#DIDNT PROOFREAD

[midnightramblrs]

“Do you have to go?” Your dresser drawer closes with a clang and you finish tying the strings on your pyjama pants in a neat bow. Eddie sits at the end of your bed to put his shoes on, his feet clad in pink striped socks you bought him from the mall. He wears them so religiously that there’s a hole by the heel. “It’s Saturday.”

“Promised my uncle I’d be back.” He shoves his foot into his shoe and adjusts his jeans over them with care. While he’s usually relaxed about Eddie’s unknown whereabouts, now and again he likes to actually come home at a reasonable hour to reassure him he’s alive and out of trouble.

You jut your bottom lip out in an attempt to sulk, which you both know won’t last very long. There are some people you just can’t stay mad at and Eddie’s one of them. “Okay.”

Once he’s put his other shoe on he leans over to your stuffed animals, all leaning against each other in a pile up at the bottom of your bed. “Look after her for me Mr. Bunny.” He picks up the white fluffy rabbit with big wide ears that you won at a fair when you were little, a patch of fabric sewn into the back of his shoulder where your friend's dog chewed him up. “She’s very precious.”

“Eddie.” You pull back your covers and sit with them bunched around your knees.

“She likes one kiss on her forehead before she goes to sleep,” Eddie moves the rabbit's head around like he’s replying, pausing for a second as if to wait for your giggle which comes on queue. “And everything else is my job, okay?” Eddie makes him nod before placing him back where he was, adjusting his ears so they face the right way and patting him on the head as he gets up.

“You’re ridiculous.” You reach your arm up to place your hand on the back of his neck, planting a kiss on the middle of his nose and then on his lips as a goodbye. Although you know he’s going to greet you in the morning with a carton of apple juice and a hug so tight it could crush your bones, you still feel an ache in your chest at the idea of him leaving.

“Bye you two.” Eddie gets up to stand in the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the frame. He points his index finger towards the mass of stuffed animals in the corner. “Be good.”

“No, you!” You call back as you hear his feet tap against the wood of the stairs. As you fluff up your pillows and rest your cheek against the fabric there’s the muffled sound of your mother and Eddie talking in the kitchen. Quickly, and as if you had forgotten and wanted to cram it in, you yell out. “Goodnight, Eddie!”

[730bliss]

I love your writing and I was wondering if you could write a Hook fic where reader comforts him after the betrayal from Jack?

comforting hook <3 (and thank you for the compliment!)

*g/n reader but an explicit mention of Hook outweighing reader

it was a rough night for Hook. not only did he get back stabbed by one of his closest friends, he was sitting on a backstage storage crate looking like a total loser. after Jack's betrayal, Hook didn't really have any friends, at least not the way he used too. Team Taz ended long ago, Dan got injured, dad was always busy, y/n had other friends, and Jack... well, you know. Hook had nobody anymore, not that he minded, but god was it nice to have a friend, someone who you could really trust. someone who could empathize with him, and goddammit, someone who could give him a ride back to the damn hotel!

as countless backstage staff and talent walked by, no one even looked in his direction, almost as if they were actively avoiding him. wow, how pathetic.

Hook zoned out for bit while a few tears formed. but then he was pulled back into reality.

"hello? earth to Hook?" a soft voice said.

Hook snapped out of his small trance and looked at you. you looked in his eyes and noticed the tears starting to well-up. you sat next to him on the crate.

"you doing okay?" you asked.

"yea," he said while sniffling the tears so you couldn't see them.

you touched him on the arm.

"Hook...listen," you started, "i know how it feels, and i understand you probably don't even want to be around people right now, but i can't just let you go through what i did..."

you too, had been turned on by your former tag partner. god, what an awful night that was. you couldn't bear to see a friend go through that too! especially not one you had been chasing for the better part of a year!

he didn't say anything.

"look, how about we go back to my hotel room? didn't you guys share a room?" you asked.

"yea," he said.

"and your dad isn't here tonight, is he?

"nah," Hook replied.

"okay. get your stuff," you said.

"k."

when you were driving back, it really started to dawn on you how little Hook actually talks. maybe that's what made you two such good friends, he prefers to listen to you ramble, while occasionally looking at you where he probably shouldn't, and you talk about the latest drama or cute thing your cat did. but once you got into the hotel room, the narrative flipped.

you listened to Hook for what seemed like hours, talking about how much Jack had hurt him. how lonely he felt on those crates. how he felt like nothing but a burden to those around him in those moments.

but he also said how much he appreciates you, and how much your friendship means to him. that's when you swear you saw some tears falling down his cheeks, but he was quick to wipe them away. he said he's glad to have you as a friend, and if you were to be his only friend, he wouldn't particularly mind that. it's a risk to trust people after all.

and then Hook did something completely out of character.

he hugged you.

you were kinda shocked at first, but quickly embraced him in your arms as he buried his head into your shoulder, and you moved your hand up to his head to comb through his hair.

"thank you," he whispered. "thank you for being here for me."

"anytime," you said. "let's go to bed."

"like this?" he asked.

"yeah, like this."

it was a pain to move him off you the next morning. Hook's arms were around you tight and him outweighing you did not help. eventually, you did wake up early to surprise him with some Doritos. when you gave it to him, he smiled a wide, genuine smile.

he thought about kissing you, but he didn't. and you'd be lying if you said you weren't thinking the same thing.

"next time for sure though," Hook thought.

hope u liked! felt like taking a more angsty route idk

[mqstermindswift]

my stress level is so high rn

[fovndloves]

     ENZO GRAHAM ( cis male, he/him, cody christian ) is TWENTY-SIX and a WRITER from VERONA. they are known as THE ISOLATO because they are STEADFAST, but if things kick off, they can be a bit JUDGEMENTAL. they’re BISEXUAL and describe their type as CREATIVE. from their time in the villa, they’re hoping to find FAME. ( sticky notes left everywhere, dry eyes from staring at your computer screen for hours, & angrily crumbled pieces of paper )

     played by: bonnie, 22, est, she/her

OVERVIEW ; 

name: enzo carmine graham

nickname(s): none because he has -3 friends

birthdate: november 8th, 1995

age: twenty-six

occupation: writer ( derogatory )

major(s): english ( b.a ) from nyu & creative writing ( m.f.a. ) from some pretentious british school that i haven’t found yet

gender: cis male

pronouns: he/him

sexuality: bisexual

IN DEPTH ; 

birth place: verona, italy

zodiac: scorpio 

current location: love island baby

known languages: italian, english, french, spanish

family: carmen graham ( mother ), dario valentino ( father )

PHYSICAL ;

face claim: cody christian

height: 5′8″ ( short king tingz ) 

hair color: dark brown

eye color: hazel

tattoos: he has a few here and there but not too many, mostly on his arms and one on his chest 

PERSONALITY ; 

in a nutshell: the most pretentious man i have ever met. thinks he’s better than everyone because he’s an artist. will never let a single person in ( so obviously this is going to go amazing ). uses things as means to an end without much thought to who it can hurt. 

positive: steadfast, ambitious, creative

negative: judgemental, pretentious, bitter

character parallels: charlie lastra ( book lovers ), andrew paxton ( the proposal ), zuko ( atla ), shiv roy ( succession )

aesthetics: annotated novels, constantly comparing yourself to others,  burnt out gifted kid, sticky notes left everywhere, dry eyes from staring at your computer screen for hours, & angrily crumbled pieces of paper

INFORMATION ; 

enzo was raised solely by his mother in verona, italy. she’s a government ambassador, and his father had been home from holiday. carmen didn’t really think to include him in enzo’s life since he was always abroad ( a big time real estate agent ), but he would always send cards and money on birthdays and christmas, so enzo never really minded. 

for a majority of his childhood, enzo was raised by nannies because his mother was working awfully long hours. but compared to his neighbors and friends, enzo was perfect since all he would do would read ( glaring at the nanny if she suggested something else ).

he went to all the fancy schools with all the other wealthy families, but he always stuck out because he was more of just a homebody, never wanting to do anything

from an early age he knew he wanted to be a writer, wanting to create stories that people would enjoy

so when it came to school and university, enzo knew he wanted to get away from everyone he knew. so he decided to apply to nyu, studying english and analyzing novels. it’s literally a dream come true

it helped him realize his passion, so right after he went to graduate school where he got his masters in creative writing

he thought for sure this would be the winning ticket to put his name on the map. for years he’s been studying books and poems and authors, so there’s no reason for his own story to flop ! he had been published in school papers as well. 

