caeiestis - Tumblr blog

[caeiestis]

i wish i was a poet who could turn all their messy thoughts into beautiful art but instead everything just turns into the brown paste you get when you mix too many colours together

[caeiestis]

💌

a love as soft as the clouds in the sky—waking up to his lips brushing your cheek, rough hands soft against your skin, laying on his chest, listening to his beating heart, heated skin on heated skin—an endless love.

[caeiestis]

I LOVE THISSSS

IM VIOLENTLY SOBBING 😭😭😭

Spencer reid sends you a period basket every month no matter where he is!!! Without fail there’s a bouquet of flowers, your favourite chocolates, a poem or excerpt from whatever he’s reading, and some of your favourite skincare or body care and he just likes knowing that he’s going to get either a video or FaceTime call from you to tell him about it

Omg like Yolanda and Zack on TT!!!

Spencer knows that your period is a little irregular so he waits for the minute you start exhibiting pms symptoms.

He always checks to see what you have and what you need and takes stock mentally of all that he wants to get you too.

This month had been a little harder on you than others and so he goes a little crazy.

“My period came,” you sound a little pleased, glad it hasn’t been too late this month, but also a little peeved because the cramps are not letting up.

“I got your basket right here, angel.” You look up at him as he holds a bouquet in one hand and a basket in the next. “They’re fresh, the lady at the florist had just picked them.”

You lean up for a kiss, Spencer smiling when you take it and take a big inhale of the carnations. “Thank you Spence,” he hands over the basket next.

You go through it, taking the essentials, your pads and tampons and then your chocolates, out first. Then you see the folded sweater on the bottom. “Spence,” it’s a soft material, softer than your usual sweaters, something that you want to switch into now. You hardly hesitate to do it.

Then you see the face masks and serums and even some aromatherapy oils. “Thank you baby.”

Spencer accepts the way you vault yourself into him, holding the back of your head close to his chest as his other arm wraps around you.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever.” You whisper into his clothes and he chuckles.

“That’s just boyfriend duties, sweetheart. Plus one of the things is late. Should be here tomorrow though.”

You pull back, shocked and a little skeptical of how breezy his tone is. “Spencer Reid.” You try to be stern.

“Yes, my love?” He strokes your face from temple to jaw, tilting his head down a little as he stares at you.

“You’re no fair. What did you order?” You ask softly, a little lost in your adoration for him.

“A box set. The new series you wanted, I preordered it.” Tears spring fresh to your eyes, your bottom lip trembling as you feel the openness of his love for you- of how easy he finds it to dole out his love and affection and dote on you.

“Hey, no tears.” He wipes them away with his sleeve, gentle pressure on your cheeks. “I thought you’d be happy, or are these happy tears?”

You nod, “You’re just…” you can’t seem to settle on the right word. “,perfect.”

Spencer laughs rubbing your arms. “Thank you, but that’s not possible. Wanna watch movies with me? There’s the good popcorn, in the cupboards too.”

“Spencer stop. You’re gonna make me cry even more, I’m already so emotional.” He only hums, kissing your forehead as he reaches for the tv remote.

[caeiestis]

i have a lot of nightmares and shake a lot when nervous. could u maybe write something abt a reader that goes through similar issues, and eddie comforts them and tries to make them feel safe? u can do whatever u like with this, i just need some fluff! :]

as someone who also has frequent nightmares, this was very self-indulgent heheh i hope you like it :D — eddie calms you down when you have a bad dream (hurt/comfort, established relationship, cw for mentions of panic attacks, 1.2k)

Eddie didn’t know he loved you until now. Like, right now.

He’d always had an inkling, at the very least, but he didn’t know for sure until he got you into his bed — bare-faced and swallowed whole in an oversized t-shirt older than you are. You share a single pillow with him despite having your own, leaving your noses mere inches apart. His tired eyes go a bit cross-eyed when he looks at you.

Despite his heavy head and heavier eyelids, he doesn’t want to stop looking at you. He doesn’t want to stop talking to you, either. He doesn’t want to fall asleep at all ‘cause he’s scared he’ll miss you too much. 

And that’s when he realizes that he’s head over heels, completely, utterly, and hopelessly in love with you.

“You asleep yet?” he whispers into the dark bedroom, lit only by the streams of silver moonlight slipping through the curtains.

You shake your head against the pillow you share with him. “No,” you mumble — voice thick with exhaustion, eyes fluttered shut.

“Good,” Eddie replies, shifting on the mattress until he melts further into it. Your cold feet entwine with his warmer ones. He exhales a contented sigh through his nose. “Me neither…”

You can’t be entirely sure who dozed off first, but you know for certain you wake up before he does. 

3:47 A.M. blinks at you in bright red numbers on the nightstand. The witching hour greets you along with a rapidly beating heart, thrumming hard against your ribcage like it’s trying to escape from its confines.

