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neuroprincess · 1 year

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Baby's First Tantrum - Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Summary: A garden carrot and some earth lead the moms to deal with LuLu's first tantrum.

Classification: Domestic fluff

Warnings: None

Word count: +1300

Unrevised

Formula and breast milk were quickly replaced by a variety of different foods, from fruit and vegetables to meat, occasionally light desserts and often pasta. This is Luca's diet and, to his moms' pride, he eats almost everything without hesitation. But that doesn't mean that the couple give everything or let him eat whatever he wants whenever he wants, they don't give sugar, candies, chocolate or anything with condensed milk, the first sweet he tried was a birthday cake in the first year of life and didn't seem interested. The boy has a great interest in vegetables in particular, taking the beans out of the pods, hunting for pieces of zucchini in the rice, eating pumpkins as if they were watermelon, having fun destroying the "little trees" aka broccoli with teeth, which may have helped his teething more than the dozens of silicone toys bought. He also likes fruit, bananas not so much, apples only in juice, but he loves citrus fruits, can devour an orange easily on his own and loves to crush tangerine slices in chubby little hands before eating it. Any pasta on the colorful plate will disappear in less than half an hour, without even needing help. Sometimes Aunt Kristen fills him up with pumpkin tortelli while no one is looking, his favorite and her most favorite crime. In short, since babyhood he has developed a good relationship with food, with different tastes, colors, scents and textures. It's no different with what's planted and harvested. Mel's mother keeps a vegetable garden at the back of the house, full of healthy tomato plants, bright strawberries, long-stemmed carrots, radishes, green beans and a dozen spices that make the Schemmenti's recipes extra special. It's a sunny Sunday after a rainy week, perfect for checking, fixing and taking care of anything the garden needs, and of course the little boy, who has just learned to run and jump, wanted to join in, exploring the environment and the places he couldn't reach before growing a few inches in the last quarter. There are a few toys that the other grandchildren play with too, flowers in different colors, ceramic decorations from gnomes to colorful frogs, but his main interest is to be around his moms.

"LuLu, which color is that?" the teacher asks pointing to the blue watering can in hand, seeing it as a great opportunity to teach him colors and new things.

"Bwue!" he shouts excitedly and shrilly, the way a toddler can "Sky is bwue!"

"Yes, sweetheart. The sky is blue." Y/N agrees, caressing her son's coppery hair, then puts the bucket hat on to protect him from the strong sun "And the trees?"

"Yewow!"

"No, it's green, like grass." she takes some grass from under their feet and shows it to him before putting it in his little hand so he can feel it better "Grass is nice, isn't it?!"

"Green..." he repeats.

Luca agrees, opening a big smile, one very similar to the other mom's, showing teeth. Green eyes sparkle as he plays with the small amount of grass, until a gust of wind snatches it away from him and scatters everything across the garden where it belongs. He looks at the scene with sadness and tears in the eyes, a cute little peck if it didn't mean imminent crying. Not only had he inherited his mom's tough and temperamental side, but also her sensitive side, the one she usually showed with family and friends. They had to be alike in every way, she thinks to herself as she lovingly caresses her five-month-old belly, wondering if their little girl will be like that too. Her wife quickly comes to the rescue, attracting attention by acting surprised as she pulls a carrot out of the ground, it's like magic for LuLu, who quickly forgets about the grass and concentrates on the vegetable, enchanted by it... and the brown thing around.

"And which color is that, bambino?" she asks as he approaches with slow and clumsy steps, there's no answer. Before she can say anything else, the carrot is practically snatched out of her hands, and he immediately tries to put the dirt-filled piece in his mouth, but is stopped by his mom "No, sweet..."

"Mama Mel, mine." the baby protests unsatisfactorily, clenching hands in frustration and frowning in an angry expression "Eat."

"You'll eat, but first we have to wash the carrots, sweetheart." Melissa gets up, putting the dirty gloves in the pocket of her gardening apron, going to the garden tap to do it.

"Mama!" he turns to the younger, pointing to the carrot that's moving away from him so that she can do something about it "Mine carrot!"

"LuLu..."

"No! No! No! Mine!" he now shouts scandalously while he watches the vegetable being washed "Noooo!" and continues as the teacher approaches, kneeling down to offer the food.

His agitation only increases with the gesture, Luca continues to shout more and more, like never before. Both try to calm him down patiently explaining why washing is necessary and that he can now eat. This is completely ignored during the child's tantrum. All the boy wants is the carrot as it was before and to eat the dirt together, no matter how much the moms insist that it might be bad for him, it doesn't matter, it's what he wants at the moment and the only thing that matters, his needs. It's not as if they haven't faced some of their son's scenes before, but never like this, on this scale when the boy starts throwing himself on the ground too. Hands and feet hitting the soft grass hard, hot tears running copiously and shrill screams make up the first official tantrum, with the bonus that he's getting very dirty in the process.

