tried to give up on love entirely. I’m really bad at it.” 

He slips his hand into hers. She doesn’t pull away. Her fingers curl around his as they have countless times before and as they never have before.

“I love you, too,” he says. 

She squeezes his hand. 

Maybe the dream wasn’t real, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. 

Not for them. 

…

Going back to his room feels like taking a dozen steps backwards. 

He thought he was free of this place, free of schedules and expectations. Free of his father. 

What does it say about his relationship with his father that the man didn’t feature in his dream at any point?

He knows Ladybug introduced him to her parents, though he can’t picture them now. Her parents had come to their wedding, but he hadn’t even wanted to invite his father. 

His room has always felt like a prison, but today, it feels a hundred times more lonely. It’s too quiet, and too big. 

And missing his family. 

His face falls into his hands and he shakes silently. Plagg curls up onto his shoulder and purrs. 

Adrien’s glad he’s there. He doesn’t want to be alone.

But it’s not enough. No where close to enough. 

Adrien cries harder. 

… 

Marinette goes home. It doesn’t feel like home anymore, but she doesn’t know where else to go. She offers her parents a bright smile that fades the instant she turns the corner up the stairs. She can’t tell them what happened. 

She doesn’t call Alya either. Alya would listen, she knows. Alya would cry with her, too. But her dream feels too special to share. At least this soon.

She lays down to sleep, but she can’t get comfortable. The pillow is all wrong and the comforter isn’t warm. She tosses and she turns, until she throws the blankets off in frustration.

She knows what the problem is. It’s that he’s not there. She falls asleep to the sound of his breathing, to the warmth of his body laying beside her now.

Her body has forgotten how to fall asleep without him there.

Which is ridiculous . She slept in this bed yesterday . 

Except yesterday feels like three years ago. 

She lets out a heavy sigh. 

Tikki’s head pops up from her usual place on Marinette’s pillow. 

“Are you okay, Marinette?” 

Marinette shrugs. “Not really, but I don’t understand. It wasn’t real.” 

Tikki shakes her head. “Marinette, Daizzi shows you your true heart’s desire. That’s not something that’s easy to just let go or forget.” 

“I miss him,” she admits, clutching her Chat doll to her chest. 

“Then tell him.” 

She blinks back the burn behind her eyes. “But we can’t!” 

“You can, Marinette. Nothing can stop you from loving each other.” 

“But the whole world ended!” 

“Sounds to me that resulted more from you knowing each other’s names than from loving each other. Chat Noir is right. Love is a strength.” 

“But how can we have a life together if we don’t know each other’s name?!” 

“I don’t know, Marinette. How did you have a life together… for three years, you said?” 

Marinette nods. Three years! They had three years together that no one else could remember. 

“How did you have a life together without knowing each other’s names?” 

“It was a dream, Tikki. The world bent around it.” 

“So bend the world around it.”

…

She thought she could wait until the next day to see him. But she only lasts two hours. She has no idea where he is, how he’s feeling, if he’s okay. She can’t call him either because he’s probably not transformed. How did she ever stand not being able to contact him at any time? She doesn’t remember! 

She transforms and goes for a run. She ends up in their spot, overlooking the entire city. Little blinking lights below fill the horizon as far as she can see. It’s a beautiful sight. She wants to appreciate it, but she doesn’t.

If she didn’t have to protect an entire city, an entire world, would she and Chat Noir be able to be together? 

She’s barely surprised when he lands next to her in a crouch not six minutes later. He takes a seat beside here - he sits so close - far closer than he would have dared only a day before.

She reaches for his hand immediately. Their fingers interlace together easily, naturally. It’s just what they do now. What they did for three years.

“What’s wrong, m’lady?” 

She stares at their interlaced hands.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admits. 

“Why?” 

“I’m just… not used to sleeping alone anymore.” 

His fingers tighten around hers.

“I couldn’t stand being back inside my room at all,” he says.

“What are we going to do?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” he says. “But we’ll figure it out together.” 

…

[abibliophobiaa]

Hello!!! Happy 1K celebration that's amazing ❤️

I was wondering if I could send in a little request!!

Character - Eddie x reader

Type - Comfort fic

Trope - Reader has a nightmare and needs comforting

Dialogue - "c'mere you"

There is no rush, I'm sure you have loads of requests coming in!!!

Thank you so much 💓

sorry for the delay, but more to come soon. hope you enjoy! (700 words of fluff; f!reader). || part of #Lunas1kfollowercelebration🌙

It starts like all the other dreams that come before it. That murky, dark sky—blood red and glinting like rubies, the flash of lightning that slashes across the sky in a giant arc, the sound of screeching bat wings. Constant beating, a thunderous metronome. Your feet carry you hastily beside Dustin, the sound of sobbing hitting your ears. You always forget it's yours. An anguished sound that tears from you…robs you of breath as your eyes behold the sight of Eddie’s mangled body on the cold, hard ground. After that it’s all the goodbyes you shared. The whispers of love against bloody lips, a promise that not even death would put an end to what he feels for you. 

He closes his eyes, like he does every other time, and you scream into the void endlessly. Until your vocal chords are raw and your eyes burn from the sting of tears. Until your voice cracks from the strain. Until you can’t scream anymore. Until Robin eventually has to pull you away from his broken form, running her fingers through your hair, telling you he’s fine. 

Because Nancy heard a heartbeat and felt it too, because he’s not gone, he’s still got life within him, it doesn’t end now…

You jump with a start, chest heaving as you blink up at your bedroom ceiling. The room is still dark, the alarm clock to your left alerting you it’s only three in the morning. Eddie has to be up in two hours for his job at the local automobile repair shop. Eddie, who sleeps beside you every night; Eddie who has slept beside you every night for the past year. It’s 1987, Vecna is gone, Eddie is alive. Eddie, with his breath that puffs against your collar bone, a hand curling low around your hip, drawing up your borrowed Hellfire shirt about your hips. Eddie, who had kissed you the night before and reached over your head to tug the chain on your bedside lamp, before settling down with you pulled close to his form. 

Eddie, who slowly rouses beside you, dark eyes popping open to take in your face. His reaction is immediate. He lets out a sympathetic hum as he whispers, “C’mere you,” and you press your face into the curve of his chest, right over where his heart thrums loud and familiar in your ears. Your fingers slide up to rest beside your cheek, relishing in the slow rise and fall of his torso, the reminder of life within the boy who holds your heart in his hands. “Did you have another nightmare?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, sliding your free arm up and around his side, drifting along the skin beneath his tattered tee stretched taut over his shoulders. He’s warm beneath your fingertips, a tether for your weary soul. “I’ll be fine. You can go back to bed. You have to be up soon anyway.” 

