#I predict I'll return

[anarcho-masochist]

It really is like my brain went, "Wow, those are powerful intrusive thoughts you've got there. You know what's more powerful? Your desire to see this guy traumatized. Have 1.5 days of maladaptive daydreaming about them."

[the-original-skipps]

|| Abs! Abs! Abs! || Honkai Star Rail Reactions II

anaxa and his lightcome came home so imma drop this and scurry away i know some people are gonna come at me like sunday and anaxa don't got abs theyre lean yeah well stomach, abs whatever man lol

When you ask them for an ab pic.

: Aventurine. Sunday. Phainon. Mydei. Anaxa.

cw: suggestiveness. established relationship. gn!reader. possible oocness. half naked men. art used does not belong to me but credited to it's rightful owner.

❥ Aventurine can feel his smirk growing as he reads your text. You're way too predictable. He's heard about this fad trending nowadays on social media along with a bicep pic? He's not surprised you jumped on the trend too. The blonde is a definite tease so he'll have his fun teasing you by saying maybe or asking you for a picture back. You were on the verge of giving up until he suddenly sent the picture.

Aventurine is very casual about the whole thing. He knows he has a good magnificent body and he knows how to take a good picture. He takes some pictures, checking them for a moment to find the right one before pressing send. What he's looking forward to now is seeing how you'd react to it. Oh, he can't wait to tease you more.

The picture he sends is of him sitting on some lavish sofa. His signature turquoise dress shirt unbuttoned all the way showcasing his abs. A wine glass in one hand while the other angles his phone down so that his abs are fully captured on screen. 

"Mhmm I don't know, what do I get in return for sending you such a picture?"

❥ Sunday tilts his head in confusion. Ab pic? A picture of his abdominal muscles? The request came out of nowhere and it surprises and confuses him. What could you use such a picture for? He sighs, shaking his head. There's no use mulling over its purpose. A small smile graces his face. He could never deny you, no matter how strange your requests may be.

Sunday spends quite a while a few hours on taking the perfect picture. It's not his fault he keeps finding faults in every single picture he has taken. He needs it to be perfect for you! Until he realizes how long you've been waiting for the picture. After what seemed to be forever, he finally settles on a picture he's satisfied with. He hesitates on sending it until he wills himself to just do it. His feathers could fall off with how nervous he is for your reply.

It's a picture of him reluctantly/shyly holding his dress shirt up. His eyes looking away while his wings cover half of his face in embarrassment. If you look closely his cheeks are dusted pink. 

"Abs pic? I'm not sure what that is but if it will delight you...I'll do my best to fulfill your wish, my love."

❥ Phainon smiles in glee at your request. His invisible tail is wagging as he reads your text multiple times. With each read his invisible tail wagging harder. Ask and you shall receive, of course!

Phainon doesn't waste any time, he's already pulling out his phone to open his camera app. Then quickly discards his shirt - carelessly tossing it aside. He doesn't think much about the pose or what angle the picture should be taken. He claims he just knows how the picture should be taken - it's all in the feeling. He aims the camera so that his abs are in frame and spams the capture button. After a while, he does change poses. Despite how carefree he looks he's actually taking this very seriously. He needs to send the most perfect picture to you.

He doesn't just send one but he sends all the pictures he has taken. The more the better or so he claims. Your phone is ringing non stop from notifications because he sent around 24 pictures. They're all in different poses, angles and expressions. One is zoomed in on his abs while the other shows his entire very toned body. Wait, is that a rose in between his lips?

"Are you sure you're happy with just these? I can send you thirty more...!"

❥ Mydei raises his eyebrow in confusion but it is quickly replaced with a smirk on his face. So, you want a picture of his abs. Very well, he supposes he can make that happen. Only you would dare ask such a thing from the Prince of Castrum Kremnos. He finds your boldness both amusing and attractive at the same time.

Mydei doesn't waste any time. He pulls out his phone, snapping a picture before immediately sending it back to you. The golden lion knows he doesn't need to worry if the picture is good or not. He knows it's good no matter what angle it's taken from. You'll definitely be pleased, he knows it. Though, a mere image made up of pixels would never be able to beat the real thing. He thinks about asking you to come over or maybe he can go to you. The picture is great don't get him wrong but he wants you to see how much better it is in person.

He only sends one picture but it gets the message across. His abs are magnificent as if the gods themselves had sculpted them. He doesn't wear a shirt so he doesn't need to teasingly lift it up. No, he shows it in all its glory. He sits on a throne-like chair, his chin resting in his hand while the other holds the phone.

"Why want a picture when you can come see the real thing."

❥ Anaxa has to resist the urge to scoff when he sees your text pop up. Another one of these nonsensical trends he assumes. He quickly dismisses the thought, deeming it a waste of his time and effort to do - setting his phone aside in favor of grading test papers.

After a while, he finds himself thinking back to your text. He's supposed to be finished grading these test papers by now but all he can think about is your disappointed expression. He nearly slams his pen down on the table before letting out a defeated sigh. Dammit, the things you make him do for you.

Anaxa finds himself irritated at having to do such a thing. He tries taking different pictures but none of them are satisfactory enough for him. He's not very good at this. He knows he shouldn't be wasting so much time and effort for a simple picture but the thought of your lackluster reaction makes his stomach twist uncomfortably. He takes a few more before finally settling on a picture. Angle? Good. Lighting? Good. Overall, not bad. He clicks the send button. Now he has distracted himself enough to not think about your response.

The picture is relatively simple. It's a picture of Anaxa sitting in his office but it's angled so that you can only see his lower half. His gloved hand lifting up his shirt revealing his abs. Might as well frame it because he might not do this for you again. He will.

"By the law of equivalent exchange, it's only fair that you send me one back too."

[ddejavvu]

Helloo!! Sooo I have a picture of mgg as my lock screen but his face isn’t in the picture and I was wonderinggg if you could write about the girls at the bau seeing your background of your phone and it’s some guy but they don’t know it’s spencer and they ask all these questions about this mysterious secret boyfriend you have and asking to meet him and r is just like maybeeee idk knowing that they have in fact met him and maybe spencer is near by and hearing all this and is just all shy and flustered. If you do write this THANK YOUUU you’re writing it phenomenal, one of a kind, it’s so good!!! <333

"Woah, hubba hubba," JJ's eyes bug out at your phone screen, and Emily, forever on JJ's wavelength, snatches it out of your hands before you can properly dim the screen.

"Who is that?" Emily asks everyone's burning question, and one of Penelope's hands squeezes yours, with nails, to emphasize her urgency.

Your lock screen is a picture of Spencer's bare chest clad only in a blazer, the front open in a lewd V that showcases the dark pink kiss marks you'd spread across the smattering of wiry curls he's grown. It's not something you'd meant to flash your coworkers with, and Spencer chokes on his water while Derek hoots and hollers at it.

"There are some things that should be kept private," Rossi drawls, eyes wide and haunted as he stands, "I'm going to get Aaron and myself another refill, just in case any worse pictures get shown around the table."

Hotch laughs at the older man, amusement lining his features handsomely as the group continues to tease you.

"So, when are you bringing this guy around? Not that we'd recognize him anyways, unless he showed up shirtless with lipstick all over him."

"Derek, you-" You barely stop yourself from saying, 'you have met him', instead swerving into an easy insult, "You're the last person I want to introduce him to. You'll never let us live this down."

"None of us will." Prentiss promises, her grin wolfish, "You'll be lucky if Garcia doesn't manage to track him down using nipple-recognition software."

Your technical analyst cackles into her drink, and Spencer makes a hasty getaway.

"I need the bathroom," He paws with burning cheeks at Derek's leg, ushering the man out of his way so that he can speed-walk to the bathroom. You watch him go, hearing Hotch let out a rare laugh at his urgency.

"Poor Spence," JJ croons, "Did you see how red his face was?"

"That kid's almost thirty and I bet he can't even say the word 'sex' without blushing." Derek scoffs.

"He can't. I've seen it." Garcia confirms, "It's pathetic."

"Pathetic," You snort, but what your team hears as agreement, you mean as contradiction. Spencer was nothing close to pathetic that night- sweet and tender, yes, but pathetic, no. He'd cupped your face while you'd spread a smattering of sticky kisses across his chest, and he'd stared into your eyes when you'd taken the picture, a smile on his face even though he'd known his grin wouldn't be in frame.

"Well get all of it out now," Hotch advises, a teasing tone in his voice, "Spencer won't come back if we're still talking about it."

"I'm happy for you." Dave states, setting his and Aaron's drinks down, "But so help me, Y/N, if I ever see your boyfriend's naked torso again, I'll kill myself."

You refrain from telling Rossi he had just seen your boyfriend's bare torso, last week when Spencer had needed to be stripped of his cold, wet clothes, and thrust into a heated blanket for warmth. No one had batted an eye at his brief nudity, and neither had you, because you'd memorized every inch of his skin. You didn't need to ogle him; you could recall his body from memory.

"I'll keep that in mind." You nod at Rossi sagely, "Just don't go through the rest of my camera roll." You see Spencer exit the bathroom, peering cautiously at your table to see if he can predict the conversation before returning, "Or you'll find a lot worse than his chest."

[nightingale-prompts]

God's TV- DC x DP prompt

Accidentally summoning a god from another dimension can happen, especially when cults are involved. However, no can could predict that the not only was the god a teenage boy but also a very bored teenage boy who didn't want to leave.

So he stayed and moved into Titans tower.

Danny is helpful (when he wants to be) but rarely goes out on missions. He says they are boring and nothing is dangerous enough to exert the effort. Instead, he minds the medical bay. Having a healer more than made up for the lack of help.

It's not like anyone disliked Danny or thought he didn't do anything it was just that he was unpredictable. Danny could be nice, considerate, and even sweet if he was working in the medbay. He could also be a pain in the ass anywhere else. He loved pranks and scaring people with his powers. He was harmless though.

No one really knew what he did all day. He was usually in his room doing something they guested. Said room was an anomaly. It was larger on the inside having been made into a pocket dimension. The appearance and organization of the room changed every time you went in.

It was after one mission that the team learned what was in the room.

A rogue had used their invention to erase Superboy's memories and they didn't know what to do. They took him to Danny who was currently rearranging the medicine by color. They hoped that his powers covered mind-altering afflictions. Unfortunately, Danny couldn't wave a hand and fix this.

Instead, Danny took the group to his room. The decor was neon Tokyo meets space right now. The furniture was currently floating and almost hitting Wonder Girl in the head with an end table. Of course, there was no gravity here.

"Stay here while I grab it," Danny said flying up the vertical corridor.

While he was gone the room rearranged itself into a contemporary format. The furniture grounded itself and shifted into a normal living room.

Danny returned with a cart and a headset. He placed a card he pulled out of the cart into the headset and put it on the dazed Superboy's head.

"Wait what is that?" Tim asked.

"It's his memories. I kept a backup in case this happened." Danny shrugged.

Immediately everyone began asking what the hell does that mean and why does he have that.

"Oh please, this dimension has this happened all the time. Amnesia is so cliché and cheap. I saw a pattern and decided the easiest way to prevent you from losing the entirety of your lives was to make save states of your memories." Danny said matter of fact.

Robin pinched the bridge of his nose.

Impulse studied the rack of cases and looking for the card with his name on it.

Wondergirl sighed, she was used to this from Robin but even he wouldn't go this far.

"What? It's not like just anyone can find these. Only you can access your own memories anyways. I just decided to repurpose my RE:Viewer." Danny pouted.

"What is a reviewer?" Wally asked flipping through the cases. Each one had titles like moves or shows with an arrangement of stickers.

"The RE:Viewer is something I created to catalog things I've seen looking into other dimensions. I don't have an infinite memory you know. But the longer I have my title the more I'll lose touch with my mortality. These things help me stay close to people by giving me the chance to remember how it feels. I also have been using them to get the stories of others. Keeping their experiences like you'd keep a TV show or movie. So many stories could have been lost to time but now they are saved. I use them to teach myself." Danny smiled.

The concept genuinely sounded interesting. Like experiencing a movie in 4d.

It had been 3 minutes before Kon took off the headset and back to his old self.

Danny pulled the input card out and it disappeared into another realm with a flick of the wrist. Danny was completely honest that the copies were inaccessible to everyone but him.

"You feeling alright Superboy? Your memory should be backed up until a week ago." Danny said shining a light in his eye.

"I'm fine. I think. What happened?" Kon asked batting the light out of his eyes.

"Explanation later. Take a nap first. You aren't concussed at least." Danny informed.

"What are the stickers for?" Wally said pointing at the rainbow of colors the card cases had.

"Just the emotions associated with the experiences. Orange is comedy, red is action, pink is romance, and blue is tragedy." Danny listed. "That one with the pink is one of my favorites. I meddled a bit in that world. Two people who had never met fell in love at two points at different times. One of them was doomed to die but I worked my magic on a mirror that allowed them to meet once. They shared notes left in different places for the other months ahead. Makes you believe in true love. A real tear-jerker."

"What about the black stickers?" Wally asked.

"Don't touch the black ones," Danny said darkly, smacking his hand away. "You don't need to know about those. I don't like thinking about them."

"So you just take the memories of others and put them inside your machine to replay later?" Batgirl asked. "Isn't that kind of wrong?"

"No, I asked permission. I usually pull them aside at some point and ask. If it's my memories (that's the green stickers) I don't need to. The rainbow ones are simulations. Like a video games." Danny responded patting her on the back for not being to hard on him about this admittedly weird situation.

"So what's the black one with the rainbow sticker?" Wally asked picking up the case that was obviously stuffed in the back.

"STOP TOUCHING THOSE!" Danny yelled pulling him away.

[teambyler]

My video "A LAWYER'S EVIDENCE that Mike and Will become a romantic pair in Stranger Things" is out!

Many of you have followed me ( @teambyler ) or read my essays analyzing Byler (I've linked some of the most-shared ones below). I am actually also a LAWYER who has a YouTube channel called RONALD OFF THE RECORD, and I just released my big video on Byler! (I also have another YouTube channel with 45K subscribers that I mention in the video)

I'm prepared to put my professional reputation as a lawyer on the line to comment on a piece of science fiction, because goddammit this is important to me! It is not "delusional" to think Will and Mike will become a couple, and there is nothing wrong with you if want it to happen! This is a video essay I've been planning for at least SIX MONTHS, and I put a lot of work into it. Please share, and please leave comments. Enjoy! =D

0:00 Why this video 1:38 Hate for Byler on the internet 10:16 Case for Mileven 15:21 Case for Byler: Starting premises 17:56 If Will were a girl… 25:30 The evidence! 29:05 EXHIBIT A: The Snow Ball 31:34 B: Mike's reactions to El and Will being upset 34:21 C: Season 3 ending montage 39:16 D: Airport reunion 47:51 E: Rink-O-Mania argument 51:28 F: Heteronormativity, audience expectations 58:25 G: Throwing away the letter 59:55 H: 2nd heart-to-heart scene 1:05:43 I: Mike can't say he loves El 1:13:27 J: Platonic reunion 1:15:12 K: Will's role convincing Mike to say "I love you" 1:20:08 L: Effect of the "love confession" on El 1:39:54 M: The Painting Lie 1:43:22 Honorable mentions 1:45:27 Non-diegetic evidence 2:01:23 Actor statements 2:07:01 Season 5 information 2:10:34 NOT how you write an unrequited love story 2:16:07 Why Byler SHOULD happen (queerbaiting, etc.) 2:28:21 A more powerful story 2:35:45 A personal note

I'm now making this my new pinned post, so I'll list a few of my posts here for people to check out.

