#but i just woke up and i needed to spew

[guiltreservoir]

i personally think eddie's decision to take kim on a date makes so much sense for his character. this is a heavily traumatized man who has not properly processed the grief of losing his wife and mother of his child. this is a man who has been seeking to recreate the fantasy family he'd built with christopher and shannon in his mind - even though shannon herself was ready to divorce him before she died. this is a man who wants nothing but a second chance, an opportunity to try again, to make it work, make it better.

and then he sees kim, and his good conscience is clouded by potential. she looks exactly like shannon. she laughs like shannon. she's quick-witted, charismatic, magnetic. she's absolutely gorgeous. she feels so easy and natural to talk to. she isn't shannon, she just feels like shannon - eddie doesn't even know her at all. but to him, she might as well be a carbon copy. she is someone that is so easy for him to project all of his wants and desires onto. she is someone who could be just like shannon, maybe, at least for now. eddie wants to find out for himself.

this is a decision eddie is making purely out of his own wishes, and he is not thinking about it clearly; he is being straight-up delusional. this is one of the first decisions we've ever really seen eddie make that is so blatantly self-serving and selfish, even more so than leaving for the army. this isn't a self-defense mechanism, this is a self-sabotage. some sort of fucked-up penance, or maybe a willing step into purgatory.

for maybe the first time in his life, eddie isn't thinking about anyone else. he esepcially isn't thinking about christopher - imagine what chris would think if he found out his dad's dating a dead ringer for his dead mom (let alone that it's on top of dating marisol)? even if eddie's somehow justifying it in his mind - maybe chris would be happy about it too - he knows this is a terrible choice and he's doing it anyway.

he is desperate to recreate what he thinks he could've had with shannon, he is very much hurting and still in deep mourning, and he is still not being honest with himself about what he truly wants or needs to be happy with himself. he's also realizing that whatever he wants, it probably isn't with marisol. but instead of breaking up with her, he's making the choice to complicate things for himself even further. it feels like some sort of subconscious self-flagellation. very ex-catholic of him.

it's so interesting that eddie is doing this without considering the true repercussions. he is blinded by the fact that he has a chance to date 'shannon' again and isn't thinking about literally anything else. it's going to cause suuuch a mess and i am so excited to watch how everything unfolds. i think eddie needs a bit of a reckoning to be able to get fully real with himself, and i really hope this is the first domino that tips to knock over his entire carefully-constructed illusions, the streak of sun that burns through the clouds in his mind so he can find some meaningful clarity.

[aerithmybbgmypookiemywife]

Genshin SAGAU where they hide in the Fortress Of Meropide in order to live a normal life.

not proofread pt2

Creator! Reader who woke up confused in Fontaine. "What the fuck..." you mumbled as you were trying to piece everything together, why were you here? Is this a dream...?

You soon realized that you died in the real world because of Truck-Kun. Now... You have to adjust into this world...

It took a little bit of time to adjust but with the help of an old fisherman living in the mountains who took you in, it didn't take long before you accepted this life.

Creator! Reader who wants to live their life in peace and don't ever want to be found by the Archons or... Any of the main characters for that matter! It'd be a headache if they found out... You didn't want people being overprotective over you.

You wanted freedom...

Creator! Reader who gets found out by the old fisherman as the Creator by accident. You looked at your bleeding hand in horror as it spew out golden blood. The old fisherman quickly grabbed a cloth and wrapped it around your finger.

The old fisherman seemed to connect the pieces together, "So this is why you don't want to go to the city... And why you just popped out of nowhere in the fields..." the old man mumbled. "I- please... Don't tell anyone...!" you cried out. His eyes widened, "Oh! No! Your Grace I would never! But... You're not safe here... There will come a time that you will be found..." The old fisherman sighed.

Creator! Reader who conducted a plan to fake a robbery. The plan was to make it look like you 'stole' from the old man. The old fisherman would report you and you would be sentenced as a thief and banished to the Fortress of Meropide, living in the shadows... Like a ghost.

When your case was being heard, you saw Furina there, that means the traveller hadn't arrived yet... That'll be a problem for you in the future but you brushed it off, promising yourself you'd avoid the traveller like their the black plague.

When you arrived there, Childe was already gone... This was bad... That means the Traveller is coming soon.

It didn't help that you also saw Wriothesley face to face, his observing stare making you nervous... But with how he let you off easily, you don't think he found anything suspicious about you.

Creator! Reader who can't seem to not help Aether and Paimon along with the three siblings, Lynette, Lyney, and Freminet. Always leaving small clues so that they can advance to the story faster, or making sure they don't get hurt or get into an accident. You already knew what the story of Fontaine was but with your current existence... You were unsure if there were some things that'll change.

Creator! Reader who gets found out by Aether...

Your body flinched as he called your name... He knew your name... "You're... Them right...?" He added, you dared not to turn around, getting ready to run away since he hadn't seen your face yet. "You are them... The creator..." he spoke out again, "Please... Don't run away..." he begged as he walked closer to you. You slowly turned around to face him, "...How did you know it was me...?" you asked.

"That... Warmth... That lingering feeling... I felt it. It lead me towards you... I-I thought you were gone, or that you were upset since I hadn't felt you in so long..." He replied as tears rolled down his cheeks, he eventually hugged you, to which you allowed him to. Rubbing his back to comfort him.

Creator! Reader who tells Aether to never tell anyone about you or your existence to which he obliged. You watched everything unfold, from the start to the aftermath of the flood. Everything went well, and not a single soul other than Aether and the old Fisherman know of your existence.

"Everything went well... Neuvillette made sure Furina had an apartment near Palais Mermonia." Aether reported to you, "That's great news." You smiled at him, "Ah! You need to go, people would probably find it suspicious if they found you talking to a random prisoner for no reason." you added to which he nodded, he was about to leave but you stopped him for a moment and gave him a head pat. He was like a younger brother, he blushed and remained standing there for a few seconds, waiting for you to stop.

You let out a small laugh, "Sorry, I got carried away." he only nodded and quickly left, too flustered to even muster a response. You watched him as he left your prison cell.

You then walked towards your bed, looking for your work clothes as you were planning on working again for tickets. You then hear footsteps, you didn't bother turning around as you assumed it was Aether.

"Aether, did you leave something?" you asked, "Aether? You mean the traveller?" you froze... That voice wasn't from Aether... You slowly turned around to see... Wriothesley. You blood ran cold as you stared at him, your mind scrambling as it tried to find words to say.

"You don't have to say anything." He added, slowly walking towards you. "You know... I thought there was something so weird about you... Something about you kept pulling me in and I didn't know why... At first I thought you were just a Fatui spy but now..." he was only a feet away from you now, "I realized that you're them... The creator."

part 2...???

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Kiss Me*

————————————————————————-

Summary: Another Joe prank! After engaging with so many couple pranks and trends on Tiktok, your FYP just keeps giving you more ideas! This time it's wiping your lips after Joe kisses you…

Warnings: fluff, unserious/funny, pranks, smut at the end.

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Into The Mystic

————————————————————————-

*no particular date for this blurb!*

(y/n’s pov)

Today was a slow, boring, rainy day. Joe was downstairs making dinner and playing with the boys while doing so. My parents were coming down for dinner tonight and Joe has always felt the need to make a three-course dinner for them every time they come over, even though he’s had their approval for several years now.

I sat upstairs on the bed. It was that time of the month and I was also coming down from a stomach virus, not fun at all. The only positive was Joe playing sexy nurse for me, bringing me soup, and tissues, checking my temp, holding my hair when I got sick, just all around being the best husband ever.

The sounds of giggles spewing from my twin boys playing with their daddy warmed my heart. Their laughing patterns had me guessing what was going on down there. My hypothesis was Joe was “chasing” the boys, catching them, trapping them on the couch, and tickling the daylights out of them.

I was contemplating going down there to find out but the giggling stopped, and before I knew it Joe was walking into our room. He respectively knocked and when I told him to come in he did.

“Hey. You doing okay, mama?” - Joe

“Mhm.” - you softly smiled

“That's good. Do you need anything? If you're not feeling 100% we can cancel on your parents, I'll even call them myself.” - Joe

“No, I’m okay Joe. I appreciate your offering though. Can you come here for a sec?” - you

“Mhm.” - Joe

Joe softly smiled at me as he made his way over to the bed and got under the covers on his respective side.

I rolled over into his chest and got comfortable as Joe rubbed my back.

“I love you, J.” - you

“I love you more. I've got dinner mostly done, a couple of pieces of chicken aren't up to temp yet but the sides are finished.” - Joe

“Good job Mr. Chef.” - you giggled

“Mr. Chef? Sounds kinky.” - Joe chuckled

“Joseph Lee!” - you leaned up and gave him a dirty look only to find him laughing with his head back.

“Sorry, I had to. You should know by now that if there's an opportunity for a dirty joke Imma jump on it.” - Joe

“I know it, and your jokes are funny. Just get it out of your system before your in-laws are here, Burrow.” - you laughed

“Yes ma'am!” - Joe laughed along with you.

Joe went to lean down for a kiss and a memory flashed in my mind from this morning.

This morning when I woke up alone in bed the shower in the bathroom told me that Joe was in there, I scrolled on TikTok for a little bit and ended up in my collection of videos saved with the title “Do with Joe.”

It consisted of all the couple trends and pranks that I've already done on him plus ones I wanted to do but haven't yet.

Due to the gloomy weather outside, I felt like a prank would be fun to do today. This one specifically was going to be very fun.

Joe and I kiss maybe 10,000,000 times a day. That's definitely not an exaggeration either. Before we were even a couple we loved little pecks or even long make-outs; kissing each other was just essential when the feeling of each other’s lips felt like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

What this prank was is every time your partner kissed you, you'd wipe it off. Whether it be a hand kiss, a cheek kiss, a forehead kiss, or a kiss on the lips. It was to be wiped off.

Now that Joe was going to kiss me for the first time it was a perfect time to let the ranking begin.

His smooth pink lips were on mine softly and before I knew it he was pulling away.

Joe smiled down at me as he started to lean up from the bed but paused when I wiped my lips with the back of my hand.

The small smile on his lips faltered and he furrowed his brows at me.

“I've brushed my teeth this morning, so I don't have morning breath… what's up?” - Joe

I shrugged and Joe frowned.

“Are you worried you're gonna get me sick? Because you know my immune system is like a brick wall… even if you were still a little sick we could have a full make out and I promise I’d be fine.” - Joe

“Mmm, okay.” - you giggled

Joe smiled at me giggling at his response, hoping that meant he had convinced me to let him kiss me. It was a few seconds later that Joe leaned in again, pressing his lips with a little bit more force than the first time.

“I love yo-” - Joe stopped when you wiped his kiss off again

“Baby, I’m fine to kiss you.” - Joe

“I know.” - you

“Then why do you keep wiping my damn kisses off??” - Joe whined

“Just don’t feel like it today.” - you

He looked hurt and taken aback by my reasoning. Joe knew I loved kissing him so this was weird to him. Was it something he did?

Eventually, Joe walked out of the room playing with his bracelets anxiously. I'm going to absolutely smooch him to death later because even though I'm choosing to do these pranks, he always takes them personally and it makes me feel bad.

After getting out of bed and ready for dinner, I walked downstairs to find Joe setting the table. Tyson and Miles were already dressed in their usual matching fashion and their hair was fixed. My heart warmed since their hair had recently started getting curlier, and they now both had one singular blonde hair hanging over their forehead. They're just like their daddy.

“Thanks for getting the boys ready.” - you smiled at Joe

“Oh, you're welcome. I didn't want you to have to do it so I went ahead and did.” - Joe

I nodded and walked over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and laying my head on his chest after he put the last plate down.

“Have you heard from my parents?” - you

Joe laid his head against mine and mumbled a “Mhm”.

“They said they'd be here in around 30 minutes.” - Joe

“Okay sounds good. Do you need help with anything?” - you

“Nope, I've got it all. Dinner is done, the table is set, the boys are ready, and drinks are in the fridge.” - Joe

Pulling away from his chest, my smile gleamed as I looked at my man.

“You are the best husband ever, Joe.” - you

“I try to be, baby. You deserve nothing but the best and that's what I try to be.” - Joe

“Gosh. I love you so much. You make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world, Joe.” - you

Joe was grinning and rubbing my back, he went to lean in and kiss me but awkwardly paused and pulled back.

“Sorry I… forgot.” - Joe

Fuck.

God I was supposed to be pranking him but now all I wanted to do was grab him, throw him on the couch, cuddle him, and whisper in his ear how much I loved him as I kissed all over his face.

“You make this so hard.” - you sighed

“W- what?” - Joe

“I’m supposed to be pranking you by wiping my mouth after you kiss me but now I just feel bad. You're too sweet and cute for your own good. I'm sorry for pranking you again. I think it's going to be funny but then you make me sad.” - you

“Sorry for ruining your prank, baby.” - Joe giggled

“You didn't ruin anything… you're just too… perfect.” - you

“Def not perfect. I'm not gonna lie though, I'm a little sad about your prank.” - Joe

“I'm so sorry. After my parents leave we can do whatever you want, I won't complain.” - you

——

“Bye guys, see you soon!” - you

“Bye, get home safe!” - Joe

“Bye, gamma!!” - Tyson

“Bye, gwampy!” - Miles

My parents waved bye at us one last time before Joe opened the front door and gently guided the boys inside.