FALSE ! he tried to query different novels of his, mostly horror and thrillers, and one got published. but didn’t get the traction he wanted. 

it pissed him off to no end, man was absolutely livid. fired his agent, went real anger from inside out on him. 

so once he got a new one, and they believed in his book, but he just needed to build a following. enzo has 0 social media so he was like how do you expect me to do this

and that’s how he ended up on love island ! auditioned even though he is ... not a romantic at all but enzo vc: fake it till you make it baby

ON THE ISLAND ;

he’s not here for love, so write that down

but he does realize he needs to stay on the show for awhile so the social media intern can get more traction on his social media so he’ll be ... lying right through his teeth without batting an eye

will be saying he’s a writer, hoping to tug at those heartstrings, really laying on the tortured artist trope for the audience and other people 

would not be caught dead writing a romance but will be telling everyone he chats with that he just ... “couldn’t find any inspiration” :sobs: i hate him

he isn’t typically a social person, so this will get him out of that BUT i do see him feeling drained eventually and wondering if he actually can do this

probs won’t step on any toes but will get feelers from the other half of the couple and being like “is it set in stone or can we work with this?”

idk i hate him

[mingwrites]

Can I request how Ateez would sound in bed (i.e. moaner, grunted, whimper, silent, loud).

thanks for requesting nonnie!!! hope u enjoy <3

how ateez sound in bed

seonghwa ~ very vocal in bed. he mostly makes soft, breathless moans, his head thrown back in ecstasy as you ride his dick. his brain becomes too fogged up with the feeling of you to form words, so he relies heavily on those sounds to let you know that you're doing well, that he feels good, and that he loves you. he also tends to bite his lip a lot, producing hums rather than open-mouthed moans. "mmmmh, mmh, you feel so-ahh-so good..."

hongjoong ~ a focused man and attentive lover, hongjoong tends to be a little more quiet during sex as he's so focused on making you feel good. the best way to hear his adorable, hoarse whimpers is when you suck him off or give him a handjob. that's when he's able to lie back, close his eyes, and fill the room with the sounds of his pleasure. "yessss, that's good, baby... mmm...! just like that..."

yunho ~ lots of grunting when he fucks into you. he puts a lot of strength into his thrusts and likes to make that apparent, producing low, almost growl-like sounds every time his hips pound against yours, his dick filling you completely. also has a tendency to laugh during sex, smirking cockily, specifically when you let out one of your own sounds or tell him how good he makes you feel. "mm, mm... my baby feels good? hah... so cute..."

yeosang ~ yeosang is on the quieter side, as he can be a little shy, even with you. during sex, he makes plenty of pretty little whimpers and groans, just at a very soft volume. he grows louder the longer your pussy squeezes his dick, the more he comes undone. he's also way too shy to talk much, so he instead communicates with little, desperate noises and broken sentences. "mm, mm, ah... i love it... mmmh..."

san ~ he tries to stay mostly silent in terms of moaning, instead opting to just tell you directly what he's feeling. in other words, he's big on dirty talk. while you will catch occasional low hums, especially when he's close to orgasm, he mostly prefers to be teasing you for the sounds you make. "you're so tight... mmm... i can feel your pretty little pussy squeezing me. you're close, huh baby?"

mingi ~ mingi is unashamed of the type and amount of sound he makes, often using them as a substitute for words when he gets too worked up. he'll make quick, deep grunts when he fucks you, higher-pitched whimpers when you suck him off, and long, gruff moans when you fuck yourself on his dick. he loves the sound of your voice echoing in harmony with his. "mm, mmm, just like that, doll... ahh, yeah... take me down your throat..."

wooyoung ~ loud, loud, loud. in both the amount of moans and blabbering half-sentences you're able to get out of him, and in the volume of those sounds. wooyoung is shameless and unafraid to cue you (and your neighbors) in on exactly how he's feeling. on any given night, you'll hear him talking dirty, laughing, whimpering, moaning, and sometimes sobbing. "aaahhh, y/n, y/n, it's too much...! ah, ah, ah... mmm, so good..."

jongho ~ tries very hard to make as little noise as possible. he's rather shy and not always comfortable with that level of vulnerability, so he prefers to listen in on your sounds instead. also a master of dirty talk, he uses that skill to get the prettiest sounds out of you. of course, when he cums, he can't always hold back, and will let choked, high-pitched moans slip through. "mm, you feel so good... keep going, love... i'm gonna... ahh, aaahh...

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

this is loosely based off of @emmyrosee 's messing with sukuna post bc i just love the idea of messing with your whiny baby dramatic boyfriend and i immediately thought about katsuki ! if you want this taken down lmk !

katsuki is hilarious to mess with.

you've only been staring at him for about 5 seconds when he turns to you.

"whaddya want ?" he asks with a raised brow. you're still all smiles, resting your head into your palm

"nothing." you hum, he grumbles a bit but doesn't pay it any mind. until you keep staring. he's trying to focus on his phone but you can tell he's about to snap when he starts squinting at the device.

"what ?" he grumbles, red eyes narrow at your smile widening.

"nothing !"

"yn. don't fuck with me."

"i'm not !" you giggle " i'm just looking at you, am i not allowed to ?"

you know exactly what to say to fluster him without fail every time, it's something you're most proud of when you see the tips of his ears turn a light shade of pink.

"..no."

you snort "no ?"

"shaddup." he says through gritted teeth "so what, you're just lookin' at me ?"

"yeah." you shrug "i like lookin' at my pretty boyfriend." you prop your head against the couch and sigh dreamingly to sell the lovesick act. katsuki inhales through his nose, chest puffing like he's upset and he tsks, ears and cheeks beet red.

"weirdo." he scoffs, then grabs the back of your head to pull you in and press his lips to yours roughly.

you're both breathing heavy when you pull away. he looks at you, mouth slightly agape as he heaves lightly, eyeing you from your eyes to your lips. and then he huffs through his nose like a bull and roughly pulls you into in chest, causing you to release an 'oomph !' at the force when he flops down onto the couch, pulling you with him.

"m'not pretty." he mocks your voice and you huff a laugh into his collarbone. you wiggle around and your boyfriend loosens his hold a bit so you can look up at him.

"you so are !" you argue, he won't look at you but narrows his eyes at the tv he'd turned to to distract himself from your gaze.

"nah, that's you, babe." he switches through the channels "thought you said i was handsome last week."

"you can be pretty and handsome at the same time, the proof is right in front of me." you flirt, he looks at your from the corner of his eye and his mouth curls up like he smelled something nasty when you wink at him.

"gross."

"you're blushing~" you sing, closing your eyes and laying your head onto his chest, you sigh happily when he starts rubbing up and down your back instinctively.

"go to sleep. m'tired of listening to you." he pushes your head down into his chest jokingly and you giggle. you can't see the smirk growing on his face from where your being shoved into.

you wrestle out of his hold to look at him to see he's already staring at you, half smirk on his face and he scoffs at your expression, you huff through your nose and your smile widens.

"you love me." you whisper knowingly, katsuki takes the hand off of your back to pinch at your side and he snorts when you squeal.

"unfortunately."

you yelp when he wets his lips and he captures yours in a sloppy wet kiss.

[aroaceleovaldez]

reminder that the only reason the "ADHD is actually demigod BATTLE STRATEGIES" and "dyslexia is DEMIGOD BRAINS HARDWIRED FOR ANCIENT GREEK" things exist in the PJO universe is because it's a very direct reference to early 2000s teaching/parenting techniques for neurodiverse and disabled children, which aimed to frame childrens' disabilities and hardships as a "superpower" or strength so that the children would feel more positively about their disabilities or situations. This technique has fallen out of favor since then for the most part since more often than not it just results in kids feeling as though their struggles are not being seen or taken seriously.

Yes, demigods are adhd/dyslexic (and sometimes autistic-coded) in the series. This is extremely important and trying to remove it or not acknowledge it makes the entire series fall apart because it is such a core concept. Yes, canon claims that their adhd/dyslexia is tied to some innate abilities, which is based on an outdated methodology. It's important to acknowledge that and understand where it comes from! But please stop trying to apply it to other pantheons in the series like "oh, the romans have dyscalculia because of roman numerals!" or "the norse demigods have dysgraphia for reasons!" - it's distasteful at best.

A better option is to acknowledge the meta inspiration for why that exists in the series, such as explaining potentially that Chiron was utilizing that same teaching methodology to try and help demigods feel more comfortable with their disabilities and they aren't literal powers. In fact, especially given Frank, there's implication that being adhd/dyslexic isn't a guaranteed demigod trait, which means it's more likely to be normally inherited from their godly parent/divine ancestor as a general trait, not a power, and further supports the whole "ADHD is battle strategy" thing being non-literal. It also implies the entire greco-roman pantheon in their universe is canonically adhd/dyslexic - and that actually fits very well with the themes of the first series. The entire central conflict of the first series fits perfectly as an allegory about neurodiverse/disabled children and their relationships with their undiagnosed neurodiverse/disabled parents and trying to find solutions together with their shared disability/disabilities that the kid inherited instead of becoming distant from each other (and this makes claiming equivalent to getting a diagnosis which is a fascinating allegory! not to mention the symbolism of demigods inheriting legacies and legends and powers from their parents and everything that comes with that being equivalent to inheriting traits, neurodiversity, and disabilities from your parents).

anyways neurodiversity and disability and the contexts in which the series utilizes representation of those experiences particularly during the 2000s symbolically within the narrative is incredibly important to the first series and the understanding of what themes it means to represent. also if i see one more "the romans have dyscalculia instead of dyslexia" post in 2023 i'm gonna walk into the ocean.

[strawberryspence]

Eddie’s never been in a serious relationship. He’s used to kissing in the dark alleys of a bar, murmured lies underneath bleachers. He was never the one to be shown off, to be proud off and celebrated. No matter how much he yearned for it, he was never meant to be that person. 