The nightmare was a vivid one when it painted the backs of your eyelids, but you can’t really remember it now. You think that might be worse. Now you don’t know why you’re so scared — you just know that you are.

Fear, that’s all you can think about now, as your body trembles with a heavy, ice-cold feeling. Fear. Panic. Dread. 

The nightmare fades. Eddie’s body, warm and comforting next to yours, becomes a much more tangible thing. But you just can’t shake the feeling it left behind. The bad dream clings to you like smoke and swallows you whole before you can blink.

You shake with the longing to hold the boy beside you. If only you could clutch onto Eddie like a life vest, or a life-sized teddy bear, maybe then you could soothe your racing heart. But you know you don’t want to wake him, just like you know you don’t want him to see you like this — so torn up over a stupid bad dream.

You sit on the edge of the mattress and try to calm yourself down. The attempt is futile. You end up with a tight chest, a pounding heart, and two cheeks damp with fat tears. 

After no longer than five minutes of trying to stave off a panic attack by yourself, do you notice the bed shifting behind you. A wide palm smooths over your trembling shoulders a second later.

Eddie squints at your shivering silhouette, trying to see you better through the darkness and bleary haze of sleep. He finds you slouched over and clawing at your chest like something’s wrong. Your choked-back sobs and quiet sniffles aren’t any less concerning.

“You okay?” the boy slurs as he sits up behind you.

“‘M sorry,” you blurt, voice wet with emotion. You don’t know exactly what you’re apologizing for. You just feel like you should. Through hitched breaths, you manage out, “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to wake you— I’m sorry.”

Eddie shakes his wild head in response. The mattress squeaks under his weight as he shifts closer to you. “It’s okay. I woke up on my own,” he tells you, even though that’s not exactly the truth. “What happened, huh? Are you okay?”

You sniffle and try to respond through feeble gulps of air. “It was just a bad dream. I’m okay—” you blubber through tears, breath catching halfway through.

With his palm pressed to your spine, Eddie can feel each of your rattling breaths as you fight to drag them in. It makes his own chest ache. Your panic is his own.

“Breathe, baby, c’mon,” he urges gently as he slips in beside you. With one hand over your trembling shoulder, he slides his other over your heart. The delicate organ patters with an inhuman vigor against his palm. 

“Gotta calm down, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your temple before pressing a kiss there. “‘Fore you heart explodes on me. Breathe, babe. You’re okay.”

Your swelling throat tightens. “I don’t feel good,” you confess through tiny whimpers, ‘cause you don’t know how else to tell him it feels like you’re dying. You put a cold, trembling hand over one of Eddie’s — the one gently cradling your heart — and fight to stay grounded.

The boy’s brows pinch with concern. “Do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?”

You think for a moment. Then shake your head.

Eddie rubs a hand up and down the length of your back. “You’re doing good, babe. Just keep breathing for me. That’s it.”

He pulls you closer, embracing you despite the awkward angle. Your shoulder presses into his chest as your head nestles between his jaw and shoulder. You rest there until it no longer feels like you’re fighting for each breath. Until your ragged sobs turn into mousy sniffles.

The first thing you think to do after you’ve calmed is apologize.

“‘M sorry,” you murmur, thick with leftover emotion.

You feel his head shake against you, untamed curls tickling your skin. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”

You snivel. “I feel like such a baby…”

“Everyone has bad dreams, babe. That’s life,” Eddie tells you with a lighthearted laugh. “I can’t count how many times I’ve slept on the couch after having one just so I could be closer to Wayne. Like, that’s embarrassing.”

“No, it isn’t,” you argue with a scrunched nose, cracking a small (but no less sincere) grin.

Eddie smiles at your smiling. He squeezes your shoulder with a gentle hand. “Wanna talk about it?” he offers, watching as you visibly ponder the question. You shake your head in response. He nods in understanding. “Wanna go back to sleep?”

You shake your head again, much less hesitant this time. You’re too scared to shut your eyes for longer than a blink now — lest the nightmare threaten to plague your mind again.

“Wanna sit in the kitchen with me while I make us some hot cocoa?” Eddie offers then.

You nod slowly, pursing your lips to the side of your mouth to hide the smile pulling there. You can’t help but beam, though, when he smacks a kiss to the warm apple of your cheek.

“C’mon, sweet thing,” he urges as he rises from the bed, pulling you gently with him. He guides you out of his bedroom with a warm hand cradling your smaller one. The quiet trailer fills with the sounds of creaking floorboards, bare feet shuffling against carpet, and Eddie’s tender voice.

“I’ll even pick out marshmallows from the Lucky Charms box to put in your cocoa—” he says before a yawn cuts him off. “—‘Cause that’s how much I love you.”

