#where - even though yes he must shoulder responsibility for what he tried to do - he was never more spiderman than when he tried to save

[fellhellion]

head in hands miles’s arc in spiderverse means so much to me. choosing to embody all that spiderman IS by earnestly trying to save those around him and rejecting the notion that he should simply lie down and let fate take its course....augh....

[mydarlingclaudia]

lucky boy

note : this came to me in a vision. mdni

wc : 940

tags : @lottiies

desc : poor boyfriend needs some early morning relief. smut!! - handjob. established relationship, fem!reader, re4r!Leon, not proofread.

Leon's so lucky to have you.

A cute girl like you giving him the time of day? He must be God's favorite, or something like that. Well, maybe not, on account of the fact that he's at the government's beck and call. Leon does his best to keep you out of it, always trying his best to make up for his time away, and you welcome his apology dates and gifts with open arms, so long as you get Leon all to yourself later.

You've got him wrapped around your finger, and he's always liked your hands.

It's early in the morning, maybe three a.m., Leon came home at this exact time yesterday from some strenuous mission he didn't spare you any details on. He's tired, he always is when he comes home, can hardly well up any energy. Doesn't stop him from grinding against you in his sleep and getting a hard-on, though.

You'll never forget the tired whine in his voice when he gently shakes you awake after turning on the lamp beside him, oh-so sweetly asking if you can give him some relief. You can't say no to him, it's already enough to get your blood pumping.

You put your hands on his shoulders and pushed him onto his back, his hands found yours, trailing up to your wrists and leaning up slightly for a kiss. One of his hands had moved up to cradle your jaw once you slipped your hand underneath his boxers, earning a soft groan from him, his hips immediately bucking against your hand before you had really even touched him. God, you love him.

You're sure if it was any other time of day and he was much less tired, he'd let you ride him, maybe even do the work himself. But for now, you just get to jerk off your half-asleep, pretty boyfriend, you can't complain.

You pull away from Leon's lips and smile as he chases after you, letting his head fall back against the pillow once you're too far away. He never stops staring, watching you through droopy eyelids as you run your hand up and down his erection.

"Miss me?" You whisper to him, wrapping your palm around him and giving him a few slow strokes.

"Obviously," He murmurs, not trying to give away to how needy he is, but his charade his given up by how quickly his chest rises and falls and how his hips stutter when he tries to meet you gentle thrusts.

"Good," You squeeze him, loving how sharply he inhales.

"H-hey..." Leon protests, "C'mon, come on, please?" Your only response is you letting go of him to peel his boxers down, watching as his cock springs free from its confinement.

"Don't beg too much, I might get used to it." Leon closes his eyes once you wrap your fist around him again, continuing where you left off with your slow strokes. Whines bubble up in his throat once you start going the tiniest bit faster, his hand finding its way to the hem of your shirt in an attempt to pull you closer.

You always watch his face whenever the two of you are intimate, trying to figure out how much he likes what you're doing and also just to see how pretty he looks when his teeth sink into his lower lip, like right now. You've always been good at this, it's not that hard to do in the first place, plus, Leon isn't as stoic as he thinks he is when it comes to you pleasuring him.

It's delicious the way that he continues to grind against your hand, even though you're already giving him what he wants, picking up your speed because you love him.

"You have n-no idea how good your- ah- how good your ha-hand feels." Leon pants, you don't offer him a response, just continuing to jerk him off as you listen to him whine.

"Give you something better later today," You linger for a few seconds at the base of his cock, then at the tip to let yourself rub your thumb over his slit, smearing around the pre-cum that was beginning to pool there.

"Fuck. Yes, please."

"You always ask so nicely," You giggle, more to yourself than to him. "You know this is why I can never say no to you, right?"

"Mhm," Leon nods a tiny bit, his hand moving inside your shirt to grip the flesh of your hip. His eyes are screwed shut, chest heaving, the muscles in his stomach tensing constantly, he's close, you know it, you want it.

More pre-cum leaks out of his tip, you allow it to thinly coat your palm, giggling at the wet noises that follow with every stroke of your wrist.

"You wanna cum on my hand?" Slowing your movements once more, letting him buck into your fist while he nods his head.

Leon's teeth sink into his bottom lip again to muffle his groan as he cums a few seconds later, filling your fist with hot, sticky ropes of it. You pull your hand away and pull his boxer back up once he finally stills, wiping his release off onto various tissues you kept in your bedside table while he catches his breath. He sits up next to you, wrapping his arms around your torso to pull you back down with him so he can snuggle back into your neck and press a few kisses to your skin.

"Thanks," He mumbles.

"No problem, you'd do the same for me." That makes him squeeze you tighter, he lets out a groan.

"Don't start,"

[abyssruler]

a dummy’s guide to dating your crush, by lyney

lyney x gn!reader

lyney has loved you from the moment your childish small hands found each other for the first time and never let go. it’s just too bad that you don’t feel the same way, but that was fine, lyney has mastered the art of pretending. or — the one where lyney tries, and fails, to set up a few dates with you, and inadvertently wins your heart in the process.

childhood friends to lovers-ish, delulu lyney, one-sided crush, jealous lyney, slight neuvillette x reader

You and Lyney have always been close, even as children living beneath roof of the hearth and Father’s careful guidance. You were one of the first children to accept him and Lynette when they were still strangers in a new, unfamiliar place.

You were the first person to hold his hand apart from his sister, a brightness to your eyes as you led him to a secret nook that you claimed would be a hiding place for only you and him. You were the first person to make him laugh after a failed mission, the first person who held him as he cried silent tears that he’d tried to hide from his siblings, the first person who kissed his cheek and promised to ease the burden on his shoulders.

You’re the first person he’s loved that isn’t explicitly family, though that isn’t quite right either, because you are family. Not in the same way Lynette and Freminet are family to him, but family in the way two close friends are family—family in the way a man might consider his spouse family.

And it feels almost natural to come to such a conclusion. Like flicking on a light switch and realizing that little has changed save for the fact that he now sees so much more. After all, why shouldn’t his natural conclusion be that you two belonged together the way two spouses would?

You’ve always been close, know each others’ secrets, have each others’ backs, and so much more. It’s a relationship built from years and years of trust and affection, and really, can he be blamed for thinking that your shared history must mean something more? That it has set the foundations for a love so great it could rival romance novels? You’ve known each other since you were children, would and have killed for each other, and he imagines if he asks you if you love him, you would say yes. Never mind the specifics of whether that love was romantic or familial, what mattered was that you would say you love him.

Lyney is so far gone in his delusions and fantasies that he fails to see the glaring fact that he pointedly refuses to acknowledge, the glaring fact that everyone but him has made peace with, because you never go a day without telling everyone how much you like—

“Monsieur Neuvillette!” you call out, a smile lighting up your features as you turned away from Lyney to face the man, the myth, the legend himself.

Neuvillette, also known as the bane of Lyney’s existence.

✧

The proper, rational thing to do was to ask you out on a date, a bouquet of flowers in hand as he invited you to a high-end restaurant or to watch one of the operas showing that night. But, as Lynette would say, when has Lyney ever been rational?

So, he reserved a seat at restaurant that he heard from the grapevine was a popular spot for couples, bragging to the receptionist how he was bringing a date that night. And if he made sure to make his voice come off a little louder, to make his presence more known? Well, it certainly had nothing to do with him wanting rumors to spread of him taking you out on a date in a restaurant well-known for hosting couples. Nope.

“I believe this is your date, Monsieur Lyney?” the receptionist from before asks, a knowing look in her eyes as her gaze darted to yours and Lyney’s clasped hands. He nods in response.

“Monsieur Lyney,” you whispered to him with a teasing laugh that sent his stomach rolling pleasantly—that was, until you realized what the receptionist actually said. “Wait a minute, date?”

Lyney laughs off your confused look, pretending not to have heard the latter part of your statement.

“I hear they serve your favorite dessert here,” he says in a rather horrible attempt at changing the topic that would have had Lynette staring at him with unimpressed eyes. Thankfully, you’re not as sharp as his sister, and thus, more easily distracted by the prospect of delicious food.

Once you’re seated at the table that Lyney had made sure was facing the windows, offering a view of the vast ocean outside, he takes the time to appreciate the much better view in front of him: you with furrowed brows as you squinted at the letters on the menu, your lips jutted out in consideration, a serious look in your eyes like you’re about to decide the fate of the world instead of what you’ll have for dinner.

Lyney finds it all endearing.

He opens his mouth to ask you something—but then he promptly closes it shut when the distant baritones of a voice reaches his ears. Familiar, deep, and so very unwelcome.

Evidently, you hear it too, because the menu on your hands is forgotten in favor of a wide grin that isn’t directed at Lyney, no, you turn your head—swivel, more like—so quickly he almost fears for the state of your neck.

He doesn’t need to turn to know just who that voice belongs to, but the sheer happiness in the tone of your voice is unmistakeable as you raised a hand in greeting for the man who continues to haunt Lyney’s nightmares.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, it’s been a while since I last saw you!”

A while, yes, if six hours ago could be considered a while. Lyney would know, he’d been crouched on top of the tree that overlooked you and Neuvillette as you sat on a bench and spoke in an almost friendly manner. Freminet hadn’t been happy to be dragged into what his younger brother dubbed was a gross violation of your privacy, but it wasn’t a violation of your privacy when you were out in public where any passing stranger could see you. If you asked Lyney, he was only making sure Neuvillette didn’t do anything untoward towards you, like smiling at you, or talking to you, or just being within a hundred-meter wide vicinity of you.

Unfortunately for Lyney, the esteemed Chief Justice of Fontaine did all those things. And as if that wasn’t enough, he even grazed his fingers over your hair when a stray leaf landed on it! Truly a vile man, abusing his authority in order to get close to you and touch your hair, smiling and talking to you as if Lyney didn’t exist. Lyney, who’s known you since you were children. Lyney, who brushed your hair every morning and did everything you asked without hesitation.

Lyney, who was your soulmate!

“Lyney, you wouldn’t mind if the Monsieur sat with us, would you?”

And now Neuvillette had the gall to insert himself in, when Lyney had planned this to be a romantic date for two, not three.

He knows if he said no you wouldn’t push the issue anymore, but you’re looking at him with such hopeful eyes, even clasping your hands together to your chest, that Lyney can hardly find it in himself to say no.

For the rest of the night, he’s forced to endure watching you and Neuvillette make easy conversation while he silently stabs at his steak. He wonders which god he must have offended to make him feel like a third wheel in the date that he himself planned.

✧

It becomes a reoccurring trend.

Lyney would ask you to meet with him, either at the park or by the fountains or in the opera or merely at one of his magic shows—though he never specifically tells you that it’s a date. And before he could make any sort of move to indicate that he feels more for you than a childhood friend should, Neuvillette arrives and takes up all your attention.

It doesn’t seem to be intentional, or even a malicious act. The Chief Justice always seems pleasantly surprised to see you, and he’s never rude to Lyney. It’s just that…

“Monsieur Neuvillette, do you think these flowers would look good displayed by my window?”

The man in question seems to ponder deeply over your words, regarding the bouquet in your hands seriously as though it were a matter of life and death. Lyney remains standing behind the two of you, feeling a little out of place, as though he were the one intruding on Neuvillette’s time with you instead of the other way around.

“Yes, they would fit well with the general backdrop of Fontaine. Although personally,” Neuvillette plucks a single flower from the bundle and places it on your hair, “I think they would look best displayed like this on you.”

Lyney’s jaw drops to the floor. His eyes bulge out of their sockets. His hair begins to fall one by one until his bald head is left shining in the mid-afternoon sun.

I think they would look best displayed like this on you.

I think they would look best displayed like this on you.

I think they would look best displayed like this on you.

Neuvillette’s words keep repeating in his head like a particularly annoying fly buzzing around his ear, taunting him with the fact that while he may hold you freely and spend as much time with you as he can, he will never be the man who so easily captures your attention and keeps it.

You’re smiling, a bashful tint to your eyes as you looked up at Neuvillette beneath your lashes, fingers touching the petals of the flower now nestled in your hair.

It’s a sickeningly romantic scene, like something out of a play or movie or song. Lyney wants to claw his eyes out, though mostly he wants to snatch that flower off your hair and replace it with a rainbow rose, his signature flower. His.

Lyney takes a single step forward to interject, to insert himself into the conversation and make himself known, to keep you from looking at Neuvillette with those eyes that should be directed at him.

But before he can utter a single word, you move to pluck a flower from the bouquet and place it behind Neuvillette’s ear, a mirror image to the one he placed on you.

And it’s like watching something inevitable, like being a bystander to someone else’s story.