Not until he meets Steve Harrington. And god, to be loved by him really makes Eddie rethink all of his preconceived opinions. Maybe Eddie is serious relationship material. 

But Steve… Steve’s a hopeless romantic. He gets him a set of D&D dices just because he thought Eddie would love them. Opens the door for him, opens the car for him. Tries to learn his hobbies, learns to like it. The first time they slept together, Eddie woke up with breakfast in bed. Which was fucking ridiculous because Steve should be the one waking up with breakfast in bed. He buys Eddie flowers for every date, even though Eddie teases him for it. 

And Eddie— Eddie’s a newbie in this. He’s been trying his best to catch up in the romance department. He resolves to do something when Steve got him some tulips for a date once and Eddie brought it up. 

“I love it, Stevie. It’s so nice to get flowers, hmmm?” Eddie smiles, a little bit dazed with affection as he smells the flower. 

Eddie would like to think he knows Steve’s expressions pretty well. So when he sees that beautiful smile drop from his boyfriend’s face, it all clicks for Eddie.

Steve Harrington has never gotten flowers. 

Eddie starts with those flowers in Melvald’s. Joyce has very nicely informed him that they are called Gerberas. Eddie got Steve a bunch of different colors. It’s not that big, just a small bundle. He didn’t want to over do it, just wanted to test the waters. Find out how his boyfriend feels about getting flowers.

It’s embarrassing walking with a bunch of flowers, with his whole metal thing but all of that vanishes when Eddie picks Steve up for a date and he sees the flowers in Eddie’s hands. 

“What’s that for?” Steve looks at the flowers warily. 

Eddie smiles, trying to hide the nerves he’s been feeling since he got the flowers, “For you, sunshine. They reminded me of you so I got them.” 

Like everything else he’s offered Steve— his friendship, his life, his heart— Eddie holds out his hand with just enough courage.

Steve takes the flowers with reluctance, staring at it with fondness and some other emotion Eddie can’t pinpoint. 

They sit in silence for a minute, as Steve just stares and as Eddie just stands with his nerves. Eddie opens his mouth to take it back, and to just swallow the embarrassment. Maybe flowers just ain’t for everyone. 

But then, Steve starts tearing up, sniffling a little, as he blinks at Eddie, “I love it, baby. It’s beautiful. Thank you.” 

Eddie stares in shock as his boyfriend runs back into the house to put it in a vase. Steve’s eyes are still red around the rims when he finally comes out, his nose scrunched up from the sniffling. 

Eddie doesn’t bring it up, he knows Steve won’t want to talk about it. But if they’re a little clingy with each other in the coming days, who’s gonna be mad? 

Since then, Eddie’s made it his life mission to get Steve flowers on the randomest days. He’ll get Steve some sunflowers on bad days, maybe pick him some daisies from the field for when Steve picks the kids up from Hellfire.

Till to this day, Steve gets a little teary eyed when Eddie gets him a random flower. It melts Eddie’s heart into a goo, that this simple action makes his boyfriend tear up with joy. He thinks, in a few more weeks, he’ll garner enough courage to buy flowers and just tell Steve that he loves him. 

It goes on for a few weeks before it comes to a halting stop one random summer day. Steve’s car had to go into the shop for maintenance, so Eddie picked him up and dropped him off to work. When he’s about to pick him up, Eddie goes and picks up some carnations Joyce had reserved for him.  

“Hello, to my favorite lesbian.” Eddie greets when he enters the Family Video store, only seeing Robin at the counter. He closes the doors behind him, flipping the sign from open to close.

“Hello to you too, my favorite gay.” Robin lights up, throwing away the magazine she’s reading. 

“I am here to pick you and the majesty.” Eddie dramatically bows, the flowers still in his hand.

Robin laughs, making grabby hands at him, “You could’ve just picked us up. No need for flowers, you know?” 

Eddie laughs. Whoops, maybe he should’ve gotten something for Robin too. “I am sorry, Robin. This ones for my Stevie. I’ll get you something next time.” 

Robin stares at him, blinking in surprise, “Those flowers are for Steve?” 

Eddie nods enthusiastically. 

“Steve? Our Steve?” 

Eddie squints at her, “Do we have any other Steve?” 

“Our Steve… who is… very much allergic to flowers?”

Eddie blinks at her with owlish eyes. 

“No, he’s not!” He exclaims. 

Robin looks at him, and back to the flowers, then back to him again. She gets this look on her face, like she holds the key to the universe. If Eddie squints really hard, he can see the bulb lighting on her head. 

But then she bursts out of laughter. Bend to your knees, hitting the floor, aching ribs kind of laughter. 

Okay, Eddie’s kinda offended now. 

“What’s so funny?” Eddie asks, unable to hide his frown. 

“What’s happening?” Steve comes out from the backroom, confused with Robin’s laughter. “Oh, hey Eds!” 

Robin turns to him, pointing and red on the face with laughter,  “Oh my god. Steve— you’re freaking whipped!” 

“What?” Steve turns to her with confusion. 

Eddie and Steve just stare at her as she takes her time to calm down. 

“I thought…” Robin takes a breath, “I thought you were having a very extreme allergic reaction to spring. I was this close to booking you an appointment with the doctor! You didn’t tell me you were getting flowers from Eddie.” 

Eddie turns to his boyfriend, “Stevie? Are you allergic to flowers?” 

“No!” Steve exclaims. He grabs the flowers out of Eddie’s hands, “See! I am fine!” 

“Steve.” Robin warns.

“I am fine! I love getting flowers from you, Eds. It’s— it’s the best.” 

They stare at each other. Steve squints, his nose scrunching up when he gets a whiff of the flowers. 

“Achoo!” 

“You are allergic!” Eddie exclaims, points an accusing finger at him. 

“I am sorry!” Steve says, his eyes watering again. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?! What kind of boyfriend am I?” Eddie pulls on his hair in frustration, bringing it into his mouth, “Jesus! I was giving you so many flowers! You must’ve felt awful! How could I have not seen that?!” 

“Eddie—“ Steve moves closer. 

“I thought you were crying with joy when I gave you flowers. It was allergies! Why didn't you tell me?!”

“Oh my god!” Robin shouts, making both of them freeze. She turns to Steve, “Steve! Why didn't you tell your boyfriend you were allergic? That’s dumb and made you sick!” 

She then turns to Eddie, “And Eddie! Steve's extremely, insanely, in love with you to the point that he’ll accept the flowers from you! It’s nothing against you! He wants the flowers, his body doesn’t!” 

Huh? 

“What did you say?” Eddie croaks out, breathless with disbelief. 

“Robin.” Steve gasps. 

Robin rolls her eyes, “I said Steve is extremely—“ She stops, her eyes widening in realization, “Uh-oh. Uhm.” 

She perks up, cupping her ears, “What’s that? Did you guys hear that? I think there’s a raccoon in the backroom. Let me check. You guys stay here.” Robin basically zooms out of the room.  Eddie has never seen her move that fast, and they fought an evil wizard together.

Eddie turns to Steve when they’re finally alone. 

“Give me that.” Eddie says, pulling the flowers away from Steve.

“That’s mine.” Steve pouts. 

“Sunshine, you’re allergic.” Eddie keeps the flowers away from him, tucking it on the table. They stand awkwardly around each other, not knowing what to say. 

“Did you hear—“

“What was Robin—“

Eddie smiles at him, softening when he sees Steve chew on his lips nervously, “You first, Stevie.”

Steve nods, gulping as his eyes finally meet Eddie’s, “I am sorry for not telling you. I really loved the flowers and I honestly thought the medication would be enough. Maybe next time, you can tell me beforehand so I can take some and actually enjoy being around them.” 

“I am never getting you flowers anymore if it gets you all sniffly.” Eddie chuckles at Steve’s headstrong perspective, “So— Uh— About what Robin said…” 

Steve straightens up, stammering to spit the words out, “You don’t have to say anything! I am not forcing you to say anything, Edd. We could forget it even happened. Who even is Robin?” 

Eddie moves closer, pushing Steve in between the aisles of the store where no one from outside can see them. 

“I just want to know if it’s true, Stevie.” Eddie whispers, his own voice quivering with anxiety and anticipation. 

Steve stares at him, sensing his boyfriend’s own worry. The nerves in his face melted into an affectionate smile. 

“Eds, baby. I kept all the flowers you gave me till they died even though it gave me the worst allergies. Of course, I am," He scoffs, "As Robin has said, extremely, insanely, in love with you.” 

Eddie breaks into a smile, “Well, I am also extremely, maybe even more insanely, in love with you. The flowers weren’t exactly fitting my metal image, but I was still out there picking out flowers in the field.” 

Steve rolls his eyes, “Oh, you’re annoying.” 

There’s no more words said after that. Well, because they started making out right there, all the newly found love and emotions all in the open. That in itself is enough for now.

After the night Eddie found out that Steve’s allergic, Eddie calls El up. The next day, El teaches Eddie how to make origami flowers.

Eddie never buys flowers for Steve ever again. 

He makes it for him instead.

(No one tell Steve, but in a few years, Eddie will ask him to unfold the paper flowers. Only to find a question wedged between its stems and folds. Steve says yes to the question, with real tears of joy.