ADDITIONS: -28:00 On "We should normalize same-sex friends being affectionate, they don't have to be gay," I should have been clearer. HOMOPHOBIA is the reason for that stigma. Straight friends feeling like they can be affectionate in our society HAS to include normalizing LGBT+ people. -1:16:55 I should've said this more clearly: Will reminded Mike that who HE is, HIS unique qualities, make him worthy of love and make El love him, not dumb luck. And Will of course could convey that because Will loves the actual nerd MIke and everything he is. -1:17:06 Mike making El "not feel like a mistake" doesn't fit El, because she says that Mike looks at her "like I'm a monster, too". Nor did she "push you away because she was afraid of losing you". That's Will, not El. Mike felt love because Will was describing himself. -1:52:36 I forgot to mention that, in the original Nina opera, Nina's lover is ALIVE and DOES return. The Duffers changed the story so that Nina's lover does NOT return, to further suggest Mike won't return! -2:35:22 I'm kicking myself for not being more specific about Mike and Will being heroes in more than one way: I think the theme of bullying from s1 will return, with Will (and also Mike) having to face bullying for being boyfriends in Hawkins.

Some other @teambyler posts:

Mike was saying "I love you" to Will

Questions to ask if ever you have Byler doubt

How the Duffers have set Will up to have a happy ending in Season 5

The most heartbreaking way Byler can culminate (and how I predict it will) (I know this is less likely than an "escape from Camazotz" possession scenario, but I still want this to happen =D )

How the Duffers likely will make the general audience AWARE of Byler and CHEER for Byler

-teambyler

[petew21-blog]

No Pay, No Gain

Hey, my name is Justin and I'll be your new personal trainer.

I work for the company - Getripped. Our company promises you to get in shape without even working out. How? Easy. Body swap with the personal trainer of your choice.

And that's what I do exactly. Whenever someone chooses me to be their trainer, we first set up and contract. The swap isn't cheap, so mostly celebrities choose our service. The contract states that both sides have to respect their bodies, to return them unharmed and well. Our bodies have a tracker to prevent body thefts, which happened quite often in the past.

On top of that, the person in our body has to respond everytime a notification rings on their phone. Its basically like BeReal. And if they don't send you their location and photo, they are charged extra.

Seems fine for both sides, right?

I gave myself a little show in the mirror for the last time before the swap. I really like my body and the way that I keep myslef fit. If everything was right, I would never leave this body.

But I really need this job, it pays extremely well.

I flexed, smiled and proceeded to head out for the swap.

I wasn't sure who I was gonna swap with, but the people who pick me are mostly men in their 40s with a lovely young girlfriend. Yep, you guessed it. They do use my body for sex as well.

The contract doesn't prohibit them to do so, but we can't do anything in their bodies.

I entered my pod and waited. The lights blinked and in the next moment I was on the other side of the room.

I stepped outside and saw my own body get out of the pod. He was shocked, seeing himself from my body. We always let the customers calm down and wait for their initial reaction to pass.

I found out that I was (indeed as I predicted) another actor in his forties wanting to get fit. We had a chat in the waiting room about our new lives.

What followed was a trip to the gym. I would show the client what I would work on in their body and they could get a feel of what it feels like to work out in my body.

Strangely, this seems to he the most efficient to not let them relapse after returning to their own bodies. It somehow changes their mind a bit and after the swap, they tend to follow their new routine more easily.

The actor, let's call him Bill, stood in front off me, watching me lift the weights. I got i to it and didn't even notice that he stepped in front of the mirror and started posing.

Yep. Another one of these. I bet my body is gonna have a lot of sex in the following months.

He lifted my shorts and flexed.

"HOLY SHIT. Am I gonna get this big too?"

Me:"The goal is to get you in shape, sir. So hopefully of all goes well, I should be able to get your muscle mass on my level or a bit close to it."

"GOD DAMN. You really sure about leaving me this body all to myself? I used to be quite the party animal when I was your age. I'm feeling a bit nostalgic."

Me:"How you'll spend your time in my body is up to you. All you need and can't do is in the contract. So my body is for you to enjoy."

"You learned your instructions nicely. I bet that you wouldn't even get your body close to me if it weren't for the money, right? But we all do what we gotta do to survive in this world. Anyway. Don't worry, son. I'll be respectful to your body."

Me:"Glad to hear that, sir."

"Would you mind if I would gl rub one our in the showers? Im gonna do it later anyway, but I really do feel like doing it now after all this posing."

I clenched my teeth, but didn't let him see my frustration. "Of course. I'll continue the workout."

He laughed and with a swaggy walk left the room.

It may seem crazy to let my body be controled by people like he is, but I gotta say that they usually treat it nicely.

We parted our ways. I arrived to my hosts massive house and explored. He was really one of the bigger ones. I checked his schedule of events. For the durarion of the swap it said - shooting the BIG movie. Yeah, right. But besides that my schedule was free. So it was entirely up to me how I would spend my time in this body.

I received his first random update the next day. My body was standing in a lake, flexing. Seems like he is enjoying his time in my body. He replied with a message. He left for 2 months long holiday in Europe.

Maybe he could take some good photos there for me to post on instagram. Or to my page at the company to get even higher paying customers.

It seems like this guy is really decent. He sent another photo in swimshorts. My body really looks amazing. I especially love to watch my pecs.

Maybe after all this swapping I developped some kjnd of fetish. But whenever the customers send photos of my body like knew of these, I get hard af.

I looked down and this time was not different. I exhaled deeply and thrusted my new hairy hand over my belly into my jeans. "Let's get on with it..."

A story from Inbox submitted by @objectifiedhimbo:

Could you do a bodyswap story about a personal trainer who gets paid to deliberately swap? Like maybe he swaps, works out in their body and eats healthy till they have the perfect body and swaps back for huge amounts of money.

The beautiful human being is alexgffitness (insta)

[triptuckers]

keep the nightmares away - percy jackson

Request: nope Pairing:  Percy Jackson x reader Summary:  oh nooo what if there's only one bed........ (im a sucker for this trope and WILL use it whenever I can) Warnings:  mentions of wounds, swearing, nightmares Word count:  1.5K A/N:  yall know that audio from the rock "it's about drive it's about power we stay hungry we devour" that's me writing more fics in two days than I have in 6 months. I blame it on my percy jackson hyperfixation. enjoy!

you were so exhausted you could barely keep your eyes open. you'd been sent on another quest and had been chased down by monsters for gods know how many times already.

everyone was tired and just wanted to go to bed. but a prophecy had predicted there would be three demigods and a fourth companion on this quest, so it wasn't easy to leave the monsters behind.

'why did we have to be four?' you say softly as you force yourself to keep on walking. 'it would be way more quiet if there were only three of us.'

percy looks over his shoulder in front of you. 'I don't think quests are ever quiet.' he says with a smile.

'you know what I mean.' you say. 'are we there yet?'

'almost.' says annabeth, who is walking with grover in front of percy, holding the map and leading the way. 'it's just over the ridge.'

'thank the gods.' you mutter.

you know annabeth is going to state the facts rather than make something sound good. and sure enough, when you reach the top of the ridge you can see a dimly lit street in the distance.

you can see the motel you're headed for, a diner, and a gas station with a small store.

you're filled with relief of the thought of finally laying down and resting your feet. you could rewrap your wounds and maybe even take a shower if you're lucky and have the energy for it.

'come on, nearly there.' says percy, reaching out and gently tugging you along by your wrist.

if you weren't so tired you'd be reeling over the fact percy is holding your wrist so gently. but all you can think of is how soft the beds would be.

when you get to the motel you're too tired to speak. you let annabeth do all of the talking.

after a few minutes she returns with two keys.

'these are the only ones they had available.' she says, giving percy one.

'come on.' says percy. 'want me to rewrap your arm?'

you nod. a few hours ago, you got your arm sliced open and had to hastily wrap it. you're not very good at it, as the cut is on the back of your upper arm and you can't see it very well.

'grover and I will check the area quickly and then we can all get some rest.' says annabeth. 'regroup in my room at 8 am tomorrow?'

'sure.' says percy while you and grover nod.

you follow percy as he's searching for the room. eventually he stops and you nearly bump into him.

'sorry.' you mutter.

'it's alright.' says percy as he unlocks the door and lets you enter first.

you stop in the door opening, looking at the room.

'what's wrong?' says percy, looking over your shoulder. 'oh.'

yeah. oh. there's only one bed. not even a sofa.

you enter the room and percy shuts the door behind him. of course there's only one bed. and you're so exhausted. you can tell percy is tired as well. he's just better at hiding it.

'come on, let me take care of your arm.' says percy.

you head into the bathroom while percy rummages around his pack for the medical kit.

'sit on the counter.' he says as he enters the bathroom with the medical kit in his hands.

you do as he instructs and rest the back of your head against the mirror. you close your eyes but open them when percy lightly taps your knee.

'need you awake for this. you can sleep after.' he says softly.

you sigh. 'fine.'

'I know you're exhausted. I'll make it quick.'

'thanks, perce.'

percy ignores the way he feels when you call him that. he wonders if you know you're the only one that ever calls him that.

he washes his hands and then gently unwraps the old bandage around your arm. he carefully cleans the cut and starts on rewrapping it, making sure he's not hurting you.

when he's almost done, he feels a weight on his shoulder. he smiles to himself, letting you doze off on his shoulder. he's nearly done, anyway.

he secures the last bit of the bandage and then nudges you awake.

'sorry.' you say, blinking a few times.

'let's get you to the bed.' says percy, offering his hand so you can hop off the counter. 'you can take the first shift.'

you frown. 'first shift?'

'sleeping in the bed.'

'where will you sleep?'

'on the floor. I'll get the pillows off of the chair.'

you shake your head. 'percy, you're tired as well. you've fought just as much as I have. you'll only make it worse by sleeping on the floor. we can share.' you say.

sharing a bed as friends, that's cool right? not a big deal. at least that's what you tell yourself.

percy studies your face. he probably looks as tired as you do.

'it's big enough for the two of us.' you say, reaching down to take off your boots.

'alright.' says percy.

there's a knock on the door and both you and percy freeze. percy reaches inside of his pocket, ready to take out riptide.

'it's me.' says annabeth on the other side. 'all clear. get some rest.'

'thanks, goodnight annabeth.' says percy, visibly relaxing.

you walk over to the bed and lay down on the left side, leaving enough space for percy.

'if I find you on the floor when I wake up I'll make the rest of the quest even more miserable for you.' you mumble as you close your eyes. 'don't be a gentleman.'

'noted.' says percy with a smile, laying down on the other side of the bed, careful to leave more than enough space between the two of you.

it's cool, this is fine. laying next to you in a bed. nothing that could happen, you're just friends. right?

after a while, he can tell you're asleep by the slow breathing coming from your side of the bed.

he's keeping his distance, even if it means he nearly falls off of the bed. he's mind is spinning in circles about the fact you're laying right next to him.

but eventually, he falls asleep. after all, all four of you were utterly exhausted when you reached the motel earlier in the night.

it feels like way too soon when he's woken up again. he frowns, it's still dark outside. he shifts to get comfortable again. but then he feels something hard poke him in his ribs.

'oof.' he grunts softly, then rolls over to see if you're awake. why would you punch him in the middle of the night?

but when he sees you, he noticed your face is scrunched up in agony and you're mumbling something.

he frowns and watches you move around restlessly, nearly hitting him again.

but his frown disappears soon enough. he knows the feeling all too well.

you're having a nightmare.

a bad one, by the looks of it.

gently, he reaches out and pushes a strand of sweaty hair out of your face, then nudges your shoulder.

'hey, wake up.'

in response, you curl up even more so percy shakes you again, a little harder this time.

you wake up and immediately sit up, eyes wide in panic. your hand is scrambling for you belt, where you keep your knives.

'woah, hey, it's alright you're safe, you're with me.' says percy, holding your shoulders and forcing you to look at him.

his sea-green eyes are familiar and calm you down a little. you're breathing heavily and fully aware of percy holding on to your shoulders. you force yourself to push away from him, creating space between the two of you.

'I'm alright.' you say, closing your eyes and shaking your head slightly. you would not cry over something as stupid as a nightmare.

'want to talk about it?' says percy softly.

'no I'm fine.'

'talking mostly helps me.'

you sigh and start to fidget with your fingers. why does it feel so embarrassing? you're sure lots of demigods have nightmares, given what you go through on a daily basis.

'it was the gods.' you start. 'I'd failed some sort of quest and they let loose their powers on me. camp half-blood got destroyed. I couldn't find annabeth and grover. there was fire everywhere and you... fuck.'

'it's okay.' says percy softly, encouraging you to go on.

'I found you in the rubble of your cabin.' you whisper.

'shit, I'm sorry.'

'it's alright, I'm alright. you're here now.'

'you think you can try going back to sleep again?'

'yeah, I can try.'

the two of you lay down again, this time with a little less space between you.

'percy?' you say, slowly reaching out to him.

'yeah?'

'is it okay if I...?'

wordlessly, percy reaches out and pulls you against him, where you curl up against his side.

'thanks.' you say, feeling yourself relax again.

'I'll keep the nightmares away.' mumbles percy.

you smile to yourself, closing your eyes and letting percy's heartbeat lull you to sleep. you're confident nightmares wouldn't find you again. you're safe now.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit/Max

[sheepispink]

His medic, Your muse

pairings: leon s kennedy x medic!reader (im pretty sure it’s gender neutral)

summary: You’re a medic at the DSO, your first ever patient being Leon. However that was three years ago and you’ve since left for a better life, but Leon’s being doing worse, struggling to survive without you. So, as anyone does, he turns up injured at your doorstep, multiple times.

WC: 4.5k

A/n: i miss him so much, i miss leon so much i want to kiss him

resident evil masterlist

————————————————-

You’ve worked at the DSO for a while, though as one of the medics rather than an agent. The training was tough but you took it well, eventually getting your certification. However, you still have not treated a real patient yet, only assisting or handling miniscule problems. Today you had been told that a bunch of agents had just returned and one would be assigned to you. There wasn’t time to ask questions, even to determine his state, before he’s knocking at your little infirmary in the west wing. He had dealt with his fair share of medics in his training, and they hadn’t been particularly nice. In fact none of the others in the program were particularly friendly either; nearly everyone was tightlipped due to the fact this was supposed to be some top secret government program. When he was ushered towards the infirmary and you approached him, he was expecting a straight forward and relatively quiet checkup, or at best a few stammers seeing as you didn’t look too experienced. This was the least favourite part of his missions; newbie or not, he was sure he’d leave this only feeling more drained than before. “Kennedy, is it? Are there any really bad injuries I should be aware of?”

You do stutter a little, making his lips quirk upwards at his correct prediction. “My hand got stabbed, and I was injected with some.. virus thing, then healed. Anything else shouldnt be too bad.” He reminds himself not to get too hopeful over you— that might just be the only full sentence you say for the next three hours. “V-virus?” You squeak it out, having never heard of an agent getting a virus and then healing from said virus too. Though you were briefed about Umbrella a while back, you didnt realise they made antidotes too. Then again, they didn't want all their people to die out.