Lyney sees you laugh at something Neuvillette says in a tone too low for him to hear, but the happiness and brightness radiating off of you is unmistakable. There’s a bounce to your step as you lead Neuvillette away to whatever store has tickled your fancy, a brief glance thrown in Lyney’s way to make sure he’s still there. An afterthought at best.

As he watches you and Neuvillette parse through the menu of a cafe, the two of you standing so close that a fly would be hard-pressed to find a way between, he comes to the realization that there isn’t space left for him, that just as he thought before, he was the intruder here. The third wheel of a bicycle, the extra cog in a machine, a piece in a puzzle that doesn’t fit.

And it’s painful to acknowledge his own insignificance, but the truth has always been right in front of him, taunting him with your besotted look that isn’t directed at him.

He stands there quietly, thinking to himself that if he were in a play, this would be the prelude to the climax, the one where the unwanted third party finally leaves and allows the two lovers to be together.

So he does just that.

He bids you goodbye, claiming an excuse about promising Lynette to rehearse for their latest show. You’re sad to see him go, but it’s overshadowed by the smile that blooms on your lips when your eyes moves past him and onto Neuvillette. He watches it all with an acceptance akin to a man walking to the executioner’s block.

Lyney leaves, resignation heavy on his chest.

(He doesn’t see the sympathetic pair of eyes that follow his back as he walks away.)

✧

It had been relatively sunny outside that morning, only for a torrential downpour to begin that afternoon. It was during that sudden rainstorm that you knocked on the entrance to the house Lyney and Lynette live in, utterly drenched from the rain with a melancholic smile on your face.

Before Lyney could even begin to tell you to come in and ask you what’s wrong, you beat him to it.

“I confessed my feelings for Monsieur Neuvillette.”

And Lyney feels himself stiffen, limbs locking in place from where he’s half leaning on the doorway, half gesturing for you to enter his home.

He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised about it. He should have seen this coming from miles away—have seen this coming from miles away, he’d simply refused to believe what had always been in front of him. But for your feelings to go that deep that you’d confess…

Before he can fall down into an unending spiral of despair and self-recrimination, you once again upturn his whole word with a few measly words.

“He rejected me though.” You laugh to yourself, more self-depreciating than anything. “And… I suppose it was a bit presumptuous of me to assume that he liked me back.”

There’s a sadness to your eyes that Lyney hasn’t seen since you were children, having seen your first death. And now that same sadness is painted across your face, all because of one man who didn’t see the treasure that was right in front of him.

Lyney would have never done that to you.

But all of that matters little now, because you’re here standing in his doorsteps covered in rainwater, seeking comfort in him instead of anyone else. So, really, what else is he to do but step close and wrap you in his arms? Heedless of the fact that he’ll be getting his clothes wet.

You bury your face in his shoulder, reciprocating the embrace, your arms around him as familiar a sensation as the feeling of the wind on his cheeks and Lynette’s presence by his side. Constant. Something he will always remember.

“Perhaps it’s for the best,” you murmur despondently. “He is the Chief Justice of Fontaine, and I… we are Fatui.”

Lyney feels a jolt of something zip through him at the mention of we, because yes, it has always been you and him (and Lynette and Freminet), him and you. The Magician and his most avid watcher. We, we, we.

So Lyney smiles despite your obvious heartbreak at Neuvillette’s rejection. A part of him knows he shouldn’t be thinking such things when you’re clearly upset, but it’s hard not to do so when his chest has felt the lightest it’s been in weeks.

Is he thankful that Neuvillette rejected you? No, of course not. Not when it’s brought about a melancholic sheen in your eyes and a downcast turn to your lips. But neither is he entirely against Neuvillette’s rejection of you.

He cards his fingers through your hair the same way you used to do with his, back when he still hadn’t quite mastered the art of carefully coiling his hair so that it won’t get in his face.

You eventually pull away, a look of acceptance on your face. Lyney doesn’t think much of it when he reaches out to grab your hand, it’s when you intertwine your fingers together that all thoughts and rationality promptly go out the window.

He wants you so much, and now that you’re finally here, here without anyone to hold him back, he’ll allow himself this one impulsive decision.

“Lyney, thank—”

“What do you say about lunch tomorrow? My treat,” he blurts out, only to immediately flush red when he realizes what he’s just said.

You pause, eyes blinking rapidly for a few moments before you crane your head and look at him, really look at him.

Beyond the mischievous smiles and the lenses of a childhood gone by, beyond the little acts of affection that you’d thought was common between friends—beyond everything that used to color your perception of him, stands someone who is looking at you as though you’re the only person in the entire world who matters. Not the boy who used to follow you around with wide eyes and a hesitant smile. Not the young magician who fumbled with his cards whenever you teased him.

No, this is Lyney. Just… Lyney, with his soft eyes and patient smile with the barest hint of nervousness in the corners of his lips.

And oh, how blind you must have been to miss this.

But you don’t dwell on it, on this newest revelation of Lyney and his feelings for you, because you’re you, and he’s him, and the two of you have an entire life’s worth of time to ponder over friendships and changes and love. It’s easy to place it in a back burner, to be analyzed when you aren’t so drenched in water and Lyney isn’t so deep in his own head.

So, instead of consternating over the realization that your best friend loves you, you settle for a teasing huff.

“Not even a day after I was rejected by my crush, and you’re asking me out on a date?”

Lyney only smiles wider. “Never let it be said that I’m the kind of person who wastes time.”

“You’re incorrigible,” you tell him, but there’s a grin that’s fighting to make itself seen.

“You love it.”

“Yes,” you say softly, “I do.”

It’s not romantic, the manner in which you love Lyney. But as you watch him fret about you needing to take a shower before you catch a cold, you don’t think it would be too difficult to fee the same way.

note: the truth is that neuvillette did actually reciprocate your feelings, it’s just that he realized that depriving lyney of the possibility of love feels almost selfish, and he believes that you’d be happier with lyney than with him. he’s immortal and you’re not, which solidified his decision to reject you bc he has years upon years to find love again while lyney only has a few decades with you. basically, he felt bad about stealing lyney’s crush. and yeah, it suddenly raining was a reflection of neuvi’s mood.

[morose-melodies]

distance | yandere! capitano x reader

summary: the captain wanted you to depend on him for company.

content warning: stockholm syndrome. manipulation (maybe????)

after finding out that the captain was the one responsible for your friend's distance, you cried.

you had been so lonely, locked away in his manor, with no one to keep you company - you figured you were the problem, you thought that perhaps you had done something to deserve it.

since not even the house staff seemed interested in small talk with you.

you had gotten so desperate that you even attempted to write letters to the captain while he was off on missions - though replies were little to none.

but no, nothing could cure the loneliness you felt.

soon did you find out that it was all the captain's doing.

you heard in passing two maids talking to one another, saying all sorts of things like:

"the poor girl has no one to talk to while the captain is gone."

"is it not a bit cruel what he's done?"

"scaring her friends off? of course it's cruel."

you ran off after hearing that - was it true? would the captain do something like that to you? how dare he, how dare he do this to you-?

...

you cried for hours, scribbling angry letters directed to the captain that you didn't have the gull to send.

you were so out of it - your face swollen from all the crying you had done. the captain's bed was ruined - you had cried into his pillows and tossed them off of his bed.

"stupid- stupid lying," you scribbled harder, snot running down your lips as you cried - you couldn't even see what you were writing anymore!

"(y/n), i heard you haven't been... feeling well," stood at the door was the captain. he took another step inside and closed the door behind himself.

his room was a mess. crumble tissues were on the bed and floor, his pillows were tossed everywhere and you didn't seem to be taking the best care of yourself.

and his first thought, of course, was "did someone upset you?" as he stepped towards the best, he noticed the many papers on the bed, scribbling with barely readable words, "tell me what's the matter, (y/n)."

as he lifted a paper from the bed, you tried to take it from him. instinctively, he jerked his hand away - this must be important if you were trying to take it from him.

your shoulders dropped and you covered your eyes and began wailing.

"(y/n)..." the captain sighed as he read through the letter that was apparently directed at him. you had less than kind words to say and the captain finally under what you were upset over, "your friends, (y/n)? is this about your friends?"

"yes! yes it is, you scared them away and now they don't like me anymore!" you were hysterical and the captain wanted to comfort you but he knew better than to touch you at this moment.

"if they cared so deeply for you-"

"no, no, no! they did care! you must... you must've threatened to kill them... that's what you did, isn't it?!"

"of course not," the captain shook his head and sat the paper back onto the bed, where you preferred it, "I suggested that they distance themselves from you - since you now have relations with the fatui. it would be a shame if any harm came upon your friends, no?"

"you lie-" you voice cracked. it was your fault, if only you hadn't helped the captain that one time... "you... you're lying-"

"I would not do that to you, (y/n)," the captain finally seated himself at the edge of the bed, still keeping his distance though he sat at your side, "come here," he held his arms open and slowly - hesitantly, you scooted closer to him and allowed him to hug you.

and then you cried some more, you felt miserable.

though the captain was here now, he would eventually leave for another mission and you would be very lonely once more.

was it so wrong that you didn't want the captain to leave you alone?

[corroded-hellfire]

Ok I feel like As You Wish!Eddie would be obsessed with that part in Enter Sandman where like he says the lines like “Now I lay me down to sleep” just to have his kids or reader repeat them back in like the innocent voice

Eddie lives his life by Metallica songs and teaches his children to do the same

Words: 1.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Alright pipsqueak,” Eddie says, gently tugging on the toe of Eliza’s purple footie pajamas as he passes where she sits between her brothers on the couch. “Bedtime.”

“No!” Eliza says, quickly rolling over a hundred eighty degrees so she’s laying on her tummy and buries her face in the couch cushion. 

“Yes,” Eddie says. He scoops the remote up from the coffee table and presses the off button, effectively ending Shrek 2. “Come on. Go brush your teeth, little girl.”

Luke stares at his father and gestures to the television, as if to say we were watching that too, man. Rolling his eyes, Eddie tosses the remote into his younger son’s lap.

“Eliza Marie Munson,” Eddie says.

With a huff to show her father her displeasure, the three-year-old pushes herself off the couch and disappears down the hallway. Luke flicks the television back on and the last thing Eddie hears as he follows his daughter down the hallway is his teenage sons laughing at Puss in Boots coughing up a hairball. 

“Ah, ah, with the toothpaste.” Your voice floats out of the bathroom into the hallway, making Eddie chuckle as he passes and keeps walking into Eliza’s room. 

Deciding to mess with the feisty little firecracker, Eddie snatches up her favorite stuffed pig and lounges on his daughter’s too-short bed. It’s only a few minutes later that Eliza’s heavy tread can be heard coming down the hallway, the heavy footsteps baffling for such a small girl. The moment she crosses the threshold into her room, Eliza’s face scrunches up and her tiny shoulders rise up toward her ears.

“Hey!”

“Is for horses,” Eddie answers.

You’re two steps behind Eliza and the moment you see Eddie on the bed you chuckle to yourself. The Little Terror is about to be unleashed. 

“My bed!” Eliza launches herself up on top of her father, causing him to let out an oof as she lands on his stomach. “My Penelope!” Small hands go to grab the stuffed pig but Eddie’s quicker, moving the plush animal behind his head to use as a pillow.

“Wow, kid, you really need to learn to share,” Eddie says.

A long exhale blows from Eliza’s nose, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say it was a growl. Scooting her body up Eddie’s chest, your daughter rests her forehead against her father’s, giving him the most intimidating look she can manage. She probably doesn’t realize that to Eddie it now just looks like she has one giant eye, though. Hardly intimidating–even for the toddler. 

“Did you give night-night kisses?” Eddie asks.

“Penelope,” is Eliza’s only reply.

“I’ll give you Penelope the Pig back once you give everyone goodnight kisses.”

Sitting up straight, Eliza eyes her father skeptically. When he raises his eyebrows at her, she must decide to believe him because she slides from his chest and lands on her carpet with a thud. 

“Ryaaaaaan! Luuuuuuke!” Her calls echo down the hall as she runs, the shouts accompanied by the loud thumping of her feet as she picks up speed. 

“And you wonder why she’s a menace,” you say to your husband, tilting your head at him as you lean against the door jamb. 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re implying,” your husband answers, giving you the most innocent doe eyes he can manage. 

Before you can come up with a response, Eliza rushes past you, back into the room. She skids to a stop and spins on her covered feet to face you.

“Kiss, Mama!”

Happy to oblige her, you scoop her up in your arms and press kisses all over her face. Her giggles are infectious as she tries to dodge your lips, protesting that this is an overload of kisses. She gives you a quick squeeze around the neck and you can’t help but notice how she’s feeling heavier in your arms these days. It makes a part of you sad, remembering when she was small enough to lay in the crook of your elbow. 