[caeiestis]

O'Hara with a chubby wife? Like dawg i wanna see him appreciate that chubbiness 😫 plus points she's always soft and kind to him which makes him fall even more

I'm so in love

I LOVE CHUBBY READER ESPECIALLY WHEN IT COMES TO MIGUEL ໒꒰ྀི ∩ ⸝⸝ ∩ ꒱ྀིა

It makes me think about Miguel fawning over you, looking at you from afar because he can’t help but keep his gaze on your plump curves. I think about him sitting on the sofa, while you’re in the kitchen, cooking or something, and he can’t stay focused on whatever he was looking at the tv.

When you turn around and catch him staring, he doesn’t look away. He is not embarrassed that you saw him gawking at you, because he wants you to know that he is obsessed with you. “Ven aquí, mi amor,” (come here, my love) he calls you, a soft smile when he sees you walking towards him with a raised brow.

When you stand before him, he looks up at you with pure love in his eyes, before resting his hands over your full hips and gently tugging you closer, guiding you between his legs. He rests his head on your soft tummy, and nuzzles his face there, sliding his hands under your shirt and pawning gently at your plump waist. He hums when you thread your fingers through his dark locks and closes his eyes as he relaxes against you. “What are you doing?,” you ask softly, laugh in your voice.

He lets out a soft playful groan, burying his face in your tummy before tugging you impossibly closer, almost making you fall if it wasn’t for you placing your hands over his shoulders. You chuckle softly when he mumbles against your shirt, “nothing, mamí, just appreciating you”.

A gasp leaves your lips when he quickly wraps his arms around your legs and moves you to the couch, pushing you to lay down before laying on top of you. You huff softly at his weight, squirming slightly to adjust yourself under him. Miguel groans against youand buries his face between your full breasts, a little smile on his lips at the plumpness of his new makeshift pillow.

“Comfortable?,” you asks teasingly, glancing down at him before wrapping your arms around his broad back and holding him close. He nods slightly against you, nuzzling even closer, “mucho”. (very much) You let out a soft hum before sliding your hand under his baggy shirt, scratching his skin gently.

You feel his grip tighten around you, squishing you under him as he relaxes even more under your touch. Soon after, you feel his breath getting slower and when you glance down, he is asleep. There is a smile on your lips when you reach for the tv control and switch it off.

can you hear me cry? ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡

(m.list)

[caeiestis]

Shout out to all the Black ppl that can no longer participate directly in the fandom they love because of the stresses of racism 👍🏾 you contain multitudes of value and I'm sorry that the color of your skin and the power of your voice makes people not want to acknowledge that.

[caeiestis]

steve leaving his shoes next to yours, keeping his toothbrush in the same place as yours, lining up your perfumes in his bathroom, accidently putting some of his clean washing in your draw and yours in his, always having the ice cream he hates in the freezer because you love it, keeping the window open at night because he runs hot but leaving piles of blankets on your side of the bed because you get cold, steve just having you in his life in the big ways but in the little ways too <3

[caeiestis]

boyfriend!steve who falls for his girl the second he meets her, who knows he's in love with her before she can finish introducing herself, who asked her out within twenty four hours of knowing her, who never hides his feelings, who never keeps any thought to himself, if his girl looks pretty he's going to tell her, if he feels dizzy when she holds his hand he's going to let her know how she makes him feel, who gets flowers knowing that they're not just flowers but it the sentiment that matters (and his girl really likes flowers) who leaves little notes everywhere, hidden in her coat pocket, or pressed to the bathroom mirror, normally just repeating the things he says to her anyway

who loves hearing people call him his girls boyfriend, he loves it more than his own name, he loves how proudly she says it too, and how she still gets a little flustered, who always has a spare blanket in the back of his car, an extra jacket by the front door, the mints she likes in his back pocket, who will drive anywhere at any time to make sure his girl doesn't have to walk home alone, who runs when the phone rings and can't help that his voice goes funny when he realises its her, because even thought she's his girlfriend the idea of her calling him up still makes him nervous

who was meant to be someone's boyfriend, who's meant to walk hand in hand around town with the most boyish smile on his lips as his girl talks and tells him about her day, who's meant to have run through hair because his girl can't stop playing with it and who has pretty marks down his neck because he spent hours kissing and giggling with his girl in bed and will no matter were they are be pulling his girl into him by the her waist just to steal a kiss, steve who's meant to be in love <3

[caeiestis]

hey! could i request a james potter x reader fic pls?? i have been thinking about him specifically non stop and now i just wanna be domestic and cute with him-

Me too lovely :')

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 661 words

You’ve told James that you’re painting your toenails on the kitchen counter because it has good light, but he knows it’s really because you want to be near him. He’ll have to clean the counter again after you go, but he’s not complaining. He wants you near him too. 