You ignore the way his lips rise again at your squeak, instead opening a new syringe and setting up some vials. “Okay, we’ll have to take some blood to test for any abnormalities. Are you scared of needles?”

He blinks at you, stares down at his rolled up sleeve, the needle in your hand and then back to you again, eyebrow raised. “What if I was?”

He wasn't, but he couldn’t fault you for asking; he’s met a lot of people in his life who’ve been afraid, even if they were special service agents or the like.

“Well there’s a different needle I can use, or I can make sure you don't know when I've done it.. or I can make sure you don't see it?” He raises a brow, and shakes his head, about to mumble something about him not being scared of needles. Though, before he can get a sound out, there’s a pinch in his arm and in seconds you have the vial filled up to the top. “Hold onto this.” He finds himself following your orders without hesitation, his hand holding down a small cotton ball you pressed against the incision whilst you grab a piece of medical tape to keep it down. “Perfect, just tell me if that carries on bleeding. Now pass me your hand and I'll rewrap the gauze there.”

He blinks, watching as you delicately take his hand, slowly unwrapping the bandages and watching him for any reaction of pain. It hurts, but it’s nothing he cant handle too badly. You’re slow and careful as you clean the wound, your thumb pressing gently into his uninjured skin in a soothing gesture each time he tenses. “There, all done.” A smile curves on your lips, satisfied by your neat bandages left on his hand. “Thanks..” He starts to sit up right, ready to leave when you speak up again, hands around a small clipboard.

”So, apart from noticeable injuries, what else have you had?” He hasn't expected you to care about anything other than open wounds, considering most nurses wouldn't but you’re watching him expectantly. “Got thrown around a lot, probably some big bruises and cuts—nothing too bad.” Your brows furrow though, and you gesture for him to show you them and so he does. For the next half hour, you carefully check over each mark and particularly large bruise, fingers gentle against his collarbone as you wipe down a cut there. ”Is this it now..?” He currently feels like a mummy from how much gauze and plasters litter his body.

”Injuries-wise, yes.” You chuckle at his impatience, looking up at him again after turning the page to a fresh one. “How are you feeling?”

”What?”

”Y’know, your mental state. Any unusual migraines, brain fog..voices?” He shakes his head slowly and you nod, scribbling down a short note. He hadn’t expected to stay here this long, nor for you to ask things like that, especially since he knew most of the DSO medics were worked to the bone. You take his short answer well, scooting your swivel chair over to the computer. “Alright… just keep applying ointment on those bruises..” You hum whilst tapping away at your keyboard, likely filling in a prescription for a proper jar of ointment for him.

This time he finally stands, grabbing his leather jacket and slipping it on. He does feel a little better— even he can't deny that fact. “You’ll have a debriefing soon right..?” He lets out a small huff in agreement, clearly not looking too happy about being forced back into the job once more and not trying to hide that in the slightest.

“Hmm.. how many hours of medical leave do you want? I can't do a whole day based on your injuries, but I can definitely get you some hours of rest.” He blinks at you—was that not technically lying? As a medic, you had the authority to request a temporary, permanent, or just even a few hours of discharge, but agents who have tried to request it were nearly always denied. After all, the DSO didn't care about their employees, only the work they got done.

”You look tired. It’d do good for your injuries.” You turn back to him, giving him a small shrug before gesturing to the empty medical beds around the small room. There was a curtain to shield each one off from the other, supposed to be used for emergencies or treatments. He thinks about it for a moment, wondering if you’re really being serious about all of this. As he stares back, all he can see is the genuine worry in your eyes and he reluctantly softens his harsh features, nodding. “Okay.. guess I can stay for a bit.”

He’s suddenly very grateful when you keep your gaze to your paperwork as he steps towards a bed in the far corner, draping his jacket on the small table and undoing the remaining gear on his person. His shirt now crumpled on the desk, he slips beneath the soft but thin covers of the bed. Never would he have ever thought he’d accept an offer like this before; when he sneaks a peek back at you, he only sees you tapping away quietly at your computer. It’s an environment he likes, quiet.. peaceful; he soon dozes off, slipping into a deep slumber.

————-

That was three years ago, and since then you’ve been one of the only medics he’s let tend to, and the only he’d speak with outside of the infirmary. Sometimes choosing the medic was out of his control, but the more you were assigned to him, the more he longed for that medic to always be you. He wasn’t the only one though; you were regularly praised by the agents for being one of the most attentive around. Since that day, he’s spent a lot more hours in your infirmary too, whether it was for checkups, small cuts or just a well-needed chat that’d occasionally turn into an excuse to nap. You were one of the few things keeping him sane after every mission, making sure he stayed healthy and well and prescribing him rest whenever you deemed it to be necessary— that was practically always though.

However, just when he started to consider indulging in your presence a little more, you had decided enough was enough. Despite your constant dedication, even you couldn't live through the constant stress of attending to every injured person and witnessing deaths of agents you used to see every day. And so, after saving up enough and finding a job that only required part time, you quit. You know the agents would survive without you; after all, you were just a small spark in the midst of the darkness of the company and it had been slowly snuffing out the light you had left.

For the first few months, Leon pushed past it, especially as more B.O.Ws showed up across the states. With each mission he only drained himself more and more, forced to walk past the empty infirmary with a longing tear in his heart. He couldn't help it; you cared about him more than he would even care about himself, and he cared for you more than his mind could comprehend. So he continued to deny himself, forcing himself through mission after mission until he was riding back on his motorcycle—the pain brutal as he drove through the empty streets. What good was there in calling for help? He’d only be shoved into more work by morning, another hangover, another splitting headache and another wish of everything ending altogether. A cycle he desperately had not wanted to repeat again.

”Uh.. um.. are you free?” He leans against a payphone, knowing it’s two am and feeling so, so bad for the tired yawn that echoed when you had eventually picked up. “What’s wrong Leon..? You don’t sound too good..” He couldn't speak; forced into silence just by your gentle voice speaking out his name. There was no more of that Kennedy nonsense, just him, Leon. “Can I come over..?”

Ten minutes later you opened the door to his weary face, an exhaustion that rung his hair flat and sunk his gaze to the floor. “Oh my—“ You gasp, noticing the stains of red on his shirt and grabbing his wrist without a second thought. Quickly, you have him settled on your couch, his shirt discarded as you tend to a gash near his side, fixing him as you always have. When you’re sure he’s fine, you give him a worried glance before grabbing him a thick duvet, water and painkillers. He sleeps soundly on your couch that night, no nightmares to lurk in the depths of his mind and nothing leaking out the ever present hole that once painted his heart.

After that day, it grew increasingly harder to avoid the urge. How would anyone deny something so perfect when they’ve already been delivered a taste? It was only a ‘once-in-a-few-months’ type of thing. You let him in, even if you haven't heard from him in six weeks and he’s practically bleeding out on your doorstep. That was also the problem— the issue of inconveniencing you. He always dropped in at the worst times, usually when you were all sleepy as you wiped down his gashes with the best concentration you can. What if you were only dealing with him for the sake of it? He couldn't deny the possibility of this being true— the fact of him taking advantage of your kindness. It tore him apart more than the ache that begged for you, pulling him in two directions with no middle ground to save him.

Until a mission comes around, a bad one— a really bad one. The B.O.W lays in the rubble, a sickly acid oozing from its weakened form and it’s clear these are its last breaths now. There’s a plank of metal through its chest, its eyes destroyed by grenades Leon’s hands had dealt. However, instead of relief, he only reciprocated the distress of the bioweapon. A particularly nasty wound had his head dizzy, barely stumbling his way to your porch and knocking weakly at your door. He can barely open his mouth to speak, his eyes weak as you gasp, stilling for a split second before immediately hoisting his arm over your shoulder and ushering him inside. Blood dripped on the hardwood floor as you led him through, this time not to your couch but to your bedroom. It would be easier this way, especially since it was so close to his abdomen and having him laying flat would be great. “I-it’s not that bad..” He can't help but feel bad when you rush around the room like this, grabbing all your first aid things as quickly as possible. Usually he’d come for a patch up— not to save him before he fainted from blood loss.

“It is!“ You squeak out, back at his side and gently pushing his chest down to lay properly on the bed. It’s a matter of seconds before you have his shirt cut open, working quickly to clean the bloody skin before slipping the thread through the needle. He winces painfully as it pokes his skin, his eyebrows scrunching all the while your breaths are hitched nervously.

“Y-you’re gonna kill me..” He complains, with a groan, hoping to lighten the mood even with the current situation— it’s not like he hasn’t tried to rile you up before. It’s his love language, he can't help his nature. Even so, he’s seen you handle worse before, even having wrapped an emergency tourniquet when you got caught up in an ambush. But this, seeing him tremble, scared you— enough for your hands to tremble as you wrap a firm bandage over him. You let out a long breath, eventually rolling your eyes at his remark. “Would you prefer to bleed out all over my favourite duvet?” He lets out a little chuckle as he pushes himself up with wheezed breaths to lean against the pillows you fluffed for him. “I think I already did that part.”

The air is quiet as you clean up his blood, your rag turning a murky red. He watches you from the bed, eyes a little more awake now that the pain has eased a bit. It’s warm, on your bed, your thick duvet draped comfortably over his battered body as you stiffly place his clothes into the washing machine along with yours that had gotten drenched in his crimson. “I wish i could help you.. it doesnt feel right forcing you to clean up after me like this.” He has to cough to clear his throat, voice a little rusty. You blink up at him though, shaking your head gently as you approach the bed with water. “Only you would complain about someone taking care of you when you need it.” It’s accompanied with a half hearted smile, your eyes holding relief for his safe state.

“Hey—I’m trying to be nice. If I could, I would help you.” He mumbles out, clearly noticing the way your hand lingered as you place the water bottle on the table beside where he lays, pulling away after a few moments. “I know Leon, i know.”

He watches you finally clear up everything, before settling at the foot of the bed with your little sketchpad again. He noticed you with it in the rare moments you had free time at the DSO, always focused on it as you scribbled down little things. Once you let him sneak a peek and it was usually landscapes you’d seen when you were on field, or ones that agents described. It was a hobby that started to die out until you quit, choosing to let that be your salvation than to be another happy thing to bury for the sake of work.

“You should get some sleep, you look tired..” You’ve been doing this every time he comes around now, always sitting somewhat near him with that black book in your hands. “Cant, i’m sketchin.” You hum out, shuffling around on the bed to face him as you continue. He raises a brow at that, confused but his hands move back to adjust the pillows behind him.

“You can sketch in the morning you know.”

“Then my subject will move, and it wont look the same.”

Now he’s fully staring at you, the implications of your words not lost on him and he almost shoots to sit up straight if not for the fact of the pain running through his body. “You’ve been drawing me.. every time i come round?”

“Yeah, gotta take note of all your injuries for later.”

He gives you a look, as if calling you out on your lame excuse right then and there. “So you cant just i dont know, write it down? Take a photo?”

This time you roll your eyes up at him and come to sit a little nearer on the bed rather than near his feet. “Well then i couldn’t do this, could i?”

You turn the page around, showing him the sketched version of him who now wears an exaggerated frown as he stares out. You’ve got a knack for drawing him, the way his hair falls slightly over his eyes and even the bridge if his nose— it’s impressive. “I do not frown like that.” You let out a laugh, giggling at his reaction as you turn the sketchbook around again and carry on, all the while his mind is still stuck on the fact that you’ve been drawing him over and over.

“Guess i’m a pretty good reference then, if you’re always drawing me?” He tilts his head towards you and you snicker again, waving him off. “Dont get cocky, you’re alright.”

“Cocky? I bet i’m the only thing you draw. C’mon, rate me out of ten, theres no way i get lower than 9.”

He watches you shuffle closer to him, leaving your sketchbook to the side as you sit right by him on the bed. You begin to narrow your eyes at him, scrutinising his appearance and he’s half tempted to cower beneath your judgement. “You get.. 1 point for your hair, it’s a nice colour, but it is a little messy.” He immediately frowns at you and sits up just a little straighter than before. “I’m an agent, not a model. And I just got a drop kicked by a bioweapon. Cut me some slack.” He huffs out but you only shrug again, eyes moving towards his face instead as you cross your legs. “Hey, you asked for a rating. It’s super duper important in art you know?”

”That’s a load of crap and you know it.”

“Well, you get another point for your eyes; They’re a nice shade of blue. Also another for your nose, it curves nicely.” He raises a brow, wondering how he’s racking up so many points so quickly and he cocks his head. “You flatter me, i’ll be at ten by the time you get to my hands.” He winks cheekily, a proud grin stretching his lips wide. “Not so fast, i never said it was out of ten— 25 is the limit.”

You continue your little game, Leon scoffing as you don’t give him any points for his ‘very strong biceps’ as he says; you can only shrug, just wanting to rile him up till he pouts again. He lets you rate his body though, smirking in a cocky way as you even go as far to compliment his hands but even more so at his muscled torso— he knows you cant resist. “So how many points are we at?” He hums, enjoying the way you’ve slowly gravitated closer to him as you ramble and mumble about his features, something that's probably considered nerdy but plenty cute to watch. “I think having strong calves leaves you at… 22. That’s pretty good.”

Your lips pull wide, grinning at him and expecting him to be just as happy but instead he only gives you a short huff, crossing his arms over his chest. “Only 22? I’m not taking anything less than 24, there must be some redeeming qualities.” You roll your eyes up at him, though keeping a good eye on his torso incase of any tear of the stitches.

“Okay fine, you can get one for your biceps. Happy?”

“Nope.”

You groan, sit up straight and ogle him, eyeing him like you’re the hawk and he’s the prey, squirming beneath you uncomfortably. “Fine. You get one more.”

“Oh? I knew it.”

“You have a very huggable waist.” You giggle, snickering as you playfully plant your hands on his hips, watching something flicker through his eyes before they grow just as mischievous. “Oh? Wanna test that out?” It was a joke, or maybe it wasn't, but you didn't mind and he sure as hell didn't either. It’s stupid, and messy, the way he pulls you in for a hug and your arms are as tight as they can be around him, cheek squished against his chest.

“I was right.”

That laugh of yours is enough to make him crumble, make him want to spill every thought inside his head. The nights he wishes he was enough of a man for you, the nights he wishes he had the courage to be the one to comfort you when you quit your job, or even the day he heard someone else soothe you when you cried over another patient.

He snaps out of his thoughts, and returns the hug, his fingers lightly tickling your sides to make you squirm and scramble back, giggling all the way. “Sooo, that’s gotta be like 25 now right?”

“Nope still 24.” He groans again, and if he’s being honest he is exhausted right now, but he’d let himself bleed out tonight if it meant seeing you laugh like that again. He’s sick of sitting back and waiting for this, waiting for you to see through him, waiting for every time he’s injured to look for excuses. “How can i get the last point?” Blue eyes lock onto your face, the wrinkle of your nose and the furrow of your brows as you think, tapping your chin playfully. He knows you’re tired too, the weight in your eyes is visible but not as bad as the lack of spark in your last month at the DSO. “You have to earn it.”

Is this his chance? He could tell you all his redeeming qualities. Like how he could hold you with one hand, how his skills were unmatched to others, the feats he’s achieved. Or he could explain his care for you: how he’d protect you from any horror that came your way, how he’d kill anything that came near to harming you, how he’d quell any worry that neared your head– that he’d die for you.