“Mama, tuck me in?” - Miles

“Of course, sweetie!” - you grinned at your boy

“Me too mama!” - Tyson hugged your leg

“I’ll tuck you both in don't worry.” - you smiled

“Why do you guys not want Daddy to put you to bed?!” - Joe

Joe held his arms up in defeat, waiting for Tyson or Miles to answer as they hugged at my legs.

“You don't read as good as Mama.” - Miles giggled

Joe’s mouth hung open from how distraught he was that his boys were turning away from him. I giggled at the look on his face before bending down to rub the boys’ backs to get their attention.

“Say goodnight to Dada and then we’ll go upstairs.” - you

Tyson was the first one to detach from me and run up to Joe, who happily scooped him up with one arm. Ty laid his head on his dad’s shoulder and Joe leaned over to kiss his cheek. He ran his fingers through the light blonde hair that was identical to his when he was their age.

“G’night, Dada.” - Tyson

“Night night buddy.” - Joe handed him over to you

Joe squatted down and Miles immediately walked into his father's embrace, wrapping his tiny arms around Joe’s neck as he hugged him. Joe had one hand on Miles's back and the size comparison was insane, his hand covering his son’s entire back.

“Night, Daddy.” - Miles

“Goodnight, Mi-guy.” - Joe

Miles wiggled out of Joe’s arms and back over to me. Joe stood back up at his full height and towered over me in such a delicious way.

“Stay down here. I'll be coming back down soon.” - you

The smirk forming on his lips told me he read between the lines and he realized the promise I made earlier was more sexual than he had originally thought.

Anything I want, Joe thought.

——

The boys went to sleep rather quickly but before I went downstairs I made a beeline for the bedroom. I grabbed a hairband put my hair up, just in case, and took my clothes off. I slipped one of Joe’s shirts over my naked body and went downstairs.

Joe was sitting on the couch, manspreading in his usual fashion as he watched the TV in front of him.

The light from the TV showed off every beautiful curve in his face and accentuated his chiseled jawline.

After giving him a slow look up and down, my eyes lingered on his crotch where a clear bulge had formed in his slinky shorts.

He's definitely been thinking about what he wants to do.

Walking out of my hiding spot on the stairs, Joe’s eyes averted from the TV to my frame and a smile graced his lips when he saw my ponytail.

“Hey…” - you sat down next to Joe

Joe flicked the TV off, and now the room was only being lit by the small table lamps, this lighting made Joe look ridiculously sexy.

He looked over at me and licked his lips.

“What are we gonna do?” - you smiled

I watched Joe fist his shorts and pull the legs of them higher up, showcasing more of his gorgeous muscular thighs. God, those thighs.

“Since you didn't want those pretty lips touching my lips. We're gonna use them somewhere else. Sound good, mama?” - Joe

Nodding, a smirk formed on Joe’s lips as I lowered onto my knees.

I palmed Joe through his shorts causing him to groan, and satisfied I pulled them and his boxers down his long legs.

Joe’s dick was already hard, swollen, and slightly wet from the precum beading at the red tip.

Gesturing for Joe to lift his arms, I pulled his shirt over his head and almost moaned at the familiar sight of his erect cock laying against his chiseled torso.

Taking his base in my hand I finally did what Joe had been wanting, kissing his tip sloppily.

“Oh god. Fucking suck it baby.” - Joe groaned

That was all the praise I needed to take his length into my mouth, sucking on it as I bobbed up and down. Joe was groaning and cursing left and right.

“Your mouth baby… your lips, wish I could have ‘em around my cock 24 fucking 7.” - Joe

His words only made me moan around him, causing Joe to moan out himself.

Joe was letting me do the work, for now. It wasn't long after I thought that when he grabbed my ponytail and started moving me on his cock.

“Atta girl, mama. Makin’ me feel so good.” - Joe

Minutes later Joe’s hips started bucking, signaling to me that he was close so I doubled my efforts. My hand moved on his base to stimulate what I couldn't get in my mouth and Joe’s moans told me he appreciated it.

“Gonna make me fuckin’ cum.” - Joe moaned

It was soon after that, I tried to quicken my pace even more and Joe was an absolute mess. He was choking on his own groans and was so close.

“Baby! I'm cumming!” - Joe grunted out

Shortly after his warning he released in my throat. I stayed with his dick in my mouth as I watched him through my lashes.

Joe looked completely blissed out and his chest was heaving and glistening with sweat. His forehead was also sweaty and the veins that ran through his body were bulging out.

He pulled at my ponytail, telling me to get off, and when I did I grabbed a tissue out of the box on the end table to clean him up.

After I cleaned Joe up and slipped his boxers back on, I went to wipe my mouth off but Joe grabbed my forearm.

“Dont you fucking dare wipe your lips.” - Joe

Feeling the abundance of saliva and precum on my lips and chin, I sucked in a heavy breath.

“Kiss me.” - Joe

————————————————————————-

Authors note: guys even I'm giggling at the ending.

Request for this fic; (anon I literally took your idea and RAN with it. I actually have no way to defend myself on how this turned into a BJ.)

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[hysteria-things]

TOUR (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt’s been on tour for about a month, meaning he hasn’t seen or done anything with you in a month. he takes matters into his own hands when he’s finally alone, but he does need your help with it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, mentions underage drinking, swearing, male masturbation, overstimulation (kinda)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 830

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: umm guys i literally woke up to over a hundred notifications??? thank you SO much i didn’t expect this to happen at all. i’m having so much fun with this🥲

my notes app is COOKING right now and the ideas are ideaing. you guys and your support makes me low key emotional LMAO

i want to try and post once a day but i might do more than once sometimes instead because i am HYPE.

also conflicted if i should make a part two so let me know!

it’s friday night and you’re sitting in your best friend’s living room. the two of you and other close friends come together some weekends to hang out. you guys have been laughing, drinking (despite being underage by a year), watching TV, or playing games. in the middle of laughing, you feel your phone buzz repeatedly underneath your thigh. you lift your leg to retrieve it, seeing an incoming phone call from your boyfriend matt.

“hey, sorry. mind if i take this?” you ask the group, lifting your phone so they can see the screen.

“not at all.” your best friend smiles.

you get up from the couch. “thanks. continue the game without me.”

you speed walk to the bathroom and close the door accepting the call and bringing it to your ear. “hello?”

“hey.” he breathes out.

“hey, you.” you smile. “how are you doing?”

“fine,” he says. he’s silent for a beat before speaking again. “sorry i didn’t talk to you much today. it’s been busy, but we just finished the tampa show.”

you haven’t seen matt in over a month because he’s been touring with his brothers across the country. you couldn’t be more proud, but you guys miss each other like crazy.

“did you win?”

“damn right i did, baby,” he says hoarsely. he sounds a bit strange to you, but you shrug it off as exhaustion. doing shows almost every day can wear somebody out.

but oh boy are you wrong.

on the other line, matt sits on his bed in the tour bus with his hand wrapped around his dick. your recent post on instagram is displayed on his screen as you talk about your day on the other end, having no clue what’s happening.

the post consists of you posing, wearing a short navy blue dress. your tits practically spilled out of the top.

“…was crazy.” you finish. “anyway, is tour fun so far? it’s almost over already.”

“uh huh.” he squeezes his eyes shut and throws his head back. he hisses, his movements gradually becoming faster. he’s sensitive, and it hurts so fucking bad. he needs to release, but only you have the power to make him come undone.

“matt? you okay? you sound off.” you ask concerned.

“keep talking, baby. i’m so close.”

you go to say something, but instead, press your ear closer to the phone. you hear shuffling and grunting. it doesn’t take a mastermind to figure out what he’s doing.

“you’re being risky, matthew.” you say teasingly, a whine escaping his lips. he prefers being called matt, but with you, matthew rolls perfectly off of your tongue. “where’s everybody else, hm?”

“at the store,” he says shakily, his hand pumping faster. he takes his thumb and twirls it around his red tip where pre-cum is threatening to spew out. “i need to cum so bad.”

“then do it, baby. pretend it’s me making you feel so good,” you say seductively, biting your lip as you hear his sounds of pleasure.

you get that familiar feeling in your core, but because you’re at a friend's, you’ll feel weird doing it in her bathroom.

guess you’ll have to wait until you’re all alone.

“fuck.” he whispers, stomach jerking. he thrusts up into his fist a few times to finish the job. he whines as he makes a mess all over his stomach and thighs.

he whines again, purposely trying to overstimulate himself. “matt, don’t overdo it. you’re too sensitive.” you say, knowing he didn’t stop because you can still hear the commotion.

“please.” he exhales. “one more.”

“hold on,” you reply, opening the camera app on the phone. you pull the straps down of your dress and pull out your boobs, pushing them together and snapping a picture. you know how much matt goes crazy over them. you send the photo, waiting for his reaction.

you bring the phone back up to your ear to hear a sigh of “holy fuck” fall from his mouth.

“i need to fuck your tits so bad.” he groans, throwing his head back as he tries to reach his second orgasm.

you bite your lip to hide your smile, enjoying this a little too much. the wet noises on the other line drive you insane.

“i’m gonna— fuck, i’m cumming.” he lets out a loud moan as he makes another mess, his dick red and swollen. he’s still not satisfied, because you’re not there. he continues pumping his cramped hand, but you and he both know it’s no use.

“matt, that’s enough.” you say sternly. “don’t do it too much, okay? it’ll hurt.”

he obliges, removing his hand and lying there. his breathing starts to slow, but he’s still panting. “i miss you so much.”

“i miss you too.” you coo. “just a few more days, okay?”

“okay,” he mumbles.

you lied.

what matt doesn’t know is that you have a plane ticket for tomorrow, to fly out to ft. lauderdale for the last show.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing

[dumbkiri]

𝕯𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖄𝖔𝖚 2

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

@lionheart178

You both asked for it and I couldn't resist. If this is well received as much as the first part, part three will include Rhaenys v Aegon v Aemond

Apologies for any mistakes spelling wise and story wise. HOTD is confusing okay!

[Name] woke up at the beginning of dawn with a knock at the door. The knock only stirred him awake because he trained his body to wake at any sound, also because he stayed alert after what happened last night. He couldn’t allow another assassination to happen under his nose. 

He blinked his eyes open and looked around the bed. Somehow Daenerys and her dragons made their way in between him and Helaena, the little girl being embraced by her mother protectively. The man sighed at the peaceful sight and he took himself out of bed with smooth movements. He didn’t want to stir his family from their sleep, not yet anyways.

The person at the door had a great amount of patience, [Name] noted. So the list of names got shorter. It couldn’t be his twin, Aegon, or his younger brother Aemond. Both would have stormed in without a second thought. His mother had patience, but her anxiety would have made her knock on the door again. The other people on this list like the council members, he didn’t want to talk to at such an early time. 

Politics were boring. 

Even still, he slipped a loose shirt over his head and popped his arms into the sleeves. Then he walked over to the door, the sleep gone from his eyes and his lips ready to spew out a curse here and there at the person for wanting to have a conversation so early. 

His hand grabbed the handle of the door and he opened it up to reveal a disheveled Aegon. His twin brother looked like a terrible mess and [Name] swiftly brought him into the large room. Aegon didn’t need to be seen by the castle people. Lords and Ladies would be talking about him for days, maybe even weeks about how he looked. 

The curse words on his lips fell short when he caught a glimpse at his twin. [Name] led Aegon over to the couch and sat him down while he took a seat across from him. Aegon sniffled and looked over to the left where he saw bodies laying on the bed with relaxed breathing. 

“They’re making mother and Jeyne follow Jaehaerys on a cart,” Aegon said softly looking back at [Name], “they s..stitched his-”

“I know, brother,” [Name] responded with a defeated sigh. It was no secret what those ratcatchers did to Jaehaerys. The poor boy had no reason to go through that pain and suffering. “You can tell Otto not to go through with this. You can grieve in a healthy way, Aegon. Have you seen your queen at all?” 

Aegon looked down at the floor with his hands fumbling over with each other, “No.”

[Name] leaned back into the sofa and said, “You should go and see her.”

“She can’t see me like this!” He whispered, gesturing to his messy look. His red eyes puffy from all the crying he did. His breath smelled of wine too. 

“It’ll be good for her to see you like that,” [Name] replied, “because it shows Jeyne that you are a grieving father. She is a grieving mother, you think she looks pretty like a queen right now?”

Aegon processed his words and he wiped his nose with his sleeve. Then he asked, “How do you not look like me? How can Helaena sleep as if her son didn’t die?” The glare didn’t go unnoticed by [Name] and he leaned forward feeling animosity radiate off of Aegon’s body. If Aegon wanted to speak ill about him and his wife, he should have spoken to someone else. 

But he bit his tongue and relaxed, his twin just needed to understand. To learn how to grieve properly. 

“I don’t look like you because I leaned on my wife for support. Helaena could sleep knowing I was in bed with her along with our daughter. Listen to what I have to say Aegon, you need your wife and she needs you. Nothing is more important than her. You do your best to love your family and to protect them.”

The lilac eyed man clutched his knees and sneered, “I regret not being there for them. I regret taking Balerion on patrol when I should have been asleep already. But she lifted the weight of my shoulders and loved me. She understood my plight despite dealing with her own. A husband and a wife need a sturdy foundation to stand on. If the floor beneath her crumbles, I know I’ll be there to hold her hand. To repair that foundation with her. That’s what you and Jeyne need to do. Grieve together, love each other and repair the foundation.”

[Name] lowered his voice when he saw a small body rise up in her bed. The little girl looked around frantically and finally spotted her father sitting on the sofas across the room. Quickly she slid out of bed and her feet carried her over to her father. 