And anyway, the kitchen does have good light. It streams in through the window to tangle in your hair and glance off your skin, illuminating the concentrated set to your mouth as you bend over your foot on the counter. 

James kisses it lightly, and one corner of your lips quirks up like you’re trying to stop it but can’t quite manage. You taste sweet and a bit tart. 

“Don’t mess me up,” you warn. “This is my last coat, it’s do or die.” 

“Stop eating my blackberries,” he counters, “and we’ll see. No promises.” 

You finish with your nails, setting the brush back in the polish and nabbing another blackberry from his bowl. James gasps, betrayed though not surprised. He pinches your side.

You laugh, leaning away from him fruitlessly. “Stop, I’m going to knock polish onto the rug!”

“You could at least vary your snacking,” James says. “My fruit salad is going to have hundreds of pieces of melon and two blackberries if you keep on like this.” 

“I just like blackberries best.” 

“So does Remus,” he chides with no real severity. “And when he gets here later today and they’re all gone, who do you think will be blamed?”

You bat your eyelashes at him, smiling angelically. “He doesn’t need to know there were going to be blackberries in here to begin with, does he?” you ask. The hope in your voice sparkles like sunshine off the ocean. 

James caves instantly at that tone, but he pretends to take at least a second to mull it over before capitulating. “Fair enough. Have at them, lovie. Leave no trace.” 

You descend like a hawk upon your prey, clawing through the bowl of fruit and popping blackberry after blackberry into your mouth. 

“I’m thinking of going to the store in a bit,” you say. 

James grins down at his cutting board, slicing the skin off a wedge of cantaloupe. “To replenish Remus’ blackberry supply?” he asks. He knows you’re too tenderhearted to truly rob his friend of something he enjoys; you’d be racked with guilt for the rest of the night. 

“To get lemons for lemonade.” You touch your big toe delicately, testing the dryness of your polish. “And if I stumble upon blackberries that look good while I’m there…” You shrug, turning away from him like you think you can hide your smile. As if he can’t hear it in your voice. “Then maybe I’ll grab some. To keep the peace.” 

James reaches over and grips your foot, channeling as much love as he can fit into a good squeeze. You gasp and nearly shriek when his thumb digs into a ticklish spot on your arch, grabbing onto his shoulder to keep from tipping off the counter. He sets a hand on your side to help, and he can feel your ribs shaking as you laugh. 

“Sorry, sorry,” James laughs. “I forgot about that spot.” He didn’t. “Wait for me to finish and we’ll go together, yeah?” 

Your nose scrunches with your smile. “Why, you wanna keep an eye on the blackberries?” 

“I was thinking we’d just get extra,” he proposes. 

You hum contentedly, and he takes the invitation to get further into your space, his hip bumping against your leg. “That’s very chivalrous of you,” you reply, your teasing softened by fondness. 

“Well, I do try. Pretty girls need to be kept happy, yeah?” 

You laugh again, grabbing James’ face in both hands. He knows when you let go, there’ll be sticky purple fingerprints on both of his cheeks. He doesn’t mind. 

“Flirt,” you accuse. 

James pushes forward until his nose is pressed up against yours. “Only for you.” 

[caeiestis]

domesticity with older!eddie thoughts

- going for walks together in the evening, you take your sweet time holding onto his arm and leaning into his strong frame as he leads the way along the windy path. every few minutes he'll rub up and down your arms, just to make sure you're toasty while you both talk about your day.

you press a kiss to his cheek when you stop to watch the sunset, his gray-peppered stubble tickles your lips, and he throws you a wink, returning the favor. you feel the press of his hand on your back when a cyclist gets a little too close for comfort, "on your right, sweetheart...jackass is on the wrong side."

you eventually grow tired and rest your head against his shoulder, his faded cologne wafts in the soft breeze from the collar of his flannel as you both make your way back home before deciding on dinner.

- speaking of flannels, one night eddie finds you curled up on the couch, half of your face pressed to a cushion as the tv drones on in the background. he knows that look you have, and immediately sits beside you, asking you what's wrong.

"just...work stuff. i got really frustrated today and i still feel zoned out from it. i'm sad," you look up at him with a pout, shiny round eyes on display. "oh, baby," he says, brows furrowed as he places a gentle hand to your face, his thumb brushes back and forth across your cheek. your cold cheek, he notices.

"sit up for me?" he whispers. you do as he says and practically plop yourself against his chest while he removes he flannel shirt he’d worn all day. he kisses your temple before easing you back just enough to guide your arms through his sleeves; your own personal cocoon made warm from your man, and smelling just like him. you give him a smile and cuddle up in his lap while he reaches for the remote. he strokes your scalp for however long as you finally start to decompress.