“Can’t sleep when my favorite girl can’t sleep. Wanna go for another walk?” 

Minutes later, after you’ve pulled on a pair of sweats and Eddie’s done the same, the two of you trudge along the streets near your apartment, fingers brushing under pale moonlight while the rest of Hawkins sleeps. You’ve walked these roads countless times now, both on the nights when you’ve woken gasping for air, and the ones where Eddie shoots up ramrod straight beside you, pleading with anyone who might hear for the pain to stop. The brush of chilly winter air dances along your cheeks as you push closer to Eddie’s side, glancing up at his side profile, his palm curling tighter around your own. 

“You know I’ll never leave you, right?” It’s his vow everyday, but a gentle reminder every time either of you has one of these nights. You squeeze his palm tighter, relishing in the warmth of his chest, the solidity of his form. 

“And you know I love you, right?” It’s yours back, a whisper in the night, punctuated by the softest brush of your lips against his cheek. 

He shifts his face enough to kiss you. 

Slow, soft, warm—an assurance of the soul. 

“Always.”

[rennorthernlights]

Having unhealthy thoughts about John Price but as a God.

TW- Blood, mentions of death, John wanting a wife and kids. (Give that man a baby pls)

GodJohn whose’s the God of Battlefields, Logic, Weaponry, Cunning and so on. GodJohn that has a massive temple that many soldiers go to for his blessings. GodJohn that is also a Protector of Families and Children, that when called upon he’ll be on the edge of the property line guarding and waiting.

GodJohn that stands tall and fierce, rarely bleeding the gold that is his lif-blood. GodJohn that prefers smoked offerings and devotional and sacred acts over gifts, wealth, and baseless physical offerings. If given a gift then it has to really mean something from the giver. Something that took time and care to give.

He does prefer to have people devote themselves to him though. What better way to prove that you’re worthy of protection than to devote yourself to him?

Countless years of battle that hounds him into well powerful killing machine. Any blade working effortlessly in his hand just as well as the reins of an animal. GodJohn that has taken part in battles and wars for the thrill. That as much as he craves fighting he will also put more at stake to protect innocents. Like a bloodhound that can just sniff out whose’s good and whose’s bad.

After centuries he finally thinks of something other than War and Fighting. GodJohn that wants a wife, that wants to settle down and have children. GodJohn that only cared about winning until he would see the soldiers he blessed come home to their families and thinking, “I want that. No— I need that.” He hasn’t lost before in a battle and matters of the heart are no different. Now he wants to win the heart of the pretty girl that lives near his main temple.

A walking temptation that smells earthy and sweet, a mix of something far more potent than just human. Far too many times he’s tempted to scoop her up and keep her away. But can’t due to his own self-imposed rule of not intervening. Doesn’t mean he won’t leave gifts for her. Best cut meats and furs, dresses, knives, handmade necklaces, anything he’d believe would be good.

Though his patience is thinning whenever he ‘accidentally’ catches her bathing in the lake by the forests. ‘Accidentally’ watching the water drop down her unmarred skin. Purely coincidental that her clothes might go missing as she laughs and plays in the water, after all it’s a forest. Animals could’ve taken it.

GodJohn that is nearly coming down from the heavens when his woman runs and stumbles into his temple. Bleeding out and wounded, the villagers chanting to “Grab the witch!! Burn the witch!!” No doubt that must be the reason that she came in since she’s never stepped foot in before.

GodJohn on the edge of his throne keeping his eyes solely on her as her bloodied hands grasp his statue and starts to beg as the villagers pound against the wooden door that won’t hold for long. He cannot move and intervene unless called upon but his resolve is waning.

“Come on little dove, say it. Say what I need to hear.” Thick, scarred hands clenching as he’s standing up at the ready. Already grabbing his sword, darken blue eyes solely on the woman so helplessly bleeding out onto his sacred statue. Her blood staining the marble floors like a lamb to the slaughter.

Breath catching in his throat as she opens her mouth, his heart practically stopping to strain to hear her meek and mumbled prayer.

“Oh, great God of the Battlefield. Hear my plea. Protect me and my life is yours!”

Shaky breaths as the wooden door cracks, the yells of anger outside making everything seem oh so hopeless. Promising a violent end. Tears falling down her face as she curls and waits for her death that will surely come. Her plea must’ve fallen on deaf ears until a thundering voice booms from within the temple. The ground shaking.

“I’ve heard your plea, little dove. You are mine.”

[ruruumin]

silence.

₊˚ ᗢ i still write letters for you.

⤷ unmanaged feelings put into story form.

“When I’m with you, words aren’t needed. A fleeting gaze with a smile on your lips is enough for me.” I don’t need anything else. If it means pulling out my heart, or bringing down the heavens for you to believe me, I would do it without a second of hesitation. I would do everything just to see your smile just a few more times. A little more. A little closer. 

I still want to admire the sweetness of your teeth and the warmth that eludes in your eyes. I want to observe the smallest of details and burn them into my memory so I can recreate them in the stars. I want to continue grasping your hand in mine, to merge our bodies as one as if we were made for each other.  If you could stay longer, that would be enough for me. 

“Every day that approaches without you flows in a blur.” It hurts me when we are away. I know that this is the right thing to do. The only thing we could do. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less. I must resist the voice that calls out to you, that begs for you to say my name. It’s like a siren’s call, luring me into the deep sea. 

I do not want to drown. I don’t want to see your likeness rippling through the water as I am crushed by the weight of the earth. I want to be able to reach out to you. To kiss your hand. To caress your cheek. To hold onto you as if the whole galaxy was going to collapse on itself. I want to continue seeing you, no matter how distant you are. Or how difficult it is. Or how confusing you may be. I know that you are worth it. 

“Our own memories will never be forgotten.” I like to look back on our photos, even when I’m wiping my eyes while shedding tears, I can’t bring myself to lose these parts. I no longer want to forget about us. Although it hurts me. When it stings and pokes at my heart, I cannot bear to lose you, or the memories we’ve created together. Days spent staring at the ceiling, talking to you on the phone, and listening to your carefree laughter were what made the mundane special. 

I still miss the days we spent doing nothing. Whispering to each other words of affection underneath the covers, trying to hide from our roommates and parents. But I could never truly conceal my love for you. It was written within the stars. Every mole and dot on my body was written for you. For you to graze and kiss, and love. I swear that I was built and created for you. 