Eliza wriggles out of your grip and makes her way back over to her bed. Her lower lip juts out in a pout and she bats her dark eyelashes at her dad. 

“Can I have Penelope now pleeeeease?” she asks in her sweetest voice.

“I guess so.” 

Eddie pushes himself off the child’s bed and hands his daughter the stuffed pig. He presses a kiss to her head and tucks her in as she snuggles beneath her blankets. 

“Okay, ready for prayers?” Eddie asks.

“Ready.” Eliza snuggles back against her pillow, clasps her hands together in front of her, and closes her eyes.

“Now, I lay me down to sleep.”

“Now, I lay me down to sleep,” your daughter repeats, making you smile.

“Pray the Lord my soul to keep.”

“Pray the Lord my soul to keep.”

“If I die before I wake.”

“If I die before I wake.”

“Pray the Lord my soul to take.”

“Pray the Lord my soul to take.”

“Good job.” Eddie leans down and kisses her. “Goodnight, Sweet Pea.”

“Nighty night, Daddy.”

Quietly, you slip from the room, Eddie right behind you. He flips the light switch, turning off her overhead light and activating her Mulan nightlight. Gently, he closes the door behind him, and the two of you pad down the hall towards your room.

“You think Wayne will ever catch on that’s from a Metallica song and not your devotion to God?” you ask, a smirk dancing on your lips. 

“Not if someone keeps her mouth shut,” Eddie says, grabbing your sides and digging his fingers into them. Giggles erupt from you as you push his hands away and stumble into your shared room.

“Hush little baby, don't say a word,” you recite the next line of the song, walking backwards towards your bed. “And never mind that noise you heard.”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at you as he slowly saunters forward, coming closer to you.

“It's just the beasts under your bed,” you continue. “In your closet, in your head.”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie says, smirk on his face growing, “you’re about to have a beast in your bed.”

A soft yelp shoots out of you with a bout of laughter as Eddie tackles you down on the bed. He climbs on top of you and presses kisses all over your face, just like you’d done to Eliza. 

“Oof, she’s right,” you say. “Too much.”

“Oh, really?” Eddie teases. He scoffs and pretends to climb off of you. 

With a roll of your eyes, your fingers grip into the front of his t-shirt and you pull him back down on top of you.

“Get back here, altar boy.”

[mabelstone]

I Could Be Yours

hozier x f!reader

part one of lullabies <3

hi i have risen from the dead... new matt stone will be coming soon i promise!! i've just become infatuated with hozier recently so i had no choice but to devote a new fic to him <3

i didn't proof read because it's bedtime, i will fix tomorrow if there's any errors!! soz

cw: none really... just a shitty boyfriend and drinking. still 18+

word count: 3.5k

“That’s your man, ‘uh?” The deep voice behind me made me jump, forcing me to peel my eyes from Joe and the leggy blonde he was laughing with.

“Stop doing that!” I gasp, clutching a hand over my chest, jokingly punching Andrew in the arm. “But yes. That’s him,” I sigh, wanting to cut the conversation before it had a chance to start. Andrew was far too friendly to be talking to my walking storm cloud of a boyfriend.

“I didn’t know his sister was playing tonight,” he confessed casually, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. “Which one is she?”

“He doesn’t have a sister,” I shake my head, quirking an eyebrow at the human tower before me. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Huh?” He played dumb, though a soft pink blush tinted his cheeks, looking like he wished he could eat his words.

“Where did you hear that?” I repeated, the room suddenly too hot for comfort, despite Joe's protests that I was dressed like a 'tart,' in his words.

“I’m sure I misheard, hearing’s a bit shot,” he lied through his teeth, and he must be a fool to believed I'd let him play it off.

“Andy," I faced him now, trying to force him to meet my eyes he was so desperately avoiding. "Who did he say that to?”

“That woman,” his voice sounded pained, as if he were almost ashamed to tell me. He was too smart, he could read me, and if anyone could read the room, it was him. I just went quiet, his warm calloused hand placed on my shoulder, feeling like it might burn a hole in my dress. “You deserve better,” he professed sincerely, pulling that horrid face at me, the type you pull when you feel really sorry for someone.

I huffed some pathetic excuse of a response, forcing my eyes to the ground. There seemed to be a magnetic pull, forcing my eyes back to Joe, hurting my own feelings again and again. I can’t recall a time he’d ever looked that interested in me. Not unless he was trying to bed me, which was usually after a stressful day at work or after a massive fight.

“If you were my girl, every man and their dog would know. You’re too good for him,” his voice was warm, like being pulled from a frozen over lake and straight into an oven. His Irish brogue more apparent than ever, and I cursed myself for the way my heart leapt in my chest.

He just slipped past me onto the stage for his set, unaware that he just made me feel nearly every emotion in the span of two minutes.

“That’s not even a real job,” Joe scoffed, shaking his head indignantly like he always did, as if everyone were beneath him. He’s always looked down at others for as long as I’ve known him. His Napoleon Complex makes him feel like he’s six foot eleven, when in reality, I barely have to tilt my head to kiss him.

I bit my cheek to suppress an angry concoction of insults, swallowing it down and opting for, “so my job isn’t a real job?”

“Babe,” he groaned, one soft hand slipping off the steering wheel onto my thigh. “You know that’s not what I meant. It’s just not very manly, is all. He should be doing something that’s not just for chicks.”

“He’s a carpenter, actually,” I lied, arms barricaded across my chest as I tried to focus on the London Bridge we were rolling over. “Manly enough for you?”

“Could you relax? Jesus Christ…” he pulled his hand from me quicker than he placed it there, sighing emphatically. “You gettin’ your period or something?”

“No!” It was my turn to scoff now, turning to face him. His stupid face was contorted like it always was, as if he’d smelt something rotten. “You’ve hurt my feelings, Joe.”

“Oh, everything hurts your fucking feelings,” he seethed, hooking a turn so sharp I just about fell into the driver’s side. I muttered under my breath, gripping onto the handle at the top of my door, as it was highly likely I was going to need it for the rest of the trip. That’s my Joe. Sickly sweet when you first meet him, then cold and sharp when he drops the act. “I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this shit.”

“Excuse me?” I straightened up, my stomach twisting in that familiar nauseating knot.

“You. Your shit,” he rolled his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time, turning his head to me, deadpan. “Constantly starting arguments, whining about everything. You’re exhausting me.”

Then the rest of the entourage strides in on cue. The searing pain in my throat, the tears prickling into my eyes. The shame and embarrassment that pummel me like waves in a storm. Oh, God, the embarrassment. I feel my cheeks glow red, and suddenly the chill of late Autumn is comparable to a sauna, and there’s not enough air in the passenger side to satiate my lungs.

“Don’t cry,” he groans again, refusing to look at me again. And suddenly, I’m twelve again, trying to cry silently in my father’s car. Sigmund Freud would be laughing in his grave right now. “I’m sorry," he sighs, reaching for my leg again. I jerk away. "Shouldn’t have taken it so far.”

Though his apologies are just words at this point. I’ve walked this road too many times to not know any better. The rest of the ride home is silent, my knees pressed into the passenger door, trying to focus on anything but the fact that I will probably never leave. I will board this train wreck until he beats me down to nothing.

"He just has this weird infatuation for you. A blind man could see it," he tsked, shaking his head as if it were my fault. "And you just egg him on. He's a proper knob."

"He's the knob? What'd you think of your sister's set, hm?" I seethed, silently letting the tears fall as if I were in some sappy drama.

We didn't speak for the rest of the night, Joe slamming his car door, storming inside to lock himself in our bedroom. I washed my face in the kitchen sink and fell asleep on the couch in the small hours of the morning.

Joe didn't come to my show tonight, opting for the local pub with his work mates. I can't lie and say I was upset about it. Another thing I couldn't lie about is how Andrew's words played on a loop in my head for the rest of that night and all day today. I know he was just saying it to comfort me, but is it sad that I've never been so flattered?

"Hey," I smiled, the condensation from my breath hanging between us as I walked up to Andy. “Thought you were quitting.”

He was leaning against the brick wall outside the bar, a halfway smoked cigarette to his lips. He looked nice tonight. His usual unruly curls framing his face so perfectly, two layers under his dark denim jacket. He grinned infectiously as always, never once tearing his eyes from mine as he shrugged, “I’m no quitter.”

“Shut up,” I groaned, finding my spot beside him, now pressing my back to the cold bricks.

“So, where’s Jake tonight?” Now his eyes were fixed on the busy street before us, his arm brushing mine each time he’d put the cigarette to his lips.

“It’s Joe,” I corrected with an eye roll, though there was no malice in my expression. “And he’s watching the game with his mates. We’ve barely spoken since last night.” My heart ached a bit at the reminder of what he’d said to me on the drive home. You’re exhausting me. If his wish was for me to rethink the past five years, he certainly got it.

He gave me that pathetic poor you look again. "Come on. I'll buy ya' a drink. I insist."

"Who am I to deny you?" I grinned, following close behind him as he stubbed his cigarette out under his boot, holding the bar door open for me.

He ordered himself a whiskey on the rocks, a coconut margarita for me. We slid into a small booth at the back, the walls practically vibrating from the drunken chatter and the obnoxious drum solo on the stage.

"She's busy tonight, eh?" He half shouted across to me, leaning over his drink.

"I know, right? I've never seen the place like this," I agreed, taking in just how alive the atmosphere was tonight. "Remember me when you're famous."

"You're not easy to forget. You remember me!" He grinned at me, taking a large swig of his drink. I couldn't tear my eyes from his Adam's apple bobbing with each sip, his eyes dark in the dim lighting. I felt extreme guilt, forcing my eyes anywhere but his direction.

He must've sensed it. This man could read me like a book. Thankfully, he steered the conversation smoothly, "what're you playing tonight?"

"Oh, no. I'm not singing tonight," I shook my head, polishing off my drink in a sip a little bit too big for my mouth. "Want another drink? My shout."

"Why aren't you singing?" He ignored me, pulling a face that screamed, are you mad? "If there's any night for it, it's tonight."

"Honestly, I just want to get pissed and be the observer for once." I smiled sweetly, hoping he couldn't see through the facade. "What're you singing then?"

"An original," he smiled coyly, eyes faltering.

"Oh, Andy! How exciting," I cheered, genuinely happy for him. He'd shown me some of his poetry, and with such a beautiful voice, there's no possibility he could go wrong. "You're going to blow the roof off. This calls for another drink."

"As you wish," he grinned, holding eye contact as he finished off his glass, the faintest pink tinge to his cheeks.

When I made my way back to the table, my heart sunk a bit when I saw a girl leaning against our table giggling, tucking thick red locks behind her ears. He was laughing too, body language practically begging for more. I might be exaggerating. Why did I even care? I am in a committed relationship.

Funny, he looks just as amused as Joe did last night.

I made my way to the table, sliding his drink to him.

"Hi, I'm Harper," she smiled wide, a beautiful array of pearly teeth on full display.

"Lovely to meet you. Y/N," I smiled back, unable to look at Andrew. "I'm gonna go watch the show. I'll leave you to it."

I turned my back just as he was about to protest, sipping at my drink as I kept my word, finding a seat before the stage. I couldn't really focus on the music though, my mind reeling over what Joe was up to. He hadn't even texted or calls. His location was off too. I grabbed another couple drinks, bumping into Andrew when I made my way back to the stage.

"Y/N," he reached for my arm, a sincerely apologetic tone to his voice. "I'm sorry for earlier, that was rude."

"No it wasn't," I replied a bit too quick, brushing off the apology. "You're single, you can do whatever."

"I meant having someone at our table," shit. Was that the wrong thing to say? Their margaritas are always too strong. "I was enjoying just having you and I time."

"No worries, there's always next time," I smiled sweetly, though really, I just wanted to get in the nearest cab, pack all my shit at home and move back to Bristol. "You're nearly on! I'll be front row." I turned away again, finding my way back to the nice girls I made small talk with earlier.

Sure enough, Andrew was up within the next fifteen minutes. The announcer, somewhere hidden backstage spoke, "please give your warmest welcome to our absolute favourite, Andrew Hozier-Byrne!"

He walked onto the stage, acoustic guitar hanging from his neck as he awkwardly made his way onto the stage, adjusting the microphone to his height as he did each night.

"Ehm, this song is called I Could Be Yours," he offered a tight lipped smile to the crowd, a few cheers heard here and there. "Thanks guys."

I couldn't help but grin at his shyness, the complete opposite of how he was with me.

I could be soft and sweet, I could be hard and loud.

I could be everything you'd ever need somehow.

Why don't you hear me sing out from the lost and found,

I could be yours, I could be yours, I could be yours.