- making eddie one of his favorite meals after a particularly long day. "smells good in here. whatcha makin', sweetheart?" "oh, hi baby," you dote, "c'mere, gotta give me a kiss first." you squeal when he grips your waist, pulling you in for a deep and slow kiss. he smiles when he looks down to see that dazed look in your eye, satisfied with his work. "you did this for me?" he asks, as if there was anything you'd ever deny him. "of course i did, now go get comfy, before i melt and can't finish dinner."

- “wait a sec, angel," eddie stops you, gently kneeling to lace a shoe you didn't notice was untied. “gotta be careful, baby. don’t want you to trip," he says, squeezing your ankle before standing back up to give you a big bear hug. "don't take any shit from anyone, kay? i love you."

- "this is yours, sweetheart," eddie says, handing you a familiar paper bag. "for me? what is it?" "you know what it is, i wouldn't go into that store for any other reason, sweetheart," he chuckles as you open up the bag.

"was out with wayne at the mall, tried to help him find an anniversary present and i saw a bunch of those candles you like, so i grabbed a few. i hope you like the smell, the lady said we can exch-" "these are perfect, baby, i love them!" you smile, reaching out to grab at him and sink into his warm embrace. “thanks for thinking of me, baby,” you whisper from under his chin. “ ‘m always thinkin’ of you.”

[caeiestis]

Today was a bad day.

Eddie could read it on your face the moment you walked through the door. You went through your usual routine, putting your keys down on the table by the door, taking your coat off and hanging it up in the closet, pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek and whispering a soft ‘hi’ in greeting.

That was where it ended. No extra words, as if anything more would require too much energy.

He watched as you dragged yourself across the kitchen floor, helping to set the table for dinner.

Dinner was an unusually quiet affair.

Time usually spent talking about your days, full of smiles and laughter, was now gray in comparison. The occasional scraping of forks against plates were the only sounds filling the otherwise warm room.

Your plate remained untouched, something that left Eddie frowning because he made your favorite tonight.

He’ll have to remember to put it away for later, just in case.

You sat tense in your chair, a sign of how badly you wanted to run and hide. From what, Eddie wished he knew. Wished he could fix it.

He pushes his chair out to take his dishes to the sink, seeing you push your plate to the side out of his peripheral, causing his chest to ache even more.

“Not hungry.”

The words muttered so quietly, a shell of your usual lilt.

“That’s alright, sweetheart.” He puts a smile on, trying to catch your eye that’s watching the loose fabric you pick at on the table cover. “We’ll save it for later.”

He watches as you bite your lip, hand squeezing itself so tightly into a fist, unable to see the battle raging in your head as you force yourself to stay in that seat.

But, the moment he turns his back, you flee. Racing to lock yourself away in the bathroom upstairs, needing the space.

Eddie takes his time washing and drying the dishes before he makes his way up the stairs to begin his own nightly ritual, this time in the bathroom down the hall. Scrubbing the day away, watching as it swirls down the drain.

Throwing on his usual black hoodie and gray sweatpants, he stares longingly at the door across from your shared bed that remains shut. The sounds of the shower still running the only thing he can hear from the other side.

He lays on the bed, throwing on a pair of glasses as he picks his book up from the bedside table.

Not making it too far into another Gaiman read, Eddie hears the shower click off, a suffocating silence filling the bedroom as he waits.

Then the door opens, leftover steam from your shower pouring in as you step back into the bedroom, watching as he half-heartedly reads the words on the pages in front of him.

“Hi.”

The difference from a few hours ago. Though the look in your eyes was the same.

“Hi.” Eddie whispers back with a simple inducing smile on his face as you make your way to the bed, crawling up from the bottom.

You look to him, waiting as he nods before continuing your trek and settling between his legs. Laying your head down on the exposed skin of his soft tummy where his hoodie had ridden up. Nuzzling your face in the hairs there.

And then he feels the tears, sliding down your face and onto his skin.

Eddie reaches a hand down to take hold of yours, your grip tightening as the tears pour.

Soothing whispers of���‘I’m here, sweetheart’ ‘I’ve got you’ ‘I love you’— ease the pain eating away at you just enough.

When the tears subside and your fingers draw patterns along the skin of Eddie’s side, he picks the book up again, going back to the beginning and reading aloud the story of Richard Mayhew and a girl named Door.

One of your favorites.

[caeiestis]

It’s another Sunday afternoon and you’ve barely moved from your spot on the loveseat as you stare out the window with a faraway look on your face.

You’ve been so quiet lately.

Eddie didn’t know what to do as he stood watching you from the kitchen with his second cup of coffee in hand. The frown etched on your face seemed to stretch further and further the longer he looked.

The sadness in your eyes growing darker with so many thoughts running through your mind.

“Sweetheart?”

Your head turns slightly in answer, eyes not lifting from their spot on the floor, afraid of what he might find there.

“What’s on that mind of yours?”