It was a lie that I told you. I would never be able to forget about you. Part of me might have wanted to at one point. However, it has been proven time and time again, that I could never escape your fleeting image. I could never stop dreaming about you. I could never stop seeing you in everything I do, see, touch, and love. “So it’s okay to be a little sad. I’ll be able to recognize you, no matter what you look like.” 

“Even if we go back again, I’ll hold your hand. As the countless pushes and pulls, that only we can understand,” It hurts me when I dream of holding your hand. When I remember the times you’d interlace your fingers with mine, slipping through the cracks that were created for you, I get shivers. It is an experience I’ve never felt with anyone else. And something that I wouldn’t want to share with anyone else.

For you are the only star I look up to at night. The only one I wish upon every day. 

“Piles up, one by one, with our own language. That fills the whole world.” My once colorless world had been filled with life. When you came down to me like a fallen star, I had caught you. I had wrapped my arms around you tightly, pleading that you never go back. I don’t want to lose the one person who had given me a chance. The one person who painted a mural of our love. The one person who still exists as my inspiration. The one singular person, who taught me more than I could have ever known, or hoped for. 

It hurts me a lot to think that I was so careless of you. It was so foolish of me to believe that it could last forever with me. Had I abandoned my childish feelings, and swore to you with my whole heart that day, perhaps things could have been different. Had I tossed aside my pride, to scream to you one last time, to stay, I would have done everything in my power to stay.

I would rope the moon back and forth if it meant you could touch the crevices. I would cover the sun if it interrupted your sleep. I would create a world from scratch just for you, just for us to exist in. A place in which we could live in a big house like you wanted. A home filled with rowdy pets and a garden filled with flowers that exist to convey my love for you. If this was going to be our home, I’d like to stay here forever. With you.

Because “I love you.”

[christylove94]

Everlasting - Part Two - II

Pairing: Dongfang Qingcang/Xiao Lanhua

Chapter Tag: Graphic depictions of violence, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, slightly suggestive themes, angst

“What has Dongfang Qingcang learned of Shuiyuntian from you?”

Jerky twitches of her head and heaving sobs bow her body as much as her restrained arms will allow.

Strings of mutilated fiber and bloodied flesh come free with the whip by the time he releases his power.

“What has Dongfang Qingcang promised you in return for your betrayal?”

“He didn't– He didn't—!”

She feels nothing and everything. A throbbing fever eating her alive from the inside out. Her heart pumping blood from the flayed meat of her arms. A sure death on the horizon as the whips slice down, down, down. Countless. Endless. 

“What are Dongfang Qingcang's plans for Shuiyuntian?”

“I'll go to Haotian Tower!” A blood curdling, animalistic holler rends the air from her ruined throat. “PLEASE ANYTHING—”

The crack across her shoulder blades sends the contents of her stomach, splattering atop crimson pools.

The next splits open the gossamer material of her robes.

Her back feels swollen, throbbing.

Her skin begins to peel away.

Crimson droplets add to the blood-saturated ground.

Shredded flesh and muscle to match her ruined arms.

Double vision with creeping black edges.

Choking, dry retching.

Wordless screams and anguished howls. 

A tearful realization that she will die here. In ruthless torture. 

All alone. 

“You think you're allowed to be spared for what you have done to the people of Shuiyuntian?” Emperor Yunzhong growls with a raised chin and abhorrence twisting his sneer. “You had to have known your life would end in blood and suffering, the moment you tied your destiny to Dongfang Qingcang's.”

The sustained strain of her heart finally begins to waver. She doesn't fight to stay, accepting that the cold, scornful judgment of her people will be the last she bears with a shattered heart. When she's grabbed by the shoulder and yanked down into the enclosing darkness of oblivion, she closes her eyes. 

Lets go. 

Only to discover oblivion disrupted by slanted streaks of moonlight. 

Heart pounding at a blistering tempo, she casts her gaze wildly about. 

Da Mutou. An arm's length away. His warm hand, a balm on her shoulder. 

Choking on the frenzied speed of her breaths, she flops to one side in her haste, letting out a strangled cry. Writhing for only a moment, desperation and adrenaline takes over, putting her quivering legs into position to propel herself at him. Her face collides with his stomach, his exclamations lost to the ringing in her ears. 

Her arms, she discovers in fits and bursts by some miracle, have mobility left. Cheeks growing damp in preparation, she drags them up, keening and sobbing. The shredded strips of fiber and meat induce an agony so overwhelming, so blinding, her entire body clenches. She gags. Violently.

There's a hum of washed out sound pressing against the barrier around her ears. His hands catch her waist, disturbing her trajectory, but her weak grasp on his robes has settled; even if it's the last thing she does, she uses her legs to further push herself against him, until she collapses half on top of him, face smooshed into his sternum. 

“D-da Mutou!” she gasps, voice thin and frenetic, “Know you're angry– please need– please help me please don't let them– please not alone– pleasepleasepleaseplease—!”

Abruptly air ceases to exist. 

My lungs. She opens her mouth wide, but nothing comes in. I-I can't—

She goes to bring fingers curled like claws to her throat, determined to cut herself open to force air in, to—

But Da Mutou has bound her arms to her sides with his own. A clatter sounds in her ears before he's lying flat with her stretched atop him. Then he's squeezing her closer, and closer, and closer still.

Her legs jerk weakly against his as her continuous, reedy gasp grows thinner still. 

The band of his hold cinches further and further until the ache of her bones is all she knows. 

The pressure is almost too much, the panicked thought emerges somewhere within the chaos in her mind, I'll shatter if he doesn't— Please—

Something gives. 

Her muscles convulse once, falling limp. Her lungs shrink, then inflate to maximum capacity with the ghastly sound of someone coming up from water after several minutes without. Her exhale is rough, partial before she's inhaling again, on repeat until her breathing is a deep, if not a shaky, flow of crests and troughs. The frantic rattle of her straining heart slows a fraction, and she feels his hold loosen up a tad in response. 

Her throat grows swollen and her nose and eyes burn. Full bodied sobs roll from her shoulders and down her torso in broken quakes she can't control. Her skin feels oversensitive, raw with random flinches and spasms. Whimpers mix into her sorrow as she clings to him as best as she can, face smothered against his clavicle. 

The sensation will last for hours. She has felt the remnants of similar nightmares twice before, each progressively worse than the last, and she just wants it to go away. The fear, the panic, her body's expectation of further suffering. 