“Daenerys,” [Name]’s features softened and he opened his arms wide to capture his little girl in his arms, “why are you crying, little one?” 

Aegon watched how loving his twin was. He never admitted it out loud, but [Name] made high expectations in being a father. He didn’t drink every night, he trained his son every day, cared for their studies and even joined Daenerys in her embroidery classes. To which brought happiness to Helaena. 

“You weren’t in bed, I thought you left us,” Daenerys cried and hugged her father tightly. Meanwhile [Name]’s heart constricted with a little heartbreak. Left us, she said. Daenerys recognizes the danger without him, the consequences of an absent father. [Name] rubbed his hand up and down her back, bouncing the leg she sat on. 

“Everything is alright, Dany. I’m here, I’m here,” He repeated and pressed a kiss at the crown of her head. After a time, her sobs quieted down and she remained in his arms, not wanting to go anywhere else. 

Aegon with a small smile on his face said, “I forgot how close Dany was to you.” He spoke the truth. Daenerys very rarely left her father’s side besides when she had to go to classes. She often flew on Balerion with him and watched Rhaegar train in the fields. Daenerys admired her father a lot, no one could ruin his image. Not even the ratcatchers. 

“You hear that Dany,” [Name] peered down and nudged his forehead against hers, “Your uncle thinks you spend too much time with me.” 

Dany wiped her tears and said, “Not enough time, uncle. You always take Father away.” Her teasing glare made Aegon feign a surrender, his hands held up high. A chuckle left Aegon’s lips and [Name] came to another realization. Aegon didn’t need Jeyne to help him grieve. 

“Please forgive me, dragon warrior,” Aegon playfully responded, “but your father is an exceptional fighter. He protects this kingdom so well and always stands up for me.” 

Daenerys laughed and sat up wanting to play along with her uncle. The little girl wrapped her arms around [Name]’s neck and said, “But who will stand up for Father? Do you think you’re worthy enough to protect the Warrior of Light, the rider of Balerion?” 

Aegon subtly looked at his twin and [Name] mouthed, “She takes play pretend seriously, you’re in for it now.” 

To which, Aegon didn’t mind because this moment distracted him from the night before. His niece took away the pain, her demanding words and playful attitude brought him into a different world. Play pretend, [Name] called it. How often did his twin brother play like this with his children? 

[Name] knew exactly what Aegon was thinking and he spoke up, “Daenerys and Rhaegar are very creative and imaginative. She plays the role of a dragon warrior, defender of the realm while Rhaegar played as a priest, a man of truth and light.” 

Aegon smirked and before he could ask what was up with that, [Name] shook his head with a grin, “Don’t ask me why, Rhaegar was different in many ways. Anyways Helaena, chosen by Rhaegar, was the Queen and you could only imagine what they made me.” 

“Oh~” Aegon kept his smirk, “they made you a king?”

[Name] laughed and responded with mirth, “A bloody peasant in love with the widowed queen.” 

Aegon hollered and fell back into the cushions of the sofa. “Your kids hold you very high in opinion, but in their world they made you a peasant!” Aegon could not believe what he heard. 

“Yes, we all dress up for our game too,” [Name] laughed again, “my clothes are very itchy, I tell you.” 

The brothers laughed together, but [Name]’s died down a bit before Aegon’s. The older twin enjoyed seeing that smile on his brother’s face. Aegon needed him, [Name] told himself. Him and his family to cheer him up. But they were to leave, very soon. Guilt ate at him and he debated whether to tell Aegon of his plan, but his brother wouldn’t take it lightly. 

[Name] planned to move to the other side, taking Dreamfyre and Balerion with him. Taking Moonlight, Nightmare and Frostfang, his children’s dragons. That’s adding two dragon riders to the Blacks. Technically one because Helaena could never burn people. [Name] would have to make that point abundantly clear to the Blacks. 

“Aegon, there’s something I must tell you.” 

[Name] saw Aegon catch his breath, a faint smile still present on his face. 

“You are strong, brother,” [Name] kindly said, “Yes, others may think you’re only a drunk. But I’ve seen you in the throne room trying to help out your subjects. Only to have Otto strike you down. I’ve seen you try to take charge, only to have that fire stoked out by the council members.”

[Name] brought his lilac eyes to meet Aegon’s shining eyes, “Do what you must to keep your fire burning. Because once it’s out, who knows how long it’ll take to rekindle it. Don’t let Mother strike you down, don’t let Otto control you anymore and most of all, don’t let Aemond underestimate you. You are their King, not their pawn.” 

A spark ignited in Aegon’s chest. Little did [Name] know, his fire was already out. But his words ignited the hearth in his heart. And it burned with strength and passion. Then [Name] stood up, carrying a quiet Daenerys in his arms. 

Aegon followed quickly and shook his head, “You should have been King, [Name]. I don’t know why Father chose me when you were the perfect candidate.” 

Smoothly [Name] responded, “I never wanted it.” The confusion on Aegon’s face made [Name] continue, “The crown, the throne, it’s all a game. I don’t know how to play it and you don’t know either. But Otto does, he played it well too. Having his daughter court our father while he grieved for our half sister’s mother was a ploy to get one of us on the throne. To have someone he can control. Do you think you sit on the throne, brother?” 

Aegon blinked then casted his eyes onto the floor, “Not really. No one takes me seriously. The council meetings take place with my opinions never heard.”

“Which is why you announce your presence. Every member of the council is afraid of Aemond because he rides Vhagar. Everyone is afraid of me because I have Balerion. What can you do to make them afraid of you?” 

“I don’t know.” Aegon replied. 

[Name] shifted Daenerys to his other hip and said, “We all have something in common that people are afraid of. Dragons are dragons, beasts the normal folk cannot begin to understand. Not like us. So show them you’re a dragon rider and a king, make them afraid of you. You’re the rider of Sunfyre.”

Aegon cleared his throat and walked over to the door. He felt a shift in the room and he looked back at his brother. This moment, it felt too somber and Aegon had to tell him something too. 

“Brother, thank you for this.” 

[Name] nodded, “I always have your back, Aegon.”

After Aegon left, [Name] moved over to the bed and wasn’t surprised that Helaena woke up. Perhaps she had already risen long ago. 

“Hello, my sweet lady,” [Name] sang and placed Dany on the bed next to her mother. Then he leaned over and pressed a light kiss on Helaena’s lips. His hands held her face with love and he pressed into a little deeper. She returned his passion and asked in between his kiss, “Did you mean it when you said it to Aegon?” 

“Of course, I did,” [Name] pulled back and sat by her bedside, taking her hands into his own. He rubbed her knuckles and brought them up to his lips. He kissed her gently and put them back on her stomach. “Now we shall get ready for our journey before the rest of the castle wakes.” 

Helaena pushed herself upward and suddenly embraced her husband. His eyes widened in surprise and he looked down at his wife with questions. Nonetheless, he kept his mouth shut and embraced her back. She felt amazing with her chest pressed up against his. He could feel her heartbeat, hear the slow breaths her lungs took in. Without noticing, his hands dragged themselves lower holding onto her waist. 

He dipped his head down and his lips started leaving a trail of kisses on her neck. One hand held her back pressing her further into him while the other hand held her head. His fingers threading in her long hair and pulling the strands gently down, so she could look up at the ceiling. It gave him more access to her neck, to her breasts. 

He would have dived straight for them if she didn’t remind him who was watching. “This isn’t the place, [Name],” Helaena spoke timidly and he pulled back to see Dany covering her eyes with her small hands. He chuckled with an apology to his wife and daughter. 

“You’re very hard to resist, my love. Excuse my behavior.” He pressed a sweet kiss on her cheek and stood up, ignoring the beautiful look in her innocent eyes. 

Helaena smiled at his bashful look and pushed the throbbing in her core away. Yes, he was also very hard to resist. She’s surprised they didn’t have more children running around them. In due time, she told herself. 

……

They’ve been in the air for quite some time and the morning sun began to rise with soft yellows and pinks.  [Name] opted out on wearing his black armor while riding with his children, but kept Hellfire strapped to his waist. 

Viserys, given a medicine to help him sleep during the flight, drooled onto [Name]’s shoulder. The father didn’t mind and he looked down in front of him to see Daenerys holding onto the cages that kept the three tiny dragons there safely. Her long hair braided into two and she wore a light blue dress paired with her mother’s. 

[Name] looked to his left and watched Helaena fly quietly next to him. She was a good distance away from him because of Baelrion’s long wingspan. So he kept a careful eye on her from time to time as well as their surroundings. If the Blacks attacked them now, the fight would be devastating for his surrendering family. 

He came for answers and sanctuary. He didn’t want a fight. 

Finally Dragonstone came into view and [Name] commanded Balerion with a powerful voice to land on a beach near the Black’s base. Balerion roared into the sky to announce their presence, no doubt alarming the people in Dragonstone. The descent was a little too fast for Viserys and the tiny boy cried all the way down, alarming Helaena who followed after the Black Dread. 

When they touched, Balerion dug his claws into the sand and lowered his neck so the Targaryen family could climb down. [Name] being the first one off the giant dragon helped his daughter down. The small girl watched hopped into his arms, careful that the cage didn’t smack him. 

Helaena touched down fast next to Balerion and released the reins on Dreamfyre while [Name] moved the swaddle from his back to his front. 

He tried to ease Viserys and when he turned around to ask his wife for help, Helaena was already next to him. A worried mother is quick to help her babes, he’s always reminded. [Name] handed Viserys over to his wife with no hesitation and she soothed him with gentle caresses and hushed mumbles. 

Then a loud screech resounded in the sky and he looked up to see three dragon riders making their way to the beach. A golden dragon, a burning red one and a small one. [Name] knew these dragons and their riders, Rhaenyra, Rhaenys and Jace. Luckily for him, Daemon wasn’t with them.

The three landed on the beach a safe distance away from Balerion who challenged them a little too quickly for [Name]’s liking. The black beast held his head high and covered [Name]’s family with a wing. Daenerys awed at the sight and Helaena looked at [Name] wearily. 

“Lykiri, Balerion,” [Name] walked forward with a hand raised at his defensive dragon, “lykiri.” 

Balerion quieted down, his throat bobbing up and down a few clicks and groans rumbling in his chest. His tail swished about on the sand and he lowered his head down to his rider, pressing his large head onto [Name]’s side making the man stumble on the sand. 

With a quick pet, [Name] ran his hand down the scales and rough skin of Balerion’s snout. His eyes dragged away from his beast to the three hesitant dragon riders across from him. He looked back at his family and Helaena gave him a nod of approval. This wasn’t a fight, [Name] reminded himself as he walked forward. Be respectful and pledge your support to Rhaenyra. 

Offer yourself and Balerion to her cause, he told himself again. 

When he walked up to a respectful distance for a conversation, [Name] greeted his estranged family, “Sister, cousin and nephew, I don’t mean to alarm you.”

Was that a good start? To let them know that he wanted no fight. He didn’t use their titles, not quite used to addressing them as so since he acknowledged his brother as the king and such. 

“If not to alarm us,then what do you want?” Jace questioned, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. 

[Name]’s own fingers itched to rest on Hellfire, but if he did that Balerion would take it as a sign to defend his rider and his family. So he kept his hands at his sides and responded with a calm tone, nothing like Jace’s hostile tone. 

“Originally I came here looking for answers-”

“With two dragons at our front door, one bigger than the rest of ours?” 

Rhaenrya and Rhaenys both snapped their heads over at Jace to silently tell him to keep his mouth shut. Both being mothers and both wanting to know the reason why [Name] was here. But if the lilac eyed man kept getting interrupted, then he wouldn’t get to the point. 

“Please, nephew, let me finish my sentence,” [Name] gritted his teeth, his patience running thin, “I came here looking for answers about my son’s death. They are pinning Jaehaerys’ death and Rhaegar’s on your shoulders. So did you or did you not give the order to murder our sons?”

He directed his question to his half-sister. 

“Sons?” Her voice faltered and she took a step forward, “Rhaegar was killed as well?” Rhaenrya looked behind [Name] and saw a visibly concerned Helaena with Daenerys and Viserys by her. But no Rhaegar. 

[Name] sadly nodded, his throat constricted closing the airways painfully. He cleared it away and said, “He died trying to protect his cousin. They slammed him up against the wall and strangled him. My boy didn’t stand a chance against a ratcatcher.” 

“I-I,” Rhaenyra’s eyes watered up, “I did not give the order, this was done without my knowledge by my husband.” 

Immediately a scoff left his lips and [Name] looked over at the water. He muttered with a disdainful look on his face, “Of course he did, I’m sure he did it to get revenge for you. Aegon is looking to do the same, but I am not. I blame my mother and her cunt of a guard, Cole.”

“What happened?” Rhaenys asked, trying to get the whole story. They received word that Jaehaerys was killed, but no mention of Rhaegar. Now [Name] put the blame on his own mother and her sworn protector, Criston Cole. 

“I went out to fly Balerion in the night while Helaena and Jeyne entertained the children in their rooms. One ratcatcher and a man of the Night’s Watch came in claiming ‘A son for a son’.  They cut Jaehaerys’ head off while another strangled Rhaegar. This happened because the knights were relieved from their watch on the order from their Lord Commander. While the boys were on their way to their deaths, Jeyne and Helaena took the remaining kids out of the room looking for help. But there was none. So Helaena went into our mother’s room.”

He took a deep breath in and balled up his hands, he looked back at Rhaenyra and finished off his explanation, “My son died because my mother wanted to get a good fuck in before she turned in her bed.”