Too much and nothing at all

Static filled chaos

Echoing silence

“Just tired, Eds.”

Your eyes find his, a smile meant to reassure him painted on feels as heavy as a boulder sitting on your shoulder to keep up.

And he sees right through it, because he always does. He knows you better than anyone else.

You can’t hide from him.

He sits perched on the arm of the loveseat closest to you, a hand coming to rest on your back, pressing firm as fingers massage along the muscles there. You melt into his touch, face immediately finding his chest, breathing him in.

“How about I run to the bakery and pick up some of those croissants you love?”

You press further into him, the soft fabric of his hoodie kissing your face as his warm scent swirls through your head. Arms wrapping around his waist bringing him even closer.

“We can drive out to the lake and sit for a while like we used to? Maybe listen to one of our mixtapes.”

He laughs at the memory of those tapes. Especially that first one he gave you, when you were nothing more than friends fumbling around trying to figure out your feelings.

Songs that reminded him of you.

“How does that sound?”

Another bout of silence passes as you hold him, his hand still trailing along your back as he presses another kiss to the top of your head.

Your eyes close as you sink into the tenderness, the care he shows, something you feel undeserving of some days.

With a sigh, you pull back to look up into Eddie’s face, heart stuttering at the look you find there.

He presses a light kiss to the tip of your nose as you reply, “I’d like that.”

[caeiestis]

Comforting and caring for Sirius after he escapes the black household🧎

I’m so in love with that man it’s not even funny. Just imagine telling him “it’s okay, love, you can be weak. You’re safe now.” While he’s cuddling into you like a puppy.

THE ONCE UNIMAGINABLE HAS FINALLY HAPPENED.

Sirius Black, oldest child of Walburga and Orion Black, was finally freed from the grasp of the monstrosity that were his parents—and he was relieved for a while, before doubt, guilt and many more dark feelings started forming, surging trough his entire body and blinding the once bright light of freedom. But you are here, and he is here—

Sirius, with his stormy eyes and rugged exterior, melted into your embrace like a lost puppy finding its way home. His hardened walls began to crumble as he allowed himself to be vulnerable in your presence, seeking comfort and reassurance in your caring touch. You brushed his hair back gently, whispering words of understanding and comfort as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. The weight of his past burdens seemed to lift off his shoulders as he found solace in your arms, feeling safe and protected for the first time in a long while.

As the night wore on, you remained by Sirius's side, offering a listening ear and a comforting presence as he poured out his heart to you. His fears and insecurities melted away in the warmth of your compassion, and in that moment, a deep connection formed between you both that transcended words.

In the soft glow of candlelight, Sirius gazed into your eyes with a newfound sense of hope and gratitude. He reached out his hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he conveyed his deepest emotions without uttering a single word.

And in that moment, as you held each other close, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be — comforting and caring for Sirius in his time of need, offering him the love and understanding that he had been searching for all along. And as the night turned into dawn, you knew that this bond between you and Sirius would only grow stronger with each passing day, filling both your hearts with a love that knew no bounds—a live without consequences and without pain, a love that Sirius Black has always been yearning for.

[caeiestis]

life’s going downhill at the moment so i’m begging for some requests to forget that i’m miserable

[caeiestis]

eddie you say? 👀 if we’re talking eddie again can i request relationshipy fluff? Like sleepovers or something??

okay so verdict is .. we all missed eddie?

When Wayne Munson slid you a key to his house over coffee, he didn’t expect to have you sneaking in at two am.

You’d snuck in quietly, crept into Eddie’s room, toed your shoes off, and peeled the puffer you wore—over your pajamas—off your chilled body. His room smelt like lingering weed and cologne as you’d entered, but as you crawl into his bed the smell subsided.

“Eddie,” you whisper into his neck, preening for the reciprocation of his touch. “Eddie.”

He moves, shuffling in his sleep. He’s pretty like this, though you’re afraid he’s always pretty. Cheek pink from where it dug into his arm, hair mussed from sleep. He’s shirtless and warm, heat emanating from his smooth skin. Eddie’s always been like this; a heater. In the summer he can’t stand the way you move away from him in your sleep, desperate for some air.

“Baby,” you whisper a little louder, like a child commanding the attention of their mother. Any other night this may embarrass you, but you’re too desperate for his affection right now.

Slowly, he rouses. He doesn’t notice you at first, too occupied with the floating feeling of the in between sleep realm, or maybe too used to the feeling of you next to him to notice discrepancy. When he does though, you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt at his initial fear. Flinching, he moves to shuffle away before the streetlight casting in from his bedroom window catches on your face.

“Hi, I’m sorry.”

“Y/n?” He murmurs, voice thick with sleep. “Baby..” he rubs his eyes forcefully and you can’t tell if it’s apart of his usual dramatics or his sleepy stupor. “What are you doing here?”