She is so tired. 

Da Mutou does not let her go. The pulse of his spirit energy is in pace with her panic-stricken heart as it flicks across her skin, enveloping her being the way he does her body. 

“He will suffer for this. You have my word, Xiǎo Huāyāo. Infinitely more than you can ever imagine,” he assures her with glacial malevolence dripping from every growled consonant and vowel, as if he's foaming at the mouth, raring to go back to Shuiyuntian this instant to make his statement one of past fact. “And then he will die one way or another. By my hand when the opportunity presents itself.”

The vibrations of his voice penetrate her ribs and torso, disrupting the misery harshly wrung from her pained body, causing her cries to slow. Although he says no more, his breath is still there, his heart a beating thump. She closes her eyes and tries to focus on that, not the crackling whip, not the whistle, the connection slicing her to pieces again and again and again—

She twitches, muscles tightening viciously, drawing a frightened whimper from her throat. She squeezes her eyes tight, presses her face to his chest harder as her head spins and spins.

At first hazy, but growing clearer with each accelerating breath, she sees Emperor Yunzhong's frigid, heartless stare take shape before her eyes, feels the indifferent stare of thousands pressing into her from all sides. A cold sweat breaks out across her shuddering back.

Her hands clench his robe so tight her nails bite into flesh through the material.

He's here, right? I didn't imagine it. Da Mutou's… Is he really not here…? I don't-I can't feel… 

“Don't go, Da Mutou,” she starts to babble, wide eyed, seeing grayish white ground splattered with blood and sick right before her eyes. Smells the pungent fumes of approaching death. Starts to cringe away from the buzz that comes right before— “Don't leave! Please, don't go! Don't let him—”

“I'm here, Xiǎo Huāyāo,” clear, smooth tones pierce through the whine in her ears. His arms tighten, and the near pain of her bones meshing against his causes her unsteady breaths to ease again. 

“You need to hear my voice,” he says as if he's simply voicing his conclusion for her benefit.

The vibrations his words form pulses through her body, the familiar tones stimulating her ears. Her rigidity softens and the horrific image loses a majority of its clarity, giving way to the darkened room with moonlight streaks and faint amber from distant candlelight. But more importantly, the disheveled robe not quite closed over one shoulder, allowing her the sight of a pale collar bone her eyes latch onto like a lifeline. Da Mutou is real, around her, beneath her. Breathing flesh and bone. 

Her spiraling mind starts to slow one painstaking revolution at a time. 

“I could tell you the horrors I would like to put that lowlife excrement solely fit to choke on the filth at the bottom of my boot through,” the words slide off his tongue as if he's sampling something decadent. 

She stares, ears strained to catch every minute intake of breath and exhale shaped into sound, any sound. Mind listing between the sensations of searing nerve endings pinched along her arms and back and the press of bone against bone, heartbeat against heartbeat. 

He sighs and her body bobs with the motion resulting in her faint, pleased coo. 

“But I don't think you want to know just how depraved my mind can be,” he decides, tone falling into a flat, silky register. 

She says nothing, just listening, breathing, trembling. Adrift in choppy waters, but seeing calm stillness like a beacon up ahead.

“I will tell you instead about the sights and locations within the Cangyan Sea you should… you should one day see.”

And he does. He speaks of spire-like mountains and cavernous caves, of mystical forests and teeming rivers and lakes. Bustling markets, culturally rich hunting grounds, and crystalline skies saturated with celestial sites you could watch for hours on end. 

She hears and absorbs. All the words squishing into the walls of her skull until they begin to overflow into her eyes. The horror-filled chamber melts away from her heavy, pounding, groggy mind. 

Sliding her chin up so it rests on his sternum, her bleary eyes fill up with the welcome features of her dear friend and savior. His head is propped up by the lush pillows so she can see that his eyes are closed. The gentle hills of his soft looking mouth continue to move, pushing out a continuous stream of sanctuaries, painting safe pictures that blot over that harrowing day in Shuiyuntian. 

Her mind feels as if it teeters to and fro, then topples into a trance. She's led by an ethereal compulsion that uses her grip on his robes to guide her up his frame. Her feeble muscles only manage to drag her up a mere fraction, but it's enough for her to be able to rock forward and land with her lips against his chin. 

The stress, the terror, the chaotic jumble encompassing her mind fall blissfully, utterly silent. 

He stills beneath her lingering kiss while she marvels at the magic it has provided in tandem with his touch and voice. 

Delirium seeps in like a foreign substance in murky waters, drawing abstract pictures of its own on how to maintain the calmness, the ease, the peace he always seems to bring. 

She sees herself pressing a kiss to his jaw, then another, making her way down the strong tendons of his neck. Then climbing back up infinitely slower, she would meander over the narrow features of face until she latched onto his panting mouth. She would find the strength to pull him over her, onto her, his full body weighing on her like a luxurious blanket, pressing her down into the mattress until the panging spasms haunting her raw nerve endings fade, and then…

And then, she does not know, but she does discover in her languid return to reality, a new, pleasant ache her thighs clench restlessly around. 

It's hot and pleasurable, stemming from the taut ridges and planes and sharp angles of the man spread out beneath her. It ripples across her skin, washing away the tainted sensations that came before it, and her fatigued body, desperately relieved, lets out a deep sigh. At last, she's free from her torment. 

A sluggish, thankful kiss is slid across his chin, nose grazing his plush lips and cheek in the sloppy motion. With a drowsy hum, she sinks back down to his chest where her consciousness begins to bleed out of her heavy mind with blazing speed. 

“How'd you know, needed you?” she slurs, eyes closing.

She feels as if she's being rocked on a calm breeze when his chest begins to move again.

“I don't know,” he admits in a strained, gravelly voice. “I just… did.”

“Thank you, Da Mutou,” she exhales, breaths lengthening. “So sleepy...”

She hears him swallow, before focusing on the soothing thumps of his racing heart. “Sleep, Xiǎo Huāyāo.”

The tightness of his hold settles back into place. The embrace so strong, she can just barely expand her ribs enough to breathe is what gives her that final push into dreamless sleep. 