"LuLu, my love, please stand up." Y/N tries to lift him off the ground, without success, considering how chubby and strong he can be, her growing belly not helping at all with the task.

"Bambino, be a good boy! You don't have to cry like that..." Mel is a little harsher in tone, just like the one she uses when her students are making her lose hair or giving headaches "Look, the carrot is here, mama just took the dirt off, you can eat it now, sweetheart." she tries to point out, only making the situation worse.

"I want!" he shouts, standing in front of them "Mine!" and takes it from her hands, staring sadly.

"Earth is bad for your stomach, love." the younger explains once there is a space for it, and the crying stops momentarily.

"Carrots eat." even at less than two years old, he already seems to know how to argue "Me too."

"But earth tastes really bad, you know what it reminds me of? Chocolate, it tastes like chocolate." she tries to argue back, using his aversion to food and how the two things are almost the same color.

"And that's where the worms live, do you want to leave them without a home? We can't eat someone else's home, LuLu." the redhead helps, patting his back with one hand and wiping away the tears staining his flushed cheeks with the other "Right?"

"Right!" the boy agrees after thinking for a second and he smiles at them both, and they sigh in relief, then smile at each other.

He finally gives in and takes a big bite out of the vegetable, not managing to tear off as much as he wanted, but leaving a mark with his teeth and taking just enough to taste it. His eyes close in delight and the toddler flashes a huge smile. Without even remembering that a minute ago he was trying to eat earth, in less than five minutes he totally forgets what he wanted and what has just happened, Luca runs excitedly around the garden exploring every part that his sneaky little legs can take him and hands can reach, all the while eating pieces of his carrot proudly grown by Grandma. A little adventure in the garden on a late Sunday afternoon, the best family time

"Ready for round two?" Y/N asks as she sits on the garden stool, putting her hand on belly.

"Ready for her?"

"Nah, she won't give us any work. I'm talking about making LuLu take a bath, our son is so dirty."

taglist: @opheliauniverse @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @wastdstime @scarr0713 @geekyandgay98 @dvrkhcld @heidss @esposadejoyhuerta @xvyzxx @quailbagutte @imaginesmultifandoms @ctrlamira @milffilm @taurus-baby-34 @prentiss-theorem @josephinevr @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @grandtacoranchnickel @multifandomlesbianic @serendipitouswanderer @louderfortheback @h-doodles @Hotdoggitydammit @peggy082023 @le0vo1dz @lilfartbox1 @imgayforwoman69

Join my taglist here ^^

Schemmenti Family Masterlist

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #female reader #imagine #abbot elementary #fanfiction #schemmenti family

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psshaw · 1 year

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So the house in our neighborhood whose yard is covered in frog ceramics— which Colin has been sneaking more frogs into over the past few months— finally caught him in the act. All because the kids across the street saw him walking up with a fucking $7 frog from ALDI and screamed “DUSTY COME LOOK! IT’S THE FROG MAN!!!”

Dusty seemed to take it well— his body language looked really friendly from where I sat laughing my ass off in the car. He says the frogs are hilarious but were starting to drive his wife nuts, especially when one appeared after they’d only been gone 10 minutes. Thankfully, Colin is more charm than height and does not cut a figure fit for nightmares. But I think we’ll all sleep easier now that the Frog Man has to retire.

The Frog Man is fucking giggly as hell right now.

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simnostalgia · 3 months

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My mom set up a motion sensing petcam at her house and I can't stop laughing bc it recorded like 4 straight hours of a ceramic frog sitting directly behind it.

#nonsims #petcam #irl

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threepreludes · 8 months

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Hiiii I’m going to be forced out of my home and while I have a job, it’s part time and barely above minimum wage and I need a way to afford rent.

Please please consider commissioning me for art or even writing…

Prices start at $50 (costs of these from right to left—$60, $200, $75, $100, $50) and YES I will draw your favorite kpop artist or mass effect alien or Harry styles or your cat or Guinea pig or your mom or grandmother or your father’s hand or a feather or a boat or a house or a frog etc.

Maybe I could get more work by pricing myself lower but I have a fine arts degree I earned ten years ago and I am learning that I am actually worth something. And by the way, the last piece is my favorite drawing I have ever done and I would love to do one hundred more of them every two weeks for the rest of my life or until I lose the use of my hands.