You frown moving closer quietly, nestling yourself into him. He peers at you with the curiosity of a scientist and his creation. You’d’ve never done this in the beginning. Too scared to ask Mr. Munson Wayne for a glass of water. “Missed you.”

“So, we’re just breaking and entering now?” His hand comes up to cradle your head gently. He’s not serious, anything but it. His girlfriend appearing in his bed is a gift horse he’d never be stupid enough to look in the mouth. Leaning down, he nuzzles his nose in your hair, pressing a long kiss to the skin he finds. “You have work tomorrow, my love.”

“It’s not breaking and entering, I have your house key.”

You manage the sentence like it takes the most out of you; like you want the preserve the feeling of sleep holding you down; to stave away any alertness you can find.

“You have work tomorrow.” He repeats, sleepy concern lacing his voice.

“Steve can open without me.”

Eddie grumbles. It’s true. Slowly, he lowers himself back down to lay beside you, letting you climb your way on top. Your arms snake around him, desperate for any skin you can find. You want to feel him, to be as close to him as possible. You’ve missed him so much over vacation, lying with him right now doesn’t feel real. It’s carnal the way you squeeze his back, though there’s nothing lustful in the touch. He groans, letting himself wrap around you as well.

“You missed me?”

You’re too lost in his heartbeat to register his voice, too sleepy to respond. “Mhm.”

His nails drag up and down your back slowly. “Missed you too.”

You shiver, kissing his chest in response. There’s no need for words when the both of you feel like this; tired and in love. He pulls the old duvet higher up over the both of you to cover your back completely.

And that’s how Wayne finds you the next morning. Tangled in each other like sticky spaghetti.

“Hey, boy, have you seen..”

He pauses, hand on the cold doorknob. It’s certainly a sight Wayne thinks. Eyeing the shoes and backpack of work clothes on the floor, his eyes flit back up to the tangle of lovers. You lay practically all the way on top of Eddie, long sleeves and pants you’d picked out to protect you from the chill drowning you. Under the fabric that is your pajamas, Eddie snores softly, arm still around your middle. This is the type of parenting Wayne never thought he’d have to do with Eddie. He shakes his head, weary smile playing on his lips as he leaves the room to find his boots himself.

He’d given you the key for a reason.

[caeiestis]

heyy :)) would you maybe write something for remus with a reader that sometimes goes nonverbal?? i would really appreciate it, no pressure tho<33

Hi! I had to read up on this a bit, so I apologize for any inaccuracies. Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: reader gets overstimulated

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 767 words

Shamefully, Remus doesn’t notice until you’re asked a question. Sirius has been on a rant about the injustice of him being expected to work while there’s a concert he wants to go to next week (he’s used up all his personal days, and his manager has finally caught on to his strategy of pretending to have diarrhea anytime he wants out of a shift) for the past twenty minutes, and James, sweetheart that he is, has tried to bring you into the conversation by asking if you’ve been to any shows you liked. 

Remus looks to you for your answer, thinking you might say something about the small concert in the park he’d taken you to before you’d started dating (or started dating officially, that is. Remus had been flirting with you for weeks before you caught on), but you only smile with one side of your mouth and nod. James takes it for shyness and moves on. 

Remus feels for your hand under the table intertwining your fingers with his as he ducks towards your ear. “You alright, dove?” 

You nod again, neglecting to talk as you rest the side of your head against his shoulder. Remus sweeps his thumb across the back of your hand pensively. You usually don’t have much trouble with his friends, but they are particularly loud tonight. All overeager, talking over each other and making noisy, boisterous sounds whenever one of them makes a joke or a baiting remark. The tables around you aren’t much tamer, everyone in the restaurant almost needing to shout to be heard. He supposes he should have guessed earlier that it could be overwhelming for you. 

“Do you want to go?” he murmurs. 

You tilt your head back to look at him, your eyes searching. Uncertain. 

“I’m ready to leave if you are,” Remus amends. Then you rub your lips together, nodding. “Yeah? Let’s go, lovely girl.” 

He stands, moving so you can slip out of the booth. Your table wails and jeers about you leaving so early, and Remus sets a hand on your back as he fields the complaints, leading you away. He’s not entirely ungrateful for the refreshing quiet as you step outside, either. 

Your eyes are on him as you walk to the car. Remus raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Do you have your pad with you?” 

You look hesitant, but nod. 

“Is there something you want to tell me?” 

You frown, digging the small notepad out of your back pocket. Remus passes you a pen. He unlocks his car and opens the door for you, going around to his own seat while you scribble on the page. Once he starts the engine to get the heat going, you nudge the notepad against his leg. 

He takes it, reading silently. Are you upset that I made us leave? We can go back if you want.