Rhaenyra couldn’t believe it, but at the same time she did. Alicent always posed as this woman of faith. Cole posed as a man worthy of the white cloak, ordering people here and there like he was above them. But they were scum, trash beneath her feet. They disgusted her. 

“We are very sorry to hear about this, [Name],” Rhaenys spoke for the emotional Rhaenyra, “We would never order something like this, we want to avoid fighting as much as we can. We tried reaching out to your mother-” 

[Name] rubbed his chin and pulled his sword out, it didn’t ignite into flames, but it unnerved the three members of the Targaryen family. Their dragons, mainly Syrax and Meleys, roared at the action. In turn Balerion puffed out his chest and let out a louder roar than those two dragons combined. 

The sand hit his back and [Name] took a knee, surrendering his valyrian sword over to Rhaenyra. With his head bowed, [Name] spoke, “I don’t care what happens to my brother or mother. I only care about my remaining family. As a father it’s my responsibility to choose them. So here I am, pledging myself and my dragon to your cause. If you’ll have us, Queen Rhaenyra, I will put an end to the Hightower-Targaryens. I will answer your call and go to battle with Balerion. You do  not have a need for an army anymore when you have us.” 

The three Targaryens looked at each other very shocked to see a Green kneel before them. Pledging his support to Rhaenyra, she couldn’t believe the rider of the Black Dread was doing this. The Blacks have always been afraid of the green monstrosity Aemond rode even more so of Balerion. 

Yet the rider, [Name] Targaryen, had different views in this war. 

“I accept you and your family, brother.” Rhaenyra walked up to [Name], her dress fluttering in the light breeze. She could hear the small protest Jace let out of his mouth, but Rhaenyra knew [Name]. 

He was the only brother she didn’t feel threatened by. He always stated that he was happy father named her his heir, saying that he never wanted the crown and its burdens. Plus she saw the love for Helaena in his lilac eyes. He would never bring her harm. 

Rhaenyra kneeled down and picked up his head with her hands. The tears running down his face cemented the fact that [Name] needed her to accept him and his family. His hands dropped his sword and he hugged Rhaenyra tightly, holding onto her like a son does to his mother when looking for comfort. 

“She didn’t apologize to us,” [Name] growled out, “She had my son killed and she defended Cole instead of admitting to her faults.” 

Rhaenyra accepted his hug and said, “I don’t know why she did that.” His words carried in her stomach heavily, he truly did blame the death of Rhaegar on Alicent. It almost felt like he hated his mother. Rhaenyra pulled away from him and wiped his tears away with a frown on her face. 

“You would fight for me? Kill your brothers if the situation calls for it?” 

[Name]’s eyes hardened and he didn’t falter in saying, “I pledged my help Rhaenyra, I will answer any call and support the Blacks in the battles to come. I will support you.” 

Rhaenyra’s frown curved upward into a gracious smile, “Let’s get you and your family settled in some rooms. You can send Balerion and Dreamfyre to hunt after we land in Dragonstone. Then we can talk about your place in the council.”

“My place in the council?” [Name] asked and picked up his sword from the sand and followed after her to stand proudly. He sheathed Hellfire back into its holster and watched Rhaenyra. 

His sister nodded her head and said, “There’s a lot of old men on my council. They say they support me, but disagree with me on almost everything. They want to spill blood, but we don’t have capable dragons to do so.” 

[Name] agreed with her words, “Yes, that is true. Father always said your dragon was more of a spoiled mother than a warrior. Meaning no offense to you or Syrax.” He chuckled seeing the expression on Rhaenyra’s face. 

“Yes, well the ones capable of fighting are Meleys and Caraxes, but we need them for Vhagar or even Balerion.” She looked over at the Black Dread and his red eyes pierced her bright ones. “Now that you’re here, we could do a lot of defending our supporters and their homes. I will pair you with Rhaenys, you two could pose to be a formidable duo. One with speed and the other power.”

“Well we do pose a huge threat to Aegon’s claim to the throne, sister,” [Name] looked back at his wife and remembered something important. 

“But I will not allow Helaena to fly Dreamfyre. Both of them will remain in Dragonstone, safe from any battle.”

Rhaenyra understood his demand, but she had to know why. “Any particular reason why she cannot fly her dragon to battle?” 

“Have you ever seen Helaena hurt a creature, crawling or walking?” [Name] shot back feeling defensive for his wife. 

“Well no, I heard she likes to keep bugs and take care of them.” Rhaenyra responded with a small laugh. 

[Name] smiled back, “That she does, sadly we had to leave the ones she had in King’s Landing behind. My point is she cannot give the command to burn people, sister. Please don’t make her do it.” He begged. 

“Of course not,” Rhaenyra reassured him, “She will remain here with your children.”

“There’s something else I would like to ask of you,” [Name] stopped Rhaenyra and looked back at Balerion. “I don’t know if you noticed, but Rhaegar…he’s with us too. We would like him to be honored here at Dragonstone in Targaryen tradition.” 

“We shall set it all up for you, will Balerion be the one to ignite the pyre?” 

“No,” He stretched his hand out and Daenerys immediately ran over to her father. As his little one ran towards him, Rhaenyra spotted the two dragons; one perched on her shoulder and the other clinging to her hip. “Daenerys has bonded to two dragons, Moonlight and Nightmare; Rhaegar’s dragon. She will command them and we shall see if Nightmare truly bonded with her or just smells Rhaegar on her.” 

“An interesting child, you have,” Rhaenyra commented lightly. 

And [Name] would have it no other way. 

……

The Targaryen family stood behind the Hightower family respectfully watching Balerion with weary eyes along with their council members and guards. If [Name] wanted to he could turn his attention on them and have his beast burn them in black fire. 

But Rhaenyra reminded them of his oath to support her. After all, [Name] came to Dragonstone to honor his son and protect his remaining family. 

Daenerys stood at the side of the pyre holding back her tears. She watched Rhaegar being tackled by the ratcatcher, heard his last words then the clang of his dagger when it fell from his hand. She was going to miss his stupid jokes and his protective nature. She held her hands out, Moonlight perched into her right hand and Nightmare on her left hand. 

They looked at her as if they waited for her command. “Brother,” Dany spoke quietly, no one could hear her over the crashing waves below the cliff, “In our next life, I hope we live long enough to rule the skies together.” 

A moment passed then she gave out the infamous command, “Dracarys.” The two dragons looked away from her and aimed their snouts at the pyre. Slowly they opened up their mouths and breathed out a stream of orange fire. The twigs caught on fire first before the chain reaction began. 

The funeral rite went slow and [Name] walked up to Daenerys, letting go of Helaena’s hand. He pulled his daughter away from the small fire, so he could finish it off with Balerion’s black fire. He gave a subtle nod to everyone surrounding Rhaegar’s body and immediately they all backed up. 

“My love,” He spoke to Helaena and handed Daenerys’ hand over to hers. Helaena hugged a crying Dany who could no longer hold her tears. Then he walked a bit forward away from his mourning family, holding the pommel of his sword tightly.

“Balerion!” He shouted over the waves.

The black dragon shook his whole body responding to his rider’s call. The ground beneath his clawed talons broke under the pressure of his weight. 

“Dracarys!”

Balerion puffed out his chest, his wings spread out and his neck peered over the pyre in a grim image to the rest of the people. His large mouth opened up and all they saw was a dark pit, the fire blending in the dark of his mouth. With a resounding screech, Balerion breathed his black fire onto Rhaegar’s body. 

[Name] watched on in silence, hearing his wife and daughter cry out in anguish. They couldn’t express their sorrow the night of. But here, they let the water flow out of their eyes like a river. The crackling of the fire, the waves below and their cries felt unreal to him as he lost himself in his thoughts.

If he ever sees Criston Cole on the battlefield, he’ll snatch him from the ground. He’ll bring the oathbreaker into the skies, above the clouds and let him fall to his death. He wanted to instill fear into Cole. He wanted to burn Cole, he wanted to behead him. There were so many ways to kill a man. 

The black smoke reached the skies and he turned away from the pyre. He outstretched his arms and embraced his girls. Daenerys clung to his leg while Helaena wrapped her arms around his neck. 

Aegon may have gotten to the ratcatcher first, but Cole was his. This he will make sure of.

[sehtoast]

Protect Me (Homelander x gn!Reader, Powerswap!au)

homelander!reader x human!John, nightmares, hurt/comfort | Fic Directory

You sob on him.

It’s never happened before and neither of you particularly knows what to do about it. You’ve always been, well, you.  The Homelander is not someone who is breakable.  You’re not some weak kneed baby who can’t hold it together, who can’t swallow all the pain you’ve been put through and resist the urge to choke upon how badly it wants to spew out anyway.

He knows precious little about your life.  You’ve always wanted to keep it that way.  Nothing would hurt you more than to see those beautiful blues of his gazing at you as though you were anything less than who you’d built yourself up to be.  And yeah, sure, you’ve come home to him drenched in blood, no better than a wet dog needing someone to save it from the mess it’s made rolling in the mud– but this? 

You never meant for him to see this. You should've known better than to fall asleep. But you just… you felt so safe with your head on his chest and his heartbeat lulling you. 

You thank whatever pathetic excuse of a god is out there that you didn't blindly lash out at him when he woke you. The worst he got was the threat of glowing eyes that dissipated as soon as you recognized his voice.

But this..? God, there wasn't meant to be choking, sputtering sobs.  No fingers curling into your hair to tug painfully in an attempt to distract from how the void in your chest swallows you whole.  He shouldn’t be witnessing your snotty upper lip or the heaving of your chest.

This isn’t you.

But it is.

You refuse to touch him even as he holds you, cooing in your ear about how it’ll all be fine and that you’re safe with him– all the bullshit.  He is all you have, and you can’t for the fucking life of yourself defile him with your grip, can’t risk hugging him too tight or perhaps snatching away a hand and removing it entirely by accident because you’re so out of control.

You have to take it out on yourself.

He pulls you close, but you can’t do anything more than hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. You can tell me.”  John coos, fingers scritching softly at the nape of your neck.  You can smell the stress response raging inside of his body.  He reacts to your woe as if it were his own.  Cortisol.  Elevated blood pressure and pulse. Shaky breaths. 

You want to shove him away.  

Pity.

But you can’t, so you don’t.  Instead, the dam breaks and out comes everything.  The nightmares, the labs, the scientists, the bad room and the goddamn furnace. 

You could still feel its heat after you woke up gasping, desperately heaving against the unbreathable, scorching air.  Too hot, lungs too dry, skin on fire with not a single mark to show for it.  The way the doctors would crank the dial as they peered in at you like a zoo animal, uncaring no matter how much you screamed.  

Unbothered even when you’d stop.

You’re not even sure your words are coherent.  You’ve wept each one into his neck, still too afraid to peek and find him looking at you differently.  Your nails dig into the skin of your bare arms.

“It’s too– I can’t– I still feel it–” And there's no rhyme or reason for why you do. Not even now, when rehashing it restores that blistering burn beneath your skin that radiates deep into the marrow of your bones, does it make any sense.  You shiver and shake against him.

It’s all you’re good for.

He shifts to the side, fumbling with something on the nightstand, but does not release you.  “Y’feel that?”  John asks.  “Fan’s on now.  Nice and cool, okay?”

The first gusts kiss your back and you practically flinch at the ghostly touches.  It’s a shock to your system and almost burns in its own right, even with his hand trailing up and down your back, fingers smoothing over the curve of your spine, nails lightly dragging in that way he knows you simply adore.

John leans back onto the bed, bringing you with him.  “You’re not there, babe.  I promise.”  He murmurs.  He takes you by the hand, unfurling the grip you’ve got on yourself to press kisses to your knuckles.  “We’re here.  My place.  In bed.”  He tells you, voice as sweet as honey and thick with the remnants of sleep that hadn’t quite been shocked from his system.  “You’re safe.”

He’s said it a million times now.  

“You’re safe and I love you so, so much.”  He rasps through the tightness of his throat, through the little sob that finally breaks through whatever restraints he’d placed on it to make it this far. Knowing that he’s taken it all to heart guts you in the worst way.

John’s legs tangle between yours and pull you close, as if to make sure there wasn’t a single inch of you left unprotected from his embrace.  He holds you even through his own shivers, completely exposed to the chilly breeze after having kicked the covers to the end of the bed.  Anything to draw you away from the illusion of heat, anything to spare you one more moment of agony.

By the time your heart rate simmers down from its erratic thumps and the blistering burn of the furnace is no longer digging beneath your skin, the only sound to be heard is his chattering teeth despite how valiantly he tries to hide his own discomfort.

If he were anyone else, you wouldn’t care at all.  But he’s not just anyone.  He’s not some casual fuck or one of the many who have dangled love over your starved maw.  He’s your Johnny, your greatest love, the kindest man you’ve ever known and the brightest light you’ve ever stumbled upon in this world.  You would topple nations to guarantee his happiness.

He reassures you that he’s fine when you scoff and yank the blankets back up to cover the both of you. 

“No, no, no–” he rattles. “S’fine, I promise.  I don’t want you to–”

You cut him off with a kiss.  You meant only for it to be a single drawn out peck to his lips, but you find that the deeper it becomes, the better you can convey all that you need.

Your love.  Your appreciation.  How fucking much you care.  Everything words fail to deliver.

All while you continue pulling up layer after layer until his lower lip ceases its chilled quivering between yours and his body stills from its shivers.  You don’t untangle yourself from his hold, nor does he move away from yours.  Stranger yet, even with the nightmares still fresh in your mind, the heat you find yourself enveloped by now is far from one that burns.