On their wedding day, Steve will walk down another aisle, a bouquet of handmade flowers made from Eddie's hospital discharge papers and NDAs in his hand.)

[fathomlessgaze]

perfect: zayne takes solace in hearing the heartbeats of those he loves deeply, which now includes one more little one

all fluff dw, husband!zayne/reader, ~.9k

warnings: reader is pregnant + called a mother, maybe not canon compliant but spoilers about mc's lore and allusions to zayne's lore (mainly myths story + maybe that dawnbreaker anecdote), zayne being a doctor + lots of heartbeat ments but i didnt research so maybe medically inaccurate, i believe in (future) girldad!zayne

an: i haven't written ff in 5ever + didn't edit on top of this so my apologies LOL im just really downbad for this ice man n wanted to write smthn rq

the soft, muffled clinking of keys and the creaking of the front door ruffle your slumber, your eyes slowly fluttering and flickering to the entryway where, sure enough, your husband steps inside. as he catches a glimpse of your, supposedly, sleeping form, a soft grin takes over his features and you think, maybe, you’d like to see where this goes. 

he puts his bag down by the console table and takes off his shoes and you steady your breath, hoping he hasn’t noticed your lingering gaze under your lowered lids. fishing out his stethoscope, he hangs it around his neck as he takes cautious steps towards you, tip toeing to avoid all the creaky spots of the hardwood floors. he’s slow as he lowers himself on the couch, taking a moment to admire your curve of your jaw and the pout of your lips before putting in the earpieces.

zayne really was trying to be careful. he’d taken the metal between the fabric of his jacket, an attempt to reduce the jarring difference between its chill and your warmth, and moved as slowly and quietly as he could as he sat next to your snoozing figure on the sofa.

he watches carefully before his stethoscope finds your heart and its rhythmic beating fills his head. while it isn’t new news, the reminder that the organ that keeps you alive is perfectly well and healthy always brings ease to his own, this time given a physical form through a quiet exhale falling from his lips. clear and strong, not a single hint or vibration of the fragments that used to plague your being, your heart beats in time with his, he’d like to think. he allows his eyes to get misty, a faint smile and chuckle escaping as he tries to wipe the tear that threatens to fall with his free hand. 

he stays like that for a minute more, simply relishing in how far you’ve both come. he remembers that surgery like it was yesterday, with how demanding and long it was, the aches settling in his muscles and bones by the end of it, only to jump head first into the delicate, intensive recovery you needed and he helped you through. and he would do it again and again, if that’s what it would take. 

oh, how your fingers itch to brush the side of his face, cup his cheek in your palm and brush the stray hairs behind his ear. you can always tell when he starts reminiscing, how a moist sheen covers his beautiful eyes, furthering just how precious they are. but before you can move your arm from where it rests on your leg, he’s taking back the chest piece into his palms, holding it gingerly.

with one hand, he gently runs his fingers along your stomach until he finds a spot that causes his eyebrows to raise for the slightest moment, before the stoic expression returns to his face. the now cool metal in his other hand replaces his other hand, and, if it weren’t for the quirk of his lips, the soft smile and endeared look in his eyes, you would’ve been none the wiser to what had happened. he takes in the rhythmic beating in his ears. that’s…your baby, well and healthy and all he could ask for. a small sigh escapes his lips. he could stay here and listen to it for forever. 

maybe you should cut the act.

fluttering your eyes open fully, you meet his tinted cheeks with a coy grin. “what’re you doing?” you ask, feigning innocence. 

he brings his hand to his neck, scratching slightly at the pink-tinged skin before clearing his throat. “i–uh–i thought it would just be nice to see if we could hear her heartbeat yet.” 

you lean forward, biting your lip to stop the knowing smile from escaping as you rest a hand on his shoulder and rub his cheek with your knuckles. “and do you?”

he nods, his rare beam coming to the surface before he kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger. “it’s beautiful and strong, just like her mother.”

before you can reply, he’s removing the ear pieces and fitting the stethoscope around your head, the quiet rhythm now taking over your senses. it’s gentle, delicate, but definitely there and determined. 

“that’s our baby,” you murmur. suddenly emotion washes over you and you rub your eyes with your sleeves. “oh, zayne, it’s lovely.”

he bobs his head, taking one of your hands in his to hold the metal still against you so he can now use his free hands to brush the droplets from your cheeks and wrap you in his arms, snug in his embrace. with a gentle kiss to your temple, he lets out a shuddering breath, not daring to speak before he can stabilize the shakiness in his throat. “it’s perfect.”  

“y’know,” you start, a small laugh escaping as you try to not cry into zayne’s button-up, “this is all i could’ve ever wanted, i think. if you told me when we met as kids this would be my life, i don’t think i would’ve believed you, but this is perfect, just as it is, you, me and her.”

he nuzzles his head against your neck, a quiet agreement taking form as a faint kiss on your shoulder. “this is the life i’ve waited years, forever, for.” he squeezes your frame slightly, holding your closer. “it’s so perfect.”

[geombyu]

GOJO SEES YOU WEARING HIS SHIRT !

Pairing. student!gojo x student!gn!reader

Genre. fluff, friends to hinted lovers perhaps

Word count. 0.6k | Warnings. swearing, the reader is smaller than gojo (the shirt is big on them)

A/N. i see a lot of these and like 7/10 times theyre smut LMAOAO so i wanted to write a fluff ver! i also did Not think id be writing for jjk but 😭 ig we are + not rlly proofread sorry :(

Today was Gojo's day off, and what better way to start it than waking up at four pm?

He was a busy guy - despite only being in high school - he's already taken on many jobs, it was only right he could get sixteen hours of sleep.

When he arrived at your shared dorm at twelve in the morning, you were already asleep, so when he got out of his room and laid his eyes on you wearing his t-shirt, he couldn't help but gasp.

"Oh, hey Satoru." You spoke, sparing him a quick glance before going back to cooking. His mouth was still wide open; he couldn't respond—he tried, but he couldn't. No sound could leave him. Who knew all it took for the strongest to be left speechless was the sight of you in his shirt?

You look back at him, seeing how his jaw was still on the floor, you realize it was probably because of what you were wearing right now.

"Oh! This? Sorry," you chuckle, "none of my clothes have been washed yet—call me gross, whatever—so I decided to steal from your wardrobe. Hope you don't mind." You stuck your tongue out before placing the eggs on a plate.

You moved to put the plate on the dining table, giving him a better view of you in his shirt. It fit him so perfectly, so seeing it so big on you absolutely made his heart melt.

There was a light tint of pink on your friend's cheeks now; you were so cute he felt like he was going to pass out.

"Are you okay with just eggs? There's more stuff but I wanna save them for next time—oh, actually, you might not be here tomorrow…" You mumbled the last part, choosing to ignore how he still hasn't responded to any of your sentences.

Gojo tried to get a word out, but all he could manage was a strange, strangled noise, which you respond to with a confused hum. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't organize any of his thoughts. He was screaming over and over in his head, but there was a thought slightly bigger than the rest (the rest which consisted of AAAA's, OH MY GOD's, and WHAT THE FUCK's)—that thought was: "holy fuck you're so adorable," which was also exactly what he just blurted out.

Now it was your turn to be flustered, "I—what?"

Gojo's eyes widen before he covers his face with his hands, his face now fully red. "Ignore what I just said," his voice was muffled, but you could still hear what he said.

You never thought you'd see the Gojo Satoru blushing so deeply with his face in his hands, but here he is. You laugh, "can you repeat that?" You were teasing him, I mean, it's not every day that this happens, but any more teasing and his heart might actually blow up.

"Y/n, shut up—oh my God—I hate you!"

"I thought you said I was adorable? Or do you hate cute things?"

He yells into the palms of his hands.

Although you're being bold right now, him calling you adorable caused your brain to shut down for a good millisecond. Gojo complimented you all the time, but somehow, this felt different.

You walk to where he's standing right now, hands still covering his pretty face. You put your hand on his, and the feeling of your warm and soft hands comfort him.

He could tell you wanted to pull his hands away, and while he didn't want that, he was so weak to your touch.

He had no other option but to give in, so he did. You put his left hand away first, then the right. With his hand still in yours, you softly spoke, "if that's the case, then you must really hate yourself."

Oh, he was so in love with you.

© geombyu

[luvring]

EASY SWEETNESS

itadori x gn!reader | insecure reader (about your laugh and... what you look like from an angle below? he's lying on your chest and you won't look down at him)

itadori’s a sweetheart without really trying.

maybe it’s just another one of his talents, you wonder—his way of making your heart skip a beat. compliments, gifts, how, with his back turned, his hand could find yours solely from the sound of your voice. it seemed to be as ingrained in him as the raw strength he held, or the recipe to his favourite late night noodles that he made every week; practiced yet somehow innate.

“you’re such a sweet talker, yuuji,” you deflected his compliment once (you had said something about not liking your laugh, and he had called it sweet instead, because there was no bad laugh, especially yours that he always wanted to hear), warmth tingling your face and ears.