He suspects his incredulity shows on his face before he schools his expression into gentleness, looking up at you. “Of course I’m not upset,” he says, making sure to hold your gaze when you shy a bit, self-conscious. “I was ready to leave too, but besides that I wouldn’t want to stay if you weren’t having a good time. It’s never a bother.” He sets the notepad back in your lap, taking your hand in his. “Understand?” 

You nod, and the bashful little smile you give him makes Remus’ heart feel too big for his chest. 

“Good.” He imbues his voice with exaggerated sternness, rewarded when your cheek dimples. “Glad we’re clear on that. Is there anything else you need? You hardly touched your dinner, do you wanna get something before we go home?” 

You stick your tongue in your cheek. Remus recognizes the hesitance and releases your hand, pushing the pen back into it. 

“Write it down, sweetheart.” 

You sigh as though defeated. Your eyes squint a bit as you write, stopping for a second before finishing and passing the notepad back. 

Can we drive through somewhere? I don’t want to have to talk to anyone.

“Yeah, easy.” Remus slides it back to you, shifting the car into reverse and backing out of his parking spot. “Do you feel like a milkshake? We could go by the place just down our street, or whatever you—” You nod eagerly, and he smiles. “Yeah? Alright, just write down your order, okay? I’ll read it out when we get there.” You laugh your ass off when Remus unthinkingly reads your whole order aloud to the drive-thru worker, including the note at the end that says Thanks handsome, love you.

[caeiestis]

I saw ur last post so for tasm!peter.... maybe r has really bad period cramps and peter just takes care of her?? thank u!!

Thanks for requesting my love <3

cw: period cramps

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 637 words

“Are you sure this is normal?” You’re sweating, for Christ’s sake, face all shiny and pinched despite the heating pad and the painkillers and the chamomile tea and the dark chocolate he’d made a trip to the bodega down the street to get you. “I feel like we should call a nurse hotline or something.” 

“Don’t.” You look over at Peter from the couch, voice tight with pain. “It’s normal. This is the way it is.” 

“Is it really?” he frets. His knee bounces as he scrolls on his laptop on the beanbag beside you. “It hasn’t been this bad before, has it?” 

“Not in a while,” you admit. “Just once or twice a year, it’ll get like this.” 

Peter shakes his head, looking at his laptop. “Have you talked to anyone about it? I know lots of doctors talk about period pain like it’s never a big deal, but sometimes—” 

“Are you really about to explain to me about how women’s pain gets dismissed in healthcare?” You frown. “Seriously?” 

He winces. “Okay, yeah, you know this. Just, I know this isn’t my area of expertise, but I’m reading up on uterine cysts—” 

“I don’t have a cyst.” 

“There’s just no way this can be normal, sweetheart.” It feels like he’s pleading now, either with you or with whatever higher power is putting you through this. “There’s no way it’s supposed to hurt this much even with painkillers in your system.” 

“Some girls throw up or pass out,” you tell him, a bit gentler now. 

“I know,” he sighs. “I know, and it sucks that womankind has to go through that, but it’s worse when it’s you, you know? You’re my girl. You’re not supposed to hurt.” 

“Peter.” 

You sound almost pitying, and when he looks over you’ve softened considerably. The pain must have ebbed for the moment, because the space between your brows is smoother, the muscles around your eyes relaxed for the first time in hours. 

“Close out webMD, honey,” you say with a little smile. “It’s not going to help.” 

Peter obeys, shutting his laptop and slipping off the beanbag to kneel beside your head. He feels his eyebrows pinch as he cups your face. You’re running a little fever, though you’d assured him that’s normal too. When he dies, he’s got some serious questions for the guy upstairs; this is inhumane. 

“What can I do that will help?” he asks. 

Your mouth pulls up on one side. “You’ve already done a lot,” you say with a pointed glance to the tea and chocolate on the coffee table behind him. 

“Give me something else,” he begs. “You want tickets to disney world, pretty girl? Ask and it shall be done.” 

You huff a laugh, the sound doing more to Peter’s heart than it really has any right to, then look just to the left of his face. “Could you hold me?” you ask shyly. 

For a second, Peter’s frozen. “Yeah,” he breathes, then kisses your cheek emphatically, standing. “Yeah, baby, why didn’t you ask sooner?” 

“You seemed busy,” you say as he climbs over you on the couch, trying to maneuver you onto your side without disturbing your heating pad. 

“Busy freaking out about how useless I feel, you mean.” He presses both hands to the heating pad, shuffling around until you’re slotted perfectly against his front. “If I can do anything to help, you tell me, okay?” 

“Okay,” you murmur, smiling when he leans over to press a kiss to your cheek. “I’m good now, though. This is nice. Can we just stay here for a while?” 

Peter pffts, the show of indignance doing little to hide his fondness for you. “Sweetheart, I’ll stay here all week if you want me to. You just peel me off when you want something to eat.”