He seemed to be scanning the crowd, probably for Harper, meanwhile all eyes were on him, basking in his glory. As if he were rain in a drought, not a single soul in the audience not mesmerised by his syrupy voice. Myself included, wide eyed, the epitome of awe.

Why don't you try on me? Why don't you take me home?

I'll match the colour scheme of your bedroom walls.

Oh, take a dose of me, it doesn't hurt at all.

I could be yours, I could be yours, I could be yours.

His skilled fingers danced along the strings, his eyes, when not scanning the crowd focused on his measured movements. To say I was moved was an understatement. His voice thick and sweet as honey, his eyes shining under the stage lights, the hypnotic effect he had on the crowd. Unlike anything I had ever experienced.

Then his eyes found mine. It was almost like nothing existed in the same realm as him and I. Just us.

Oh God, I'd benefit from your sweet tenderness.

Oh, thank God, it could've been, 'cause nothing comes from it.

That'd be a helpful thought if I could remember it,

but I could be yours, I could be yours, I could be yours.

"Thanks," he nodded awkwardly to the crowd, eyes leaving mine as he did the stage, the audience cheering and clapping.

I couldn't put into words the feelings I felt if you held a gun to my head. No doubt my eyes glistened back at his, tears of joy swimming at my waterline, completely estranged from last nights'.

"He was looking right at you!" One of the women I'd met shouted over the cheers, shaking me by the shoulder. I just hummed some response, smiling and beelining for the exit.

The bite of the outdoors was a stark comparison to the warmth of the bar, my nervous system seeming to reset instantaneously. I pulled out my phone and checked the time. 8:45pm. I told Joe I wouldn't be home til midnight and not to wait up for me.

It was wrong to feel this way about Andrew. He was my friend. I had Joe. Even if we had our rough patches.

My phone buzzed wildly in my hand, and when I checked the caller ID, I nearly didn't pick up.

I sighed. "Hello?"

"Hey," Andrew spoke loudly over the drunken chatter, a few good one mate, and, good on ya's here and there. "Where'd you run off to?"

"I, uh, had too much to drink," I lied through my teeth, kicking at the gravel beneath my feet. "I'm just heading home."

"Oh..."

"I'm out the front," I piped up, not wanting him to think he caused this. Or that I was running away. Because I was not. Right?

He hung up and shortly after, his tall figure emerged, his shadow reaching me before he did.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. "Great song, Andy. Really beautiful." I meant it.

"Oh, yeah. Thank you," he smiled, looking down at his boots. "How're you getting home?"

"I was gonna get a cab, or an Uber, or something." I shrugged, acutely aware of how breathy I sounded. Beyond tired. I wasn't lying when I said I'd had too much to drink.

"No need, I'll take you." He offered, digging his hands into his pockets and gesturing with his head for me to follow.

"It's okay, Andy, really," I countered, giving him my must sincere smile I could muster. I was too confused right now. Nobody had ever made me feel this way while I've been with Joe. "Get in there and mingle. They loved you."

"I'd rather know you're safe."

I ended up in the passenger seat of his car. He'd kindly put the heater on full blast, though no doubt, he'd be sweating under all those layers. I protested, but he kept fretting about how red my nose was from the cold.

"You alright?" He asked, my head leaned against his window.

"Yeah," I breathed, struggling to keep my eyes open, though my mind was very much awake and racing.

"You've been acting funny, did I upset you?" He glanced over at me, concern written all over his features. Had he always been this handsome?

"It's not you. I'm sorry," I lifted my head to look at him. Tequila and I are not friends. I flipped down the visor mirror to see a tiny it of smudged mascara under my eyes. I wiped it away, sighing for the hundredth time. "Joe just... things aren't going well. I slept on the couch last night. Well, barely. He's just so mean, you know?" I babbled drunkenly, a huge weight lifting after finally telling someone. "He always picks at everything I do. You complain all the time. You put too much salt in this. That isn't a real sustainable job, babe. We never shag anymore... Shag? Isn't that disgusting, Andy?"

I continued my drunken spiel, probably including more details than I should have. Andrew just kept his eyes on the road, sharing glances here and there to let me know he was listening.

The grande finale, "why can't all men just be like you? You would make a wonderful husband, you know. You wouldn't tell your girlfriend she's too lively in bed, would you?"

"No, I wouldn't," he laughed, shaking his head. He looked at me fondly. For once, it wasn't a look of sympathy. It was kind of sad, almost.

"I've said too much, haven't I?" I probably looked like a kicked puppy at the realisation, but one smile from him eased any disconcertion I had.

"Not at all," he sighed, staring at his hands on the wheel. "I have a lot to say. I just don't think I should be the one saying it."

"Well, now you have to tell me," I countered, lolling my head to the side to face him.

"He's a fuckwit," he shook his head, his grip on the wheel tightening. "He doesn't deserve you. Not even a little bit. He's going to fuck it up and won't realise what he's lost until it's too late. And you know what? Good."

He pulled onto the road before my house with perfect timing, getting out of the car to open my door for me. He took my hand in his, helping me out, and thank goodness he did, because I still nearly rolled my ankle. I laughed and let myself fall into his chest, steadying myself after a hearty, obnoxious laugh.

"Oh my God, I've made a complete fool of myself tonight," I sighed, this time it felt like a release, not a breath weighing me down. "Thank you for taking care of me, Andy."

"Anytime at all," he grinned leaning against his car. I couldn't help myself, lurching forward at him, wrapping my arms around his torso. My head barely reached his shoulder, even when standing on the curb.

"I loved your song," I murmured against his chest, pulling back to grab his face. He turned ghost white. "You are my favourite singer. Ever."

His cheeks darkened as he looked away, chuckling softly with the shake of his head.

"Drink lots of water for me tonight. That's an order as your favourite singer."

"Yes, Mr. Hozier-Byrne," I grinned, turning on my heels and heading for the door. The garage door was 1/4 open. Joe must be home early.

I fumbled through my purse for my keys, finding them after what felt like an eternity of great difficulty. I was going in with a good attitude. I was going to sit him down and hash this out. We can fix this. We've been together nearly 6 years, this is just a rough patch.

I walked up to my bedroom, sure my ears were deceiving me. When I opened my bedroom door, I saw red.

omg angst... just hear me out i have good direction for this one. i hope u enjoyed <3

[logansargeantsbabymom]

He's Tough

RB!Daniel Ricciardo x Fem!Reader

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

F1 Masterlist

I stood in the Red Bull garage, feeling the familiar buzz of excitement and anticipation that came with every race. Daniel was out on the track, doing what he loved most, and I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him navigate the curves and straights with his usual skill and grace. We had always been couple goals, the kind of relationship everyone admired. The other WAGs often told me how lucky I was, and I knew it. Daniel was everything to me.

But then, everything changed in an instant.

I was watching the monitor, my eyes glued to the screen as Daniel approached a particularly tricky section of the track. Suddenly, his car spun out of control, crashing into the barriers with a sickening thud. My heart stopped, and the garage fell eerily silent. I could see the race engineers frantically trying to communicate with him, but there was no response.

Panic surged through me. I tried to run out to where Daniel was, desperate to be by his side, but Christian Horner grabbed my arm, holding me back. “You can’t go out there, Y/N,” he said firmly, his eyes filled with concern.

I struggled against his grip, tears streaming down my face. “But he’s not responding! I need to be with him!”

“Let the medics do their job,” Christian insisted, his voice a mixture of authority and sympathy.

Minutes felt like hours. Every second that ticked by without news was torture. Finally, the medical team managed to extract Daniel from the car, but he was unconscious. My heart shattered as I saw his limp body being placed on the stretcher. I feared the worst, my mind racing with horrific possibilities.

Max Verstappen, who had been called back to the pit lane due to the red flag, came over and tried to comfort me. “He’s tough, Y/N. He’s going to be okay,” he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

But I could barely hear him over the sound of my own sobs. The ride to the hospital was a blur, my mind consumed with worry. When we finally arrived, they rushed Daniel into surgery for his injuries—a broken wrist and a concussion. The waiting room was cold and sterile, a stark contrast to the warmth and joy that usually surrounded our lives.

Hours passed before a doctor came to update us. “He’s stable,” she said, and I felt a sliver of relief. “But he’ll need time to recover.”

When they finally let me see him, I rushed to his bedside. He looked so fragile, so unlike the strong and invincible man I knew. His eyes fluttered open, and he gave me a weak smile. “Hey, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

I burst into tears again, holding his hand tightly. “I thought I lost you, Daniel. I was so scared.”

He squeezed my hand gently. “I’m here, love. I’m not going anywhere.”

In that moment, I realized how much I needed him, how much I wanted our future together. “Daniel, I’ve been thinking,” I began, my voice shaking. “I’ve always said I didn’t want kids, and you never pressured me, even though I know you really wanted them. But after today, I know I want everything with you. Marriage, kids, all of it.”

His eyes softened, and he smiled. “I’ve always wanted that with you, Y/N. And I promise, I’m always going to be here for you. I’m never going to leave you.”

A mixture of fear and excitement bubbled up inside me. “Good, because I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, he just stared at me, his eyes wide with shock. Then, a slow, joyful smile spread across his face. “We’re having a baby?”

I nodded, tears of happiness streaming down my face. “Yes, we are.”

He pulled me close, despite the pain it must have caused him. “I love you, Y/N. We’re going to have an amazing life together.”

As I held him, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together. Our love was stronger than any crash, any injury. And now, with our baby on the way, our future looked brighter than ever.

---------

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[moonsandmobilityaids]

Limp

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: You have your first atonic seizure in front of the boys. Warnings: Depiction of an atonic seizure Series Masterlist

It’s one of those evenings where the chill of November makes everything feel softer, like the world has settled into a slower rhythm. You’re curled up in your favorite spot in your room, surrounded by the boys. The fire casts a warm glow over the space, flickering light bouncing off the walls and your skin. Sirius is lying beside you on the bed, one arm draped over your waist as he traces lazy patterns on your skin. James is behind you, his chest pressed to your back, legs tangled with yours. Remus, sitting at the foot of the bed, occasionally reaches over to squeeze your ankle, grounding you with his touch.

You’re content, a rare moment of peace and warmth where the pain is manageable, and the boys’ affection fills the room like a warm blanket. Sirius is rambling about some ridiculous prank idea, James is laughing softly into your shoulder, and Remus is adding his own dry commentary here and there. It’s perfect—until your body decides otherwise.

In the middle of Sirius’s sentence, your muscles suddenly give out. Your body goes completely limp, slumping against James without warning, your head dropping slightly to the side. The atonic seizure hits without fanfare, as they always do—one second you're fine, the next, everything switches off.

You don’t notice, of course. You’re unaware of how Sirius’s hand stops moving, how his eyes widen in alarm.

"Babe?" His voice trembles, a note of uncertainty threading through it. His fingers hover over you, suddenly unsure if more contact is what you need or if it will only worsen whatever is happening.

James stirs behind you, his arms loosening their hold as he tries to comprehend the scene unfolding before him. "Sweetheart?" he murmurs, the word barely more than a breath against your ear, laced with worry.

Of the three, Remus remains the most composed, though his brow furrows in thought. "I think it's an atonic seizure," he murmurs, more to himself than the others. "It should pass in a few moments."

Sirius' gaze darts between you and Remus, his expression a mirror of his conflicted thoughts. "So she's just... limp?" His voice is laced with both confusion and worry. "Is she going to be alright?"

James shifts ever so slightly, adjusting the angle at which he holds you to ensure your comfort. His arms cradle your unresisting form with a gentleness that belies his strength. "It's... unsettling to see her like this."

"It is." Remus nods, his eyes never straying from you. "But according to Y/N, it's not unusual for her. She said they don't usually last long."

The seconds tick by, each one a world of its own until the count reaches ten and then, mercifully, it stops. Your body strengthens, settling back into it’s normal form as if the seizure had been nothing but a bad dream. You blink, feeling disconnected from the world for a moment before reality snaps back into focus. Aside from a lingering sense of disorientation, you feel surprisingly okay.

When you finally manage to lift your head, all you see are three faces etched with concern. Sirius is closest, his hand hovering over your waist as though he's unsure whether or not to touch you. "Are you back with us?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," you respond softly, struggling to make sense of what just happened. "That was... an atonic seizure, right?"

James exhales, the movement of his hand on your arm slow and soothing. "Yes, we think it was. Gave us quite the scare."

Remus chuckles softly, the tension in the room lessening now that you're responsive. "I assured them it would pass. But I must admit, witnessing it first-hand is quite another thing."

You smile faintly, leaning into James's sturdy presence behind you, cocooned by their concern. "And it probably won't be the last time, especially with winter coming on."

"Well, you could've given us a heads-up about you turning into a ragdoll," Sirius grumbles, though his eyes still hold a lingering trace of worry.