“huh?” he tilted his head. “well, i guess so…wait, no? yes? it’s just the truth, though. is it sweet talking if it’s just being honest?”

you can’t help yourself from thinking back to that as he rests on top of you, favourite throw blanket covering the both of you and tucked beneath your feet so you wouldn’t get cold, and a movie you’ve both watched a dozen times plays on the television screen.

it was a comedy—one that yuuji happened to play in the background as he studied but, inevitably, distracted him from it. he told you it stuck with him, and it’s found its way back to viewership every few months when he feels like unwinding.

it was really only a matter of time before you took part too.

you’ve both got lines memorized from the words down to the pace they’re said, even the cut-offs by other characters and the noises playing in the background. you feel the rumble before you hear yuuji’s voice, smushed like his face against your chest, as he acts out the scene.

“hey, you think at some point we’ll have the whole movie memorized?” he asks, moving to look up at you with his chin resting against you.

and the thing about someone resting on your chest is that you have to look down when you speak, and the problem with that is that the angle isn’t all that flattering.

so you smile, eyes fixed on the screen yet not following a single word being said as you become aware of the angle of your head, and what you look like from a few inches away. “maybe. that’d take at least a few more dozen watches though, unless we’re talking active memorization.”

“then what about with active memorization?”

“hm…for you? i’d still say at least a dozen. movies are really long you know?”

“and you?”

“probably the same? like, if it’s just us two, that’s a lot of lines, and i don’t think megumi would be ecstatic to join. nobara, maybe.”

a character begins to yell at another as your fingers come to card through yuuji’s hair—yuuji, whose response seems to be silence until—“babe.”

“hm?”

“why won’t you look at me?”

you snort, fingers pausing so you can gently mess with his hair instead. “i look bad from that angle, yuu.”

and you hope, maybe, he’ll leave it there, move back to the memorization idea, pick the characters he’d act out best. it really isn’t a favourable angle for anyone, so maybe he won’t look much further into the way your lips form a tight smile, or the forced breathy laugh at whatever’s just happened on screen.

“no you don’t,” he says matter-of-factly.

“...yuuji, really—”

“i think you look nice from every angle.” yuuji rests his cheek against you again. and you let your eyes flicker down, just once, just to see him grin as soon as your gazes connect. “i like looking at you from anywhere, but especially here.”

you shoot him a look of disbelief. “that’s your favourite spot to look at me from?”

“well.” he shifts his legs and kicks the blanket a little, untucking it from beneath you. “any spot that’s super close is nice so i can really see you, and do this—”

yuuji grunts a little as he moves up to kiss your cheek, hands finding home beside your head—you can feel him grinning even before he’s moved away to look at you.

“and you say you aren’t a sweet talker,” you murmur, face warm and housing a stupidly lovesick grin.

“hey.” he pouts. “i’m telling you i’m not a sweet talker, it’s just the truth as your boyfriend.”

“sweet talker.”

“i’m sweet and a talker. not a sweet talker.”

“okay, sweetie.” you try to joke and scrunch your nose, the pet name awkward and foreign on your tongue, but yuuji only smiles again in response.

“yeah, that works too. should we start calling each other sweetie now? i think it kind of fits.” 

“yuuji—”and you’re convinced he has a talent now, because even as he exaggerates the new term with a sickeningly sweet voice, it manages to roll off his tongue as naturally as every other compliment he’s said to the point that you think maybe you wouldn’t mind him using it—“yeah, sweetie?”

i'm gonna be so fr sweetness looks like a silly word to me rn. specfically when all capitalized...SWEETNESS... girl what is that

[saetoshis]

JIN YUAN + DRY HUMPING RISKY PLACES RAAAAHHHHHHH IM IN LOVE WITH HIM < 3

BROWAAAAAAAKAKAAAAAKAAAAAA

fem!reader, dry humping, semi-public, pet names [dove, pretty girl], teasing, minors + ageless dni

“how does it feel?” jing yuan murmurs into your ear as he presses his chest closer against your back, his big hands pawing at your hips under your skirt. every rub of your panties against his thigh drives you crazy, and what’s worse is he won’t stop whispering in your ear, “so turned on here, aren’t you? one person could easily look over and notice your little expressions…”

you had a dinner party with some friends, all of whom left the booth and went home. there are still other people around at tables further away, but they don’t seem to notice. you might be safe to indulge for now…

“you’re making it hard to hide it, general,” you mumble back to him in a half-frustrated, half-flustered tone. you shudder when your clit throbs each time he drags your hips languidly over his thigh. you breathlessly whisper back, “don’t blame me if there’s a mess on your pants…”

jing yuan’s chuckle is low and rasped against your ear, and he inconspicuously kisses the back of your neck, letting out low hums just to see how your body reacts. a little smirk pulls at his lips as he feels your frame shake in his arms, and he whispers, “you’re shaking, dove… does it really feel that good doing something like this here? maybe you’re a little naughtier than i thought, hm?”

“you- mm, this is your fault, though…” your voice comes out riddled with shallow pants and stifled moans, thighs shaking from the pleasure tingling up your spine. you’re desperate, trying not to whine as you mumble, “just… please, already. take me back home…”

“oh? and what is it that my pretty girl wants back at home…? tell me,” jing yuan just can’t get enough of teasing you, his lips grazing against your ear and your nape because he knows how much those little touches drive you crazy. “does she want me to please her, hm?”

your body lights up with tingles from his cadence, and it sends jolts of pleasure through your nerves - especially with how his hands are starting to shift between your thighs now, pressing just one finger on your clit through your now-wet panties.

“fuck- just… take me home, already…”

2023 SAETOSHIS. do not copy or repost.

[etheries1015]

Yuu, tired of being a normal "talk through it" therapist and constantly shouldering the students problem. So...

Vil coming to ramshackle and knocking on the door

Yuu who opens the door, with puffy eyes , pajamas, unkept hair, some new acne, bloated, pale, kind of like a gremlin under the bridge vibe

Vil, who quickly rushes Yuu in and tries to fix them up but Yuu's power is too strong.

Rook, hours later looking for Vil, coming to ramshackle and knocking on the door

Vil, who answers the door in pajamas and a messy bun (somehow looking perfect?) - "ah. Perfect timing, Rook. Come in."

Rook who walks in to seeing half of the student body in their pajamas, messy hair and wrapped in blankets sitting on the lounge floor in front of a giant flatscreen watching idia play video games

Yuu, who looks up tiredly and holds up a pint of ice cream- "Blankets are in the closet. Feel free to take whatever you want from the fridge. I have two rules; no trauma dumping and no fighting."

Rook- "oh? And what is all of this?"

"Reconstructional therapy. Work through your emotions the old fashioned way, with a tub of ice cream and half a will to live. Now stop asking questions , Idias about to beat the boss"

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part seven

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: mentions of death/dying

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 5k

A dull, stabbing pain throbbed in your right rib and you put a hand over it–you hoped to ease it somehow but it remained–as you replied, “I… I don’t know, Derek. I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.”

The movement didn’t go unnoticed from Derek’s watchful gaze, especially when he was sitting right there beside you on the couch, and his blue eyes shone with the familiar question, ‘Are you okay?’ You answered him silently with a reassuring raise of your brows and a wave of your hand. Seemingly placated for the time being, he put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently.

“There’s no pressure. I just thought I’d let you know before I pass it on over to Jersey and before I inform the client she’ll go in place of you. But if you’re interested in just going to watch, we can arrange that, too.” Derek paused, opened his mouth then closed it, and he looked a bit unsure about the words he wanted to say. 

Then he continued, “I… I think it will be good for you.”

The thought of returning back to the field, albeit for sporting coverage, still instilled anxiety in your stomach. Sure you had made enough progress in therapy to pick up a camera again without having a breakdown–you remembered crying out in relief when you did it for the first time after your last photojournalistic coverage–but covering the Olympics with tens of thousands of people present, one of them being Alexia? 

It was painfully obvious that that was something truly out of your depth. You just weren’t ready. 

But the thing was, would Alexia even care if she saw you there? You hadn’t spoken to or seen her in person in, what, fourteen months? What would she even say? What would you say? Considering that you were just a fling, you doubted that Alexia would even recognise you, much less care. The last time you were tempted to search up her name, you burnt yourself when you saw a candid photo of her and another woman. And the fact still stood that–and she said so herself, didn’t she?–you meant nothing to her. 

Another firm refusal was poised on the tip of your tongue when a round of giggles that erupted from the backyard, carefree and full of glee, captured your attention. Through the open sliding door of the living room you found your daughter with her Uncle Robert, head thrown back in a heartfelt laugh at whatever her uncle was telling her with his animated gestures. 

You smiled at the sight, chest immediately feeling full and warm. 

“For the both of you.” Derek added and when you looked back at him, you found his focus directed to where yours was only a moment ago. You regarded the scene again, fiddling with the string on your wrist as you mulled his words over. 

More than a year ago, you couldn’t even fathom imagining that you’d be able to behold a scene such as this. More than a year ago, you almost died–no, you did die–and the months that followed were nothing short of arduous, the first few weeks after you woke up even more so. It was as if the time between then and now existed on its own plane; you remembered it so vividly that sometimes when you sink into the darkest recesses of your mind, it almost felt like you were still there, and this–the now–was an illusion your lamenting mind had conjured to mollify yourself.

This almost felt too good to be real–too tranquil.

And as if awoken by the mere whisper of it, the memories pulled you away from reality and made a spectator out of you as you sank back into the most difficult time in your life. 