[requiemforthepoets]

you could be the one that i love, i could be the one that you dream of 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x sainz!actress!reader

SUMMARY: you were fine in supporting your older brother, carlos, from afar. but when he insisted (practically begged) you to come, you can’t help but cave in.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i know that the princess diaries came out in the early 2000s, but for the sake of the plot, let’s pretend!! i know that it’s also hard to be private irl when you’re famous, but for the plot!!!! hope you’ll enjoy this one! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

WARNINGS: typos, google translated spanish, and photos grabbed from pinterest

The humid air of Singapore clung to your skin as you made your way towards the garage, dressed to the nines. You couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement—Singapore Grand Prix was unlike anything you had ever experienced. You had been to countless film premieres and award shows, but this—this was a whole different world, definitely different from the glitz and glamor of Hollywood. The buzzing energy of the track, roaring of engines, flashing lights—it was exhilarating.

“¿Estás nervioso?” (You nervous?) your father asked, leaning close to be heard over the noise of the pit crew.

You are now in the Ferrari garage, standing beside your father, Carlos Sr., that was beaming with pride, he had the same confidence that Carlos has.

“Un poco.” (A little bit.) you admitted with a smile, glancing at the Ferrari cars as they prepared for the race. “Es diferente mirar desde casa. Esto se siente…más intenso.” (It’s different watching from home. This feels…more intense.)

He chuckled, “Espera a que se apague la luz. Vas a tener un espectáculo de verdad.” (Just wait until the lights go out. You’re in for a real show.) he patted your shoulder. “Él va a ganar, lo sé.” (He’s going to win, I just know it.) he added.

You glanced up at him, can’t help but feel proud and worried at the same time. “¿Eso crees?” (You think so?) he chuckled, “Lo sé. Hoy está en su elemento.” (I know so. He’s in his element today.)

You had never attended a Grand Prix before, even though you had always supported him. This will be your first time, your first rodeo. He had insisted—well, practically begged you to come, and how could you say no? He has been begging you to come to a race for years. But between your filming schedules and your desire to keep your personal life private, it never seemed like the right time. Carlos respected that, but this year, he wouldn’t take no for an answer, he was almost about to put you inside his luggage and bring you over to Singapore to watch his race. So here you were, nervously excited, surrounded by the very world you kept at arm’s length. You are finally here.

The race had started, and from the garage, you had a perfect view of the monitors, watching Carlos fight for every position on the track. The tension was really high, but you found yourself completely immersed, cheering for every overtake he does, and your heart racing every time he was close to another car. Your father, who was typically stoic, was even more animated than usual, shouting every word of encouragement in Spanish every few minutes.

Then, as the laps wound down, it became clear—Carlos was going to win the Singapore Grand Prix. The final lap felt like it lasted forever, but the moment he crossed the checkered flag in first place, the whole garage erupted in celebration. You jumped up, tears welling in your eyes as you hugged your father tightly. “He did it! He did it, papa!” You shouted, your voice cracking with emotion.

“He did,” your father agreed, holding you tight.

Carlos’ engineer spoke over the radio, “P1, mate, P1! Congratulations!”

You heard Carlos’ voice come through the speakers, breathless and filled with joy. “Vamos!” He shouted, “this one’s for my family!”

Your heart swelled with immense pride. This moment was everything—years of hard work, sacrifice, and support from your family all coming together. As the celebration in the garage died down and the post-race routines began, you were still in a daze, watching as Carlos made his way to the podium. The crowd roared when he lifted the trophy, and you couldn’t help but feel a lump in your throat, realizing how much he deserved this.

After the podium ceremony, you made your way back to the paddock lounge, where Carlos had asked you to meet him. But instead of Carlos, you bumped into someone else—Lando Norris, one of your brother’s best friends and fellow driver.

You recognized him, of course. Not only because he was one of Carlos’ best friends, but because you had always found him—well, very cute, and you admit that you have a crush on him. You had seen him hanging out with your brother—laughing, golfing, doing whatever boys do. But this was different. The way his eyes lingered on you, the slight smile tugging at his lips, the same way it was tugging on your heartstrings. It was almost as if he was waiting for a chance to talk with you.

“Hey,” Lando greeted with that familiar, cheeky smile. His curly hair peeking from the cap he was wearing backwards and all freshen up from the post podium ceremony. He looked every bit the charming guy you had always seen on TV.

“Oh, hi.” You replied, feeling a little shy but amused at his relaxed demeanor after such an intense race.

“So, what do you think? Your first Grand Prix,” he asked, leaning casually against the wall.

“It was…unbelievable,” you admitted. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my entire life. Watching Carlos from the garage was intense. Also, congrats on winning P2.”

“Thank you,” Lando chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a whole different ball game when you’re here in person. But you seemed to handle it well.”

You smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Slightly making yourself cringe on how you acted by doing it. “Well, I’ve had years of practice with Carlos, so I guess I’m used to the nerves.”

Lando’s eyes sparkled with interest as he leaned in a little closer, his voice lowering slightly. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask—how come no one ever knew you were his sister?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?” You teased, already knowing where this conversation was headed.

Though you were a household name from your breakout role in The Princess Diaries that catapulted your acting career to success, most people had no idea you were a Sainz—the Sainz of Spain, youngest sister to Carlos Sainz Jr., the F1 racer and daughter to Carlos Sainz Sr., the World Rally Champion. Wikipedia was also no use for those people who are trying to dig for information about you, and Carlos, being the ever-protective older brother, had made sure of that. There were some fans that had been theorizing for years, speculating how you looked strikingly like Carlos, but no one had ever confirmed it.

“Not a problem,” Lando replied with a grin. “Just surprising. You’ve kept a pretty low profile considering…well, you’re you.”

You laughed softly. “Yeah, I like to keep things private. My life in the film industry is one thing, but family is…different. I didn’t want my career to overshadow Carlos or distract him from his achievements.”

Lando nodded, clearly impressed. “That’s fair. But I have to say, the resemblance is pretty obvious once you know. You’ve got those Sainz eyes.”

“Well, maybe that’s why some fans figured it out.” You chuckled and playfully rolled your eyes at his remark.

He laughed, and for a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you. You found yourself stealing glances at him, noting how his usual playful aura seemed softer now, more genuine. You had always thought that Lando’s very cute, but seeing him up close like this made you realize how effortlessly charming he was.

“So,” Lando said, breaking the silence, “what are the chances that I’ll see you at more races? Or is this just a one-time thing?”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’m not sure yet. But after today, who knows? Maybe?”

“Good. I’d hate for this to be the last time we run into each other.” He grinned, eyes lighting up.

Before you could even respond, Carlos appeared, already freshened up, face glowing with triumph. “There you are!” He called out, pulling you into a big hug. “What did you think? It being your first race and I won! I told you it was worth coming.”