A small laugh escapes your lips and you tilt your head to look at him. "I believe I did mention it, didn't I?"

A grin tugs at Remus's lips as he ruffles your hair gently. "You did, love. They just weren't paying attention."

James presses a kiss to your shoulder, his arms still secure around you. "We'll remember next time," he murmurs, the promise resonating in his voice. "We’ll just hold on till it passes, right?"

"And I'll ensure that every time feels like a princess being held," Sirius adds, the dramatic flair in his tone making you snort. He pulls you slightly closer, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your side.

Laughter spills from your lips, light and unburdened. Their warmth seeps into you, a tangible reminder of their presence – a promise that even in moments such as these, they stand with you.

[shitsndgiggs]

kenan who ditches your date for his girl best friend (no cheating) and you wanted to tell him that you were pregnant. he comes to the place eventually and sees you left. he comes home, but you dump him. later, he sees you with a baby bump at the grocery store and idk just groveling kenan until you make up with him 💓 happy ending always 💓

REBUILDING US - KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan ditched your date

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

I sat at our favorite restaurant, the one where Kenan and I had shared countless dinners, anniversaries, and even our first date.

Tonight was supposed to be special, a night to celebrate our love and to share the news that would change our lives forever.

I was pregnant, and I couldn't wait to see the look on Kenan's face when I told him.

But as the minutes turned into an hour, my excitement turned into worry, and then into disappointment.

I tried calling him, but his phone went straight to voicemail. My heart sank. I paid the bill and left, fighting back tears as I walked to my car.

____

Kenan rushed through the streets, his heart pounding with a mix of guilt and panic. He was late—so late that he feared Y/N might have already left.

He mentally kicked himself for getting caught up with Lara's issues, even though he genuinely wanted to help his friend.

But now, all he could think about was Y/N and how disappointed she must be.

As he finally arrived at the restaurant, he scanned the tables, searching for her familiar face. His heart sank when he didn't see her. He approached the hostess, his anxiety palpable.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice strained. "I was supposed to meet someone here, a woman named Y/N. Did she already leave?"

The hostess checked her reservation list, then looked up at him with sympathy. "Yes, she left about an hour ago. I'm sorry."

Kenan's shoulders slumped, and he muttered a thank you before turning to leave. He felt a heavy weight of regret pressing down on him. He knew he had messed up, and now he had to face the consequences.

When he got home, the silence was deafening. He called out for Y/N, but there was no response. He checked every room, his worry growing with each step.

Finally, he sat on the couch, burying his face in his hands. What had he done?

Days turned into weeks, and Kenan's attempts to reach out to Y/N were met with silence. He sent messages, left voicemails, and even sent flowers to her apartment, but she remained distant.

The pain of her absence was unbearable, and he couldn't shake the image of her disappointed face from his mind.

____

The grocery store felt like the last place I’d see Kenan. But as I turned a corner, there he was, standing right in front of me. My heart skipped a beat, and I froze, unsure of how to react.

"Y/N," he called out, his voice wavering as he approached me.

I turned to face him, my eyes widening in surprise. "Kenan," I said, my tone guarded. I instinctively rested my hand on my baby bump, feeling both protective and vulnerable.

He took a deep breath, his eyes locked on my belly. "I... I didn't know," he stammered, clearly shocked. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I felt a mix of sadness and anger. "I tried to, Kenan. That night at the restaurant, I was going to tell you. But you weren't there."

His face contorted with regret. "I'm so sorry," he said, his voice filled with remorse. "I was with Lara. She needed me, but I should have been with you. I made a huge mistake."

I looked down, my hand gently caressing my bump. "It's been hard," I admitted. "But I've managed. I'm doing what I need to for my baby."

Tears filled Kenan's eyes. "Please, let me be a part of this. I know I messed up, but I want to be there for you and our child. I'll do anything to make it right."

I hesitated, torn between the love I still felt for him and the pain he had caused me. "I need to know I can trust you," I said softly. "That you'll put us first."

"I promise," he said, his voice firm. "I love you, Y/N. I never stopped. And I want to prove to you that I'm committed to our family."

I looked into his eyes, searching for sincerity. "It's going to take time," I said finally, feeling my resolve waver. "But I don't know if I can trust you again. You hurt me, Kenan."

He looked devastated but nodded. "I understand. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. Please, just give me a chance."

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the decision before me. "I need time," I said. "This isn't something that can be fixed overnight."

Kenan nodded again, his eyes filled with hope and determination. "I'll wait as long as it takes. I just want to be there for you and our baby."

As we walked out of the store together, I felt a mix of emotions. Part of me wanted to believe in his promises, to give him a chance to make things right.

But another part of me was still hurt, still wary of letting him back into my life.

Over the next few weeks, Kenan made good on his promise. He called and texted regularly, offering to help with anything I needed.

He attended doctor's appointments and helped set up the nursery. Slowly, my anger began to fade, replaced by a cautious optimism.

One evening, as we sat on the couch together, he reached for my hand. "I know I've put you through a lot," he said, his voice sincere. "But I want you to know that I love you, and I'm committed to being a good father and partner."

I looked into his eyes, feeling a warmth spread through me. "You've been trying," I acknowledged. "And it means a lot. But it's still hard for me to forget what happened."

"I understand," he said, squeezing my hand gently. "But I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. We can take it one day at a time."

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I nodded. "One day at a time," I repeated, feeling a glimmer of hope.

[keru0]

Tickletober 2024

Day 9: Death Spot

Lee!Blade x Ler!Jing Yuan

*Warning for bondage and mentions of death

============================================

“How is the prisoner holding up?” The General asked, walking around the man bound in chains, his wrists shackled to the ceiling, his feet to the ground.

“Let me go, Jing Yuan. I have business to do elsewhere.” Blade retorted, eyes narrowing at the figure circling him.

“You will be let go, I’m sure. But you still must face trial. I have actually come here to move you to a more comfortable cell. I’m sure you don’t enjoy being chained up like this, yes?” He asked softly, crossing his arms as he stopped in front of the bound man, looking him up and down.

Blade stayed silent, not offering a response to the man who brought him here, fervently avoiding his amber gaze.

Jing Yuan sighed, shoulders relaxing as he tried to change the subject. Blade had already been interrogated – it was better to talk to him, see what he’s been up to. “Have you found the thing you’ve been searching for? Death?” He frowned at his old friend, past memories filling him with melancholy.

The Stellaron Hunter returned his gaze, eyes focused on the ground as he offered his answer. “No, I have not…I’m not him, Jing Yuan.” 

“I’m aware.” He said woefully, his frown deepening as more memories flooded into his mind – memories of happier times with his friends. “I could help with what you seek, though,” He suggested, walking to the back of Blade, his eyes wandering over his muscular form. “I happen to remember certain situations where you said ‘you’re killing me’...”

Blade’s eyes widened as he felt a finger swipe up his back, the chains rattling as he twitched. “Jing Yuan, I am not-”

“You are not him, yes. However, you share the same body…and I happen to remember it very well.” He said with a smirk, his hands wrapping around the other’s sides. Squeezing and kneading into the soft muscle.

“J-Jihing Yuahan! Stohop thihis!” The man demanded, twitching left and right as much as the bindings would allow as the hands crept up to his lowest ribs, then back down to his hips. Past memories flooded into his own mind, of laughing under his lovers’ hands, begging and pleading as they played with him. A blush crept over his face at the memories.

“But, as I said, you mentioned this particular activity ‘killed you,’ even if you admitted you loved it later…” He chuckled, strong hands prodding at the ribs and between them, one by one as if he was counting them and the spaces between.

“NoHohO! LeHehEt me gOhoHo!” blade pleaded, a whine slipping out as he felt the hands creeping higher and higher. He blushed at the General’s words, remembering exactly the moments he was referring to. Of course, he didn’t hate this, he did however, find it extremely unpleasant, not to mention demeaning.

“As I said, I am sure you will be let go after your trial. Now, if I remember, you said your ‘death spot’ was right-”

“YAHAHAH SHIHIHIHIT!”

“-here.” The sleepy general chuckled, his fingers scratching into the outstretched armpits as the rattling chains mixed with the song of laughter echoing throughout the chamber. The focused on the centers of the defenseless pits before scribbling around them, from just below the strong biceps to the highest of ribs. “I have missed hearing your laughter, I must say.”

“JING YUAHAHAN! STOHOHOHP! PLEHEHEHEASE! NAHAHAHAHA!” The prisoner begged, his head thrown back in laughter as he was tickled. He pulled at his arms, though the chains pulled them tight. He attempted to move his legs, though they were chained to the floor, not able to move. All he could do was take what the general gave him, and hope he could spare a shred of mercy as tears of mirth formed at the corners of his eyes, his blush deepening at the humiliating situation, yet he still could not say he hated it, as for the first time in a while, happy memories resurfaced.

“I will, but first I want to see – can one truly die of laughter, or did you always just say that so we would stop?”

[221beloved]

"I can't find it."

(Link to ao3)

"Oh crap!"

"Keep still," Sherlock tutted, his knuckles brushing against the skin of John's neck.

"But we forgot the gift," John protested, trying to bat Sherlock's hands away from the collar of his shirt.

They'd been invited to Sarah's wedding, the letter had reached them four weeks ago. And the invitation had specifically said Sherlock and John. Not John Watson plus one, but Sherlock and John. Well, John guessed he'd been fairly obvious.

John and Sarah had kept in touch. They'd met for coffee sometimes, on birthdays or other occasions. They'd gotten along well enough after all, so they'd kept their friendship alive. John had been the first to learn about the engagement with-- god, what was his name again? He was getting more and more like Sherlock…well.

And apparently, even though John had never actively mentioned the development between Sherlock and him, she'd noticed. Not that John was complaining.

The invitation, however, was responsible for the fact that they were currently standing in their living room, both in three piece suits, fighting with John's bow-tie.

Well, John was fighting with it, Sherlock had just tried to do it for John, when the matter of the missing present had turned up.Sherlock pulled on John’s shirt.

"We didn't forget, we bought them the wellness voucher, don't you remember?"

"Yes!" John squirmed and finally succeeded in getting away from Sherlock's hands.

"But I can also remember that I can't recall where we've put it."

Sherlock shoved his hands into his trouser pockets petulantly.

"We've put it--"

He stopped, looked at John just a little helplessly.

"You've put it away. You said it was a special place so we'd know where to find it."

John grimaced. "Yes, I do recall that. But... It must be upstairs, I think. Only reasonable place to store it, right?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I'm not the one to ask about such things."

"Yes, right. Will you just go upstairs and get it?"

"But your bow-tie, John--"

"Yes, yes, I'll just have to do it myself. We're late already, so would you just go and grab the damn thing."

Sherlock glowered at him but turned and went up the stairs.Standing in front of the mirror, fighting with his bow-tie, John could hear Sherlock rummage around upstairs.

"You fucked up piece of shit," he hissed at the fabric that was somehow tangled around his neck. His uniform had always been flawless, back when he'd been a soldier, and his room had always passed inspections, when he’d still been the one to endure them, clothes folded and bed made neatly. Yet he couldn't tame that... thing, the one time it counted.

He ripped the fabric off completely again and started a new attempt.

"I can't find it!" came Sherlock's voice from upstairs.

"Shit... shit shit shit!" John muttered under his breath.

"Did you look on the shelve?" he shouted back.

There was a loud bang, as if something heavy had just hit the ground. From a considerable height, at that.

"Yep," came Sherlock's voice shortly after.

"And?"

"Nope."

John sighed. But where else should it be?

"Can I come back down now?" Sherlock's voice floated down the stairs again. Did he sound petulant?

"Yes!"

John pushed the fabric of his bow-tie through the loosened knot, tightened it and inspected his work in the mirror. Well, it was a knot. He smirked.

"What have you done?" Sherlock asked in horror from behind him, staring at John's reflection.

"I tied it. I don't understand why you're so fussy about it anyway. Don't you hate them?"

Sherlock grabbed him at the shoulders, violently turned him around and all but ripped the bow-tie from his neck.

"I don't like to get strangled, yes, but I have standards, as you should know by now."

"Can't we just do it in the cab, Sarah will kill me," John begged.

"If you’d just keep still I would be done in a minute. Now," Sherlock scolded and began binding that thing again.

John sighed in resignation and closed his eyes to think. Were had put that sodden gift.

"See, all done," Sherlock said before the minute was passed. He folded down John's collar and tucked at his shirt.

"There's your present, by the way," he said, nodding towards the bookshelf.

"What?"John turned around, just to see the neatly wrapped box, indeed standing on the shelve. At eye level.

And now he did remember how he’d put it there, so he could always see it and remember to take it with them.

"Worked out perfectly," Sherlock teased, holding out John's suit jacket.