-

-

From nothingness came the noises, followed by sensations, gentle in their intrusion at first before they made their presence more pronounced, rousing you finally. 

There was a steady beeping and a gentle, mechanical hum coming from somewhere beside you and as the scope of your hearing widened, muffled footsteps and chattering registered not a moment later. Your mouth was parched but when you tried to swallow, a tightness in your throat prevented you from doing so and you groaned. Then you felt a dull ache along your right side, from the top of your shoulder, to your ribcage, and down to just by the side of your abdomen.

It took considerable effort to lift your eyelids but you managed. You found a grey ceiling to begin with but as your eyes fleeted through the room you were apparently in, you eventually found your mom asleep just beside your bed. She was curled in on herself, bent and tense, knees tucked close to her chin while her arm supported her head as a makeshift pillow against the chair’s arm. Even in her slumber, she didn’t look at peace: her brows were furrowed, the corners of her mouth tilted low, her lower eyelids looked red and raw, cheeks void of their usual carmine tint. From where you were, you could see the lines that had etched themselves on her face as if years had passed since you had last seen her. 

She flinched as if a rough hand had jolted her awake, her eyes weary as she opened them at first. The moment she caught your eye she froze–she didn’t even breathe–before her eyes lit up with tears. Then she was beside you, enveloping your head in her gentle cradle as her tears fell on you, searing against your cold cheeks.

In that moment, you didn’t realise how cold you were until you felt your mom’s tender warmth and the comfort it brought. Emotion bubbled in your throat and you sobbed around the apparatus in your mouth for your mom’s presence. So enraptured were you by her grace that you didn’t even realise that the both of you weren’t alone anymore until a nurse urged your mom to step aside so the doctor could check on you.

You’d been slipping in and out of consciousness for the past twelve hours after waking up from an eleven-day coma, the doctor told you in a gentle manner as she assessed you. Satisfied with what she saw, she turned to your mom and gave her a reassuring smile. She said that your state looked promising, that the likelihood of you slipping back into a coma was slim, but you should expect to sleep more deeply–for more than twelve hours a day–during the next week or so due to the damage in your right lung and your increased brain activity. True enough, just the brief interaction and exposure to the stimulants had taken a decent chunk of your energy, and you were beginning to feel exhausted already. 

The doctor and nurse left shortly after that and your mom stuck by your side. She clung to your hand, her fear that you would disappear if she even let go for a second as apparent as the tears in her eyes. Her grip was crushing you but even if you could tell her, you didn’t have the heart to do it because you saw how much she needed the closeness, the physical contact, how much it brought her relief so you let it be. And if you were being honest, the slight pain grounded you to her presence–to be present in that very moment.

The door of your ward opened again, the movement catching your attention, and in came your brother. His cheeks were red and he was heaving his breaths through his open mouth, blue eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. As his gaze found yours, his mouth closed in a tight line but not before a sob left his lips, chin shaking and brows furrowing which made the tears in his eyes to finally fall. He nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to get to your side, his arms immediately around your head as he sobbed out apology after apology against your temple. 

Tears welled in your eyes and you longed to grab his face, to put your palms over his ears, and tell him that he had nothing to apologise for. Your heart broke and when you felt the warmth of your mom’s arms around the both of you and felt her own tears against your cheek again, a gravity pressed against your chest as the realisation of what nearly happened finally sank in. 

You wept then as it hit you, sobbing into the arms of the people you cared most about in the world. 

You cried in relief. 

You cried in grief.

And you cried because you were alive to do it.

The next time you woke, a nurse stopped by to take out the ventilator tube from your airway and replaced it with a nasal cannula for your oxygen support. She said that depending on the rate at which your right lung would recuperate, you needed to be on oxygen support for six to eight more weeks.

Your throat felt raw from the extraction but the relief that came from it was very much welcome. You’d been itching to ask your family about what you missed and what exactly happened. There was an empty space in your memory where memories as to how you ended up in the hospital should be–at that point you couldn’t recall anything about the child, the gunfire that wounded you, the dreams; your mind was completely out of the loop. 

And you did just that. 

In response, your mom pursed her lips in a thin line, stern and stubborn as mothers often were when they got protective of their children, before she shook her head firmly. 

“You heard the doctor, hon. You need to rest for now.” 

You tried a couple more times that day, even with Derek, to gain some insight  but your family remained resolute in preventing you from being stressed out. They reminded you that you had plenty of time to put the pieces together. 

Then familiar faces jumped in your mind and the guilt blazed in you, unforgiving. How could you have forgotten about them?

“Derek. Where’s Jones and Gilda?” Tremors made the rawness of your voice all the more apparent, and you stared at you brother in apprehension. The monitor began to beep as it detected your accelerated heartbeat, and your mom was automatically beside you to hold your hand, brushing the hair on your crown to soothe you.

“They’re fine, sis. Breathe.” Derek replied quickly, patting your covered foot over the blanket. “Gilda fractured her wrist and Jones is actually on standby.” 

You sighed, tension immediately leaving your body at the information. You nodded your thanks to your brother for at least putting your mind at ease by telling you that. 

“That’s enough for today.” Your mom said sternly before she pointed at you. “You. Rest. Now. And you, zip it.”

Derek put his hands up, pulling his brows up and the corners of his mouth down in an exaggerated manner, and at that, you laughed. 

Despite your growing impatience over the days that followed, bits and pieces of your memory finally returned to you but not without some help. On one occasion your mom, albeit with a tightness in her voice as if the mere act of speaking about it brought her terrible pain, finally told you what happened after you lost consciousness. 

She recounted what she’d been told by the first doctor that took care of you: how a returning convoy with a paramedic onboard heard the gunshots and managed to get to you on time. Any longer and they wouldn’t have been able to–she stopped to wipe her tears and tried to find her voice again–they wouldn’t have been able to resuscitate you when your heart stopped on the way back to camp. Your right lung had collapsed from the penetrating wound in your chest and, along with the ones in your right abdomen and shoulder, you’d lost a lot of blood already that by the time you were put under surgery, you slipped away again. This time, you very nearly succumbed to your wounds for good, and it was a miracle you came back–that the surgeon said you were lucky to have lived. 

Derek put a comforting arm around your mom as she put her face in her hands, breaking down again. You ached to do the same but weakness still occupied all parts of your body so the only thing you could do was offer your words.

“It’s okay, Mom. I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She straightened her back and wiped her tears away, seeming to have calmed down now but Derek continued to rub her back with a soothing hand and continued where she left off.

They found your press ID badge and contacted the photojournalism firm you were under. After receiving the news, Derek told your mom who–even though Derek told her to wait so he could go with her–flew herself out on the first plane there. He flew himself the next day after he sorted things out around the firm. 

“If you’re here, who did you leave in charge?” 

“Robert. Don’t worry, he’s fine. I may or may not have told him I’d break up with him if he messed up.”

Your mom gasped at that, scandalised, smacking Derek’s shoulder. “Derek!”

“What? I’m just joking!” Derek asked looking very much like a reprimanded child with his eyes wide in disbelief at being told off. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at your brother’s antics but you knew that your future brother-in-law was very much capable of keeping the firm afloat. 

“Poor Robert. You’re a menace, you know that right?” 

“He knows it, sis, why do you think he’s with me?” He wagged his brows and you grimaced at the innuendo–the last thing you’d like to think about was your brother’s sex life.  “Anyway, after I landed, Mom and I decided that we should move you to a different hospital. Farther away from the conflict zone. So we took your belongings there and now you’re here. Which reminds me, we have your rolls of film and camera at the hotel.”

At the mention of your camera, images flooded in: the explosions, the guns, the massacre, the blood… and the child. The child! Where was she now? Was she okay? What happened–

“What? What is it?” The sound of Derek’s voice, thick with apprehension, disrupted your thoughts.

“The little girl. I was with a little girl when I got shot. Derek, where is she?” The words gushed out of your mouth. 

“I–I don’t know. They didn’t tell me anything about–”

“Derek, please. You have to find her. She’s probably still in the other hospital. I–Derek, I need to know if she’s alright. Please, Derek–” Tremors wracked through your body and your breathing deepened, quickened, every fiber of muscle rigid with tension as the gruesome scenes from that day played like a movie in your mind–the shadows and all the blood and… the beacon of hope–the future–that shone bright in those young eyes. 

“Honey, listen to me. Breathe. Breathe.” You felt your mom’s warm hand brushing over your forehead before the sounds and the blurry figures in front of you registered in your mind. There was an incessant beeeping noise coming from the monitor and you didn’t realise a nurse had come in to help calm you down as Derek stood by the foot of the bed with his arms crossed, a hand over his mouth as he watched on with glassy eyes.

After the nurse had left and you’d finally calmed down, Derek sat by your side and took your hand in a gentle grip. 

“Okay. I’ll do the best I can.”

You blinked slowly in gratitude and allowed yourself to drift off to another dreamless sleep.

“I think I found her.” Derek’s voice filtered through the room as he entered. You tensed and the instinct to sit up was only dampened by the weakness of your muscles, and the straps and tubes wrapped around you. 

“Where? Where is she?”