You’re still sitting before him, looking at him with curious eyes as he leans forward, crossing the small distance left between the two of you. His hand reaches up, swallowing the curve of your warm cheeks as he stares at you, properly. Your noses would brush if he went any closer, he could just kiss you right now and he’d have you in the palm of his hand– even more so than he does right now. He wants you, and he wants you to want him.

“I love you,” The words slip out, intentional yet reckless all the same, a promise made that he’s not sure he can keep but he knows he’ll rather die trying than to never feel it. “And.. i’ll do anything you ask of me to prove it to you.”

It’s like slow motion the way your pupils dilate, swirling with an emotion he’s never witnessed in you before and he takes it as a good sign, his thumb gently brushing the skin below your lips. He looks at you, a silent question in his eyes, waiting for a sign of rejection, acceptance or even hesitation. You nod quietly, your hands are awkward, not knowing where to place themselves and it makes him chuckle, loving the way you falter when it comes to him. He leans in, lips pressing against your nose first just to watch the way you blink, a wide grin widening on your face in surprise before he leans in properly, hand tightening around your cheek.

“Do I get the last point now?” He asks, still enamoured by how you’re breathless, more so in shock of his confession than the short lived kiss, though that was captivating all the same. Your hand copies his motion, cupping his cheek as you lean in more fervently, capturing his lips in yours. When you finally break away you’re gasping for air, arms slung around his neck as you stare at his eyes, a pretty shade of blue. “Yeah, you’re a 25 out of 25, Leon. I wouldn't expect anything less from you.”

The reciprocation of the kiss is enough for his heart to go crazy in your palms; his cheeks lift as he grins wider and pulls you in for a proper hug, a soft kiss to your forehead for good measure. “Does this mean i cani come by without the injuries now? Just for the sake of it?”

“You always could, Leon.” You hug him back just as tight, giggling as he squirms at your eyelashes flittering against his neck. Eventually you settle him to lay down properly, with you curled around his being. His arm is weakly around your shoulders, head sunk into the pillows as he lets out a long sigh. You can only listen to the quiet thump of a content heart, your hand tracing shapes on his chest as you tenderly watch his wound, worrying about it tearing.

“Sorry for scaring you.” He murmurs quietly and you can only shake your head tiredly, craning your head up to meet his eyes again. “You’re stuck here for the next three days. Doctors orders.”

He chuckles at that, even more so as your hand reaches upwards, rubbing his jaw gently before scratching at his scalp. He returns the action, rubbing your shoulder gently as your face presses against his muscles. “Alright, alright. I can't deny that now can i?”

Bonus:

It’s his third day here, but also a Friday too. He’s still not fully healed of course, the wound still a little worrying but nothing your heart cant handle. Especially when he’s carefully looked after in your hands—- literally. The morning sun peeks through the gaps in the curtains, making you rise although not fully, still half awake as you glance over. He’s got an arm behind his head, lips parted as he drools a little, and he looks so, so relaxed. The strain of his muscles have slackened, his face looking softer, younger even, as he breathes gently. Most of all, his hand is loose around your back, fingers poking into your waist.

You cant resist, leaning upwards to his sleepy face and pressing a gentle kiss to the curve of his cheek. It’s the first time he’s ever been caught off guard, his brows twitching in confusion and he lets out another small huff, head turning in your direction as if to seek you out. It’s adorable really, and you mourn all the years you two havent been together, havent experienced this before. It’s okay, because you have the rest of eternity for the two of you— doctors orders.

[entitled-fangirl]

A ring and a cold heart.

Ivar the Boneless x Lagerthasdottir!reader

Summary: Lagertha's gift of a daughter and Ragnar's monster of a son have loved one another for far too long. But things in Kattegat are fragile, and the two now must make choices.

Warnings: mostly spoilers for S4b

A/n: I had to break this into sections. Trust that p2 is gonna get serious real fast.

Masterlist

........................................

The Seer had been right.

Lagertha would never give Ragnar a son, never bearing one after her Bjorn. But when Earl Kalf came into her life, she suddenly found herself with child.

There was little hope that the child would make it. After all, the Seer said so.

But a daughter?

Lagertha's second chance to make up for the death of her sweet Gyda. She held the babe close.

And yet.

No one predicted that she'd one day end up in the arms of Ivar the Boneless.

…

"It seems like a death sentence," she explained to Ivar. "Suicide, even."

"My father wants me to go," Ivar shrugged. "He needs me. I can't say no to that. To the gods."

She sighed. He was beyond stubborn. A true Ragnarsson trait.

She often traveled between Hedeby and Kattegat, staying with Bjorn when here. It was a strange thing to have her around, but Bjorn was the Prince of Kattegat, so others didn't have much room to question.

Plus, the Ragnarssons didn't mind a bit.

She was neither the daughter of Ragnar or Aslaug, but because of her connection to Bjorn, she was a sister to all five of them.

Well, four of them.

Ivar's love had always gone beyond that. As did hers for him.

"What if you go with Bjorn instead?" She tried. Her hand stretched out over his. "To the Mediterranean."

His head lulled. "My brothers have always doubted me. Not my father. He knows what the gods have in store for me."

"And what if all that is store is your death?"

He ran his tongue across his teeth. "Then I will die."

"Marry me before you go," she rushed out, immediately caving in once it was uttered.

"I will not risk making you a widow before you get to truly be a wife."

She felt tears well up in her eyes. She was never the strong one around. Lagertha swore to have a peaceful reign when she became Earl. There was no need to teach her daughter the hardships of being a shield maiden. She had no need to- Lagertha on one side and Bjorn on the other always. Gyda was so soft. So kind. Y/n was no different, only older. She had a chance to grow up kind.

"Don't cry," Ivar huffed. He had no idea what to do with tears. "I'll be back soon enough."

"Swear to it."

He shook his head. "I will not swear if I don't know the will of the gods."

"Then swear you'll marry me if you return."

He couldn't stop another scoff, "woman-"

"-Ivar, please."

"Ivar!" Aslaug's voice interrupted.

The queen stepped into the room, her worry turning to amusement at the sight of the two. She'd always had an odd relationship with Lagertha. How strange was fate to bring their children together? 

"Let me speak to my mother," Ivar gently waved.

Y/n nodded and stood, but her wrist was caught by him. "I swear to it," he remarked, looking her firmly in the eye.

…

Lagertha had come to Kattegat with the help of Torvi and Margerette. She hadn't dragged Y/n into the plans.

So when she took Kattegat, Y/n stood at the sidelines in shock, even letting out a shriek when Aslaug fell to the ground dead.

She wanted to feel betrayed by her mother. She should have. But she couldn't find it in herself. Lagertha had sat on the sidelines for too long as her world was taken away.

So she was torn when Ubbe and Sigurd had come to her privately.

"How are you not angry," Ubbe lectured his brother. "Our mother is dead."

"And it is for the best," Sigurd huffed. "Y/n's mother is the only one around here that knows how to truly mother. Look at Bjorn."

"Y/n?" Ubbe questioned.

She sat with her head in her hands, utterly confused by it all. "I won't choose sides."

"We all know it will come to it eventually."

She lifted her head with a heartbroken look. "Then I side with Bjorn. The side he chooses, I follow."

Ubbe nodded. "Very well. So, we wait for Bjorn."

"No," Sigurd shivered. "We wait for Ivar more."

The three exchanged nervous glances.

…

Ivar had returned first. Carried by soldiers of King Ecbert's guard, he was set onto the wooden dock of Kattegat.

She couldn't muster the strength to go welcome him. He wouldn't find out such devastating news from her.

But the next day, Ivar crawled his way into the feast hall with his picks. The entire room quieted as they waited for what the angry son of Aslaug would say.

His eyes slowly trailed from Lagertha, to Torvi, to Astrid, then finally, Y/n.

She stood to the side, a completely guilty expression strung across her face.

No one was immune to noticing the way his eyes glued themselves to her in every room.

It had been like that since her first visit to Kattegat.

It's what finally drove the stake between Sigurd and Ivar. The love Bjorn had for Y/n that he never had for his own daughter, Siggy. And how Sigurd had loved little Siggy.

Y/n's life was always a comparison to one's already dead. All did it but Ivar. Perhaps that is why she was so content to be stuck in his web.

When Largertha refused Ivar's challenge, he was becoming angrier. He knew his easiest chance to kill her was by hand-to-hand combat. Ivar was a cripple, but a damn good one.

"I will kill you, Lagertha. Your fate is fixed," he growled.

Content with his threat, he looked back to Y/n, pulling a chain from around his neck.

A ring.

She felt something in her stomach twist at the shimmer that crossed her vision. His fingers rubbed over it a few times, egging for a reaction from the girl he promised to marry.

He let the chain drop to his chest with a smirk. Especially when her eyes followed it.

…

As soon as the meeting was adjourned, she rushed out to Ragnar's old cabin. The children had found it when he'd left, and it was their designated space away from the rest of the world. Plus, that was all the boys had to live in now. Ivar would be there.

She rushed in, not caring that the other brothers were gathered around. "Ivar?"

The three others looked at one another with questioning glances before completely packing up and walking out. The brothers weren't about to intervene.

The door closed before Ivar finally spoke. "What do you want?"

"Are you not grateful to be home? To be back? To be the only survivor?" She sat next to him, her voice lowering. "Are you not happy to see me?"

He scoffed, turning away.

"I didn't know, Ivar. I swear to you."

"Seems like we enjoy making swears we don't intend to keep, hm?" He mocked. 

Her eyes moved down to the chain again. She sat up straighter and brushed a hand over his chest. Over the ring. "You truly won't marry me now?" She asked softly.

His hand wrapped around her wrist gruffly. But after the initial touch, his grip softened. His jaw was clenched, his anger unchecked. But he couldn't help the flutter that still moved through his chest. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I don't know if I want children with traitor blood."

Her fingers twiddled with the ring. "You know better than I that we don't choose our mothers. The gods do."

"And yet, you'll never help me get my revenge."

"No," she agreed. "I won't."

His eyes wandered over her face. The anger bubbled under his skin. But not at her. And that frustrated him more. "I'll still marry you. But you cannot fault your future husband when he has his revenge."

"But Bjorn will-"

"-That is my offer to you, my love. If you want this ring," he offered, pulling the chain from around his neck and setting it on the wooden table, "Then that is your choice. I have taken my stand. You know what I will do. Will you still marry me?"

She stared down at the jewelry. She'd longed for this for years now. Being his wife.

This could make or break everything.

"I… I don't know," she admitted back to him.

"You don't know?"

"I should wait. For Bjorn to come back. And Hvitserk."

He set a heavy hand on her thigh. Not menacing, but not softly either. "Will you ever choose things for yourself? Or will you wait on Bjorn hand and foot as he decides your fate?"

"Ivar-"

"-No. I do not mind if you must think on it more. But do not do what Bjorn says purely because you think it is right. He makes mistakes." His head tipped down and his gaze turned menacing. "You will choose."

She nodded. "I need time."

"Good," his voice lightened. He even managed a smile. His body leaned forward like he was thinking of kissing her, but he paused and gave a quick nod of his head in acceptance. Then he looked at the ring and her one last time before pulling himself down to the floor and leaving.

She exhaled a long breath, taking the chain and placing it around her neck, tucking it away.

…

Another feast, another problem.

Y/n wasn't far off from Torvi and Astrid, hearing them speak about something being wrong as the large doors closed.

"Like what?" Astrid asked.

"I don't know, but something."

Sigurd let out a small grunt as someone grabbed him from behind and held him at knifepoint. That began a whole group coming forward and grabbing at Lagertha's shield maidens and earls alike, restraining them all.

A hand grabbed Y/n's wrist, holding it out.

Ivar's ring was wrapped around her finger. She'd chosen.

Whoever it was dropped her hand entirely and stepped away from her, meaning she stood amidst the chaos, entirely left alone.

Everyone began to part, and Y/n tucked away towards Sigurd. Her hand grabbed the wrist of the man holding him in an attempt to pry him away.

Ivar and Ubbe approached Lagertha's throne. Lagertha was rather unfazed by it, standing and grabbing her sword slowly. She was a fighter to the end.

Ivar was impressed by her willingness to face him. He sat up with his spike as Ubbe circled around the queen.

The tension could be cut with a knife. Waiting for someone to make the first move.

The door burst open, and in walks Bjorn.

"If you kill her, my brothers," he sauntered, "you'll have to kill me too."

Y/n and Sigurd both let out relieved sighs. The argument was far from over. But with Bjorn there, the fight would not be one-sided.

"Maybe we should," Ivar warned.

"Shut up," Ubbe immediately countered. He respected Bjorn immensely, and starting conflict with Ironside was like starting to dig your own grave. "She killed our mother," he mentioned. Bjorn would see where he was coming from. Surely.

"I know. You want revenge. So would I." He took in a deep breath. "But more importantly, we have to avenge our father. That is why I came back. And that," he tapped his axe against Ivar's cheek, "is what we are going to do."

Lagertha smiled and threw down her sword, prompting the rest to follow.

As Sigurd was let go, Y/n immediately tended to him, rubbing a soft hand over his neck at the irritated skin. 

Frustrated, Ubbe and Ivar left.

She was torn between following them and staying with Bjorn and Lagertha.

But after speaking to the new queen, Bjorn spotted her. That made the decision. She approached him, smoothing out her dress as she weaved through everyone.

Within a few minutes, the feast began again like nothing had happened, but Bjorn was still far from jovial.

She wasn't even sure the viking knew what that word meant.

"So, I travel all the way past Frankia, through pirated seas and storms, I keelhaul my own uncle, and still," he grumbles, "things turn to ruin here the moment I turn away."

"You hated Aslaug," Y/n points out. "You always have."

"Since I watched her sleep with my father the first time they met, yes. Yes, I have," he complained. "But our mother has caused a rift that I'd rather not have now. I have revenge of my own to get and I need my brothers in order to do it."

"You have your brothers," she pointed out. "Of Ragnar's wrongful death, you all agree."

"I will not play guard to mother's kingdom more than I did before. I want to sail. To travel."

"Then don't."

He let out a long sigh. "This is why I love the sea. It is predictable. People are not. Like you," he pointed his cup towards her.

"Like me?"

"You wear a ring and you say nothing about it. You have not asked for my allowance. Let me see it." He held out a large hand, to which she slipped the band off and gave to him. 

Bjorn flipped it in his palm a few times before a daunting thought came over him. "Where did you get this?" He questioned roughly. "Who is proposing with this ring? I'll kill him."

"Brother," she scoffed. "Why the sudden rage?"

"Does mother know?" He asked in complete ignorance of her previous question.

"No. No, and she won't. Not right now."

"I'll ask one more time," Bjorn growled, leaning across the table. "Who is proposing with Mother's ring?"

Oh.

Where had Ivar gotten Lagertha's ring? 

"Our mother wore this ring until the day she and I left Ragnar. Her wedding band. Now answer the question, sister."

"Give it back, Bjorn." She tried to muster up confidence. It didn't quite work.

Bjorn's lips quirked up at that, all too amused. "I don't think I will. I think I'll hold onto this until you decide to ask for my blessing."

"That is cruel!"

He shrugged. "I don't care. Either you tell me now or he can come get it from me himself."

She let out a tantrum-like grunt and stood up, her chair scrapping against the wood. She weaved through the crowd and finally out into the cold air.