"Did you know it was there the whole time?" he sighed while shrugging into the jacket.

"Saw it again when I came down the stairs," Sherlock admitted and gently pulled John towards him on the belt loops of his trousers to close the upper button of his jacket.

"You look handsome," he whispered into John's ear.

"Do you know how I feel around you all the time?"

"You're used to it. But I think I could get used to you in a suit as well."

"Forget it," John chuckled, leaning up to press a gentle kiss on Sherlock's lips.

"That's reserved for special occasions."

He stepped back from a pouting Sherlock, grabbed the little box and opened the door.

"Come on, let's at least pretend we even tried to be on time."

--Please tell me if you want to be added or removed from the list!

@flufftober @meetinginsamarra @a-victorian-girl @lisbeth-kk @topsyturvy-turtely

@keirgreeneyes @the-reading-lemon @totallysilvergirl @helloliriels @221bug

@quiscustodiet @willamholmeswatson @calaisreno @chaiandpages

[misspelledwordswizard]

Chapter 16 - Trying to get back to normal, I guess!?

Previous chapter / Next chapter

The first rays of morning sunlight passed through the leaves of the trees and touched my skin gently, bringing a feeling of pleasure and calm to my being. The Lost Woods were very peaceful, also full of magic, which my body was getting more and more used to. Even though this was a safe haven, we would be leaving today, after talking to the Great Deku Tree.

I was the only one awake so far, I had been awake for over na hour, in fact. I didn’t feel tired after having slept for two days, maybe a little mentally, but physically I was fine. The calm breeze surrounded me, carrying with it some dry leaves that brought na air of magic to this moment. Hyrule is a beautiful place and I never cease to be amazed by the natural magic that lives here so regularly.

Something large created a shadow next to me, catching my attention. The large man with marks on his face looked down at me gently and then sat down next to me. It was only now that I was able to give him due attention. Time had been without his usual armor since we arrived in the forest, and he seemed much more... approachable, if that makes sense. It was as if without the armor I could see him more as the mischievous boy he once was than the imposing hero figure.

— Up so early?

— Yeah, I wasn’t sleepy. – I replied with na awkward smile.

— Do you mind if I keep you company?

— Not at all!

That was, in fact, what I would like. I’ve been wanting to talk to him for a while now, before we arrived he seemed to have a lot of weight on his shoulders, and after everything that happened I imagine it’s even worse.

— How are you feeling? – I risked asking, not knowing how to start the conversation.

— I should be the one asking that.

— Well, yes, but all of this must be exhausting for you, right?

— Hm, yes, I guess so. I don’t like to see those I care about hurt or suffering, even though I have to keep myself in check, I can’t help but feel despair seeing the situation that was going on. – The Old Man said thoughtfully.

— I’m sorry for worrying you. I know you feel responsible for all of us, but this wasn’t something that could be controlled, in the end, you did everything you could and we were fine. – I tried to comfort him, but even with years and years of experience in this, I still feel lost whenever I try. – You don’t always have to be the best and have a solution for everything, Link. It’s okay to make mistakes, it doesn’t disqualify you as a leader, knowing your limits also makes you more prepared. Everyone understands this, they don’t expect you to solve everything for them, they expect you to work with them to find the best solution.

Time didn’t seem to mind my lack of ability with supportive words, he laughed softly and ran his hand over my head affectionately.

— You’re wise for your age, sometimes I even think you’re older than you look. – He joked and I had to hold back my despair at him getting so close to the truth.

— I’d like to say the same about you, but I can’t, because you’re old. – I laughed at his indignant expression, and in response he gave me a slight push and laughed too.

We spent a few more minutes in comfortable silence before another one of the boys woke up. Legend seemed in a good mood early in the morning, probably for the same reason as me, he just said good morning to both of us and walked away from where we were, to do who knows what. Then Wild woke up, he was excited, quickly heading towards the trees to greet the Koroks and get some fruit for breakfast.

Wars and Twi were next, they approached and joined us both in a peaceful conversation about mundane things or possible next places to go. Soon Four and Wind were also participating in the conversation, the youngest still sleepy. They chatted excitedly and considered what time we would stop next, the Sailor wishing it was his time, so he could show everyone how to sail and meet his Grandmother, his little sister and Tetra.

Still very excited about the idea of introducing everyone to Hyrule, the youngest was content to show me the rest of the Lost Woods, since I hadn’t had time for that before, so I said goodbye to the others briefly while the kid pulled me by the arm into the forest. Wind excitedly showed me the place that he himself barely knew, there weren’t many intriguing things to see, it was more like “there’s a big tree over there!” or “Look at that rock in the lake!”, but he was happy so I didn’t argue with his childish logic. Maybe he saw all this while I was sleeping and it stayed in his mind because he wanted to see it with me, and this idea warmed my heart, knowing that he would be thinking of me in such casual moments like this. I feel more and more attached to this child.

The Koroks were a little scared, most of them would run away or hide when they saw us approaching, probably not being used to human contact, there were few who accepted us well or even talked to us. After all, they were innocent, childlike spirits, so they got along very well with the Sailor, who seemed to be a magnet that attracted them.

At some point we just stopped explaining the forest and sat under the shade of a tree while some of our little green friends joined us to play. It was adorable, the Koroks are very gentle and cute, so I felt immense guilt when I remembered all the times I mistreated one of these little ones in the Wild games. God, that Korok crucifix will haunt me for the rest of my life.

— Do you miss home? – The Sailor’s voice brought my attention back to reality.

— Hm, home? Not exactly. I do miss my parents, but I don’t miss a specific place that I call home. That cabin was where I lived, but it wasn’t a home. – I said thoughtfully, contemplating my life so far. In fact, it was cozy, it was my refuge, but I don’t believe I can call it home.

— So it’s not so bad, right? When all this is over, you’ll have a beautiful house that you’ll be able to call home in time, and as a bonus, you’ve gained nine new friends from different times who will visit you and help make your house your home! – Wind said hopefully, it was comforting to see his optimism, that everything will be okay, that we’ll still see each other at the end of all this.

— Do you... consider me your friend?

— What? Of course you do! We’re friends, aren’t we?

— Yes, of course, I just didn’t know if you and others saw me that way. Sometimes I feel like I’m just someone you feel obligated to help...

— Don’t say things like that! You’re our friend, we may have only been together for a short time, and we may have gotten you involved in all this unintentionally, but you’ve become very important to all of us! Believe me, we wouldn’t act like this towards you if we only saw you as someone we should help. – The pirate spoke confidently and even seemed to be scolding me for my pessimistic thoughts, which made me laugh.

— Right! I’m glad, because I care about you too.

With that, our conversation quickly changed to trivial things, or Wind gossiping about his brothers’ quirks – not that I hadn’t already noticed how well Warriors takes care of his hair. We spent a good while like that, until I considered that we had been apart for too long and it would be better to go back to where the rest of the group was.

◇

As we approached the Great Deku Tree, I could notice that a serious conversation was going on there, it seemed like we got in the act, so I couldn’t fully understand. From what I could tell, Time was talking directly to the Deku Tree, some matter related to Sombra and the monsters that were appearing thanks to it.

— I see, then the best option would be to move forward with this, to find the source of these portals. – The deep voice of the oldest hero resounded, that’s when the others saw the two of us approaching and called us to join the conversation.

— Thou art wise to think in such a way, if thou want to fight such nefarious power it is of great necessity to have knowledge about it. – Deku Tree spoke with his erudite language.

— We will be leaving the forest in na hour, all of you be ready by then, we need to look for traces of the Shadow. – Time concluded, heading towards us.

That was enough for everyone to separate to organize their belongings, leaving me somewhat lost, not knowing where to go. I suppose I should also go after my things, but I was still thinking about what was happening.

— Are you okay? – Legend’s voice came from behind me, pulling me out of my thoughts.

— Hm? Oh, I am, just a little dazed.

— Don’t push yourself too hard, we should both take it easy for now, so we don’t become a burden to others, okay?

— Okay.

He raised his hand, bringing it closer to my shoulder, as if trying to comfort me, but stopped halfway, shyly stepping back. He sighed and looked away then just walked away, leaving me alone.

I headed inside the tree, where my things were. My belts and unnecessary accessories had been taken off me when I passed out to keep myself comfortable, and I hadn’t picked them back up until now. I made sure to equip my belt and sword and prepare for our upcoming departure. It would be sad to have to leave the peace and quiet of the Lost Woods, but it was necessary.

An hour passed quickly as I said goodbye to the little Koroks I had become friends with, and soon we were all gathered in the same place we had entered – even though I don’t remember having passed by there. As always, Wars was counting to make sure everyone was there, they always did that, I wonder if they hadn’t forgotten one of them before.

After confirming everyone’s presence, we started walking, leaving behind that comfort that for me had lasted so little. Leaving was easier than entering, both because we didn’t get lost and because I didn’t feel any pain or faint halfway. Even though I was doing very well, I still felt worried looks directed at me and I wondered if the Veteran was in the same situation.

— So, what’s the plan? – I asked, what I believe was everyone’s thoughts at the moment. Time turned to me for a while, considering how much he should tell us.

— We’re going back the way we came, we’re going to Central Hyrule.

— And why? – It was Wind who asked this time, as lost as I was.

— If there’s a place to start looking for the Shadow, it’s there. At least we should get some clues. – The Champion replied contemplatively.

With that, the conversation died, it was something we didn’t really like to talk about, it’s not a very fun subject to debate. Silence reigned in the Chain, and I wondered what would await us next, what we would need to sacrifice to end all this. Some questions in my mind were more personal, about why I had gotten involved in all this, or more philosophical, if perhaps I had reincarnated in this world precisely for this.

Soon we were back through the forest where we had previously separated, but this time silence reigned, where once there was a horde of noisy monsters, now there was only peaceful nature. This brought me inexplicable relief and comfort, part of the old anxiety that I had been holding onto finally dissipated, knowing that in the end they were all fine, even if they had had complications, was a great weight being lifted off my shoulders.

The sun coming out again brought with it a general good mood in the group, everyone seemed to calm down now with the comfortable warm weather, lively conversations arising. Since the monsters in the area had been recently eliminated, none of them felt apprehensive about making noises that could eventually draw someone or something’s attention, so it was possible to hear loud laughter and several of them talking at the same time in such a jovial manner.

Soon jokes between the boys began to appear, mostly silly things, childish road games, but all of this contributed to the pleasant atmosphere that had formed after so long. The comfortable breeze that surrounded us helped even more with this, with the sun’s rays passing through the leaves of the trees and projecting spots of light on the ground and on ourselves, making the environment even more beautiful. This place that had previously caused us so much anguish was now home to good times.

I could feel excluded from all of this, not feeling part of the group, but that was impossible with all the attention I received from them. This was unusual for most of my life, even though people were kind to me, when I was lonely and isolated they would just leave me there, without understanding that that was me unable to fit in. Now, everyone seemed to understand this, because they knew how to differentiate when I needed my time and when I just didn’t know how to interact, so to compensate for this they interacted with me until I was confident enough to join in their games. These boys were precious to me, in a different way than they are precious to others.

— Hey, do you want to see what I can do?! – Wind proclaimed to me excitedly, going a little further, getting ready and doing a cartwheel, showing me and his brothers like a child who wants to show everything he learns to his parents.

— Oh, when I was a child I could do that! But it’s likely that if I try nowadays I’ll end up all broken... – I rambled while lightly applauding the Sailor’s presentation.

— One more thing for the list of things you’re forbidden from doing during your punishment without dangerous activities. – Twilight joked next to me and I just stuck my tongue out at him in a childish manner.

The games and conversations continued all the way, with that the time went by quickly and soon we were passing in front of the stable where we had stayed previously. It was still early afternoon, so we wouldn’t be staying here to rest, after all because we’d already been doing that for a long time. We walked straight past the stable – not before a petting session with the local dog.

We continued walking down the road, the sun warming our skin, getting vitamin D after so much time spent molding inside a tree, no offense to the Deku Tree, of course. I could feel the energy returning to my body with this, as far as I know the sun is very important and greatly influences people’s happiness for several reasons. It’s a shame it burns the skin.

Wind moved away from where I was, going further ahead of the group to – disturb – talk to Legend and Hyrule. Sky took his place next to me, with a shy and gentle smile, and soon a conversation started between the two of us.

— How are you feeling?

— Very good, actually! Feeling the sun and stretching my legs seems to be what I’ve been needing all this time. – I commented, relaxing my muscles to prove my point.

— That’s good! I’ve been really worried about you and Vet, I know you’ve heard that before, but you two gave us quite a scare. – The hero commented and I nodded, embarrassed for causing such a mess.

— Sorry for worrying you.