His flesh against yours, the warmth emanating between you, his heated breaths gasped against your lips– it’s all one big balm that soothes every ache and pain into nothing more than the distant memory it should be.

Neither one of you lets go, not even when sleep settles over your restless minds and pulls you to other worlds.

This time, you dream of him.  Of your Johnny in his cute little sweaters, of how he springs out of his chair at work to throw himself into your arms, of how he comes to your penthouse after his shifts are up just to see you.  You dream of his lips upon your cheek as you dance among the clouds, blue eyes taking you in as if you were the most magnificent sight they’ve ever held.

And when you wake?

Those same oceanic eyes twinkle with a smile that is simply all for you.  They don’t look at you differently.  They don’t judge you or make you feel weak for having told him of your horrors.  True to the nature of his very existence, your Johnny does something so wonderfully special with just one look.

He makes you feel safe.  He makes you feel protected.

He makes you feel loved.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"burden" - aaron hotchner x fem!reader

you comfort aaron after a particularly tough case

cw: canonical violence, brief mentions of a child's death (no details), sad hotch, hurt/comfort but you're the one doing the comforting

wc: 1.2k

You moved in with your boyfriend, Aaron, about a year ago, and yet, your routine remained fairly independent of him. You woke up in the same bed sometimes, but most of the time, he was away on a case. You always missed the warmth and protection he provided, but you understood that his job was important. You never wanted to get in the way of that. 

You come home from work that afternoon, surprised to see Aaron’s car in its parking spot. Last time you checked in, he wasn’t going to be home until tomorrow. 

You’re eagerly bounding up the steps to your floor, unlocking the door in a swift movement and grinning to see him on the sofa. 

Your grin falls when you see the expression on his face. 

Crestfallen might be the most appropriate description. Heartbroken would also be apt. 

You punch in the code for the security system, and lock the door hastily. You drop your bag by the door and are at his side in an instant, perching yourself next to him on the sofa. He’s got this far-off look in his eyes, and they’re red and puffy. He’s been crying? 

“Aaron?” You speak delicately to announce your arrival, feeling your stomach roller-coaster drop and a massive lump materialize in your throat. You tuck your foot under your rear and touch his shoulder gently. 

Aaron’s next inhale is shaky. His eyelids flutter and he looks at you, finally, like he's just now realized you're there, and shakes his head softly, subtly, numbly. “We lost a child,” he says. His voice is low and raspy, crackling as if someone is snapping ten glow sticks at once. 

Your lips form a straight line, and you press your hands into his shoulder. “Aaron,” you breathe out, tugging his shoulder a little, willing him to let you hold him. He doesn’t budge, so instead you rub his shoulder with your hand, perhaps a little awkwardly. But you are desperate to comfort him somehow, to make it all go away. 

“He’s Jack’s age - he was Jack’s age,” Aaron explains. He leans forward, cradling his face in his hands. “And we caught the guy, but we were too late to save the boy. Logan.” 

You don’t know what to say, so you stay silent, moving your hand to rub the vast plain between Aaron’s shoulders. “I kept it together at the police station,” Aaron continues. He never talks about work this much. You hate the reason why, but you feel honored that he is revealing all of this to you. 

You have a VIP membership to all of Aaron, whereas everyone else just gets that put-together, statue-esque version of him. The marble cracks when he finally finds a moment of respite around you. “On the plane, I kept it together. And I usually go straight into my office after we land. I usually get my reports done before I come home.” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, so he knows you’re actively listening. Your hand travels up to the nape of his neck, and you press your thumb into the fatty tissue there. You swipe your thumb across his hairline. 

“I couldn’t do it this time. I needed a moment of relief. Longer than a moment, I guess. I got in my car and I drove straight here.” Aaron continues. He doesn’t usually talk this long. But you let him get it all out. Sometimes rambling and spewing every thought in one’s head is the best way to get all of the hurt out. 

“How long have you been home?” You ask. Your eyes travel to the glass tumbler on the coffee table, with a brown ring around the bottom. Whiskey. 

“Maybe an hour,” Aaron guesses, his hands still blanketing his face. You gently push his shoulder so he’ll lean back against the sofa, and he does. You see now that he has started to cry again. His hands drop to his side.

He refuses to look at you, but you grab his chin with your thumb and your forefinger, tilting his head so he has to. Tears glisten those obsidian eyes like miniature diamonds. “I’m sure you and the team did everything you could,” you say. Aaron nods. He’s heard this before. You know he has, but you thought maybe saying it again wouldn’t hurt. 

“Yeah,” he croaks. You are genuinely at a loss for words. 

You want to offer solutions, distractions, anything, but you know it would only act as a band-aid for the situation. There is no solving something like this. Helplessness washes over you like a crushing tidal wave. Watching him crumble like this makes your stomach ache. 

He closes his eyes, leaning his head back defeated against the couch cushion. You watch a few silent tears fall down his cheeks. Your thumb swipes one away. It hurts to see him like this - so sad and numbed and broken. He’s your honey, he’s your rock, your superhero, and it humanizes him in a way you can’t stand. 

You know that if the positions were reversed, Aaron would be doing whatever he could, somehow riding that line perfectly of being attentive without coddling. So you pull yourself together with one deep breath and stand from the couch. Your hand extends to Aaron’s and he looks up at you with a confused expression. “Let me give you a proper hug, Aaron,” you debate calling him a pet name - angel or honey usually roll off your tongue like a second language, but this moment feels too heavy. 

He nods like he agrees and takes your hand. You haul him to his feet and envelope him into your arms. You wish you were larger than him at this moment, that you could cover him with your entire body and he wouldn’t have to feel anything else. 

Instead, Aaron hunches down a little so you can wrap your arms around him. His head buries into the crook of your neck, his hands at your waist, and he’s shaking as he pulls you so impossibly close you think he’s trying to absorb your body into his. 

Giving him the space to purge his emotions seems to help, and you embrace him like that for a long moment. It should be illegal for this wonderful man to feel so terrible, to be so ridden with guilt. After everything that has happened with his ex-wife, with the members of his team. You know Aaron carries it all on his shoulders. 

You want so badly to rip it all away from him. 

Like coaxing a stray puppy from the rain, you guide your boyfriend through the apartment. You take a shower with him - a slow, intimate act where you do most, if not all, of the work. After, when you’re running the towel through his hair, he’s still hanging his head, but the tears have finally stopped. “Thank you,” he rasps tiredly. 

“I can’t make it go away,” you sniffle a bit. You’ve been crying this whole time, yourself. “I want to, so badly.” 

“It’s not your burden to carry,” Aaron insists, and you freeze. The towel over your hands cups his cheeks and you make him look at you. 

“Actually, that’s where you’re wrong,” you correct him. “It’s not your burden to carry alone.”

[romanoffsbish]

Who Are You People?!

Yelena Belova x F!R (Platonic)

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Yelena had a tendency to bring home strays, and it had always bothered you, until one day it didn’t. WC: 1,929

Request(via dm): “could you do a imagine where Yelena keeps bringing home random animals and even people and drives the reader up the wall” | I gave it a cute little romance spin

Yelena had a tendency to miss signs. Trained as she may be, with the discipline to prove it, she just never was much for understanding the social norms. So, you had learned to adapt—after that first night as roomies, when she told you everything she’d done and been you hadn’t much of a choice. There was no such thing as a filter, she believed in open conversations, which didn’t bother you. It was her belief in the open doors that did.

——

The first time you came home to one of her eccentric guests you were startled into losing your groceries. A frown befell your face as the soy milk box spewed its contents on the floor along with the yolks of your eggs.

Fanny, as you’ve learned to know, and love her as, was there to lick up the mess. After she’d finished licking your cheek in a rushed greeting, she’d disposed of your hard earned money in the form of the wasted food.

Yelena had apologized, and for some odd reason you believed she took the hint after the entire ordeal.

Then you came home a week later to find her nowhere, but your house sure wasn’t empty. Five woman in various positions all looked up at you with fierce eyes. One of them raised her arm, and the loud whirring told you all you needed to know. These were widows, and the pain you were about to feel would be hellish.

“Oksana, put your arm down, this is just Y/N,” your roommate admonished her friend with the black hair, “Honestly cyka, you should be able to see she is of no real threat, or have you lost touch with your eyes?”

Then the blonde turned to you with a genuine smile, as if she didn’t nearly get you fried, then call you weak. “Would you like to join us for game night Y/N/N?”

You sighed harshly through your nose, tempering the anger you felt for the sake of your new friend’s heart. She was strong, but you could also tell she was soft, and breaking her spirit for her lack of social understanding, at no fault of her own, would be cruel.

“Sorry Lena, but I have to be up early,” you lied, and gave the girl a quick hug before heading upstairs to your room where you enjoyed the needed solitude.

Occurrences like that became normal, the random game nights, and the alarming amount of new animals you found yourself feeding, and faces you’d forget. Yelena trusted easily, as in, she knew that if anyone she brought home on a whim would try anything, she could handle them without even breaking a sweat.

You put up with just about everything—if she had a mission gone wrong, her stitched up field partner, a cheery girl by the name of Kate Bishop, would sleep on your couch and greet you with sudoku and breakfast.

That first meeting was terrible too, as you’d stumbled into your dark house and threw yourself on top of her. It ended quickly, with Yelena coming downstairs with a gun and you and Kate in opposite corners screaming.

Her in pain, and you in fear. You had left to bed embarrassed, and woke up to laugh about it with her.

You don’t mind the archer, but you would have liked a heads up. You always wanted it, but never received it, and slowly but surely a festering of resentment resided.

Everything honestly came to a head last night, when you finally agreed to spend the night in a shitty bar with your favorite coworkers. You’d let loose way beyond your limits, and as you were rushed into the house by a equally drunk friend all you wanted was to make yourself a mug of tea, grab a snack, and sleep.

Yet when you went to make yourself something you found that your tea was used up, the kitchen was a mess of wasted food and dishes, and Yelena’s strangers were all asleep around the place, one even in your bed.

“Yelena!” The blonde cringed from her place on the balcony, where she stood with a dying bud in her hand. She hoped you’d go home with a friend, or a stranger of your own, so that she would have been able to clean up the mess that had occurred from a party gone bad.

You never told her to stop, but she always saw in your eyes that you didn’t trust her process of friend making. The truth was the blonde just liked the freedom to choose. No one could tell her the man with the eye patch on the corner was bad news, and make her stop talking to him. He told her stories about his life as a young man, and how it ended him here, she believed that no one was undeserving of sharing their stories.

Still, she felt guilty for letting these friends inside to trash your place. Kenny was never meant to be in your room, let alone be allowed to sleep, but she was just too drunk an hour ago to care about removing him.

You waited with your arms crossed for her to join you in the kitchen, and when she entered you let loose. “Yelena, I do not care who you keep as company, but for the love of God never let them in my bed again, give me a heads up from now on, and keep the place tidy!”

The blonde blinked a few times, having expected your tirade to be more venomous, but she appreciated that it wasn’t. You were clearly mad, but you weren’t rude.

“Okay, I’m sorry you can have my room tonight, and I promise everyone will be gone by morning Y/N.”

After that conversation she seemed to understand that just letting anyone in, without at least a heads up, was poor etiquette, which wouldn’t fly. The blonde strived to be the best roommate, she once told you she would be so good that they’d have to give her the crown for it.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her it would never happen, actually, you had the big heart that led to you leaving an emerald bejeweled crown for her on the counter one morning. The childlike smile she wore was enough to keep you from regretting it when she wore it all day and made you read the congratulations they’d (you’d) left for her. It made you feel warm inside to be able to help the former assassin heal her inner child.

But now, as you stood before a stunning woman in nothing but a raggedy shirt and old white, cotton panties you were feeling that regret return and double.

When you went to sleep last night you were once again not informed to be prepared for strangers in the form of guests. In Yelena’s defense though she wasn’t exactly expecting this one, so she rushed out the door with an excited Fanny and whispered to her sister to keep it quiet so you could sleep off your night out on the town.

Unfortunately, the sound of the front door closing was enough to rouse you, your eyes opened and a groan slipped passed your lips as the bright sun beamed into your face mockingly. After a moment of calm you felt a headache burning behind your arm covered eyes, so you headed down the stairs to get to your kitchen for a cup of water so that you could take an Advil and crash.

“I, um, I’m sorry,” you managed to squeak out, and in an embarrassed rush you turned on your feet, but before you could even move up a step you were halted.

“Hey,” she rasped, and watched in amusement as your spine shivered before her very eyes. “There’s no need to apologize darling, this is your house after all. I’m sorry to have barged in, but I needed somewhere to lay low for a while. I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”

Your stomach swirled with aroused tension, the pet name, the gritty tone of her voice, and the intense look in her eyes had you going weak in the knees. It showed as you stumbled down the last two steps and skirted to a stop just before her. “No, it’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting company is all. I’d have gotten dressed.”

Natasha was suave with the way she pushed your bodies together, using the wall to keep you trapped against her, and unable to avoid her temptations. It was only a breaths time for you to find yourself there.

“I can assure you honey,” her hand fell to your thigh and your heart raced incessantly. “I don’t mind.”

“I don’t either,” you admitted, but felt too seen so you continued on, “That you stay here, to lay low, that is.”

“Oh,” she teased, with the lightness in her voice, “I’m so glad to hear that, because we will have the chance to get to know each other better. Maybe we’ll even…”

You wanted to know what might be, but fate decided to leave that for another day as the door flew open and Yelena shrieked, “Oh my god, no, Fanny girl cover your eyes!” You looked over in confusion. “Natasha, unhand my roommate now!” The redhead rolled her eyes, and stepped back with a smirk as you whined at her loss.