“The paramedic who was there that day remembered you so he also recognised who I was looking for, thankfully. She’s still in the same hospital but she’s about to be discharged in a few days because they’re running out of space.” Derek began as he sat by the otherwise unoccupied chair beside you since your mom went back to the hotel to get some rest–you insisted for her to go. “Is this her?”

He pulled out his phone, swiped and tapped for a moment, before he held it out so you could see the screen. There, you found a familiar face and it was like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders to know that the little girl was alive. She looked thinner than how you recalled but the light in those eyes remained.

“What’s her name, do you know? Has she found her family?” 

“Her name is Elisa. And from what I’ve gathered so far, no.”

Your heart ached as another image came to you, this time it was of the unconscious woman next to Elisa when you found her. What was their relation to each other? Were they family? Her sister? Her mother?

You chewed on your lower lip. “Is… is it possible to transfer her to this hospital? Only if she feels comfortable, of course.” 

“Already on it. And I’ve already started asking around for information about her family.” 

“Thank you, Derek.”

“What?”

You stared, not believing the words that just left your brother’s mouth. 

It was a few days after Elisa was moved to the hospital you were in that Derek brought you the news. He was hunched over himself in the chair beside you like a weight was pressed against his shoulders, head in his hands, shaking his head as if he, too, couldn’t believe the words he just told you. 

“They’re dead. All of them.”

And the universe screamed in harmony with the dead’s unheard agony.

During the weeks that followed, your schedule was routine; prosaic.

You were bedridden and sleeping for the most part of your recovery, mainly due to the delicate nature of your injury. You were told it was normal to feel fatigued most of the time and to feel the occasional chest pains but those should go away after enough time had passed. The lightheadedness and breathlessness, though, were a different matter: the damage was irreversible, your breathing now impaired for life, and the risk of experiencing a spontaneous collapsed lung event would forever be with you. 

Your schedule was routine and so with that much time in your hand, you began to write.

Elisa’s therapy was going well, you heard from one of the nurses–as well as it could get for someone who had suffered the loss she had at the tender age of eleven. Physically, she was doing so much better. She’d put on a little weight after being transferred and after a few weeks since her initial arrival, she started visiting you and began hanging out at your ward. 

During this time, the Women’s World Cup just began and you noticed the way Elisa straightened as she sat cross-legged at the foot of your bed, eyes raptly glued on the mounted TV in your room, animated and dynamic in expressing what she felt as the match unfolded before her. That was the exact moment you knew that Elisa loved football with a passion. 

And so a sort of ritual was established, changing your routine and, once again, brought Alexia back into your life as you kept up with Spain’s matches, Elisa’s favorite team. Despite that fact however, you were grateful that Elisa could find reprieve in watching football even for ninety minutes from the ongoing turmoil and her grief. 

 It was Spain against the Netherlands when you asked Elisa a question. She was curled up beside you, eyes peeking through the blanket she’d wrapped around herself while your mom dozed off in the chair, brows pulled tight in concentration as she scanned over the players on screen. Maybe it was one of the universe’s cruel tricks or maybe it was a sign, but her answer caught you off guard and you wondered how a single name could have this much effect on you; how a name could disarm you completely. 

“Who’s your favorite player?”

Without any hesitation and without even taking her eyes off the screen, Elisa replied with enthusiasm, “Alexia Putellas.”

As you watched Spain’s match against Japan with only Derek for company–Elisa had pouted when she found out she couldn’t watch the match live as she needed to go to a therapy session during that time–your brother suddenly exclaimed and pointed at the TV. The noise and the movement startled you, the monitor beeped loudly in response to the spike in your heartbeat.

Derek looked at you abashed, scratching the back of his head as he apologised. “Sorry. But it’s her!”

You looked at the person who he was pointing to: Alexia. You schooled your features and tried to maintain an even tone when you replied. “What about her?”

“She contacted us multiple times asking about you and your work a few days after you left to be here.” 

At his words, you heart quickened and the monitor responded to the rise in the rhythm of your heart accordingly. Derek’s eyes flicked from you, to the monitor, to the TV where Alexia was still being filmed, and then back to you. 

You cleared your throat, cheeks warm which you hoped your brother wouldn’t take notice of. “And what did you say?”

“That you were unavailable, of course.”

A pause.

“Wait, did you two–”

“No.” The sharpness in your voice nearly made you flinch as your firm gaze bored directly into the blue ones of your brother’s, hoping that he would get the message to drop the subject. Derek opened his mouth but closed it almost immediately. Then he sighed, turning his attention back to the game.

It wasn’t until several minites later that Derek spoke again.

“I have a feeling she’s the reason why you left Barcelona early. But I’m not going to ask. I just want you to know that I’m here when you’re ready to talk about it, sis.”

That night, what Derek told you kept you awake. Did Alexia really asked for you–was she missing you? Ever since you left Barcelona, not once did you let yourself give into the temptation but this new knowledge cut the last thread of your will. So you searched up her name but what you saw made you wish you hadn’t.

A photo of Alexia with another woman: Alexia with her sunglasses on, a black leather jacket over her bralette, and high waisted pants; an arm around the other woman’s shoulder who had her lips on Alexia’s neck and had a possessive hand over Alexia’s jaw.  It was recent, you noticed, the article the candid photo belonged to. 

You dropped the phone as your hand shook, and you stared up the ceiling. The lights from the passing cars and the nightlife outside created dancing shadows through the gap in the curtain. Closing you eyes, you felt a tear fall dawn and you stuttered out a breath as you reminded yourself.

She wasn’t yours.

She never was.

Yet still… you ached. 

It wasn’t until the next morning did the dreams–the ones of your family, of your deceased parents, of Alexia–finally returned to you in vivid clarity. And the pain from the night before returned to you twofold. 

Before you knew it, the Women’s World Cup ended with Spain emerging triumphant in the end as they blazed their way through the tournament. In spite of yourself, pride bloomed in your chest at the result knowing how hard these women fought–endured and resisted–in this competition and the fact that they did so while resisting their federation made their accomplishment all the more admirable.

An image of Alexia, weary and exhausted, materialised in your mind. 

You remembered the way she dragged her feet as she entered the door, eyes downcast and hair ruffled, shoulders hunched forward. When she found you standing in the archway, she clung to you without a word and you felt the gravity on her shoulders, the pressure of being who she was–of being La Reina–settled against your bones. That night, the both of you ended up sleeping on the couch, Alexia’s head against your chest, your fingers threading through her hair to soothe her even just for a moment. 

“You’re so strong, Alexia,” you’d whispered, kissing the top of her head. “You’ve carried so much for so long that sometimes it’s easy to forget that you have people on your side in this fight. You’re never alone, Alexia. Please don’t ever forget that.”

And as you watched her with her people on that stage lifting the trophy, the urge to whisper the same words returned to you. Even though you couldn’t, in your mind you did. 

In your mind, the words echoed: I’m so proud of you.

Upon your insistence and with a lot of reassurance, Derek reluctantly agreed to leave you to return back to the firm. You promised you would video call with him every night to appease him so now, you were left with your mom and Elisa’s company to keep. But after being bedridden for nearing two and a half months, finally, you were excited to be moving around even if you were aided with a wheelchair. 

When you began your physiotherapy, you couldn’t walk for no longer than fifteen minutes before you felt lightheaded. But as the weeks passed on and as you pushed yourself a bit more each day, little by little, you built up your tolerance. The next thing you knew, you didn’t have to be put in a wheelchair anymore, a small triumph but a triumph nonetheless.

The moment the doctor medically discharged you was one of the best moments of your life. But instead of going back home with your mom, you stayed behind as you needed to sort out one important thing.

Throughout your recovery, Elisa had been one of the constant in your life. The moment you knew she had no family left, your heart instantly knew what you had to do and the idea of adoption took root in your mind. You sorted out the paperworks, carefully explained to Elisa what you planned to do–that you wanted to be her legal guardian, sister, aunt, or mother; whatever Elisa wished for you to be–and gave her time to decide herself if she wanted to go through with it. 

As you waited for the paperworks and for Elisa’s consent, you supported Elisa through her therapy sessions all the while you busied yourself with being immersed in as much of Elisa’s language and culture as you could out of respect for her family. Elisa was patient with you during the times you couldn’t quite accomodate the phonetics of her language, speaking slowly and enunciating the words multiple times until you got it.

A few months later, you walked through the airport with two passports, Elisa’s hand in yours, heading towards home. The road was not without difficulties, of course, and it took a long time but the fact that you were there was enough.

Even though the conflict abated just before your departure, the tension was very much alive and the cost forever unjustifiable; senseless, a transgression against those that paid for it: the dead and the ever-hungry living. For Elisa, months of therapy had helped–the first time you heard her laugh was truly one of the best moments of your life–but you knew that the wound would never truly heal, the cut too deep that even the sands of time would do little to fill it completely. 

But as you looked into Elisa’s wide eyes, hope filled you as you saw it: that eternal flame that burnt in every person, passed to each other as one life touched another, a bright beacon in what seemed to be a never-ending night made from humanity’s long shadow. 

A guiding light to a better future.

As the plane took to the early morning sky, as the sun peeked through the clouds to paint everything in its soft, golden glow, you made a promise. For as long as you live–for as long as Elisa would let you–you would do everything to preserve that light. 