— Don’t blame yourself, it wasn’t your fault, we should have been more careful with you.

— But I-

— No “buts”, it’s okay, seriously! The important thing is that you’re okay.

I still wanted to debate about it, but seeing that the blond wouldn’t give up, I concluded that it would be better to stop. I sighed in frustration only to laugh right after due to the hero’s stubbornness. This concern and annoyance that these heroes often show only makes me feel even closer to them. I know that it is still a very weak bond of relationship, but I also know that with time it will strengthen, or at least, that is what I hope.

◇

We were passing by the bridge when we were surprised by someone running towards us. A tall, slender man approached, he was wearing white clothes and carrying on his back a red bag that matched his hat. It wasn’t very difficult for me to identify him as the postman, but I’m almost certain that he shouldn’t be in the Wild era.

— Mail for Mr. Link! – He said as he handed letters to some of the boys, including Wind, Twilight and Time. – And to you, Miss. – He concluded by handing me a letter, which only confused me more.

— What? How do you know who I am? – I said, analyzing the letter. It was from my parents. They usually sent it to my house, but since I no longer have a house in that place, I imagine I wouldn’t receive it.

— We don’t know how it works either, we just accept it. – Four explained to me, leaving me even more confused.

I quickly opened the letter, and was met with things I would normally see in my parents’ regular letters, just them talking about how they were, asking about news, and telling me about something interesting that had happened recently. They had no idea what was going on, and I wondered what the best way to tell them about all this madness would be.

Before I knew it, the postman was speeding away from the group, heading the way he had come from, leaving us behind.

— Wait, he’s not from around here, is he? How did he get here? – I asked the boys who seemed to know as much as I did.

— We don’t know very well either, but if he’s around here he must have come from a portal, and a portal means that the Shadow is nearby. – Wild concluded, and then turned around and started running in the direction the postman had gone. – Come on, we can’t lose sight of him.

That was enough to make everyone start running too, following the path guided by the postman. Soon a group of nine men were running like children, desperate almost as if they were competing to see who would get there first. Being such well-trained heroes, they were really fast, even Sky ran fast enough to leave me far behind.

Desperate to catch up with them, I started running as fast as I could, adrenaline running through me as I felt energized and at the same time without the strength to do so. It wasn’t long before, in the middle of my clumsy run, I stumbled like na idiot. I saw the ground quickly approaching my face, but my encounter with it was expedited when strong hands grabbed me by the waist.

— Hey, can I get some help, Darlin’? – Twilight asked as she stood up. I was going to thank him, but before I could react, he picked me up in the air and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. – Come on, we’re falling behind.

I couldn’t protest, because he started running madly while carrying me as if I weighed nothing, creating turbulence for me and preventing me from forming any sentence to defend my honor. We ran for a few minutes, but to me it seemed like na eternity, until we finally stopped when we seemed to have reached where everyone else was gathered.

Still on the Rancher’s shoulders, I stood up and twisted my body to be able to observe the portal that shone in na ominous tone in front of everyone.

— Are we going to go through this? – I asked, scared, drawing the attention of some of the boys to me, including Wind, who was laughing at my situation, that brat.

— Yes. – Time looked at me, and I could see his eyes full of empathy for my situation. – You can still give up, if you want.

— No, I’m in this with you, I don’t intend to abandon you. – I said as seriously as I could, considering my current state. – And you’re not going to put me down, are you?!

— Since you’re going with us, I think it’s safer for you to go through the portal with me. – Twilight defended his point, obviously just wanting to provoke by insisting on this, which made some of the idiots I call friends laugh.

I sighed and gave up complaining. One by one, the heroes started going through the portal, Sky was the last to go through before I went through in the arms of the Rancher, who at least had the decency to carry me in his arms bridal style instead of carrying me like a sack of potatoes. As I passed by, I felt a slight nausea as my head spun, trying to get used to the strong magic that ran through my body, and finally, I was taken by a strong, white light that followed me momentarily while my eyes struggled to get used to it.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was orange. Vibrant, big orange. A fucking giant pumpkin. The place had a large pumpkin a little far from us, and it had a door and windows; it was a restaurant. To our sides were pumpkin plantations that continued through the rest of the place, which in turn didn’t have much space, it was small, you could see its edges, like na island. But there was no sea around, the blue that surrounded the place was from the sky and only from the sky.

— What the Fuck! – I said surprised and scared as I was placed on the ground by Twilight, too shocked to notice this detail. I’m on a fucking island in the sky.

[tashacee]

Thought randomly popped in my head after you mentioned you ised to be in The Witcher fandom: how would Geralt react to the Hero's Aspect AU?

Oh man writing this was so much fun

School of the Cat

Geralt sighed as he made his way through the forest. This was ridiculous. He had no idea why he was doing this. He was wasting his time and he’d be the laughing stock of Kaer Morhen if his brothers knew.

Jaskier had come running up to him in a fit of panic, having gone to take a whiz in the night.

“GERALT!” He’d shouted. “There’s a giant cat man monster in the woods!”

Geralt had… not really known what to say about that. Except that giant cat man monsters categorically did not exist. But Jaskier didn’t seem very pleased by this response.

Which was why he was now walking away from their camp and into the woods, in search of a

He sighed. Was he really doing this?

…in search of a giant cat man monster.

For fucks sake. Jaskier probably startled a badger or something. This was ridiculous.

But here he was regardless.

He rolled his eyes. Five more minutes and he was heading back to camp. Back to his nice warm bedroll and a bit of blessed sleep.

To his left, something cracked. Geralt whirled around, his pupils dilating to see better in the darkness and-

Well shit.

That was a giant cat man.

Huh.

Geralt wasn’t too sure about the ‘monster’ part. The guy was big, sure, but he was also well dressed with some nice jewellery and his hair was brushed and tied back.

The cat man was holding up his hands as if to show that he wasn’t dangerous, his eyes wide and blue as he looked at the Witcher.

“Uh.” Geralt said. Shit, he was no good with people. “Hello.”

The cat man looked relieved, his tail - wow okay yes he had a tail - coming out from where it had been tucked between his legs.

And he… started gesturing.

Fuck.

Geralt was pretty good at languages. He was pretty good at sign. He understood common sign, both varieties of hen llinge sign, he even had a pretty strong understanding of dwarven sign.

This was none of those.

Uuuuh…

Geralt tried common and then both variants of elvish to see if the cat guy understood him. But he only looked confused and gave a frustrated meow - and fuck, THAT was not the sound he expected to come from this seven foot tall cat man.

Catboy tried what was clearly a different variant of sign. Then another. Then- FUCK!

Geralt barely rolled out of the way in time as the cat man made the sign for Igni and a jet of flame shot out from his hands.

In fairness, though, he seemed fairly horrified by it himself, letting out a screeching yowl and scrambling backwards and tumbling to the ground. Well, at least it hadn’t been intentional. Clearly. Though Geralt had NO idea what language he was trying to use if he’d accidentally signed Igni.

The cat man was doing something else- fumbling at the offending arm and -

What the FUCK?

He literally. He. He ripped his arm off. And threw it into the underbrush, yowling.

“Hmm.” Said Geralt, slowly standing.

The he cat man was still sitting in the undergrowth and looking suitably freaked out, which was fair. He was clutching at his shoulder where he had pulled his arm off and - ah. Yes. There was a stump there with an old scar cutting through the fur. The arm must have been a prosthetic.

Geralt stooped and picked it up from where it had been thrown, and immediately his pendant began to hum. Hmm. A magical prosthetic then - that would explain how it moved so well at least. L

He turned to the cat man and held it out.

“I’m Geralt.” He said “want your hand back?”

The cat man nodded meekly and took the arm back, purring in thanks as he slotted it back into place. Fuck. How on earth had Jaskier ever mistaken this guy for a monster? He was quite literally a pussy cat!

“Fuck.” Geralt said, because that was essentially his version of ‘hello’. Looked like he’d made a new friend. “You can… come back to our camp if you want? Till you find… whoever you’re looking for?”

The cat man perked up and nodded. This was going to be fun.

-

Jaskier at least had the good graces to be embarrassed by his earlier reaction and began to dedicate himself to trying to figure out what their new friend was saying.

They were more successful than Geralt expected. Jaskier managed to figure out that the catman was called Wild and that he was looking for his brothers. And Wild, as an apology for startling him, began to cook.

And DAMN he could cook. Geralt wasn’t sure he’d ever had food this good.

Wild could stay. It was official. He was wonderful. If his brothers never showed up Geralt wouldn’t be too mad, as long as he got to eat like this again.

-

But of course, all good things must come to an end. Wild’s brothers showed up and were categorically NOT cat people. As it turned out, neither was Wild, normally, apparently he just fucked around with a cursed object and found out.

Still, the week they’d spent travelling with Wild had been a fun one, and he’d been sad to see the big guy go. Not just because of the food, though that had definitely been a bonus, but because he’d actually been a fairly chill guy.

Geralt smiled as he rode off. At least Wild had managed to leave something with him. The strange slate at his hip had been able to create pictures more detailed than the finest oil painting and he had taken one of him, Geralt, and Jaskier one night. They’d been halfway through eating and both the Witcher and the Bard looked fairly surprised, but it was a fantastic picture. And Wild had managed to materialise a copy and gift it to him.

And Geralt knew that while all things must end and everyone eventually parts ways, he’d treasure that picture forever.

[pascaloverx]

Forbidden Romance

Summary: You are in love with Prince Thor. He will soon be King and is hosting a ball between Kingdoms so he can find his future bride. Unfortunately, the Kingdom of Asgard is not ready to accept the Chief of the Royal Guard as the new Queen.

Warnings: inappropriate language, use of violence and adult content in the future of fanfic. some characters belong to the Marvel universe and others were created by the author.

chapter two chapter four

Chapter Three

Cursed be Asgard, cursed be Thor, Odin, and all who came before them. You think as soon as you feel your breath grow heavy, thanks to the tight dress you're being forced to wear. Whoever is responsible for you wearing this damn dress will pay.

"My dear, I knew you would look beautiful in this dress. Seeing you tonight, all dressed up for your first formal ball, is like seeing my own daughter." Queen Frigga says as soon as you descend the stairs to the main hall of Asgard's castle. You smile, thinking that she always wanted you to get closer to the royal family, hoping that maybe you could straighten out Loki. To her misfortune, the son who captured your heart was precisely the one who shouldn't have.

"Your Majesty, I believe my attire is inappropriate for my role in this realm. I don't want to be ungrateful, but I am the Chief of the Royal Guard, not…" You speak to the Queen Frigga as you observe the proceedings within the official hall, nobles are dancing and gossiping everywhere. Thor keeps staring at you, even though this ball is about him finding the new queen.

"In the world we live in, no one can afford to be just one thing. You are as much the Chief of the Royal Guard as you are a beautiful woman deserving of the great chance to find a marriage. In fact, a marriage almost as important as that of the Future King. Your purpose, Y/N, is much greater than you imagine." Queen Frigga speaks mysteriously, lightly touching your shoulder before moving towards the other guests at the ball.

As you look ahead, Thor is talking to the Princess of the Kingdom of Elvok, Jane Foster. He seems interested in her. His eyes seem incredibly focused on what she's doing, as if they're following the sway of her dress as they dance almost in front of you. And you had already anticipated that it would be like this.

"You should dance too. Perhaps in the company of a certain Prince Steve, who may or may not have a proposal for you." Steve says behind your ear, sending shivers down your spine, and you look at him angrily.

"You must be responsible for me being dressed like this, aren't you?" You would kill him if you could. He seems to find it amusing as he puts his hand in front of you and guides you to where everyone is dancing with their partners. He deliberately positions himself close to where Thor was dancing with Jane.

"Allow me to say that you look stunning. But yes, I am responsible for you wearing a dress now. In fact, I needed to check if you would be willing." Steve says enigmatically as he guides you in a dance that seems to attract everyone's attention. It must be because you've never been seen in such an informal context before, wearing a dress and dancing with a prince.

"Willing to what?" You ask curiously, trying not to think about what the rest of the hall is doing. Now your complete attention is on your dance with Steve.

"To rule the people of Kyrax with me. Side by side. As my…" Prince Steve just suggested that you become Queen?

"And what about tradition?" You ask as you try to keep up with the dance rhythm, without stumbling. It's obvious that you would like to be the damn Queen. But not Steve's. Not of Kyrax.

"Kyrax wants a Queen with a firm hand who knows how to lead. I want a strong partner. You led Asgard like no one else, no realm that tried to attack Asgard succeeded. Personally, I think Thor should marry you. Since he clearly feels something for you and you would be a perfect Queen. But tough luck for him. I've already proposed this to King Odin." You then stop dancing, looking surprised at Steve.