…

The journey was a little harder in the dark than she'd thought. The air was cold and frigid, and she was far from dressed for it. The wind chilled her immensely, traveling down her bones. Her chattering teeth exhaled a visible breath when she saw the cabin.

"Ivar? Ivar!" She called out as she neared.

Hvitserk was the one to come out with a concerned brow raised. 

Y/n felt guilty, still not welcoming Hvitserk after the raid. She all but collapsed into his chest, wrapping her arms around him and finally relaxing.

Hvitserk froze for a moment. Touch was never his thing. "You miss me?"

"Like hell," she mumbled against his chest.

He chuckled and circled his arm around her. "Already using Christian phrases, hm? Don't let Ivar hear you. Congratulations, by the way."

It was her turn to freeze, her head tilting up until she looked straight up at him. "What?"

"You're to be married, are you not? He said so." At her hum of agreement, he rubbed a hand down her back. "You're freezing, sister. You'll catch a chill if I don't get you inside."

He guided her in. The warm air from their small fire immediately caused a shiver down her body. Hvitserk frowned and held a hand to her forehead. "Gods. I'd think you were half dead like this."

That caught Ivar's attention. His head snapped up, his entire body relaxing at the sight of her. "Did you travel this far like that?" He questioned, his hand motioning to her lack of heavy clothing.

She stepped to the fire, sitting down next to Ubbe. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trying to transfer some of his heat. After all, he'd been scheming over the flames for a while now. He could afford to give some of the warmth up. 

Ubbe gave a small glare to Ivar, effectively telling him to drop the question. "Let me see this ring Ivar said so much about."

Her face dropped. "Oh. I… it's…"

One by one, the siblings realized that something was not quite right and Ubbe should have minded his own business. In all honesty, it was a fair ask. One that usually is fine to ask to an engaged woman. 

Ivar let out a long, loud breath. He seethed from his place at the table. "Where is it? I was told it was on your finger only hours ago."

How to explain that Bjorn had taken it without Ivar immediately growing angry? After all, Ironside didn't know that it was Ivar's. It wasn't personal at all. But that's not how Ivar saw things.

"Where is it?" He asked in a firmer tone. His head tilted. His tongue ran over the back of his teeth. "Did someone take it from you?"

"Don't be angry-"

"-No I AM ANGRY!" He yelled. "Tell me yes or no. Have you gone back on your word?"

"Ivar," Ubbe scorned. "Let the woman speak." He pulled a piece of hair from her face. "Go on."

She sniffled and moved closer to the fire to warm her hands. She stared at her ring finger longingly. "I do, Ivar. I want to marry you."

Hvitserk smirked widely, peering at his brother in a tease. His brother. In love. 

Ivar exhaled in a hidden form of relief. "Alright."

"I did not tell Bjorn about it yet. I wanted to wait…"

"-But?" Ubbe interrupted.

"But Bjorn saw it before I could." She frowned. "Where did you get Lagertha's ring?"

Every head shot to Ivar in shock.

He shrugged. "Father gave it to me. On our way to Wessex. I told him that we would marry when I returned and he gave me the ring. Chain and all. He said he'd worn it around his neck since the day your mother left him."

............................................

[raytorotitsenthusiast]

Predictions for the MCR WWWY shows based on how likely i think it is

100% (Definitely gonna happen)

- Gerard rambles to the crowd

- Gerard is in some sort of outfit

75%-99% (Extremely likely)

- Someone throws a prideflag on the stage

- MCR members family there

- Audience member(s) dressed up is noticed

50%-74% (A good chance)

- Mikey is given the mic and says things

- Ray's mic is turned up (please)

25%-49% (A possibility)

- Frank messes with someone while playing

- Audience member holds up a sign with something funny on it

- Dan and Phil are there

2%-24% (Very unlikely)

- One of the band members references "but seriously, imagine it"

- Frank plays a lick from 'I Am Going To Kill The President Of The United States Of America' as a joke

- Pose 28. Need I say more?

0.00001%-1% (Delusions❤️)

- ALL MEMBERS IN DRESSES

- Ray takes his shirt off (PLEASE)

- New song/songs played

- Studio versions of demos released (ie Sister to Sleep, Someone Out There Loves You)

- They play Witch

Welp i'll return in a month to see how wrong i am

[vigilante-3073]

Blue Or Pink?

James Wilson x Female Reader

Summary: House makes some observations about Doctor Y/N L/N. He is absolutely certain that she is pregnant with Wilson's child, but something seems amiss.

TW: Pregnancy, mentions of weight gain/breast size/nausea and vomiting/miscarriage, medical diagnosis.

House stood outside the Pediatric unit, watching Doctor L/N-Wilson through the window as she spoke with the parents of a patient. She had been married to Wilson for almost two years and things had been stable.

Normal.

Predictable.

But House began to notice small changes in Doctor L/N-Wilson. At first they seemed insignificant, but then the little nothings turned into big somethings.

First it was the tiredness, she'd whine about being exhausted before resting her head on Wilson's shoulder in the cafeteria. It was nothing special, just an overworked Pediatrician who gave everything to her patients.

Secondly, House noticed a change in how she responded to smells. She refused to kiss Wilson after he drank his morning coffee, the smell making her stomach churn. It could have been an anomaly, but then he changed his cologne. Wilson liked his cologne and had used the same one for as long as House had known him. A new cologne could have been gifted to him, but Wilson wouldn't have used a different scent without some other motivation. It seemed obvious to House that L/N's smell-associated nausea had caused the switch.

Thirdly, it was how emotional she had become. L/N had always been an emotional lightweight with a heart of gold, but House could see a difference in her. She didn't seek out comfort from Wilson on a routine basis, only when she had lost someone or experienced an emotionally taxing case. Then he noticed her coming and going from his best friend's office with red, watery eyes at least once a week. Her heightened emotional state could be due to the loss of some boring little rugrat who drew her a picture of a butterfly once, but it seemed more intense than that.

Fourth thing he noticed was the vomiting, she was very discreet about sneaking away to upchuk in the hospital bathroom, but not discreet enough to escape his watchful eye. She was constantly chewing mint gum or sucking on breath mints while carrying a toothbrush in the pocket of her lab coat.

Fifth thing was an increase in cup size and a sudden progressive weight gain. It wasn't anything excessive, but it was enough to have her clothing fit more snugly before she gave up and bought new clothes.

Sixth was the appointment. Wilson and L/N snuck away to an "early lunch" after talking to Cuddy. They were both Department heads and didn't need to speak to the Dean of Medicine before stepping out for an hour.

The anomalies were piling up into a rather perfect list of symptoms.

Chase made his way over to House, frowning as he stared through the glass, "What are you looking at?" Chase asked.

"Doctor L/N-Wilson," House stated.

His eyes followed her as she separated from the parents, walking over to the nursing station.

"Why?" Chase asked uncertainly.

"She has a parasite," House said, Chase's head snapped in his boss' direction.

"What? How do you know?" Chase questioned, turning to look at her again.

"I just know. It would take too long to explain," House said, turning and walking off.

...

Wilson and L/N sat on the couch in their apartment, her back was leaned against his side and her legs were stretched out across the couch cushions. Wilson's arm was wrapped around her as he flipped through the channels on the television. L/N stared down at her book, turning the page before closing her eyes and leaning her head on his shoulder.

"You alright?" He asked, looking down at her.

"Tired," She sighed.

"Do you want to go to bed?" Wilson questioned.

"No, I'll be okay. I like spending time with you," L/N said, eyes fluttering open.

Wilson smiled, pressing a kiss to her head as she returned to her book. He turned his head towards the television before someone knocked at the door.

L/N sat up, setting her book down on the cushion beside her.

"I'll get it," Wilson said, setting the remote down and making his way over to the door.

He opened the door, sighing when he saw House standing on his doorstep.

"Your wife has a parasite," House stated.

"Thank you so much for letting us know. We'll have her admitted for treatment in the morning," Wilson said sarcastically, "Goodnight, House," Wilson stated, moving to close the door.

House stuck his foot in the doorway, blocking the door from closing before pushing his way into their apartment.

"House, what are you doing here?" L/N asked.

"You have a parasite, Doctor L/N-Wilson," He said.

"No, I don't. Go home, House," She said, standing up from the couch and moving to step past him.

"It has arms and legs. It looks adorable in a onesie. Chromosomes of XX or XY with eyes like mommy and glorious hair like daddy. Lucky bugger will even get two Christmases when you two separate," House said.

"We're not separating," Wilson snapped.

"That's besides the point," House said, returning his attention to L/N, "Oh, and I stumbled across this," House said, holding up a document displaying a positive pregnancy blood test result.

"How did you-" She started, snatching the paper from his hand, "Did you break into my office? And my desk?" L/N questioned incredulously.

"I should be saying mazel tov. Congratulations on the little rugrat," House said.

L/N smacked him in the arm, "You're an ass," She snapped, folding up the paper.

"I thought you'd be screaming it from the rooftops," House said.

"Forgive me for being cautious," She huffed, sitting back down on the couch.

"You're almost four months along. Way past the danger zone for early miscarriage," House stated, eyes flickering over her.

House looked up at Wilson, he shook his head, silently pleading with his friend not to continue.

"You've lost a pregnancy before," House said.

"House-" "Three," L/N replied, looking up at him.

"House, get out," Wilson said.

"He was going to find out at some point, James. I'm surprised he didn't steal my medical records already," L/N said.

"Another hospital, too much work," House shrugged.

"Can you grab a copy of the sonogram?" She asked, Wilson nodded, making his way down the hallway before returning with a photograph.

He held it out to House, he took the photo and stared down at it, "The fetus has your nose," House said, "Mind if I keep this?" He asked.

"Sure," L/N nodded, leaning back against the couch.

"Why do you- You know what? Nevermind," Wilson sighed, sitting down beside L/N and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"I'll see myself out. Congratulations on the kid," House said, making his way over to the door and out of their apartment.

...

House sat at his desk, staring down at the sonogram as his team discussed their most recent case. House tilted his head, thumb brushing over a darkened area on the scan.

"House?" Cameron questioned loudly.

He looked up to find Chase, Cameron and Foreman staring at him expectantly. House turned the sonogram photo and held it up for the team to see, "New case. Tell me what's wrong with this picture," He said.

Cameron huffed, "We need to solve our first case before moving on to something else. We should do a transesophageal echo to rule out a blood clot and to-" "Sure, but first, tell me what's wrong with this picture," House repeated.

Chase squinted, leaning in closer to view the sonogram, "Looks fine to me. Roughly four months along, I'd say," Chase shrugged, straightening back up.

"Wrong, thanks for playing. You two," House said, looking up at Foreman and Cameron.

Cameron shook her head before letting out a defeated sigh, she leaned in and scanned the sonogram silently.

"The fetus is undersized for gestational age. Can we go now?" Foreman asked.

"Nope. Try again," House said.

"There's a mass," Cameron said softly, taking the sonogram from House's hand.

"Yeah, it's called a baby," Chase muttered.

"No, there's a membrane around it," She said, stepping over to the x-ray view box and holding it up to the light.

House stood from his chair, staring at the sonogram over her shoulder. He took the photograph from her hand, "Do the echo," House said, grabbing his cane and heading towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Cameron asked.

"To locate a pregnant woman," House stated.

...

L/N made her way across the lobby towards the clinic, "Y/N," Wilson called. She turned to face him, "Did House page you?" Wilson asked.

"Yeah, did he page you too?" L/N questioned.

"This can't be anything good," Wilson muttered, hand resting on the small of her back as they entered the clinic.

They made their way over to the exam room House had paged them to.

L/N knocked before opening the door, she and her husband stepped into the exam room, "What do you need, House?" L/N asked.

"You. Hop up on the table," House instructed, pulling over the portable ultrasound machine.

"House, she already has an obstetrician," Wilson said.

"Well, your obstetrician is an idiot," House said, turning on the ultrasound machine.

"I'm going back to work," L/N sighed, stepping over to the door.

"I saw something in your sonogram," House stated.

L/N hesitated, "What was it?" She asked.

"I have an idea, but I need to get a look at the thing," House said, gesturing to the exam table.

L/N looked over at Wilson before reluctantly getting up on the table and laying back. Wilson moved over to her side as she pulled up her blouse.

House squeezed some gel onto her belly before moving the wand across her skin. The soft thump of their baby's heartbeat filled the room as House stared up at the screen.

"Your baby has a roommate... Sneaky little sucker that leaves its dishes in the sink and trashes the place so they lose the security deposit," House said, typing on the keyboard.

"What is it?" Wilson asked, holding onto her hand tightly.

House turned the screen towards them, "A cyst," He said.

"It's solid," Wilson said softly, stomach dropping as he saw the possibly cancerous mass growing in his wife's belly. The oncologist within him already formulating treatment plans and survival rates.

"Sometimes. This week it's solid, two weeks ago it was liquid," House said, holding up the previous sonogram.

"I have cancer?" L/N mumbled shakily, eyes glossing over with tears as she looked up at Wilson.

"Nope, think hairy with a nasty bite," House said.

"A dermoid cyst?" L/N questioned.

"Bingo," House said, "Your baby is small for gestational age, but your fundal height is bang on. Someone else is taking up space," House said.

"Your miscarriages hid the symptoms and the cyst is likely to create more problems as it continues to grow. I scheduled you for a laproscopic removal tomorrow evening and notified your idiotic OB," House continued, putting down the ultrasound wand.

He held up a tissue, allowing L/N to wipe the gel from her stomach. She pulled down her blouse and sat up on the exam table.

"I still want to test your blood for cancer markers, but the chances of a dermoid cyst being cancerous are slim to none," House said, standing from his stool and gathering supplies.

"Your hubby can do all the testing," House said.

He tied the tourniquet around her arm and drew a few vials of blood to test. Wilson stood close to her side, his hand resting against her back reassuringly as they processed the information.

"Did the cyst cause my miscarriages?" She asked softly.

House shrugged, "Probably... The ugly thing is taking up all the beachfront property and keeping it from possible long-term residents. Bad for business, especially if business involves pregnancy," House said.

L/N huffed a laugh, leaning into Wilson's chest as a tear rolled down her cheek. Wilson pressed a kiss to the top of her head, wrapping his arm around her waist securely.

"The baby is going to be okay," Wilson assured, L/N nodded.

"I'll leave you two to do whatever married people do," House said, grabbing the vials of blood and his cane.

"House, wait," L/N said, pulling away from Wilson. She hopped off the table and stepped over to House.

He stiffened as she hugged him before slowly wrapping his arms around her, "Thank you," She said softly.

"You're welcome," House replied.

[deerspherestudios]

Short Break and To Dos!

Hello all! 🍄🍄👻 I'm glad to see people enjoying Day 3 so far! I was so nervous about showing another side to Mychael in the update I thought people wouldn't like him as much but plenty have reacted positively! ❤️

I'll add a TLDR; above the read more, but if you don't mind my ramblings and want more details about everything, I'll write everything below! Light spoilers ahead!

I'll be taking a short break from MO development until 28th October to work on a short VN for the Monstrous Desires jam!

Most probably missed it, but there's a tiny small patch to Day 3 explained here.

Queue will return soon! I just gotta handle some housekeeping first with my Patreon.