“It was incredible,” you said, beaming up at him. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Were you bothering my sister, Norris?” Carlos turned to Lando, smirking at him.

Lando raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I was just keeping her company until you showed up.”

“Just remember Lando, I’m watching you.” Carlos narrowed his eyes playfully before shaking his head. Lando laughed but didn’t deny the subtle implication.

“I think your sister’s the good luck charm. You should keep bringing her.” Lando nudged Carlos playfully.

“Don’t get any ideas, mate.” Carlos playfully rolled his eyes, but there was a protective glint in his eyes as he glanced between you and Lando.

You blushed at Carlos’ teasing, but couldn’t help feeling the warmth of Lando’s gaze still being on you. He tilted his head slightly, giving you a smile that made your stomach flip.

“Maybe we can get you on the golf course next time,” Lando suggested, eyes twinkling with amusement. You raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You think I could handle it?”

“I have a feeling you can handle anything.” Lando chuckled. Before you could respond, Carlos stepped in, clearly trying to steer the conversation away.

“Alright, alright. Let her breathe, mate. She’s already had enough excitement for one day.”

Lando’s gaze flicked back to you for a brief moment before Carlos whisked you away to join the team in celebrating his win, not forgetting to congratulate Lando again on his P2 and inviting him for the after party. But even as Carlos guided you back towards the Ferrari team, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something.

As the night went on, the excitement from Carlos’ victory still buzzing in the air, but you couldn’t help but glance at Lando from across the room, catching him watching you a few times too. The way Lando had looked at you, the way his smile had lingered—it was sweet, cute. Despite Carlos’ best efforts, something tells you that this is not the last time that you’ll be crossing each other’s path. You had a feeling you’d be seeing more of Lando soon.

ynsainz

liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc, landonorris, imrebeccad, and 2,759,937 others

tagged: carlossainz55 and landonorris

ynsainz congrats you goobers!!! first grand prix experience and what a way to start—celebrating my brother’s big win at the singapore grand prix! 🏆💥 couldn’t be more proud of you!! here’s to many more moments like these ❤️

primera experiencia de grand prix y qué manera de empezar celebrando la gran victoria de mi hermano en el singapore grand prix! 🏆💥 no podría estar más orgulloso de ti!! a muchos más momentos como estos ❤️

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username1 I KNEW IT!!! I ALWAYS KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING FAMILIAR ABOUT YOU!!!

scuderiaferrari thank you for gracing us with your presence, amelia mignonette thermopolis renaldi, queen of genovia! ❤️✨ ♥︎ liked by the author

ynsainz my pleasure! thank you very much for having me ❤️

carlossainz55 thank you, you goober!! can you now follow me back since everyone already knows that you’re my little sister 😶‍🌫️ ♥︎ liked by the author

ynsainz no

carlossainz55 😐😐😐😐

ynsainz OMG FINE!! STOP TEXTING ME!!!

username2 i haven’t realize that y/n is not following back carlos 😭

username3 THOSE THEORIES HAD NOW FINALLY BEEN CONFIRMED

username4 the eyes chico, they never lie. Y/N GOT THOSE SAINZ EYES

landonorris thank you for the photo, had fun meeting you. can’t wait to see you again on the next race 😉 ♥︎ liked by the author

carlossainz55 what do you think you’re doing? 😐😐😐😐😐😐

ynsainz you’re welcome! had fun meeting you as well.

username5 lando need to conquer the great wall of carlos sainz before he can reach y/n

username6 sainz family genes really hit different, huh?

charles_leclerc nice to meet you, y/n! you should come to races more often. ♥︎ liked by the author

ynsainz nice to meet you too, charles! maybe i should. it was really fun!

username7 saw photos of y/n and lando talking at the paddock, can’t believe that they look so cute together 🥹

username8 are we about to lose our queen to someone that drives a car in circles every sunday? /sad violin noises 😔💔

username9 MAAM HOW U HAD MANAGED TO KEEP THIS ALL A SECRET IS BEYOND ME 😭😭😭

username10 the fact that y/n raised a whole generation with the princess diaries. oh the QUEEN that you are. queen shit only!!!

imrebeccad finally!!! it’s about time you attend a grand prix!!! had so much fun with you!!! ♥︎ liked by the author

ynsainz was about to ditch in attending, but carlos was threatening me that he’ll stuff me inside his luggage so that i can watch him race 😐😂 ♥︎ liked by imrebeccad

username10 carlos didn’t hide y/n, he protected us from losing our collective minds KSKDJKSDK

username11 carlos out here playing chess while we’re playing checkers

username12 we NEED a tell-all interview IMMEDIATELY!!! 🗣️

username13 sainz family is so blessed with beauty AND talent. pls adopt me 🤲🏻

username14 well played, carlos sainz. well played 👏🏻

username15 been telling my friends that the resemblance between you and carlos was TOO strong, but they thought that i was crazy, HA!

[justicekiy]

What Present is it?

Present

Is it a noun

Adjective or verb?

Depends on the preference

See I’m the type of person

Who knows exactly what

A present is

And how many people offer it

But just cause it looks pretty

Doesn’t exclude me tossing it

And if I’m being real with you

Your presence is somehow

Subdued by the eerie sound

Of multiple views

From countless cues

People pleased off ya

And since you waited

This long

I’ll let you in

On what time is due

See I was never made to fit like you

This obstructive view

But you can’t figure that out

Can you?

And it’s okay

Most people in life

Tend to look the other way

Or gloss over this prickly thing

The present format led a stray

If I had a nickel and dime

For someone who wasted my time

I’ll be there all day

But I’ve learned to get what’s mine

On every given day

I don’t need your

Consistent smiles

Knowing you’re stabbing me

Each day

Just because you can’t see

Whatever fronted your idled dreams

So you tend you blame me

Ain’t that a fact

No rewarding yourself for

Your obscurity



It’s the present

That has you wrapped up so tight

Can’t sleep at night

Your mind checks out and

You put up a good fight

But I see the cracks between your smile

You’re holding on to broken dreams

You should’ve let go for awhile

But instead

your frustration goes

Out

Against me

Onto the unknown level of success

Just because you work like everyone else

Doesn’t mean you can have the best

It bothers you so much

To see me this free?