You hadn’t a chance to protest—or even say goodbye, as Yelena reached for her sister’s hand and pulled her away, fighting with her in their mother tongue.

“Chto s toboy ne tak.”

(What the fuck is wrong with you?)

“Mne? chto s toboy ne tak?! ona velikolepna, i ty derzhal yeye ot menya”

(me? what's wrong with you?! she is gorgeous and you kept her from me)

“Ona zapreshchena, Natal'ya”

(she is off limits, Natalia)

“Eto ne to, chto skazali yeye glaza.”

(that's not what her eyes said)

The door slammed and you didn’t even flinch, too busy daydreaming about the moments prior. And for the first time since Yelena had become your very own (craigslist found) roommate you didn’t mind the thought of getting to see one of her guests again; Natasha had made her mark on you in record time.

——

That night, Yelena came back with her head low, and elder sister in tow. The redhead smiled triumphantly as she winked at you, your nervous gaze fell, and in her hands laid a sleeping kitten. “Y/N, meet Liho…”

You chuckled in amusement, and scooped the kitten up and settled her into your lap. “What’s so funny detka?”

“It’s just,” you stifled another rude laugh. “Yelena’s strays have never brought one of their own before.”

Natasha took a second to process your tease as she sat beside you, eventually she leaned forward, her chin resting on your tense shoulder. “I am more so a lone wolf type, no one’s stray. I plan on sticking around for a while too, so I hope you don’t make it a habit of being so bare in front of my sister, save that for me instead.”

“Also,” she scooped the sleeping kitten up and onto her shoulder, “Liho is no longer a stray, she is a house cat.”

Yelena settled beside you, frowning, “I’m sorry Y/N…”

“Don’t be,” you shrugged her off, and patted her knee before you followed the trail of her sisters upstairs.

Yelena huffed, and snuggled into her Akita’s fur. “This is why I prefer dogs to people. They are so overrated.”

——

R (for real)

[hxzbinwrites]

I definitely would love some Vox x Singer!reader headcannons. The concept is hella swag!!

Vox x Singer! Reader | Headcannons

Warnings ⚠️: Drugs, very short

Vox has eyes EVERYWHERE, so he’s immediately taken aback when you and your skyrocketing career shoot up out of nowhere

Who are you? Where did you get all of this talent? When can he get a contract on your soul?

After your first album was in everyone’s ears, he knew he needed you. Either your soul or even you as a Vee, he had to share some of your power.

I mean, with a popular artist, you could spew any mumbo jumbo in your songs and people will eat it up, it’s a sure way power-grab.

Vox had been looking for you everywhere, but he could never find you.

He got even more antsy to get you on his side when he learned you were starting to deal souls of your own.

Even though you weren’t an Overlord, you were influential, and Carmilla thought that was good enough to be invited to the next Overlord meeting.

Once in the meeting, Vox immediately introduced himself and his proposal.

You denied the soul deal, and you didn’t want to rebrand yourself as a Vee, which pissed him off.

You reassured him that you would still be up for an offer with him, if he needed anything just to get in contact.

Without thinking, he asked you to live with the Vees in the V Tower, so you could be involved with the Vees, but not an actual Vee.

You agreed, seeing that was good enough, but you demanded to keep your studio in your small turf on the other side of the Pride Ring

Vel and Val were fine with you staying with them, but they were pissed at Vox for not warning them beforehand or even letting them in on the decision.

With this close, homey contact, Vox started to catch feelings. While each Vee, and you, had your own small penthouse on the top floor of the V tower, he desperately wanted to share one with you. Oh how he craved waking up to the sight of you.

One fateful night, after using some of Val’s drugs to destress, he got too loopy and banged on your door at 2:27am.

You begrudgingly drug him into your bed and made him sleep, curling him beside him

He was so confused and flustered to regain consciousness that morning, apologizing once you woke with him.

You just warned him to be careful before giving him a kiss, telling him to shut up and that you were going back to sleep.

Maybe he should take Val’s advice more often.

[versethetic]

NOT PERFECT. JUST LOYAL.

i like to keep things real here so i tend to share my slight struggles with loa so that others who’ve gone through the same thing don’t beat themselves up over it.

but i’ve actually only fully understood what it means to live in imagination for a little while now;, and then put it to good use just a couple weeks ago.

despite knowing about the law for over a year…💀

OVER. A. YEAR…💀💀💀

even then, i got so caught up in making the images in my head perfect, or making sure i’m “saying the right affirmations" which obviously didn't help my case

i love reading loa posts because they make me feel nice and inspired and just remind me of my power but i somehow equated that as me overconsuming info and then i would spiral within my own head.

i would barely think of my desires as mine and when i did for only a day or two, i’d then turn around and believe that i wasn’t doing enough, that i need to affirm more or visualize for an hour and walk through every step of my day in my new perfect life or else it wouldn't manifest.

loyal according to merriam webster is "unswerving in allegiance"

all the way up until a couple weeks ago, i was not loyal to the idea that my imagination is all i need. i was not loyal to the idea that the 3d means absolutely nothing in terms of “getting” what you want, because there was nothing for me to get. now, i have become loyal to already having my perfect life.

i am that bitch. i am the prettiest princess. i am the smartest in school. i am the most famous. but i didn't need to have the perfect mindset with loa to realize it.

do you see where i’m going with this?

IMAGINATION IS ALL YOU NEED

granted, i had my days after this realization where i still struggled with techniques or accepting my new life as mine, but now i know that if i don’t identify with these things, it has not a single setback on my manifestations.

no matter what i was feeling, i told myself “i have it, my life is perfect, i am calm, i have it in imagination, the old senses are dead to me, i know what’s in my mind is the real truth”

when loa blogs say that you know you have it, it’s not some cheap trick they spew out because everyone else is saying it. if you imagine what you want, it’s officially set in stone. what you think comes to life.

the 3d is the afterimage, the product of a movie you directed, wrote, produced and starred in. you just need to stick with this fact through thick and thin, sleet or snow.

YOU are what the 3d answers to.

YOU are what the mirror reflects.

YOU decide how simple things are for you.

if you woke up and the old senses in front of your human eyes still show something you don’t like, are you gonna take that as a fact?

when you know and are loyal to the fact that your godly brain is showing you that devoted sp you have? that grand big mansion you live in? that whole new life you’re dwelling in?

NO. you’re not. think of you and you're 4d as BFFs who'll never separate, who tell each other everything and have those bff necklaces and go everywhere and do everything with each other. or imagine you're a ceo and your 4d is a loyal secretary who never asks questions and simply obeys whatever you tell it to do, because it trusts YOU. it works for YOU. however you wanna see it, you and your 4d are locked in 🔐🤞, okay? it is not separate from you, it does not seek guidance or information from anywhere other than YOU.

IT IS YOU.

and it took me a long time to see that.

it might be hard at first and the acceptance might not always be there. but i am making a conscious effort to at LEAST continuously tell myself that my imagination is all that matters. to at LEAST believe that what i want is already mine, and that’s the LEAST you can do as well.

your journey does not have to be perfect. your mindset does not have to be perfect. your feelings do not have to be perfect. mine definitely weren't. you just need to be loyal to your imagination.

[webslingingslasher]

trouble taking care of hungover peter or vice versa has been on my mind lately. Would peter be a cuddly when hungover or grumpy, maybe both? I see trouble as a whiner, like head in a pillow(if not peter), don't talk to her in any volume above a whisper- she just wants sleep.

taking care of peter::

'my head is killing me.'

'want some advil?'

'if i move, i'm puking.'

'i'll get it.' you even give him cold water, you've never seen him drink faster. 'are you feeling okay?'

'i can feel my liver actively fighting the toxins.'

'want me to big spoon?'

'please god.'

peter taking care of you::

'good morning sleepy hea-'

'shut up, shut up, shut up.'

'nice to see we woke up in a good mood.'

'peter, i'm not playing. leave me alone.'

'you're in my bed, trouble.'

'and i'll never be in it again if you don't shut up and close your curtains.'

'you're so dramatic. does my little theater major need some toast?'

'no food. i'll puke.'

'no? how about a nice runny-'

'peter.' a gag.

'egg? bite into it and the yolk goes all over-'

another gag, it's fierce. you're about to spew last nights regret all over his bed. 'peter i swear to god i'm gonna throw up.'

'alright, fine. take a nap and talk to me when you're ready for a grilled cheese.'

[snowyquokka]

ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴇɴᴅ • ʏᴀɴɢ ᴊᴇᴏɴɢɪɴ

wc: 1.4k

mafia au jeongin x fem reader

cw: mature themes MDNI, mentions of murder, mentions of blood, mentions of possessiveness, angst, arguing, slight degradation, swearing, toxicity, implied ptsd

a.n- i’m actually really excited to write this series!! hope you guys like it too <3

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“You fucking did what?” Pissed. That’s the only word you can think of to describe your husband right now. He’s pissed because you went behind his back and met with the leader of another mafia to discuss some unfinished business that Jeongin had yet to fix.

“I was helping you! Without me, you and San would’ve never worked things out. You’re just too blinded by your ego to realize that.” As soon as your words register your hand flies to meet your mouth. Jeongin nods and bites the inside of his cheek as he analyzes your response. Usually when you argue there’s always a hint of something in your tone. Fear maybe? No, Jeongin thinks. Horror. You always seemed too shy to speak out but now there’s been a shift in your demeanor. A hint of resentment.

He really lets everything sink in and carefully calculates his next move. “Y/n, what have I told you about leaving here without permission, or even a guard? What if you got hurt?” you roll your eyes which throws Jeongin off a little. What has gotten into you? He’s trying not to become angry, but you are making it really fucking difficult. Deep breaths, Jeongin. You know the drill; she’ll rant and rave until she finally crawls right back into your arms. Every. Single. Time.

“Are you even paying attention?” Okay maybe it’s going to take a little more work this time.

“Yes, I’m listening, but you need to realize that you’re under my protection. And as a matter of fact, you follow my rules.” he states as calmly as possible.

You blink once. Twice. You can’t believe him. “You don’t fucking control me, Jeongin. I’m sick of hearing you commanding me like I’m some pet. It’s getting really fucking old.”

Jeongin clenches his jaw and flexes his fists. You know that if you were literally anyone else in the world, you’d be a mere blood splatter on the cream rug.

But you aren’t anyone else.

You’re Yang Y/n.

Jeongin’s wife.

The love of his life.

But right now- “You’re acting like a bitch, y/n.” he hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud until he saw the tears well up in your eyes. He could practically see your heart breaking in your chest, but honestly, he didn’t care. You needed to know your place.

“Fuck. You. I’m done.” you shake your head and remove your wedding ring before tossing it on the ground at Jeongin’s feet. You leave without listening to any of his protests. He seemed surprised that you acted out like that, and you even surprised yourself. You’d never been the type of person to engage in any sort of confrontation. You’d seen your parents do it enough to know that most of the time it doesn’t end well. Like right now.

Taking large deep breaths, you enter your car and just drive. The only sound that fills the car is your choked sobs as you turn his words over and over in your head.

You start to wonder where everything went wrong. Just two months ago you were happy. Right?

You start to recall the first time Jeongin had killed someone in front of you. The man had been eyeing you up all night while he was negotiating with your husband. One thing led to another and Jeongin shot the man point blank in the head with zero hesitation. That night you’d slept on the couch then woke up in the morning to Jeongin cooking for you and spewing out apologies and reassuring you that it wouldn’t happen again.

That turned out to be a lie. Not even a month later he shot a guard he had just hired because they were “staring at you like you were a piece of meat.” To you, that didn’t justify murdering a man in cold blood.

Jeongin, of course, waited until you were married to let the…darker side of him show. At first you thought nothing of it, blinded by love. Then gradually you started to become almost disgusted by the way he could hurt someone over something so little. It’s not like those men touched you or even talked to you.

You park in a random lot and pull out your phone.

innie <3 (15)

You immediately delete the voicemails he left and dialed your brother's number after coming to the conclusion that you wouldn’t be able to sleep in your car.

One ring.

Two.

Thr-

“Y/n?” Chan’s voice sounds groggy and hoarse as if he’d just woken up, it was around 2 in the morning. You tried your best to compose yourself. “Hey, Channie.” it comes out as a faint whisper. You hear rustling on the other end and a sigh. “What’s wrong?”

“I- Can I crash there for a bit?”

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

As you pull up to Chan’s house you mentally prepare yourself for the ‘You know better’ talk. Chan practically raised you and knows you better than anyone - with the exception of Jeongin.

No, no. Stop thinking about him, y/n. Just put on a smile and take deep breaths.

You don’t bother knocking, instead you just walk in. “Chris?” you call out. You almost speak again as you search for him but immediately change your mind when you notice your wedding ring sitting on the coffee table in the living room. Your heart drops to your feet and you can’t help but feel a twinge of betrayal. You spot someone out of the corner of your eye but choose to ignore them and turn to walk out of the door but are stopped by a gentle hand on your wrist. You don’t even need to open your eyes to know who it belongs to.

“Sunshine, please.” Sunshine. You haven’t heard you call him that in ages. Your heart melts a little but you dismiss the feeling and turn to face him when you notice your brother standing behind Jeongin.

“What happened to ‘your secrets safe with me’?” he flinches at your use of the words he promised over and over again starting from your early childhood.

“Just talk, Y/n.” Chan disappears into the hall, leaving you and Jeongin alone.

“Baby-“

“I can't take it anymore.” you whisper.