"Can I think about it, given the fact that you're indirectly asking for my hand in marriage, right?" You ask almost in a whisper. There's a certain dread in the idea of being found out that you've been proposed to.

"You can, and know that I won't do any harm to Asgard if you refuse. Take it for what it is. A man asking you to be his wife." Steve says, ending the dance officially and stepping away. Your eyes scan the hall, searching for Thor. Deep down in your heart, you want to tell him about this and allow yourself to be vulnerable. But he's gone.

"He disappeared with Princess Jane. They've been gone together for a few minutes now. Dad is happy about it; maybe they'll manage to get married tonight. Actually, two weddings. I can't believe you managed to capture the Future Kings of two realms." Loki says, startling you, as he lightly takes hold of your waist to guide you into a new dance. You're too nervous to react to the provocation, so you sigh.

"Let's say I want to know where your brother is specifically, would you take me there?" You ask near Loki's ear, and he firmly holds your hand, guiding you close to Thor's room. That son of a bitch, did he take the princess to his room?

"I'd love to see the show, but someone has to distract the great King Odin. I'll let you deal with your little boyfriend. At least try to cause some damage, to him of course." Loki says, disappearing shortly after, all smiles.

You then gently knock on the door in the way you do when you want to alert Thor that you're about to enter. You then gently knock on the door in the way you do when you want to alert Thor that you're about to enter. You hear noises coming from inside the room and decide to wait not too far away. Jane discreetly exits Thor's room, heading towards the nobles. And then you feel humiliation. Feeling jealous of Thor wouldn't make you better. Currently, the best thing for you is to accept Steve's proposal and forget about Thor and Asgard.

"We need to talk, dove." Thor says, holding your waist and pulling you into the room. Now it seems you're going to have a relationship discussion, and you're not ready for it.

[hookedsworks]

Edge(ING) Fitness - Chapter XIX

III's POV.

ao3

masterpost

III had nearly chucked his phone across the room when he got a notification that coach_ives had followed him on Instagram. He texted Vessel about it, but got no response. Probably due to Vessel being on an actual literal date. III was still nearly in shock over that, but he was also so proud of Vessel for actually following up on it with II and going out with him. III checked Vessel’s location, and saw that he had gotten II to go to one of his favorite coffee shops. Nice. Good man. He thought for a minute and then III then did something that he wasn’t incredibly proud of, but he had to make sure Vessel did not get stood up, had to make sure Vessel was alright. 

III stood across the street from the coffee shop, and could see Vessel in his favorite chair, by the big bay window. II was across from him, in the opposite chair. III could see Vessel’s heart eyes, and also saw II absolutely mirroring his expression. Vessel’s body language was relaxed, but engaged. II was leaning forward, disgustingly invested in every single word Vessel was saying. It was nauseatingly adorable to III, who definitely wasn’t jealous in the slightest. Why would he be? Pretty boy had followed him back. Though there had been no further activity after that… He checked his phone again, but still nothing. From Ivy anyway. He had about two hundred notifications. When he glanced up again, Vessel and II were outside, in front of the motorcycle that was parked in front of the coffee shop. II was affixing a helmet to Vessel’s head. Never thought I’d see the day where Vessel let someone else drive him. III checked his phone again. 

There was nothing new. Someone tapped his shoulder. 

“Mustache! Twice in one day,” Ives was standing in front of him. “What are you doing? Checking on them?” He flushed, his eyes wide. 

“Uh, no, definitely not. That would be super weird,” 

“Really? I must be super weird then,” III remembered when he had first met Ivy, when Ivy had been the flustered one, and he thought this must be karmic payback for that. “I wanted to make sure II made it safely. He never takes his bike in the rain, but he said he wanted to impress Vessel. If you’re not checking on them, what are you doing here?” 

“You followed me back, finally,” III tried changing the subject. Ivy wouldn’t allow it. 

“It would appear that I also followed you, to the coffee shop, where our best friends are on a date. What are you doing here?” 

“And you called me a dog,” III mumbled. He looked at the ground. No one had ever caught him doing anything he didn’t want to be caught doing before. “How’d you know he’s my best friend?” 

“Well… you were both out at 7:30 this morning, together, running. I don’t think people who aren’t best friends generally do that, but I could be mistaken,” 

“Well, yeah. He is my best friend. This is his favorite coffee shop,” the roar of II’s engine cut III off. III watched. Vessel was plastered to II, likely holding on for dear life, while II’s laugh echoed after his engine. “Guess they’re fine now,” III met Ivy’s eyes. He scrambled for something to say. “Didn’t you say you had a tournament today? What are you doing here?” Ivy’s smile stretched wide over his face. He had one bottom tooth that overlapped another, just slightly, right in front. It was endearing, and III couldn’t help but look at it. 

“Starts in two hours. Figured I had enough time. I’m surprised you remembered,” this is my chance. 

“I’ve never been to a rugby game before,” Ivy looked positively shocked. 

“Well, in that case, cancel whatever plans you had this evening. You’re coming with me, right now,” I can’t believe that worked. III laughed then. 

“Yes, sir,” he threw a mock salute and Ivy’s smile was heartstopping. 

“I’m so fucking pumped now. I love it when someone has never been to a game before,” Ivy grabbed III’s hand and dragged him away from the coffee shop. III didn’t know where Ivy was taking him, but he didn’t really care. III didn’t have any plans to cancel, so he just let Ivy lead him around by his hand. Ivy had calluses that III could feel, and he found that he liked the way Ivy led him. They stopped in front of a tricked out matte black Jeep Wrangler. III looked at it warily. He was not used to SUVs in general, let alone ridiculous and ugly ones. Ivy made a face at him, like “what’s your problem?” and opened the passenger door. 

“What’s the issue, dude? Get in, we’re going,” 

“This…this is yours,” where’s a Mustang when you need it? “It’s…a box,” 

“Yeah? You never seen a cool car before?” Ivy fired back. III stepped back “Get in the fuckin’ car, Mustache, before I put you in it,” 

“Put me in it? I’d like to see you try,” III watched that fire light in Ivy’s eyes, and the man lunged at III immediately. Before III could dodge, Ivy had him in his arms. III was now bridal style in Ivy’s arms, and Ivy was looking at him ever so smugly. “Doubt me more often,” he smirked, placed III in the front passenger seat and buckled III in. He then proceeded to ruffle III’s hair, and slam the door. He jogged around to the driver’s side and jumped in. “Ready?” but he threw the box into reverse before III could answer and took off.

[thereaderinsertlady]

snarles here sneaking into your asks to request snatcher x reader for questober 👻🎃 okay so i had a few ideas for this since you said you like prompts and I've had quite a few laying around because I'm too shy to actually get into writing fanfiction myself hope you like them~ if not feel free to ignore any ones you don't like! - reader was either already a ghost or recently passed away and was reborn as a spirit - i had this idea where subcon has this yearly tradition where all the subconites and other spirits of the forest would make masks and dance in front of a big bonfire in the middle of the village - my random silly lore for this is that snatcher originally set this up as a way to celebrate the rebirth of subcon aswell as mourn the loss of everyone who died when the forest froze over (and also to spite vanessa lol) - after being in a relationship with y/n for a while now snatcher decides to invite them for the first time that's as much as i had for ideas but i think that's a pretty good place to add on from also most of this would probably just be fluff but honestly go wild

:0 hello there!! I tried my best to fit everything you put into one fic- I really liked all of the ideas you put down lmao. Anyways, here's the link on ao3, and I hope you enjoy!

Snatcher x Reader - To be a Ghost

Unfortunately for you, you… were dead. 

And have been for a while. 

It took nearly a year to get used to being dead and having your bottom half end with a tail instead of legs, but you found a way to cope via messing with people with your newfound abilities. Making objects float was very easy– a little too easy. Though, trying to paint a floating mask with a floating paint brush? A little difficult, even for you.

“How’s it coming along?” Snatcher said encouragingly, peering over your shoulder.

“I think it’s… somewhat coming along,” you said, tilting your head to look at it from a different angle. “I think. It seems like it’s missing something…”

“Missing something?” He hummed, leaning in close to look at the mask. “Hmm…”

As you floated in front of the mask, trying to coax the ethereal paint into cooperating and not to drip onto the tree-home’s floor, Snatcher's presence was oddly comforting. His encouragement was a balm to your spectral soul, and you were grateful for his support.

Snatcher leaned in more, his translucent eyes studying your creation intently. "Maybe a touch of cerulean blue around the edges? That might give it a bit more depth. Either way, I think you’ll be able to finish before tonight."

Even though it was always night time in Subcon, they were having an event in the middle of the village. Some sort of reconciliation with life and death and to aid with mourning… or something. You weren’t a hundred percent certain what it was for, but this was the first time Snatcher has invited you to join. 

Really, you were just excited to dance and hang out in front of a warm fire. 

Despite the fact that most of your senses have eroded; taste, smell, touch– you could still feel temperature. You couldn’t warm up by yourself, of course, so you had to find other sources.

“...Say, do you miss being alive?” Your voice was soft.

“Do I miss being in a meat sack?” He snorted. “That old thing was a hindrance! I couldn’t do anything that I can do now!” Snatcher floated past you, flopping down into his maroon chair. 

You chuckled at Snatcher's candid response. "Fair point," you mused, a smile tugging at the corners of your spectral lips. "But there must be some things you miss about it, right? Like... the taste of food, or the smell of roses?"

Snatcher tilted his head in thought, considering your question. "Well, I suppose there were some pleasant moments, yes. I… suppose I miss the taste of bacon, but overall, this form suits me just fine. No need to worry about trivial mortal concerns."

You nodded, understanding his perspective. It was fascinating to contemplate the stark differences between your current existence and the memories of your past life. The transition from flesh and blood to this ephemeral state was a journey of its own.

You continued to refine the mask, each stroke of the brush imbuing it with a sense of depth and mystery. It was shaping up to be a truly unique creation… or so you hoped. It might look a little dumb at an angle.

Snatcher watched with curiosity as the mask began to take on a new dimension. "I can see it coming together," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice. His tail flicked against the floor. "You've got quite the talent."

You waved a hand, feeling just a little embarrassed. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m sure your minion’s masks look much better than mine.”

“Well, as they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder!”

“Did you steal that quote from a book somewhere?”

“...Maybe!”

You lightly laughed, continuing to work on painting the mask. You could pick items up in your ethereal hands, but not for long. Even sitting down was an issue… Well, that is, if you weren’t sitting in Snatcher’s lap. You blushed at the thought, recalling a few instances where he allowed you to sleep on him.

“...Say, when does the event start, again?”

“In a few good hours,” he answered. “Why?”

You carefully placed the mask down on the table, finished with it and wanting it to dry. You turned towards Snatcher, trying to put on a non-embarrassed face. “Well… maybe we could… I dunno… read a book together or something?”

“A book?” Snatcher seemed amused. “Is this a ploy to come sit in my lap again?”

You grunted, your tail swishing. “A-And what if it is?”

He took a moment to pretend to think. “Hmm… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt…” After a pause he patted his lap. “Come hither.”

You tried not to look excited. As quickly as a mouse to cheese, you plopped down onto his lap, cuddling up to him. 

Snatcher chuckled, his purple form providing a surprisingly comfortable perch. You could feel a sense of warmth emanating from him, despite the lack of true physicality. It was a small comfort, a reminder that even in this ethereal existence, there were ways to find solace… Though, you wondered how he was able to sit down for so long without phasing through the chair… maybe it was an experience thing?

As you settled down in Snatcher's lap, he produced a worn, leather-bound book from the folds of existence, teleporting it to his clawed hands. It was adorned with cryptic symbols and strange glyphs, a testament to the otherworldly nature of this place.

He flipped it open, revealing the unique language used. “I’ll read it to you,” he told you, likely seeming your bewildered expression. "Now, let's see what tale we can unearth from the annals of Subcon's history," he mused, his eyes glowing faintly as he flipped through the first few pages. “It’s been a while since I’ve read this…” 

“...Anal?” Your lips quivered upwards as you tried not to laugh.

“Annals, as in yearly.” He pouted. “Silly ghost.”

After a moment his clawed fingers passed over the ancient text, expertly navigating the script and reading it aloud. The words he spoke seemed to come alive, weaving a vivid mental tapestry of Subcon's past. It was a tale of struggles, of rebirth, and of the enduring spirit that lived on in this forest.

…You rubbed your eyes, leaning back into him and getting comfortable. Although sleeping was a bit… difficult to do as a ghost, you found yourself drowsing off, head bopping a few times before settling backwards, against his chest. Although you were always interested to learn more, he was just too comfortable to lay on.

You weren’t exactly sure when you fell asleep, but reality faded away as you snuggled up to him, resting in his lap and comforted by his soothing, rumbling voice…