How I hold my past

Present and future

Like you had nothing

To do with me

Because it is true

Grew up with so many victims

But I knew

Couldn’t be apart of it

Present presents presentations

Like the slaughter you give

Wrapped with decoration

To hide no heart was in it

I decided

Won’t be one of them

However I can’t speak

For you

Presenting

All your fears

Covered with drier tears 

That’s quite a

preventable look too

I just know

by this time

I won’t be the one

To help you

[emily-writes12]

ESS: Dandelions

Surely, it was a mistake. A one-off chance of the wrong word put in the wrong sentence. The words echoed in my ear, screaming even, peeling off my layers of fine hairs inside. He said, "I love you." That is impossible. No one can love me. It's a curse that has been with me since the dawn of my existence.

A long time ago, I had strayed too far from the path I wanted to take. But changes happen, even ones we do and don't account for. It was still scary nonetheless, but I marched down the path, head held high, even though my heart pounded out of my chest. This path was painful, full of tears and terrors, my own worst nightmares coming to life. My heart was ripped from my chest by those crossing this path, stomping on it, cutting it, bruising it, deflowering it. To me, my heart was unrecognizable, and so was the person who had started on this path. It became numbing, I began to let those who came across my heart do as they please, with little tears now, or screams. I just watched as my heart lost most of its blood, picking it up along the way.

This path I took was horrible. But finally, a fork occurred. A way out of this hellish misery. "Continue to love" or "Never be loved again" were written on the signs of each respective path. I looked down at my heart, cold to the touch. Purple was its colour, mangled together by the last remaining fibres. I really only had one option to choose, to go where love never would exist.

I walked this path, convinced love will never befall me. It was a terrifying thought to even imagine myself in the position of believing love was real. If I were to date or marry, it would be for gains, not for happiness, because love only causes pain. Pain is so treacherous that survival is rare.

A man hopped onto my path, but I had seen him once before. He was from the past, on my path long before I took the road to love. A friend. But I can't trust him, I have to protect myself. Daily, he would bring me a dandelion, a sign of rebirth that I would throw into the pine needles strayed upon the path. Still, he would never give up on these gestures. Although I did not understand, I always waited for them every day. It was fun to throw them away and to see his soft smile as I did so.

One day, he stopped bringing me dandelions. He stopped coming altogether. I waited, a weird sensation bubbling up inside me, worry, maybe? I turned around, retracing my steps and collecting every dandelion I threw along the way. Soon, I carried too many, setting down my broken heart on the barren path.

Finally, I arrived at where the last dandelion was. I picked up the final piece I had of my visitors. I heard those words once more "I love you," my heart in his hands, bandaged up with dandelions. "I knew the only way for you to open up to me as if I let you understand what it feels like to step away from the pain."

I stared at my heart. It was beating, no longer purple but a crimson red, the dandelions swarmed any cracks or defects, holding it together. Then my gaze lifted towards him. The sign was wrong. No, it was right. What I felt before was not love. Love is not something that breaks you. It is something that builds you, something that repairs you. He helped to repair me, not destroy me, not break me like countless others but instead he never gave up, he kept trying no matter what, he gave me his love no matter how many times I threw it away and he still came back to repair me.

A smile ruptured from my lips, "I love you too," shoving my lips onto his.

[outc4sts]

a perfect shadow, one clementine knows as  intimately  as  the  mark  clinging  to  the  soles  of  her  feet,  examined  through  countless  escapades  in  their  shared  pursuit  of  making  every  day  meaningful. and  though  the  eerie  happenings  in  town  warn  her against it,  the  sight  has  her  smiling  so  wide  it  borders on  painful,  might  tear  at  the  corners  of  her  mouth.  yes,  death  is  a  harrowing  matter  —  turns  faces  pale  and  eyes  liquid  —  but  it  also  emboldens  people  to  celebrate  that  their  lungs  have no punctures,  blood  safely  stored  in  their  hearts  instead  of  splattered  across  the  pavement.  he  enters,  not  a  scratch  on  him yet.  the  collapsing  truck’s  engine  hisses,  and  she  beams  even  fuller, dumber,  at  her  dear  friend,  eager  to  squeeze  the  red  out  of  life’s  ruthless  veins  while  the  universe allows.   his  sour  joke  earns  a  snort,  slipping  into  their  routine  despite,  despite.  “  i  am  dead  !  can’t  y’tell  ?   ”  clem  slumps  against  her  seat  with  exaggerated  force,  tongue  lolling  out,  eyes  rolling  shut  —  an  absurd  impression  of  a  corpse.  “  hungry  for  brraaaaaiiiiins  —  ”  she  drawls,  scratchy  and  theatrical,  extending  an  arm  over  the  console  to  swat  at  azi’s  chest.  perpetually  impatient,  unable  to  remain  still  for  more  than  a  short moment,  she  cracks  right  eye  open  immediately.  not  seeing  his  reaction  would  leave  her  unfulfilled,  itchy  all  over  ;  always  a  small  victory  in  witnessing  a  loved  one’s  amusement.  instead,  he  suggests : deer  lake. the  tale  of  two  naive  souls  strolling  at  night,  a  killer  on  the  loose,  knife  glinting  under  the  moon’s  light, should  set  alarm  bells ringing  in  the  minds  of  the  smart.  however  —  “ righty - o  !  out for  a  midnight  swim  this  zombie  and  pal  go.  ”  pedal  is  stepped  on,  tires  screech.  movement  at  last.  “  c'mon, man, put  your  damn  seatbelt  on ... not  gonna  fly  off  on my  fuckin' watch.  ”  ah,  maybe  a  tad  intelligent  after  all.

🗓️ january 25 , 10 : 30 p.m. 📍 outside azizi's house 💬 azizi + clementine ( @outc4sts )

the  familiar  blue  truck  rolls  up  ,  headlights  slicing  through  the  dark  like  it’s  got  something  to  prove  .  azi  watches  from  the  curb  ,  hands  in  his  pockets  ,  the  cool  night  air  pressing  in  around  him  .  for  a  second  ,  he  just  stands  there  and  listens  to  the  hum  of  the  engine  ,  letting  it  settle  something  deep  inside  him  that  he  didn’t  realize  was  tight  .  clem  is  here  .  she's  not  a  whispered  name  ,  not  a  face  in  the  obituary  section  of  the  register  .  she’s  here  ,  and  he  almost  hates  how  much  that  matters  .  he  steps  up  to  the  passenger  side  ,  tapping  his  knuckles  lightly  against  the  door  before  slipping  inside  .  the  familiar  scent  of  cigarettes  wraps  around  him  ,  and  he  exhales  slow  .  “  you’re  late  ,  ”  he  huffs  ,  but  there’s  no  bite  to  it  ,  just  the  ghost  of  a  smirk  .  “  thought  maybe  the  killer  got  to  you  too  .  ”  he  leans  back  into  the  seat  ,  watching  the  faint  glow  of  the  dashboard  lights  catching  on  the  curve  of  her  face  .  “  let’s  go  somewhere  ,  ”  he  says  ,  turning  his  head  to  face  the  road  ahead  .  “  anywhere  .  maybe  deer  lake  .  ”

[hana-akari]

After her former teacher, Tsunade, introduced her to the concept of drinking one’s feelings away, Sakura had whole heartedly indulged in it. Any time she felt any kind of negative emotion, she would drink it away. Sadness? Depression? Ptsd episodes? All cured by drinking herself stupid. Some have been made aware of her terrible habit but for the most part, Sakura tried to hide it. She wasn’t proud of the fact that she was so weak that she had to resort to substance abuse to feel better. The fear of being judged gripped her and yet she couldn’t stop herself from returning to the habit time and time again.