“Take what?”

“Feeling like I’m not good enough for you.” One crack in the dam you put up to stifle your emotions.

“Please don’t do that, love. I-I said things that I didn’t mean and I’m sorry I’m just-“ Jeongin takes a deep breath, “I’m afraid of losing you. I love you with all of my being, you are the most important thing to me. I can’t risk it.” Every feeling you’ve been pushing back floods you, overwhelming you. Unexpected tears stream onto your already reddened cheeks.

“If you really cared you wouldn’t have killed somebody right in front of me. Not once, but twice. Do you know how fucking difficult it is not to be fearful? You may be afraid of losing me, but I’m afraid of you. The man I married isn't there anymore. You changed, and it’s fucking terrifying.” you squeeze your eyes shut as two lifeless bodies flash through your mind.

Jeongin freezes. He fucked up; big time. He wraps his arms around your shoulders gently, silently asking for your approval.

You finally let go and sink into his arms.

You love him, that’s never been questioned. But you don’t love this life. Your body racks with sobs as Jeongin rubs soothing circles across your back. Your mind is so jumbled and fuzzy that you can’t focus on one topic. One second you’re thinking about you and Jeongin, the next you’re picturing Changbin ridding the white linoleum floor of a large pool of blood before it has a chance to stain.

If Jeongin wasn’t keeping you stable you’d most likely collapse on the floor.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” he whispers.

But he knows.

He knows that he has a slim chance of winning you back. So for now, he’s going to savor your warmth and your sweet scent. He’s going to etch the feeling of his arms around you into every crevice of his heart and soul.

You’ve reached a dead end in your relationship and you aren’t sure if you want to turn around and find your way back to him.

[who-can-touch-my-boob]

<- Sanemi simp posts masterlist

WARNING: ME ANGRY (not 4real just dramatic)

I’ve seen not one but TWO posts about Sanemi’s “tiny” feet, and that’s two posts too many! I’m here to protect my man’s honour and explain why he might not have as large feet as many other men! (assuming this was an intentional character design and canon)

(this is me fighting everyone laughing at Sanemi’s foot size)

DISCLAIMER: this is my own thoughts and headcanons (which I will force everyone to believe too)

•

Now, to begin this with actual facts; y’all are being real meanies for laughing or making fun of him having smaller feet. Luckily he’s a fictional character, but I hope you’re not doing it to people irl! That could make someone really self conscious or insecure because we can’t really do anything about foot size (and it is proven that the size of a foot has nothing to do with the snake).

Back to my own theory/headcanon where I’ve done literally no research behind my statements.

Sanemi grew up poor, like really fucking poor. He was abused, forced to become an adult at an early age (y’all know the drill so I won’t type out his whole traumatic past because I’ll just start crying).

He most likely didn’t have proper nutrition, footwear or other things to make sure he as a child had a healthy physical health.

And I have no idea if that actually has anything to do with growing feet or limbs, so I’m just spewing out based on assumption. On top of that some even compared his feet to Kyojuro who was raised on a wealthy household, shame!!!

On the picture below (it’s crappy because I took it with my phone on the tv), you see Sanemi and Genya walking. Sanemi is pulling the heavy cart and they never specify how old he is, but assuming he’s 21 in current time and Genya is 16(?), so here Genya is probably 9-10 years old which means Sanemi is 14/15 years old AND LOOK HOW SMALL HE IS?

Well if he is younger I’m still shooked at the fact that his little brother who’s 5 years younger is almost as tall as him.

BUT DO YOU SEE WHAT ELSE? THEY’RE NOT WEARING SHOES!!!

And before y’all say shit like “but Genya’s feet aren’t tiny” DO I NEED TO REMIND YOU SANEMI IS 5 YEARS OLDER AND WAS WALKING AROUND LIKE THAT WAY LONGER.

Sorry for shouting, lost my cool for a second.

this post became longer than expected, I just woke up and chose violence.

Bye

[arysbruv]

dinner with nanami 👌 whether it’s a home cooked meal or not, eating with him is a delightful experience hehe hope you can write about this!!!!

Midnight ventures

summary: nanami is always overwork and he feels the need to treat you for putting up with it.

parings: kento nanami x reader

warnings and whatnots: established relationship, fluff!! Thank you for the request <3

y/n : what time are u coming home?

y/n : i miss you :(

Nanami ❤️ : I’ll be home soon love, don’t worry. I know it’s late, but I have a little surprise for you. Just get yourself ready with a nice outfit tonight love.

Your eyes glance over the message, reading them hungrily. Your eyebrows furrow, as you read the message over and over. A small smile lights up your face, as you slide off your bed, going towards your closet to pick a nice outfit.

Surely, Nanami is planning something, and when he plans, he always is the sweetest. You turn your gaze to a beautiful formal attire, you wondered if it was appropriate enough. Nanami hadn’t graced you with the prospect of whether to dress fancy or not, though knowing him, it was a high chance he reserved a fancy restaurant. A smile lights up your face, thinking of him.

He really was the sweetest.

You sit up on your bed, kicking your feet back as you watch the clock tick.

8:34 p.m

He should be home soon.

•

Nanami’s eyes jumped to clock as he entered the quiet and desolate house. The lights were still on, meaning you were expecting him. Guilt starts to envelope him as his eyes catch the numbers that the needles of the living room clock read out.

11:30 p.m

He mumbles a curse, putting his bag quietly down before heading down to your shared bedroom.

He really wanted to leave early today, yet his idiotic boss had asked him to work overtime as a colleague of him had left earlier and someone needed to pick up the slack. He was going to kill that darn colleague.

The door of the bedroom was slightly ajar, light spewing out to the darkened hallway. He glimpses in, seeing your sleeping figure laid peacefully on the giant king sized bed. His eyes crinkle, a small smile on his face as he observes the way you breathe and sleep.

You were wearing such a nice outfit, no doubt you had fallen asleep waiting on his arrival.

He sighed, slicking his hair back before moving towards the kitchen. It was too late to go to a restaurant, but that did not mean you couldn’t have a nice meal together.

•

You woke up to an aroma that smelled absolutely mouthwatering. You sat up from your position on the bed, groggy and blurred out. You rub your eyes, standing up to explore what that smell was.

What time was it? Had he come home already?

You stumble your way to the kitchen, half awake. As you enter the lit kitchen, you see Nanami standing over the sink, arms deep in dishes as he tries as hardest as possible to make the least amount of noise.

“Kento?” You say, quietly.

“Honey? I’m sorry my love, did I wake you?” He asks quietly, setting the last of the dishes on the drying rack.

“No, you didn’t.” You glance over to the small kitchen table, two plates of your favourite dish in the middle, steam still blooming up from the hot food. You look back at Nanami, eyes softening. “Did you make this?”

Nanami says nothing, moving towards you as he pulls back a chair, gesturing for you to sit. You oblige, eyes still glued on him. He hadn’t changed from his work clothes, how long had he been home?

His eyes meets you, a small smile forms on his tired face as he kisses your forehead.

“Let’s eat honey,” He says, moving to sit in front of you.

“I love you Kento, you really didn’t need to do all this.” You say, taking your spoon and digging into the food he had lovingly prepared for you.

“I love you too, dear; and truly, you deserve it all. I know I haven’t treated you in a while nor have I been here… So, what’s wrong with pampering my lover every once in a while? If I had it my way, I’d do it every day, love.”

You give him a small smile, heat rushing to your face. You spoon the hot food into your mouth, wondering how it would taste as it had been so long since Nanami had cooked for you.

Your eyes widen, as the flavour hits your tongue.

“Kento! This is really good!” You say through bites, as you spoon more of the dish into your mouth.

He chuckles at your reaction, smiling at you.

“I’m glad you think so, my love.”

[rollingsins]

all hers, part xxiv

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: When you awaken, it's to Tara's lips against yours, and a dull painful thud just below your ribs.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of violence.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: it's me again. hi.

Waking up is painful.

Everything hurts. From the wound in your stomach to the tips of your fingers, where shockwaves of pain bolt through you every five seconds. Your throat is dry, the lights in the hospital room are too light.

You groan, but Tara’s kissing you before you can say anything. Her lips are salty, tainted with her own tears. She kisses you desperately, hands pressed to your face, like if she doesn’t kiss you right then and there she might combust.

But she loses herself in the moment. Presses her body down too hard against your wound.

You cry out against her lips.

Then, she’s withdrawing, eyes wide with worry.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry,” She murmurs, hands fervent as she reaches down to lightly touch the tip of your bandage, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You close your eyes, mind swimming. You can’t think like this.

“Water,” You croak, as watch as she scrambles up onto her feet, almost spilling the carafe of water all over herself in an effort to get to you.

“Here, baby, drink,” She says, pressing the glass to your lips.

You gulp it back.

Water has never tasted so good. Like a cool, ice bath on a hot summer’s day or a well of water in the middle of the desert. You glug it back, almost choking in an effort to get it down your throat and into your body as quickly as possible.

Tara rubs your back, soothingly. She presses a kiss to your forehead and holds the empty glass out, eyes questioning.

“More?”

You nod, fervent.

You finish off the last of the water. It burns, pleasantly, for a moment, temporarily relieving the quiet ache in the back of your throat.

But then, your mind wanders to the pain.

A sharp, tense, pin-like feeling just under your ribs.

You close your eyes, moaning slightly. It hurts so badly, you think you might pass out. Sweat breaks out across your forehead. Tara notices, immediately. She sets down the glass and rushes back to your side, pressing her hand over your forehead.

“What’s wrong?” Tara asks, brown eyes wide and mournful, “What is it, baby-girl? Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” You gasp, “Tara - I need something. Medicine. Drugs. Any drugs, please.”

Tara draws in a sharp breath.

“I’m calling the nurse,” She says. You open your eyes, slightly, watch as she hammers her hand down onto the green button beside your beds.

Her worried eyes draw back to you.

She leans down, smoothing the hair out of your face and presses a long kiss to your forehead.

“It’s okay, baby.” She murmurs, “You’re going to be okay.”

You hum.

The pain burns hot in you.

And before you can open your eyes again, you promptly pass out.

-

When you awaken, it’s to the sound of Tara’s voice in the hallway.

It’s shrill. Loud.

Sam’s talking too. You can hear her quiet requests for Tara to calm down amongst the spew of Tara’s angry ranting. There’s a male voice, apologizing.

“- if you idiots can’t even do your job and give somebody who’s just been into surgery pain medication, how the hell are you to be trusted with caring for her while she’s recovering?” Tara asks, voice hot.

You swallow.

The pain is gone, numbed by the array of drugs that had been pumped through your system. You feel light, like you’re floating. You open your mouth, try to call out to Tara. But it comes out in a quiet gurgle.

She doesn’t hear.

“Ma’am, I assure you, a mandatory dose of morphine was given to the patient before she woke,” Says the male voice, “She’s just had surgery for a stab wound. Unfortunately, pain is a part of the process.”

“Pain is about to be a part of your process.” Growls Tara.

“Tara.” You call out. It’s weak.

“Enough.” You hear Sam’s voice, stern, “I am so sorry, doctor. It’s been a long day, she’s been really scared. Tara, go sit down. Your girlfriend needs you by her side when she wakes.”

“But, Sam-”

“Now, Tara. Before you get yourself thrown out.”

You don’t have a view of Tara, but you don’t need to see her to know what the look on her face is. You can hear her angry huffing as she walks back into the hospital bed, a scowl on her face that would make Freddy Kruger himself cower.

And then it dissipates the moment she sees you with your eyes open.

“Baby.”

She’s at your side in an instant.

Wide-eyed, she immediately tilts her fingertips to your cheek.

“Baby,” She says, once again. She presses a kiss to the top of your head, closing her eyes, just for a moment. Then she’s withdrawing, her hands cupping your cheeks, “Are you alright? Does it still hurt, baby? Did they give you enough? I’ll get that moron doctor back in.”

She turns.

“Sam!” She calls out, “Sam, get Doctor Dipshit back in here!”

“Tara,” You murmur. You press your fingers to her lips, blinking slowly. You feel high. Intoxicated, but not hurt. You feel as if you could climb out of bed and carry her home, “I’m okay.”

She sighs with relief.

Her hand falls around your shoulders as she leans in. She presses a long kiss to your lips. And you don’t know if it’s the morphine or just her but it makes stars explode behind your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asks, racing in. Her shoulders slump with relief when she sees you: eyes open, clutching onto Tara for dear life.

“YN,” She says, voice soft. She moves a little closer to the end of your bed, touches your calf, fondly, “You’re awake.”

“Do you want more water, babe?” Tara asks, drawing your attention back to her. She’s focused, eyes still awash with worry, “Is the bed okay like this? It’s not hurting your belly, is it? Sitting up? I tried to put it back down but the damn thing is broken, like everything else in this stupid hospital-”

“I’m okay, Tara,” You say again. You curl your hand around the back of her neck, playing with the baby hairs at her nape. You stare at her nose, press your finger against your favorite freckle. Greeting it like an old friend. Then you rub your hand along her eyebrows, trying to smooth out the worried crease.

“You’re really pretty.” You sigh.

It’s enough to break the tension. Tara’s lips twitch, upwards. You hear Sam laugh. She squeezes your foot gently.

“You’re really high right now, huh?” She teases, “We’re glad you’re okay, kid. You had us worried there for a moment.”

It takes you a moment. You feel like you’re swimming in the clouds. Your body tingles. Tara’s touch makes you shiver.

And then you remember your last moments of consciousness.

The mushroom cloud pops. Like a bucket of ice water to the face.