Regarding the feedback on Day 3, I'm glad people aren't as averse to the new side of Mychael, in that he isn't always soft and sweet. I want people to fall in love with a person after all, not a yandere caricature, and that means that person can get upset, angry and sometimes irrational when we don't know what's going on in their head even towards the subject of their affections. While some (understandably!) were shocked about his reaction to the mushrooms, it'll be clear as to why (hopefully!)

Some of you have given incredibly accurate theories, and I'll take that as something I've done well in building up the mystery!!! I'm excited to share more in the next update, but for now!

1. I'll be taking a short break from MO development to work on a short VN for the Monstrous Desires jam!

What I have planned for Day 4 of MO might be the biggest update so far, since one route will lead to a few official BAD ENDINGS as opposed to 'dead ends' like the current demo has. To those who really want to, you finally get to see Mychael at his worst. As usual, writing the script takes a few months with plenty of changes in between, and I don't wanna bulldoze ahead and rush the story when it's getting to the climax!

But before I jump into all of that I just wanna give myself a creative exercise and try exploring a different theme, style and setting with a fresh new character for the jam! Since I'm a sucker for the trope... yes, the new blorbo will also be a yandere, sorry, I'm predictable.💔 The jam ends on October 28th so development on MO will continue then!

The last time I wrote something remotely sci-fi was in high school, so this will be fun to try!

2. Most probably missed it, but there's a tiny small patch to Day 3 explained here.

What it says on the tin! If you've already played Day 3, rest assured there's no significant story changes. Just an updated credits list, three extra sprites for one route and a small fix in the code.

3. Queue will return soon! I just gotta handle some housekeeping first with my Patreon.

Plenty of people have sent such sweet and encouraging messages to my inbox on what they thought of the update and I cannot thank all of you enough for the support!! I can't wait to post them out to archive them on the blog and answer all your interesting theories and queries in my queue!

But for now I'm due for a short break from my socials and to catch up on my Patreon sketch requests haha. I also plan to release cut content from Day 3 for my Yearling and Deer patrons. Plus, I'll be working on some written prompts for extra lore so that's something to look forward to!

I'll be back soon! Take care, fireflies!! ❤️

[uyuforu]

Astro Observations: Uyu's Solar Return Chart for 2024-2025

My birthday is very soon, so I thought of doing an analysis of my solar return chart, which starts the day before my birthday, so August 5th. I hope you can enjoy this post! I will focus on conjunctions or important aspects mostly here, I don't want the post to be too long. If you see an aspect that hasn't been mentions and would like to give your opinion, feel free to do it in the comments ^^

All pictures were found on Pinterest

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Chart I

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Chart II

જ⁀➴ Uranus in the Solar Return

PRIVATE BOOKING OPEN

email adress: tarotjunoboda@gmail.com

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A Solar Return Chart (SRC) is an astrological predictive tool that enable you to discover what will happen for you during the year of your birthday. It is based on the return of your Sun, so your Sun will have the same exact position as in your Natal Chart.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Sun 10H means focus on this year is on career, popularity and success in those areas. I can be more popular and achieve a certain level of fame this year. I can also be more successful in my career and perhaps more known in it too. I can make a name for myself.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Moon 10H means I'll be more connected to my work emotionally. But that also means caring more about my work. I'll be very focused on my career. I can also be prone to stress more about my career this year. This placement also suggests emotions based on work. But it means my emotions will be public too. Also working from home.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Mercury 10H means I can write more for work, I can communicate more also at work or for work. I'll talk a lot about work, or ideas perhaps too. A time to work online a lot, and I can also communicate a lot with clients. I can be talked about more this year for my career, or even reputation matters too.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Virgo Mercury can mean expressing ourselves in a very logical and analytical way this year. Mercury in Virgo makes us talk in a more serious tone, or just more detailed one too. There are less emotions, meaning we also express ourselves based on what is more logical to do, and less based on how we feel.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Venus 10H means big success in my career this year! Recognition will def happen. It can mean also I will love what I do for living this year. This can also mean meeting more people related to my job, and make more friends who are coworkers. And this can also mean having more connections too.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Mars 8H can be a sign of having s3x often this year, and to be more intimate than before too. This can be a year you'll have a lot of steamy moments. It can also indicate some people being "obsessed" with me. I can manifest more easily this year too.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Jupiter 8H also is an indicator of having a lot of s3x this year. It can also be an indicator of some people having a crush on me. This is also an indicator of being able to manifest more. But it can also mean receiving an inheritance, or someone will give me a lot of money this year. I can also buy a big thing, such as a house for example.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Saturn 5H means this year I can learn lessons about being more mature. But also knowing when to have fun, and knowing when to be serious. I won't be pregnant this year too.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Uranus 7H means having unexpected events happening in your love life. Meeting people unexpectedly. I could also meet people I never thought I would meet. Ruler tells a lot. My Ruler is in 10H, so I could meet people for work or who will help me in my work. I can also have a sudden contract for work. Uranus also represents change, so sudden change and transformation happening in my love life, and a contract can also transform my career suddenly.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Neptune 5H means embracing my creativity this year, having a lot of ideas, perhaps being inspired by dreams. But it can also mean being very unique with this, and people might copy me lol. I can also tend to romanticize life or my hobbies this year, and I can discover and have more hobbies!

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Pluto 3H means people can gossip a lot about me, and I wouldn't be surprised since I have a 10H stellium. Pluto opposite my sun, this could also be a sign of talking behind my back. Pluto 3H is also a sign of transformation related to my voice, how I think, some of my opinions, my siblings, I can also obsess about things more easily. This is also an indicator of discovering secrets or truth. Since Pluto is in Aquarius and so ruler is Uranus, my Uranus is in 7H in this SRC, this can be discovering truth or secrets about a romantic partner.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Vertex 8H means a transformative experience in general, and it's destined, Vertex is all about things that will eventually happen. And it's also a sign of getting proposed to ;-; It can be a sudden proposal. It can also be an indicator of studying more esoteric or occult matters.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Part of Fortune 1H can be an indicator of a glow up, or just feeling blesses, happy and content with our appearance. It can also mean having good opportunities related to our looks.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Chiron 6H can mean a pet in my family can pass away. Ruler is also in 8H, so this can happen. Otherwise, it can be a sign of having a weak health or just some problems with health due to overworking. It can also mean healing health issues.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Scorpio Rising 0° means a huge transformation is coming. I can change physically but also mentally this year, and it can actually be drastic. The last time I had this placement, I lost weight, and I also had a glow up. This can mean the same thing, and POF being in my 1H, conjunct my rising, it can mean the same. It can also mean attracting jealous people.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Taurus DSC can be a sign of entering a long term and serious relationhsip, and attracting people who want the same.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Leo MC is a sign of success and fame potential in career this year! Also excellent reputation. Can be noticed and known easily this year.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 1H Ruler in 3H can mean people can gossip about me because of how I look. People can also talk a lot about me this year just because of me, my aura, no real reasons can be there tbh. I can be talked about a lot this year, people talking a lot about me, what I do, etc. This can be a year where I'll travel, learn, write, and just want to know more.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ SRC 1H Ruler in Natal 2H means I can attract more money this year, and I can make a lot more than I used to have. I can also change my aesthetic. I can also shop more!

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 1H Ruler conjunct IC can mean living alone, or moving, detaching from family.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 2H Ruler in 3H can mean I'll talk a lot about my possessions, but it can also mean people gossip about what I own, and what I buy.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 3H Ruler in 5H can be a sign of doing or receiving a love declaration. I can sing more perhaps this year. This can also be a sign of going on vacations more this year. I can also dance more this year.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 4H Ruler in 7H is a sign of moving in with a romantic partner. Also the sign of starting a long term relationship.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 5H Ruler in 5H is a sign to enter a romantic relationship this year.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 6H Ruler in 8H perhaps means to be obsessed with work and to work so much it can become unhealthy. It can also be an indicator of falling sick because of busy schedule.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 7H Ruler in 10H is a major sign to enter a serious and long term relationship!

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 8H Ruler in 10H is another indicator of being obsessed with work, working a lot, and perhaps also my career having a huge transformation.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 9H Ruler in 10H means if I travel, I can travel for work mostly. I can also learn more for my career. Make more researches, etc.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 10H Ruler in 10H can be a sign of more fame or a better reputation in my work, being more known.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 11H Ruler in 10H means using more social medias for my career this year, or just being more seen online?

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Groom 8H can mean being more intimate with my FS this year! It can also means there will be a transformative experience happening with him. It can also mean that I can have hot moments with him this year lol.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Juno 11H can mean talking with someone I love/ have a crush on online a lot, or long distance relationship. Calling and texting your lover a lot. It is also an indicator of being in a relationship this year.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Natal Venus conjunct SR Venus means this is a very important year for my love life. Not the main focus, but there will be major events happening in this area too. Usually it can be a time when something big will happen. And Venus is entering in Virgo in August 2024, and it's my Venus return, so it's starting right away! Last time I had a Venus Return was when I met my FS.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 10H Stellium is a big indicator of success in career, recognition in career, and just being in the spotlight. It is an indicator of having a major success in our career that can makes us level up in our life and reputation. Also an indicator of fame.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Sun conjunct Moon means feeling stable emotionally speaking this year.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Mercury conjunct Venus can be a sign of having a love declaration this year, or doing one. But it's also a sign of writing love letters, or being very romantic usually. It can also mean getting more compliments this year! Also a sign of being proposed to.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Juno conjunct Union can mean meeting or being in union with a romantic partner.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Venus sextile Boda, this is a wedding indicator lol, but if I see something related to wedding happening that year it's more a proposal than an actual wedding ;-;

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Saturn conjunct Neptune can be a sign of self doubt, and I have this placement in 5H, so this can make me insecure related to my love life, or I can feel insecure and it can create obstacles in my love life. It can also mean me being doubtful or my imagination and creativity. And I can also doubt about things in my love life.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Uranus conjunct DSC means something will change about my love life.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Venus conjunct Juno is a sign to be in a relationship this year.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Mars conjunct Jupiter can be a sign of have a lot of steamy times this year.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Jupiter conjunct Groom can mean something good will happen with my FS this year, perhaps also Groom or me can travel to the other, but I feel like Groom more. this can be an indicator of being in a relationship or being proposed to.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Mars conjunct Groom can be a sign of having s3x with your FS. But it can also mean there will be fights with them too.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Vertex conjunct Groom can be a sign of meeting FS but also of having some important moments happening with FS. Usually the years where you have that placement, you can encounter and spend time with your FS.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Sun conjunct MC means being the center of attention this year, being seen and noticed a lot. People will just focus on me.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Scorpio 2H can mean spending more money or making more money this year. I can either be obsessed with my belongings, or I can just spend more because I make money.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Capricorn 3H can mean being more serious about the way I speak and express myself, but also more dedicated too. I can also speak a lot about work.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Aquarius 4H means relationship with family members can change, evolve. I can also move, something will be different about my home and family than the previous years. Something will change, and perhaps a new family member can come (marriage, in laws, babies, etc.)

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Pisces 5H can mean very creative and romantic this year.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Aries 6H means more energies to my routine, and being very busy this year.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Taurus 7H means finding love is more possible, since I have a Venus sign over the 7H. But it can make me attract serious and long term relationships this year.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Taurus 8H can mean I can be less worried about money this year. I am also more chill.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Cancer 9H, I don't think I'll travel much this year. I could still, but it won't perhaps be too much in foreign lands. If I do travel in foreign lands, it can be perhaps related to homes, so I could live in foreign lands eventually. But it doesn't seem like a big placement.

Thank you for reading!

back to index ; ask ; request ; rules

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞! | genshin males x gn!reader

「 "𝐡𝐞𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫!"」

— in which you give him chocolates before he attempts to give you his??

— fluff. highschool!au but built like a shoujo manga lmao ... happy valentine's day ~ ♡ another fic will be going out tomorrow :)

THOMA, albedo, ayato, alhaitham, childe, KAVEH, HEIZOU, VENTI, GAMING, CHONGYUN, KAZUHA, wriothesley, tighnari, freminet, lyney ♡

Calling yourself a "romantic" person would be quite a stretch.

Saying Valentine's was your favorite day of the year would be even worse.

Sure, sure, you'd heard plenty of things, from the nagging old man manning the grocery store, always red in the face from regular swigs of cheap liquor, or the seemingly never endless musings from your classmates, swooning and fainting every moment anyone, or more specifically, the leads starring in those dramas of theirs, did anything remotely affectionate.

Young, innocent love, while a splendid thing, for someone like you, your really only option was to endlessly pine after someone who would certainly not return your affections.

The recipient of such foolish affections? That much was obvious. What a rather hopeless person, you were.

At the very least, he seemed to enjoy your presence. A smile would adorn his lips, and he'd always meet your gaze with his familiar greeting of, "Good morning, did you sleep well?"

Fuck, you hated how such a simple line, questioning of your wellbeing, could tug at your heartstrings so effortlessly. The man was playing you like a fiddle, and a part of you didn't try to resist that.

So the moment February 14th rolled itself around, bearing promises of youthful laughter, baby cupids, hearts, and sweets, you tried not to pay heed to the extra weight of chocolates in your school bag.

Had you stayed up late making them just the right sweetness, making sure they were perfectly heart-shaped?

Yes. As stated previously, you were truly hopeless.

"Ah, good morning." Wow, look at you, taking the initiative to greet someone? Truly, a day of magic and wonder! You're almost jump scared at the sight of him in your classroom, just what the fuck was he doing here? He leaned against the doorway, looking terribly pretty in the morning lighting.

This was not doing wonders to your heart.

Upon seeing you, he straightened his posture, looking suspiciously sheepish with an extra non-characteristic, flusteredness on his features. "You're here early today."

"It's Valentine's." That's all you managed to sputter out with that tied tongue of yours.

"Yes, and?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly, not entirely convinced, and followed you to your seat like some sort of lost puppy.

Your brain raced to find a rationale he'd deem reasonable. "Uhm, ah... my friend... is planning to confess to a guy, so I had to come early and help her... set up the place she's planning to do so at?"

"I see... ah," His eyes lit up like he had thought of something. "Are you free after school? We should meet up afterward, so you can tell me how it went...?"

"Yes!" You responded a little too quickly, and cussing yourself out in you head, you corrected it. "Ahem- yes, I'd like that." The burning feeling that arose on your face was starting to become too prominent to ignore.

He didn't seem to pay it any mind, and instead beamed in a close-eyed smile. "Perfect. Then, I'll see you?" You were to bid him goodbye, but he ran off before you could even utter a sound, leaving you rather dumbfounded, blank-faced and still feeling the tingling warmth on your cheeks.

Holy shit, is this my chance?? You’d made chocolates on the eensiest, weensiest off chance that you might grow bold enough to hand it to him, even if under the pretense of “as friends”, but with the violent way your heart was pounding in your chest, you didn’t think avoidance would be an option.

Ahaha, you were making a mistake, weren’t you?

Only one way to find out.

The rest of the day went by as predicted. Fanatic screams and a wave of crazed people chasing after the more popular figures of the school, throwing boxes of chocolates and bouquets of roses... hey, wasn't this a safety hazard? There were other screams too - but not of excitement, but terror as a man was crushed and trampled under a wave of love-sick girls chasing after the popular boy in class 2-A.

You just hoped that he wouldn't sue the school. The place was already cutting enough corners when it came to the monstrosity of cafeteria food.