Just… When Itachi entered her life, things felt different. He gave her something to look forward to. She genuinely enjoyed their time together just talking as she healed him. At first, she didn’t notice that she hadn’t been leaning much on the alcohol. Maybe due to the fear of him judging her or, possibly, it was because she had someone she could feel comfortable rambling to. Itachi made her feel like it was okay to open up, even a small bit. He has yet to actually see her cry. Sakura still tries to put up a front that she’s some harden, unbreakable being. The same image she tries to keep for everyone. She doesn’t want to seem weak. Crying wasn’t an option. No matter how upset she was. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Though, there were a few times while they spoke that Itachi saw some cracks in her shield. Even going as far as to admit to him that she drank quite a bit but he’s never seen the results of her drinking. 

Not until today, that is.

It was a hard night for Sakura. Stress paired with countless nightmares from the war. She couldn’t escape it. For the first time in weeks, she turned to alcohol. Sakura drank herself stupid, and allowed herself to cry in the safety of her room. But, due to the heavy drinking, it caused her to be disoriented. When she tried to get out of her bed, her legs got tangled in her sheets, causing her to trip and fall out of her bed. Hitting the ground, she felt a snap and a sharp pain go up her arm, making her groan. In her attempts to save herself from the fall, she landed on her right arm wrong, breaking it in the process. But she was too drunk to completely feel the pain. She was just confused as to why she couldn’t get herself up off the floor.

Who knows how long she laid on the floor before Itachi showed up. Sakura couldn’t even remember if the sun was already up when she fell from her bed. She just knew that the alcohol was fading and now the pain of the break was hitting her at full force paired with the hammering in her head of a hangover. 

‘Sakura?’

She blinked a few times in her confused, pained state. Unsure she actually heard someone saying her name until a soft hand tilted her tear stained face up to look at his. Itachi was a bit blurry at first until she managed to narrow her eyes into focus, “Itachi…?” Sakura slurred out his name in confusion, unsure if he was actually there or it was her brain conjuring up something to make her feel better, “M’ arm… I think my arm is broken.” She rolled from her side onto her back, holding the injured arm in question. It was bent in a grotesque way. The bone almost looked like it was about to pop through her skin, “I-i can’t get up, it hurts too much.” She couldn’t remember the last time she had a broken bone. Not since her training with Tsunade. This pain was not a missed one,

“H-help…” Now was not the time to be prideful. Even hungover, she knew she needed help. She couldn’t heal this on her own. There were already attempts on it but she was hurting too much to focus her chakra enough to do it, “I failed you…” He came for healing and instead found her pathetically laying on the ground hurt. It was humiliating. She just hoped he would have it in his heart to forgive her for such weakness.

@hana-akari

ㅤIn her defense, he was the one almost ten minutes early; it was kind enough of Sakura to offer to save him the actual trip to the hospital and to perform the daily check-up on his physical condition at her place, instead - the least Itachi would want was to risk being late for it and mess up her schedule even further. Or... well. Technically speaking, the young medic-nin was off the clock already, whenever they'd meet like this. Which might only make matters more tangled, considering she was working unpaid hours when she absolutely did not have to, but the little moral conundrum was ever softened by the fact they both quite enjoyed their time together. It wasn't even that Itachi disliked hospital settings per se [as a former ANBU operative, at this point he knew the building like the back of his hand], but it was undeniable that an actual home offered far more privacy and... far less ambivalent memories. On both their ends.

ㅤAll this to say that, yes, he was the one arriving early. It'd be hardly surprising that, say, Sakura might have taken a moment to go out meanwhile and do grocery shopping. Or that she'd come across Ino on the way back from the hospital and the two friends were catching up on some well-deserved gossip and fun. Or, even, that Sakura was busy with something else entirely and had no chance to open the door at the moment. And yet... call it gut feeling or what have you, call it paranoia and being so used to everything always taking a turn for the worst - the tiny little ball of uneasiness suddenly bouncing around in Itachi's stomach was what prompted him to make use of the spare key so generously entrusted to him. With his extensive experience as a big brother, eventually being scolded for over-protectiveness would hardly be the first time and, certainly, wouldn't be the last.

ㅤVenturing in and closing the front door again behind him, then, he took a brief moment to orient himself. All the more convenient that he'd visited so many times before, because it meant he'd perfectly memorized the layout of the house and could easily navigate it without incidents. Seeing himself in like that was daring enough, Sakura wouldn't need crow feathers on her carpets on top of it all. Speaking of Sakura, however, a call for her name didn't seem to get any answer back... or, that was, till the Uchiha focused his keen sense of hearing enough to discern a muffled, pained noise. Ah, yes... paranoia and being so used to everything always taking a turn for the worst, indeed. If only the gods could stop being sadistic bastards for just a week or two.

ㅤBlasphemy aside, he was quick to find his way around whilst following the whimpers to their source. Sakura's bedroom. No time for awkwardness, either, nor for a misplaced sense of old-fashioned chivalry in entering a lady's room without her permission and all that. Especially because, it was soon to be revealed, said lady was in no fit state to consider her own well-being, let alone all else. «Sakura...?» This time he did get a kind-of response, though still little else beyond more whimpering and what sounded very much like slurred cursing. Perfect mix, an accident that clearly happened recently and eyes useless to properly access causes and consequences of it; suddenly, feathers on the carpet didn't sound so terrible. Managing to somehow kneel on the floor beside her without making matters worse, he brought a hand to gently find the side of Sakura's face - a look of deep concern etched in his own features.

«Never mind asking if you are all right - where are you injured and how badly?»