Tara touches your face once more. She has you memorized. Every movement. Every facial twitch or expression. She knows you by heart.

Her eyebrows crease once more.

“What’s wrong, baby?” She asks, voice quiet.

You frown.

“What happened?” You ask.

The beep of the heart monitor sings steady. Tara squeezes your fingers.

“She’s dead.” Tara says, voice forceful, “She’s not going to hurt you again.”

But it doesn’t calm you.

“Where’s my Mom?” You ask. The heart monitor picks it up, a dull thud as your heart begins to race and panic overtakes you, “Where’s my Dad? Are they dead?”

Tara’s shushing you, trying to draw you back down but you fight her off. You’ll run barefoot out of this hospital and search the breadths of every emergency room in the state if you have to.

Sam’s at your other side. She touches your arm, trying to soothe you.

“They’re okay, YN,” She says. Her voice is calm. Assuring.

You stare at her, trying to catch the micro-expressions that flood through her features. You don’t know Sam’s giveaways, not like Tara’s. You don’t know if she’s telling the truth.

“Are you lying to me?” You ask, voice small, “Are you lying to me because I was stabbed and now I’m high and you think I can’t handle the truth?”

“She’s not lying, baby,” Tara says. She’s coaxing you back to her, “Look at me. They’re okay. They’re stable. Your Dad was shot, but they got him to hospital in time. He’s awake, Sam spoke to him just before you woke up.”

“And my Mom?” You ask, lip wobbling.

Tara hesitates.

“She’s in surgery,” Tara says, “But they’re confident. They’re sure they can save her. It’s just… she might…”

She trails off, eyes hesitant. She looks to her sister for reassurance.

“She might what?” You ask. The panic rises once more, “She might what, Tara?”

“She might…” Tara catches Sam’s eye, “Lose her leg. That’s all.”

You blink.

“That’s all?”

“But she’s okay,” Tara says, hurriedly, “She’s fine. Apart from the leg, she’s fine.”

“That’s a pretty big part of her that’s not fine, Tara.” You snap.

“The important thing is she’s going to be okay,” Says Sam. She rubs your back, “Right, Tara? Why don’t we call now? Your Dad wants to talk to you. He’s been so worried.”

She reaches into her pocket and pries out her phone. Hurriedly, searches her contacts for your Dad’s number and presses the phone to her ear.

Your head is a little fuzzy with all this new information. You breathe in deep, trying to calm yourself. The heart monitor is beeping at an incredibly quickly, not-healthy-sounding rate. The thought of your Mom without one of her legs almost sends your hazy mind into a full blown panic attack.

“Baby,” Tara murmurs. She ghosts the back of her finger along your cheek, “It’s okay. You’re okay. Your Mom is going to be okay-”

“But her leg-” You can’t help but cry. Tears leak like acid from your eyes. The last twenty-four hours. The stabbing. Your Dad, your Mom, her leg. It’s too much.

“Shh, don’t cry, please baby.” Tara scoots closer. It must be uncomfortable, the way she presses the side of her hip against the hospital bed railing just to hold you, but she does it anyway.

You sniff into her shoulder.

She smells a little metallic, like dried blood. But there’s something under it. Her natural scent, a little musky, a little sweet. Comfort blooms around you like a warm blanket.

“I love you,” She murmurs against the side of your head, then kisses it for good measure, “I’m never going to let anything bad happen to you again, baby-girl.”

You close your eyes. You can feel her pulse almost jumping out of her skin. You nudge your nose against her neck.

And then Sam’s talking.

“Hello? Yes, it’s Sam Carpenter. I have someone here I think you’ll want to talk to.”

-

You’ve never heard your Dad cry before.

He’s a staunch guy. A man’s man. With his whiskey and his steak and his hobbies that included hitting balls with sticks or blowing targets clean off with shotgun rounds.

But he cries now, over the line with you.

Tara rubs circles into your back. Sam watches, clutching her spare hand in yours.

He tells you he wants you there, with him. Back in Woodsboro. That he’ll arrange everything.

And when he ends the call, he tells you he loves you.

“Dad’s moving me,” You say, handing the phone back to Sam, “Tomorrow, maybe. When Mom’s out of surgery and I’m stable enough to be transported.”

“Good,” Tara murmurs. She nuzzles a kiss against your cheek, “This hospital is full of idiots.”

“Now, I hope you’re not talking about me.” It’s a nurse, one you haven’t seen before. But Tara recognizes her immediately. She stands, carefully prying herself out of your grip to meet the Nurse.

“Of course I’m not talking about you.” Tara says, a little breathless, “I called for you, earlier. The doctor said you were on break.”

The nurse looks over Tara’s shoulder and smiles at you.

She’s pretty, is your first thought. Long, dark hair. Round cheeks. Dimples. The slight wrinkles around her eyes indicate she’s a little older. Maybe in her forties.

“Good,” She tells Tara, voice curt, but she’s smiling. She approaches your bed, touches your hand, “How are you feeling, sweetheart? The doctor said he had to give you a little more morphine.”

“She’s feeling alright,” Tara answers for you. She presses her hand to your face, touches your cheek, fondly, “She’s feeling better since the morphine.”

Nurse Rosario looks bemused.

“I was asking her, Tara,” She says, a little pointed, “How are you feeling, darling? You need anything else?”

You like this Nurse. She’s sweet, but in a no kind of nonsense way. Tara likes her too, you can tell by the way she’s preening. Bouncing on the balls of her heels, tucking her hair back behind her ears.

Like a peacock showing its feathers.

“I’m alright,” You say. You eye Tara, a little wary.

The nurse nods, smile light.

“Good. You let me know if you need anything, okay? I’ll be back in a couple of hours to change your dressing.”

“Okay,” You say, “Thanks.”

She shoots Tara one more amused glance, before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

“Bye, Nurse Rosario!” Tara says hurriedly, with a small wave.

Sam looks perplexed but Tara doesn’t seem to notice.

She settles back into the spot beside you, brushing your hair back out of your face. 

“Who was that?” You ask. Tara presses a soft kiss to your neck. 

“Nurse Rosario.” She murmurs. She clutches your fingers between her hand, “She’s the best. She was the one that was here, when they first moved you. She was in surgery with you too. She helped save your life.”

Tara presses a kiss to your lips.

You raise an eyebrow.

“She’s pretty.” You say, a little point blank.

Usually, a comment like that would earn you a scowl. A pout. The silent treatment for the entire night. But this time, Tara doesn’t seem to mind.

She blinks.

“Huh,” She says, voice high, “I didn’t notice.”

Sam snorts. A smile blooms across your face.

“You have a crush on her.” You say, voice light. Teasing.

This has never happened before. In all the years of your relationship, Tara’s head hasn’t been turned once. Not for a pretty girl in the street, nor a mindless celebrity crush.

Tara’s cheeks turn red. She looks up at you, outraged.

“I do not.” She insists, the tips of her ears pink, “Okay, I like her but not like that. She saved your life, babe. That’s all.”

You curl your lips, rubbing her reddened cheeks with your fingers.

“It’s cute.” You tell her, and you mean it.

Perhaps, if Nurse Rosario had been your age and seemed even vaguely interested in Tara you’d be jealous. But your keen eye had spotted the wedding band around her left finger.

And more than that, Tara loves you. A love that you can feel radiating off her. A love stronger than some silly, hospital crush.

In your drug-infused stupor, with all the heaviness after the last twelve hours, it feels good to make your girlfriend blush. Something that doesn’t happen very often. Embarrassment doesn't come naturally to Tara. 

And if you’re not laughing right now, you think you might cry.

So you allow yourself the distraction.

“You want me to get her number for you?” Sam joins in, voice teasing, “I’ll tell her you want to meet her in the supply closet in five.”

Tara shoots her sister a glare.

“You’re both ridiculous and I don’t have a crush on her.” Tara says, sounding exasperated, “What, just because I’m nice to someone, it means I like them?”

“Yes.” You and Sam say together, almost immediately.

Tara huffs. She withdraws from you with a pout and crosses her arms.

“Fine. I won’t be nice to anyone ever again. Hope you’re both happy.”

You smile, tugging at her hand and pulling her a little closer. She doesn’t resist. She meets your kiss, and presses her hands tight against your cheeks.

And you can’t resist.

You sigh, a little dramatic and withdraw from her.

“I should have known you were into older women,” You say, eyes twinkling, “You are two months younger than me, after all.”

Sam giggles.

Tara launches herself out of the bed and glares back at you as if you’re a traitor.

“I’m having a shower,” She declares with a huff, “And when I come back you two can quit it with this weird alliance you’ve formed against me. I don’t like it. And I don’t like her.”

She scowls at the two of you once more.

You look over to Sam, eyes sparkling as Tara disappears into the bathroom. She grins at you and raises her eyebrows. Then calls out:

“You sure you don’t want Nurse Rosario to give you a sponge bath?”

And promptly ducks as Tara launches a towel that narrowly misses her head. 

[silvernyxchariot]

Helloo :)

I was wondering if you could do Childe x Reader oneshot/ scenario where the reader gets injured and Childe helps or protects them. (Also if you don't do Childe, Kaveh would be good instead. And if you are more comfortable with doing headcanons instead then idm either)

Childe x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Reader is injured in combat, and Childe takes care of them

⚠️Warnings: sickeningly sweet/fluffy at the end, 2nd person pov⚠️

Word Count: 845

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~

What did he do this time? Wait, no. How did a Geo Vishap get into a Fatui base!?

For you and Childe, this was at best a mop up job, killing an elemental beast that threatened many of the other agents’ safety. Childe had been instructing his subordinates to exit the facilities and to get outside. However, his bow was ready, at his side and in hand. He trusted you to hold back the ferocious beast until he got there. “Don’t hog all of the fun for yourself now,” he said before unlocking the base. The doors to the outside world popped open.

Metal dropped down, shaking the base and resounding echoes, and scalding steam spewed from each broken pipe. The blocked your vision somewhat, but the massive beast flailing around made it all the easier to strike. But its armor and hide prevented you from causing any major damage. The Geo vishap swatted your attacks away like they were fruit flies, small and annoying.

A spray of cool mist crept up behind you, “Duck down,” Childe commanded. He leapt over you with a jet of water and fired Hydro arrows into the Geo vishaps eyes, blinding it. The beast roared and slammed the ground with its armored fists. Stalagmites thrusted out of the ground. They distracted you long enough. “Watch out!” Childe turned to you at the last second.

It struck you from the back. The Geo vishap controlled a chain of rocks and whipped it around like a tail. Bones crackled and snapped causing internal damage. You coughed up blood and got slammed into the wall. The impact on your head knocked you out and the last thing you could see were Childe’s boots, bow at his feet, and blades of Hydro energy manifesting into his hands before losing consciousness.

In the darkness of your consciousness, it felt like floating in the depths of the ocean. The weight of all the water around you kept you from moving or lifting a finger. But it wasn’t cold as one would expect.

The creaking of a wooden chair and the crackling of a fire nearby woke you from your slumber. You were buried under a thick mink blanket. Your torso was wrapped in bandages and dried blood. Someone was changing your wrappings while you were unconscious. When you opened your eyes, the décor indicated you were still in Liyue. Childe was sitting in a simple wooden chair, his hands behind his head, one leg over the other, and his eyes were closed.

“I knew you couldn’t be kept down by a little push.”

‘A little push’ was an understatement. Your body felt like it was dropped from the very top of Qingyun Peak. You groaned as you tried to move, but Childe placed a hand over your chest to restrict your movements. A little smile on his face teased you in your weakened state.

“Hey now. You’re tough, but I’m tougher. You’re not ready to start moving around.” Childe shifted your blankets and helped you sit up in the bed by stuffing pillows behind your back. “Three broken ribs,” Ajax raised his fingers as he counted your injuries, “a little crack above your orbital, and some ripped muscles. But we can always retrain them.” Ajax seemingly lifeless eyes softened, and a little shine appeared. He scooted into the bed with you, facing you with intimacy.

Ajax kissed the bandage that covered the healing wound above your eye and caressed your cheek delicately with his gloved hand. “Don’t worry me like that again,” he said with less authority or teasing. His soldier-like seriousness dissipated, and he gently placed a arm over your stomach area, avoiding your recovering ribcage.

“If you ever need to retreat, just know that I’ll be there to finish the job.” Another kiss but to your temple, “But you did well to hold off a Geo vishap until I arrived. It was unexpectedly larger and all the moodier than any normal vishap.”

“Ajax,” your sore throat let you croak out. Childe offered you a small cup of water from the nightstand by your bed, gingerly placing it against your lips.

“I’ll bring the world to its knees for you,” he said simply, like it was an everyday mantra, “you know that. And besides, not everyone can be a strong as I am.” A little hint of his usual over-confidence shined through. Ajax rested his head on his arm and sighed contently while he snuggled into your resting form. “Now rest,” he said sternly, “I’ll be here when you wake again. It’ll be easier to change your bandages when you can hold yourself up.”

Ajax pressed his nose to the top of your head and gave you a long, sweet kiss and trailed down to your cheek. A gloved hand cupped your cheek, a gentle finger dragged down until it was under your chin, and he tilted your head until you looked into his sapphire blue eyes. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to yours before tucking the both of you in.

A/N: Teeheehee, 👉👈 I suppose this is repentance for my angst earlier.

On a side note, I really like how the CHN and JPN voiceovers are supposed to have a more "dutiful soldier" vibe for Tartaglia. The playboy mischaracterizations are just... disappointing but not at all surprising coming from the Genshin fandom.