The bell rang, signaling your freedom, and you massaged your shoulders with a sigh. You'd survived, somehow. As you stepped out the door, a ding from your phone alerted you with a text, and as you lit up the screen, the corner of your lips unconsciously turned upwards into a soft smile.

hot guy <3 - don't forget.

hot guy <3 - ill be waiting for you

Stepping into his classroom, you scanned your surroundings for the familiar sight of the man. Low and behold, there he was, sat upon, presumably, his desk, and staring out the window like some main character. You walked over, trying your best to disregard the clamminess of your fingers - or more specifically, the hand that was holding your homemade chocolates hidden safely(?) away behind your back. His features brightened at the sight of you, and he swung his legs, ushering you over to share the view with him.

"Sorry, did you wait long?" You sheepishly grinned as he scooted to the side to give you space to sit down next to him. As you did so, you were made painfully aware of how his body was still pressed up against yours. “I almost got trampled on my way here, not a pretty sight.”

“...Pretty sight?” He echoed his words, tilting his head as he pondered, the slightest curve of a smile tugging at his lips. “You?”

“W-What? No, I-” You cleared your throat before he could say another word, trying to dispel the blush on your features. Naturally, you failed to do so. “What kind of things are you saying now? Just who’d you learn that from?”

“Haa? What do you mean, learned? I just said the truth, that’s all…”

God, he was so adorable. This man had definitely run off with your heart.

Now or never, you supposed. Standing upwards abruptly, you pulled out the heart-shaped box of chocolates you’d been hiding behind your back the entire time, visibly trembling as you held it outwards.

“Will you be my valentine?”

It took him the count of three to respond, his eyes round and doe-like. He blinked rapidly, and then his cheeks flushed - not with his usual cheeriness, but a red that definitely spoke of flusteredness. “H-Hey, that's no fair…”

“...What?” Damn, was this your rejection? You had expected as much, but-

“I was supposed to give you chocolates first, y’know…”

And just like that, the familiar boy before you reached beside him into the darkly lit space and pulled out his own box of chocolates, lightly colored and wrapped beautifully in shimmering golden ribbon. “It took me so long to do this, and yet…”

“Holyfuckingshitwhat.” The curses flew from your mouth, condensed into a single word. “W- H- Y-You… You got chocolates for me?”

Now this was a first. Seeing his cheeks and tips of his ears all rosy, and seeing him all kicked-puppy-like. He nodded slowly, “Mhm… But, this is good too!”

He likes me.

He likes me.

He likes me.

Hoooooly shit.

“Ah, oh no, I didn’t give you an answer, did I?” His usually soft eyes now filled with panic. “Don't tell me I'm too late, I’ll be your valentine!”

The chocolates, surely, would be sweet. But the sensation of your lips meeting his, the undeniable warmth he bestowed upon you — it was sweeter than anything. ♡

(a/n) lmao guess what. i got sick again. i was sick last month and i mfucking sick and dying again and the only thing saving me is shitty couhg medicine that doesn't even work and like expired coughdrops my couhgdrop supply is running low and oh god i don't THINK IM GOINNA MAKE IT-

hahah anyways remember when i said id come back. well . guess what. ive been working on original works for a while now, but the delulu has indeed returned ( for longer than a week this time, hopefully )

i did work on some stuff during my inactivity! the post will probably be out tomorrow, but please don't be upset if i push the date back :)

anyways whipped up this quick drabble so all of you could be well fed on valentines. remember that its okay to be single on this day, and that there are plenty of other people out there like you. there is no shame in being single, and i love every one of you ! mwah <33

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader, @fiannee, @aether-darling, @solxima, @sangoqueenkoko, @haliyamori

[shaiyasstuff]

Request for youuuuuuu:

zayne's a librarian at your uni library. He sees your names in books he loves to read all the time (in those check out library slips). You two start leaving notes to each other between the pages (a post it here, another there, commenting on how this one line in the book spoke to you or him).

On the recommended tags in the bookshelves, you sometimes slip in a tag yourself (even though you're not an employee working in the library yourself), knowing zayne will end up finding it bc he's the only one who spends the most time looking for books and recommending books to people who spend the most time there.

I'll leave the ending up to you ;D just needed librarian!zayne cuz he's been stuck in my head for far too long

OHOHOHO I SEE YOU I SEE YOU! Lemme see what I can cook, librarian Zayne oh lord how did I never think of that? Sksksk here is, librarian zayne fluff dedicated fully for @blessdunrest

I finished this in record time omg you can tell how excited I was to write this. LOL hope you enjoy! And please tell me if i cooked :D

Was going to post this tomorrow but then I finished my other draft so I thought I’d give you double treats :))

It was supposed to be a normal day at the library for Zayne.

The late afternoon sunlight filtered in through the high windows, casting a warm, dappled glow across the wooden floor.

The scent of old paper and quiet settled around him like a familiar blanket. He had just finished shelving the last of the returned books—most left in disarray by hurried hands and careless minds.

He didn’t mind, not really.

There was something grounding in the ritual, in the quiet order of things finding their place again.

With a quiet sigh, he sank into the worn chair behind the desk, reaching for the thick, lined library slip book.

One by one, he flipped through the entries, scanning the familiar handwriting.

Natasha, Year 3 – Fundamentals of Molecular Science.

Ada, Year 2 – Cosmos Within, a sci-fi classic.

Then—

Y/N, Year 3 – The Sun and Her Flowers.

His hand stilled on the page.

Something in his chest tightened—not in alarm, but in surprise, a subtle ache blooming beneath his ribs.

That book.

It wasn’t just any poetry collection.

It was his book.

The one he’d carried in his bag long after he’d read it, pages dog-eared and underlined, ink smudged from restless nights.

It wasn’t something people around here cared about—too tender, too raw, too honest for most.

Especially not anyone in his year. No one ever borrowed it.

Until now.

His fingers brushed over your name. Familiar, yet distant.

You weren’t someone he spoke to much, not directly.

You were always there, though—in the same lectures, across the hallway, once in a quiet corner of the library with your headphones in and your eyes half-lost in the page.

But now, you held a part of him you didn’t know he’d shared.

And somehow, it felt like fate had just nudged him, ever so gently, across a line he hadn’t realized he’d been standing on.

He closed the slip book slowly.

And for the first time that day, the silence of the library didn’t feel so solitary.

—•

When you came to return the book the next day, Zayne was tucked behind the counter, half-lost in a page of scribbled notes and quiet thoughts.

The world outside was muted—just the soft hum of the air conditioner, the occasional creak of floorboards, the rustle of paper.

He liked it that way.

Predictable. Still.

Until your voice broke the stillness.

“Hey, I’d like to return this.”

He froze.

The pen in his hand paused mid-word, ink pooling slightly on the page.

Slowly, he looked up—and the moment his eyes met yours, something in him shifted.

It was subtle, a quiet unravelling.

As if time, that steady companion of his, had faltered.

You stood there, framed by the light pouring in from the glass panels behind you, The Sun and Her Flowers held gently in your hands.

There was a calmness to you, but your eyes—there was something in them he hadn’t seen before. Not just curiosity.

Not just politeness. But softness. A quiet depth, like a poem waiting to be read aloud.

And for the first time, he noticed you.

Really noticed you.

The way your hair caught the light, the way your fingers held the book like it meant something, like it had left traces on your heart too.

You weren’t just a name in a slip book anymore.

You weren’t just another student passing through the quiet halls of his routine.

You were real.

And radiant.

And standing in front of him holding the very thing that had once made him feel a little less alone.

He cleared his throat, but his voice felt like it had to pass through miles of thought before it could reach you.

“Was it… good?”

He didn’t mean the book.

Not really.

You giggled—a soft, melodic sound that made something stir in the quiet corners of his chest.

Then you gave a small nod, placed the book gently on the counter, and turned to leave without another word.

Zayne stood there, momentarily caught in place, lips parted slightly in awe.

Like he’d just witnessed a small miracle, something fleeting and beautiful that brushed past him before he could reach for it.

His fingers hesitated before closing around the book, still warm from your touch.

He didn’t mean to open it again.

He’d read it a dozen times before. Knew the verses like he knew the beat of his own pulse.

But now, with you lingering like sunlight after a storm, he found himself drawn to it—not for the words, but for the trace of you that might still linger between the pages.

As he lifted the cover, something fluttered out.

A small, folded note.

It landed softly on the counter, and with careful hands, he opened it.

‘I notice everything I do not have, and decide it is beautiful.’

A line from the book.

Yes.

But in your handwriting.

Zayne stared at it, breath caught in his throat.

The words weren’t addressed to anyone. Not signed. Not meant to be found.

And yet—

It felt like a secret.

A whisper of something unspoken.

Like a sliver of your soul had slipped into his hands.

His heart stirred with something quiet and inexplicable. Longing, maybe. Recognition.

The faint ache of possibility blooming in his chest.

Because suddenly, it wasn’t just a quote.

It was a mirror.

And for the first time in a very long while, he felt seen.

—•

That night, Zayne didn’t sleep.

He lay in bed, the glow of the city lights casting quiet shadows on his ceiling, the note still echoing in his mind like a song he couldn’t forget.

Over and over, he replayed the moment you stood in front of him—the way your eyes lit up, the way your laughter lingered even after you left.

He thought of a hundred things he could say to you.

A hundred ways to start a conversation.

Maybe ask what part of the book moved you most.

Maybe tell you it moved him too.

But no matter how many versions he rehearsed in his head, something held him back.

It wasn’t fear, not exactly. It was something softer. A quiet reverence for the way it had all unfolded.

Because this felt like your thing. The book, the note, the brief but meaningful collision of your worlds. A fragile thread tied in silence and serendipity.

And he didn’t want to pull too hard and unravel it.

So he made a decision.

He reached for one of his favourite books—Letters to a Young Poet, the worn spine evidence of how often he’d returned to its pages.

With slow, deliberate care, he opened it to the passage that had once given him comfort on a lonely night and slipped his own note inside.

‘Perhaps somewhere, in the quiet, we’re already speaking the same language.’

No name. No explanation.

Just the possibility of being understood.

The next morning, he shelved it beneath his recommendations display, straightening the spine with a kind of quiet hope.

He lingered for a moment, fingers brushing the cover one last time, as if to will it toward you.

Then he stepped back, heart thrumming in his chest, and waited.

Because sometimes, love doesn’t begin with grand gestures.

Sometimes, it begins with a shared page.

He waited.

Each day, he kept an eye on the entrance from behind the counter, feigning focus on paperwork while his gaze flickered toward the door every time the bell above chimed.

The minutes ticked by in soft, library-quiet rhythm. Students came and went, laughter echoing faintly from the courtyard beyond.

The book remained untouched on the shelf, nestled between other titles that meant far less to him.

And then—

You appeared.

Just like that. As if you belonged in that moment.

Zayne’s breath caught in his throat.

You moved with quiet purpose, your gaze sweeping the shelves, fingertips trailing along spines as if reading by touch.

There was a crease in your brow, that same thoughtful expression he remembered from the other day. You were searching.

Maybe for something you couldn’t name.

Maybe for the exact book he’d left behind for you.

He didn’t move.

He just watched—heart pounding, chest tight with something he couldn’t quite name. Hope, maybe.

Or longing.

Or the fragile beauty of watching a possibility begin to unfold.

The way you walked, the way your hair caught the morning light—it all felt like a scene he would’ve once written down and tucked away for safekeeping.

And in that moment, watching you reach out toward the shelf where his secret waited, he didn’t need to speak.

Because some silences said everything.

And his, just then, was quietly pleading.

You reached for the book—his book—and he swore time held its breath.

Your fingers wrapped around the worn spine, and with a small, satisfied smile, you turned on your heel and made your way toward the front desk.

Toward him.

Zayne straightened instinctively, his heartbeat loud in his ears, though his expression remained composed—habitual restraint masking the storm beneath.

You placed the book gently on the counter, the very one he’d chosen for you, with the note nestled like a secret between its pages.

“I’d like to borrow this,” you said, your voice soft but sure.

He met your gaze and nodded, careful to keep his hands steady as he reached for the library slip book.

He scribbled your name beneath the title, signing off with the date.

It felt strange, somehow, how something so mundane could feel so momentous.

When he handed the book back to you, your fingers brushed his—just for a second—and it was like something sparked beneath his skin.

You smiled at him, small and genuine, a quiet thank-you in the curve of your lips.

And then, just like that, you turned and walked away.

He didn’t call out after you.

Didn’t ask if you’d find the note.

He only watched, the image of your retreating figure imprinting itself on some tender part of him.

And still, he hoped.

Because now, it was your turn to read.

And maybe—just maybe—you’d understand what he hadn’t been able to say aloud.

—•

You returned the book a few days later, the same gentle grace in your steps, the same soft air of quiet that always seemed to surround you.

But this time, there was something different—a faint smile tugging at your lips, one that wasn’t there the first time.

Something knowing.

You placed the book on the counter without a word, just a small nod in his direction, as if acknowledging something unspoken between you.

As always, you turned to leave.

And Zayne felt it—

That sudden ache of something slipping through his fingers.

The almost. The maybe. The not yet.

His heart, though carefully guarded, wilted slightly with the weight of that silence.

But then—

Something fluttered out from between the pages.

The note.

His own handwriting stared back at him first—his quiet offering. The line he had hoped would reach you.

But beneath it, written in a different hand—your hand—was something more.

‘Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart.’

A passage from the same book.

But this time, it wasn’t just a quote.

It was an answer.

Zayne stared at the words, the corners of the paper trembling slightly in his hands.

And then he smiled—

Small. Real. Disbelieving.

Because he understood.

You had read between the lines.

And you had answered in the only language he had trusted you to understand.

—•

It became a quiet ritual.

Every few days, Zayne would slip another book onto the recommendation shelf—never flashy, never obvious.

Just something thoughtful.

Something that meant something.

Between the pages, always the same—a note.

A single line, a question, a passage underlined just for you.

And somehow—without fail—you’d find it.

He never saw you take the books. Not once.

But they would vanish from the shelf by the end of the day, and a few days later, you’d return them with that same gentle smile and a new note waiting for him inside.

It was wordless magic, threaded between pages and ink.

A quiet conversation unfolding one borrowed book at a time.

He began to choose the titles more carefully.

Books that mirrored the seasons.

Books that carried pieces of him.

The ones he had clung to during sleepless nights.

The ones that had taught him to hope again.

And every time you responded, your words felt like echoes of something he had longed for but never dared to name.

It wasn’t a game.

It wasn’t even courtship.

It was something purer.

Something softer.

Like trust blooming in the silence between hearts.

He began to look forward to mornings—just to see if the book was gone.

Just to see your handwriting again. Just to know that somewhere out there, you were reading his words and choosing to answer with your own.

And in the quiet of the library, amid the soft turning of pages and the hush of footsteps, Zayne began to fall in love—with the mystery, the stillness, and the girl who spoke to him through stories.

Sometimes, you left little traces of yourself behind.

Not just in the notes you slipped into returned books, but in the soft, handwritten tags you began sliding beneath his recommendation shelf.

At first, they were small, almost shy—just a few words scrawled in the corner of an index card, barely noticeable unless someone was truly looking.

But Zayne noticed. Always.

“This one hurts in all the right ways.”

“Read if your soul is tired.”

And once—

“For Zayne.”

That one stayed with him the longest.

He found it tucked just beneath the worn copy of Norwegian Wood he had placed out that morning.