-

-

“And I don’t know exactly what happened between the two of you, but she still asks for you, you know? Sure, it’s through her agent or through her club’s PR department but it’s still her.”

Derek’s voice pulled you back from your memories. 

Again, you fiddled with the string on your wrist. The more you thought about it, the more your reluctance grew. But when you looked at Elisa with her Barcelona kit, the number eleven and Alexia’s name bold and proud on her back, seamlessly stepping over the ball as her Uncle Robert tried to defend against her before she performed a rainbow flick that had the ball soaring past her defender, you knew then what your decision was going to be. 

It would be good for her. 

Your daughter’s love for football was there before you even met her, and it shook you to your core when you learnt that Alexia was her inspiration. She’d told you she loved football enough to pursue a career in it, a dream that was both hers and her parents–her remaining connection to them–a dream that you would do everything to preserve as long as your daughter wanted to chase it.

“Okay. I’ll do it.” You told Derek as you kept your attention glued to your daughter.

As if sensing your eye, your daughter looked over her shoulder to you, the light of the sinking sun made gold from her hair, and you watched her smile at you, dimples and all. 

You smiled back. 

Yes, that’s right. 

After all, you did make a promise, didn’t you?

[headphonegrl]

“I feel like I’m going to die.” Jude leans over one of the barriers on the side of the training pitch, trying to get so close to you that the top of the metal digs into his ribs. When he first saw you sit down all bundled up in your scarf he squeezed his hand so tight his knuckles turned white; like when you see a dog so cute you need to grit your teeth or a baby so sweet you need to pinch their cheek or you might just explode. 

“Well, can you postpone that?” You fold down the page of your book to rest it on your lap. The same one you read aloud to him last night when he couldn’t get his eyes to stay closed. “Please?”

“We’ll see.” Jude wants to lean forward and rest his forehead against yours. He wants to pull away your hat and plant a kiss right between your eyebrows. He feels like he needs to for his own sake like it’s the equivalent of taking vitamins in the morning and washing his face after a long day. 

“Are you just on a water break or are you free?” You ask, subconsciously moving your hand toward your bag in case it was the latter. You had both planned to get coffee and sandwiches, then to sit comfortably on a park bench people-watching. It was only through you that Jude had learned the delicate art of creating lives for complete strangers.

“Just a water break.” He holds up his bottle as if it’s proof. If he really was free to leave he would’ve been tripping over his own feet running to get changed before his coach could finish the sentence. “How’s the book going?”

“I’m not going to give it away!” You make a scoffing sound and lean forwards to swat him away. “It’s cheating!”

“It’s saving time!” Jude pauses to take a swig from his water bottle. There’s a droplet of water that runs down from the corner of his mouth and you brush it away with the pad of your thumb, and he feels his stomach do a little drop like he’s on a rollercoaster. “You won’t have to read it to me tonight.”

‘’You’re very impatient.” From anyone else, it could maybe sound meliaceous but he knows you like the back of his own hand, knows there’s not one nasty bone in your body.

“Only for you.” Jude scrunches up his face in preparation for your reaction to his cheesy line. When you stick your tongue out in mock disgust he wants to move forward just a tiny bit further and plant a kiss right on your lips, but he knows you’ve never been a fan of public affection. He takes into account all the times you’ve buried your face into his neck when he’s tried to kiss you in other people’s company, the times your face has heated up when he’s put his hand on your leg in public. So instead he just squeezes his fist so tight his knuckles turn white.

[dizscreams]

“FINDING LOVE, BEYOND THE SEA”

— Ethan Landry ★

PAIRING: Ethan Landry x fem!mermaid!reader

SUMMARY: Ethan explored the beach and he finds you and its all fluffy or whatever woooohoooo

A/N: saw the little mermaid yesterday and since I only ever think of Jack/Ethan this idea came to mind lol enjoy :)

TAGS: @xyzstar @ourloveisgod23 @wenvierismycomfort @beary-rambles @aesthetixhoe @dizzyscreams @mbankfav @aqellano @c8rdigan @jakesgirll @astermath @gabbylovesreading

“Don’t go too far, dude. Sam will kill me if I loose one of you idiots,” Chad said to Ethan as he put on his sunglasses. Ethan only rolled his eyes in reply and went off. He liked the beach, it was calm, it was pretty, but he preferred walking through the sand than swimming in the ocean. He put his AirPods in and looked around.

People were running around, some tanning some burning from the scorching sun, some surfing or swimming. He ended up walking far enough to the point where less and less people were. Ethan checked his phone and it had only been 15 minutes so he kept walking.

He kept walking until he found a secluded place near some rocks. It was a lagoon surrounded by palm trees and plants. If he didn’t go closer to it he would’ve never known it was there. He thought it was interesting but Ethan was hardly the type to explore further so he turned around.

As he was about to walk back to the beach he heard something. It sounded like a splash so he turned back around, but there was nothing there. He squinted his eyes to try and see into the almost clear water but there was nothing he could see. He went to walk away again but heard another splash so he quickly turned around and saw something or someone.

He saw you, you who had popped your head out of the water and had your arms propped up on a rock, you who had gorgeous eyes, who had a seashell top, who had scales and a tail. Ethan stumbled backwards at the sight. Maybe he had been in the sun too long. Maybe it was just a fake tail and you were trying to prank people. He stood there looking at you while you looked at him too.

You had never seen a human this close before. You had barely seen one at all before. Your people thought they were dangerous, but something about this one excited you. “I wont bite, I promise,” you told him sweetly. You examined his pretty features, he had brown eyes and curly hair, he was gorgeous.

“Um, what- uh what are you?” He stammered and took another small step backwards. The poor boy seemed terrified. “Would you believe me if I said a mermaid? I know it seems silly.” You slowly got out of the water and sat on a rock not facing him. “There’s no reason to be scared though, I won’t hurt you.”

You figured mermaids didn’t get a great reputation, but if anything mermaids were more scared of humans.

He watched as your hands squeezed the water out of your hair and he watched your tail. It was still in the water moving back and forth slowly. “How are you real?” He asked moving forward a bit. It didn’t make any sense to him. Ethan always liked facts more than make believe. It made him feel safer knowing than not.

You shrugged at his question, “Not sure. The same as you I suppose,” you giggled looking at him, “Nobody ever comes over here. Not humans not mermaids, it’s usually just me. It’s a cool spot isn’t it?”

He nodded and you frowned, “I’m sorry for scaring you,” you said quietly, “Would you like me to leave?”

One part of Ethan wanted to run away like the coward he was but some other part of him shook his head at you, “No, you can stay. This is your place anyways, would you like me to go?” His voice was small and he found himself stuttering a bit. “No, you can stay,” you said smiling. Your presence was calming and your smile was so contagious that Ethan smiled back.

“Would you like to sit?”

“Um yeah sure.”

Ethan walked towards you slowly and sat down on the rock next to you. You were even more beautiful now that he could see you better. You were practically glowing in the sunlight. “So, what’s your name human?” You asked curiously, tilting your head. “Ethan, what’s yours?” “Y/n.” “That’s pretty,” he said quietly. “Thank you,” you smiled.

“What’s that in your ears?” You asked poking him, to which he slightly flinched at. He didn’t even realize his AirPods were still in his ears. “Headphones, they allow you to listen to music.”

Your face contorted to one of confusion and he laughed, “Here, take one.” He gently gave you one and helped you put it in your ear correctly. You slightly shivered at the contact plus his voice in your ear, “There, like that.” He pulled away from you and looked at his phone to see the song playing. He decided it was appropriate enough for you and looked at you, waiting for a reaction.

Your mouth was slightly open and your eyes were wide, “This is weird but it’s amazing!”

He laughed and nodded. You both sat there in comfortable silence listening to music together before you pointed to the top of his head. “What are those?” He felt the top of his head and found that his sunglasses were still there. He grabbed them, “These?” You nodded and he took them off. “Sunglasses. These help keep the sun out of your eyes.”

“Can I put them on?”

“Sure,” he shrugged before handing them to you.

You put them on backwards causing him to laugh, “Like this,” he gently grabbed them off your face and flipped them before handing them back to you. You put them back on correctly this time. “Perfect,” he said smiling. You smiled back and looked around. “I like them. Do I look cool?”

He chuckled at you, there was something just so innocent about you. “Yeah, you do.”

He wanted to know more about you and he wanted to show you more. He guessed you didn’t know a lot of human stuff.

Ethan’s phone vibrated and he checked it to see a text from Chad.

Chad

Dude where are you were about to leave

Ethan muttered a curse and got up, “Hey, I have to go, my friends are waiting for me.” You frowned and handed him back his AirPods quickly but he stopped you when you tried taking off the sunglasses. “You can keep them, they suit you.”

You smiled and jumped into the water. You put your hands on the rock and looked up at him, “Will I see you again?” He smiled and nodded, “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“Maybe next time you can swim with me!”

“Yeah, maybe.”

You flapped your tail and went back underwater. He watched as you swam away gracefully and he walked away.

He made a mental note for when he got home that he’d do as much research on mermaids as humanly possible. He definitely couldn’t tell anyone about this.

What a weird day.

Don’t like this lmao but couldn’t get the idea out of my head 😣