And the moment he saw those words—so simple, so personal—he felt the breath catch in his throat.

Like the air had grown too thick, like the space between you had suddenly narrowed into something unbearably intimate.

He never asked how you knew which books were from him.

He never had to.

Somehow, your heart always seemed to find what his had quietly left behind.

Those tags became a part of the shelf, a secret language only the two of you spoke.

And each one made his chest ache in the most tender, bittersweet way—because they weren’t just about the books anymore.

They were about understanding. About being seen.

And for someone like Zayne, who had always spoken best in silence and stories, it felt like falling in love without ever having to say the word.

And then—suddenly—you stopped.

No new checkouts. No returned books. No quiet notes tucked between the pages, no soft little tags beneath his shelf.

Just… silence.

A hollow kind that wrapped itself around Zayne’s chest and refused to let go.

He flipped through the library slip book again and again, hoping he’d missed something.

But your name—your name—hadn’t appeared in almost two weeks. And that absence, so small on paper, felt unbearable in reality.

Something wasn’t right.

The unease gnawed at him—restless and sharp.

You’d become a part of his world in ways he hadn’t realized until your presence slipped away like mist, and suddenly the quiet of the library felt colder, lonelier.

As though even the books missed you.

So he began looking.

Between classes, after closing hours—his gaze lingered at corners of the campus you might pass through, eyes searching, heart pulsing with quiet desperation.

And just when he thought he had imagined you into something too delicate for reality—

He found you.

Sitting beneath a tree in the far stretch of the campus field, where the sun filtered through the leaves and spilled golden light across the grass.

You were curled up with a book resting in your hands, its cover closed, your fingers still turning pages like you were searching for something within.

The expression on your face was distant, thoughtful, touched by something fragile.

Zayne hesitated, standing there for a moment, heart thudding like it was about to burst from the quiet he was about to shatter.

Then, for the first time, he stepped closer—not as the boy behind the counter, not as the name beneath your borrowed stories, but simply as himself.

And you looked up.

As if you knew he would come.

As if you’d been waiting.

“Took you long enough,” you said with a soft giggle, eyes warm as they met his.

Zayne stood there, breath caught, as you held the book out to him—its cover familiar yet unknown, as though it had always existed but waited for this moment to be seen.

“Here,” you murmured, placing it gently in his hands. “It’s for you.”

He looked down.

The title read: The Quiet Love I Found in the Library.

His fingers curled around the spine, the weight of the book grounding, reverent.

He said nothing—couldn’t.

But his eyes lifted to you, and in them was every note you had exchanged, every shared silence, every book passed between trembling hands and hopeful hearts.

The wind stirred the grass around you.

And in that quiet, unremarkable moment, everything changed.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can I request a fic about that theory that pure vanilla cookie is the avatar of destiny where during episode 7 & 8 where instead of awakening pure vanilla becomes the avatar of destiny and he is already in a relationship with both reader and shadow milk cookie? Fluffy with a bit of angst please

At first I was like "wait that's a theory???" and then I started looking it up and now I'm like "omg that's actually cool"

In the context of episode 8-30 beast yeast idk how to incorporate PV already being in a relationship with SMC so I decided to leave that ambiguous

...........

"GRAAHH!! GIVE BACK MY SOUL JAM!!!"

In a blinding fury, Shadow Milk Cookie rushed at the Truthless Recluse.

He was fully prepared to kill him at this point, for being "betrayed" after realizing the soul jam's power wasn't in his total control anymore. It couldn't end this way, he thought. He wanted..needed to have it.

But unfortunately for him, his attack struck far too late as Truthless Recluse drove his own staff through the soul jam.

Through the cracks that formed, blinding beams of light consumed the Beast's vision, forcing him to halt mid-flight. With a grunt, he shielded his eyes. Black Sapphire Cookie and Candy Apple Cookie had no choice but to do the same, but after the light faded, they all finally had a chance to see what became of their latest pawn...

But he was not a pawn anymore.

Instead, something incredible--something divine--had taken his place, and was now looming over them.

The Truth--no, Pure Vanilla Cookie had returned, and he was an angel. A literal angel, with four fluffy wings, dressed in white robes, and a crown atop his head. Chocolate syrup dripped down from underneath his ruffled neck, and a ring made of waffle cones hovered behind his back, rotating idly.

Although his eyes initially remained closed, they suddenly opened to reveal those familiar shades of blue and yellow.

Indeed, this was unmistakably Pure Vanilla, with a now fully intact soul jam resting in the very center of his chest.

"Yes...it's all coming back to me now." His voice boomed throughout the spire, yet there was a certain gentleness to it. "There is something new..a boundless conviction, warming me from within. I recognize this feeling..."

The more he kept musing to himself and over his new form, the more enraged Shadow Milk was becoming.

Absolutely nothing could have prepared him for this. Nothing in the cards came even remotely close to predicting this would happen.

All along, he thought he had finally won. That his other half would finally see things his way and become the other Cookie of Deceit. One who was a mirror of himself. An ally who would help him reshape this world.

But now, not only did he--the master of lies and trickery--get tricked by him, but he used the soul jam--their soul jam--to transform into this divine entity, using the Light against him and his other realm.

How was that possible?

Why couldn't he turn into something similar?

"You...You TRAITOR! LIAR!!"

His outrage snapped Pure Vanilla out of his thoughts, and he looked down on him, almost amusingly. "Hahaha. Should there be Deceit, I shall embrace it. Should there be doubt, I shall accept it." He extended a hand out. "Come now, Shadow Milk Cookie..let us end this."

With gnashed teeth, the jester leapt into the air, meeting him at eye-level with his staff grasped tightly between his claws. "You think I'm scared because you're bigger than me?!!" He snarled. "I'LL DESTROY YOU!!"

"A lie shall vanquish a lie."

In one swift motion of his hand, Pure Vanilla cast a powerful beam of light that illuminated the entire sky, further empowering the other realm to bend to his will.

What was his will?

To dispel the lies, rumors, and gossip that have devastated Crispia, saving Parfait Cookie, Princess Cookie, and Latte Cookie from being ostracized from the public and convicted of any wrongdoings. Their reputations were restored, and the cookies who once condemned them had come to apologize.

And just like that, there was peace once more throughout the lands.

At first, Shadow Milk was perturbed, but when he suddenly began to snicker, Pure Vanilla looked at him in confusion. "What's so funny?"

"You may have won this battle. You may have undone my work...but your friends and your beloved cookie are still gone forever!" He cackled. "All that power won't bring them back! They've crumbled to dust! Nothing more than helpless souls that will roam my Spire for eons-!"

"We're actually fine! Thank you, though."

Bewildered, he whirled around just in time to see you, Gingerbrave, Strawberry Cookie, and Wizard Cookie rush into the room, weapons drawn. Not a scratch nor crack was left on any of your dough.

It's like he never pushed you all off that tower to begin with.

Not only that, but Fortune Teller Cookie was also present, silently following you four to confront the Beast once and for all.

However, upon realizing who he was currently facing, your jaw dropped. "No way.."

"Woah! What on earthbread is that?!" Wizard Cookie exclaimed, almost frightened. "Another one of his monsters?"

"No. That can't be Shadow Milk Cookie's minion!" Gingerbrave huffed. "It looks too much like-"

"Pure Vanilla Cookie..?" Strawberry Cookie uttered, only to gasp as the giant angel nodded.

"Is...i-is that really you?"

He looked to you, tilting his head, before shifting form---this time shrinking down to his normal cookie height, resembling the Ancient Hero you've always known and loved. His wings, crown, and waffle ring remained, but he gazed at you with that familiar smile. "It always has been me, [Y/n] Cookie."

Tears brimmed your eyes as you rushed over to hug him. "I never thought I'd see you again! Did you ever plan on telling me that you were..?"

"To be honest, I wasn't sure when or where. But I suppose there's no time like the present." He chuckled, holding you tightly. "I'm happy you're safe."

"We owe it all to Fortune Teller Cookie. But I'm confused.." You let him go, eyes shifting between the two. "You guys are the same person, so...how did you pull that off?"

"Haha, don't you remember? "In this tower, space and time intertwine in a myriad of reflections." Here, the past and present coexist. The cards showed me a glimpse of a possible future. A future that had yet come to pass...fortunately, I was able to prevent it."

"I see. I'm glad Fort--err, you were there to help us." You turned to the hooded cookie with a smile. "Thank you, my dear."

Fortune Teller Cookie nodded his head, a smile coming to his own lips as he returned to his present-self, where they merged as one. It was such a beautiful and mesmerizing display that had the younger cookies beside you in awe.

But it did not last, as the Spire's violent rumbling reminded you all that your job wasn't done yet.

"Excuse me? I'm so sorry to disturb you..but I'M STILL THE MAIN CHARACTER HERE!!" Shadow Milk snapped, tired of being ignored as he raised his weapon. "You got lucky. So what?! I have other ways to kill you all!!"

Several small portals spawned in the room, and the monsters that you've faced during your ascent began to appear on all sides: Haetaes of Lies, Slithering Scrolls of Lies, Winding Totems of Lies, and Shadow Wolves in Sheep Clothing gnashed their teeth--each and every one ready to attack on his command.

"Oh for crying out loud!" Wizard Cookie groaned, charging his staff with lightning magic. "How many of these things have we beaten?! Just give up already!"

"He can keep summoning them forever.." You sighed, although you stood firm and glared at the nearby wolf. "But if he's not gonna surrender, we won't either. For the good of the Cookie World, we have to win-"

"Hold on." Pure Vanilla raised a hand, abruptly silencing you as he looked to his counterpart. "Shadow Milk Cookie, wait."

"What now? Afraid to lose them again, little birdie?" He taunted.

"You are right. For me, nothing is more important than protecting my friends. But they are much stronger than you realize." The Ancient Hero huffed. "They've helped me find my path again."

"...hah, seriously? You're gonna lecture me now?"

"Well, I've been wondering...instead of taking my soul jam by force, you decided to try me and see if I could truly fall. Why?"

There was an uncomfortable pause, and you weren't sure what his motivations were for asking that now instead of fighting back--but you stayed quiet.

"Oh, what does that matter? Can't I have a little fun? Seeing the seeker of Truth tremble, consumed by self-doubt? So scared to be devoured by Deceit?!" He flicked his weapon to you. "Afraid of what your sweetheart might think? They see a different side of you now. Something you've kept hidden from them for oh-so-long~! Amazing how they didn't feel betrayed by-"

"You say that, and yet..I saw your records. I saw how happy you were to see my soul jam touched by Deceit."

".....what?" He blinked.

"And I could feel how lonely you truly are." With a slight frown, Pure Vanilla put a hand to his chest. "[Y/n] Cookie could sense it, too."

Silent, Shadow Milk Cookie's gaze shifted to yours, noticing how you loosened your grip on your weapon, as well as the subtle nod of your head. "At first I didn't, but now...I think I have a better understanding of you-"

You were cut off by a howl of laughter that echoed throughout the room.

"AHAHAHA! NOW WHO IS THE CLOWN HERE?! Him or you?? Oh, I'm tearing up!! Look at my Spire! Bask in its splendor! Here, I have anything I want! Fools eager to fall to their knees in exchange for one little lie!" He gestured to everything, sneering at you. "You...You must've lost your minds! How could you possibly understand me?!"

"You say you can have anything you want here, but..it's really him that you want. And you realized I was in the way." You pointed out. "You could've gotten rid of me. Torn me up in a card. Shattered me as a chess piece. But...you let me be a spectator. You hesitated to push me off this tower. You did everything you could to test our bond. To see if we would break, or if I'd shun him for turning into a liar. All of that couldn't have been out of simple "enjoyment"."

"SILENCE!!" He barked. "You dare act like you know me?!! You lowly cookies know NOTHING!!"

Pure Vanilla stepped forward despite the snarling monsters still surrounding you all. "That's where you're mistaken, I'm afraid. When you and I became one briefly-"

Without warning, Shadow Milk slammed his weapon down, now redirecting his anger to the Ancient Hero. "One more word out of you, and I will wipe your pathetic dough off the face of the world!!"

Yet he wasn't intimidated by the threat. Nobody was.

"--I felt it. A minute droplet of longing, hiding in the dark."

"........."

"I know it, for I've felt the same. Many times. Until [Y/n] Cookie brought me out of that darkness." He looked to you with the warmest smile, prompting you to come forward as well and take his hand. "They've saved me. And maybe..that's who you needed all along, too."

"I...I don't need any cookie to "save" me." Shadow Milk tried protesting, although his resolve was weakening. "How could you-?"

"We share the same soul jam. So yes..I am the only one who truly understands you, Shadow Milk Cookie."

"....but..that's.."

"And..if you'd let me, I'd like to understand you, too." You added with a tiny smile of your own. "You laugh in the face of loneliness, but you still haven't denied it, have you?"

"....."

"This doesn't have to end in violence." Pure Vanilla let go of your hand, instead offering it to the Beast. "You don't have to be lonely anymore. We are here. Please..let us walk the path of truth and deceit together."

The monsters of lies were still awaiting their orders to attack, but much to their confusion...their master abruptly fell to his knees, staff clattering to the ground.

And just like that, all of them had vanished into thin air.

"Together..?" He asked in the smallest of voices, although when he realized how vulnerable that sounded, he growled and scowled deeply at you all. "No...why did you have to make this so difficult?!! I HATE you all! I hate YOU and your soul jam and your stupid bird form and lovely-dovey relationship-!"

"Okay that's enough."

In an impulsive act that was either very stupid or very brave, you kneeled down to sweep him into a hug--but in your gut, you trusted that he had no tricks left up his sleeves. "That's no way to talk to the Avatar of Destiny now, is it?"

"...wh-wha...what are you doing?" He struggled a little. "Didn't you hear me?! I said I hate you!"

"Come on, Shadow Milk Cookie. Give a rest already. Aren't you tired?"

"...I...I'm not..." Yet despite his attempts, he could not get the words out.

Because even he knew they would were lies you and Pure Vanilla could easily see through.

You felt him struggle less and less in your hold, until he stopped moving entirely. His expression became unreadable, and for once...he didn't say anything at all.

"Uh..[Y/n] Cookie? Maybe it's time to let him go..." Wizard Cookie warned.

"It's okay, my friend. This is how I'm gonna embrace Deceit, by literally embracing him." You chuckled softly, only to fall silent as you felt the Beast's head fall onto your shoulder, his body going slack. "Huh? Oh..."

"H-How can you do this? After all I did to him..to you and your friends?!" He asked, his tone utterly defeated as he trembled a little, blue claws clutching at your armor. "Is this...what you truly desire?"

Before you could answer, Pure Vanilla's wings came into view as he knelt down on the other side of him, embracing him from behind. "This is what we both desire, Shadow Milk Cookie. Thank you for accepting us."

The only response he got was a tiny sniffle, but given how the blue cookie practically melted into your arms, you knew that he was beyond exhausted and had no room left in him to fight.

While Black Sapphire and Candy Apple were bewildered that their master had fallen like this, Gingerbrave and his friends couldn't help but smile, relieved that the mind-bending games and illusions were finally over.

The Avatar of Destiny was certainly a shocking reveal,....but so was the truth that Shadow Milk just wanted somebody who understood him and was willing to reach out and dig up that loneliness he so desperately tried to keep buried.

And it ends up being two cookies, not one, who succeeded.