I accept venmo and zelle and PayPal and I would love to make art for you and I don’t charge with how big you want to print it out, I’ll draw it to whatever size you need

Also I do tarot readings—I’ve been doing them for six years now and you can order a reading on my Etsy here

I’m also about to start offering ceramic decorations like the following:

Which will be priced around the same as drawings though will not include shipping cost. I also make stick incense burners in varying shapes.

I will send you one chapter of my romance novel for free as an example of my writing style.

Thanks for your consideration and I appreciate any support I can get, including reblogs of this post.

#art commisions #tarot readings #hi I'm poor please commission me

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bookishcatcafe · 3 months

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Lavender Dreams (Stolitz Fic) Pt. 1

As he eyed down every page, sipping in every new word like some glorious nectar, the scenes projected in his mind’s eye as if he was there as some omnipotent observer. Stolas continued to read his book, another romance, this time of a medieval prince in search of his own true love. The minutes of his lunch break felt like hours as he journeyed off in search of the dragon’s cave which stored his adoring Prince Raphael, captured by the beast.

Sitting there on the slab was Raphael himself, tied by his hands and calves to the rock, gazing back with such a helpless stare. He trekked forward and saw the beast herself! She opens her mouth and suddenly began to speak.

“You foul thing, you dare enter my domain? I should extinguish you from where you stand! Yet..” she crawled around and sniffed at him before continuing,

“Seems like someone brought me appetizers. So then, where is it? Where is th—”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BE—

The alarm on his phone went off, waking him from his daze as he suddenly fumbled around to turn it off. In a sudden rush, he stood up from the bench and dusted his shirt, wiping the small patch of drool from below his lips. Stolas scurried back to the café, walking in the back, leaning forward below the door frame until his head practically touched the floor. On the rack on the wall, he grabbed his lengthy black apron. It was adorned in countless buttons as well as a nametag which he had prettied up with his boss’s permission with some sparkling flare.

On his apron were some buttons of galaxies, a small mug that read ‘That’s a Hoot’ in purple glittering letters, succulents, other extraordinary plants, an owl, a pride flag, as well as a frog holding a Men-Loving-Men flag beside it. He tied the back of his apron, leaning again as he left to the front-of-house.

💖💖💖

The smell of cardamon and chocolate drifted through the air as he went past the side of the bar, passing a small purple imp with plugged earlobes. She was steaming cardamon into oat milk, all the while Stolas stirred the freshly extracted espresso into a pool of chocolate at the bottom of a ceramic mug. He was handed the metallic pitcher, for which he lovingly poured its contents into the coffee. As it filled up, his hand moving in pleasant smooth gesture, like one’s feet do when dancing with a partner, and in a final left-to-right motion he swirled on top of the crema a wonderful rose.

He gave a gentle cough to clear his throat as he spoke up, his head almost hitting the dangling light,

“Cardamon oat milk latte for David!” and then set the mug on the edge of the bar. A minute passed. Two minutes. In every other moment he called out the drink and its name. Finally, after five minutes a beefy red succubus went over, grabbed the drink, and left with a stern glare at the Goetia. Stolas sighed, giving a quiet thankful-farewell. He hooted under his breath and went to the sink to wash the pitcher.

A slender, yet shorter imp stood in front of the register. Then again, every imp seemed shorter to Stolas, who was taller than everyone in the café. Seeing that his co-workers were in the back, mostly chatting during this rather slow midsummer’s day, he sauntered over, humming to himself as he set up the register.

“Oh-hoo-hoo-hellooo.”, He began in his utterly British exterior, “And what are we getting today?” he asked, now taking a look at the customer. He was a red imp, with white scarring on the side of his face, like a paint blotch. The imp, holding a hand on his hip, the other over his curled horns, grins and looks up at the menu, before turning his body to the side to get a better view away from the giant that was Stolas.

“H-Hi. I-uh..” he grumbled ‘I cant fucking see’ to himself, causing Stolas to move to the side to help him see better, before the imp turned to that same side, momentarily causing a instance of confusion between the two before the owl just walked out of the way still giving the customer his full attention. The imp continued, “Would like a coffee.”

Stolas motioned to the three metal cannisters which held gallons of freshly brewed coffee.

“Drip coffee, Sir?”

“Just coffee.”

“Ah. Well we have so many options, I suppose drip coffee is right then.” The imp tapped his foot and looks at the urns.

“Just coffee. Just black coffee. Nothing else.” His eyes slowly went down from the urns to the barista’s apron, eyeing at every pin, until stopping at the pride related ones. His heart skipped a beat.

“Coffee. Well we have dark roast or medium roast—”

“I don’t know what any of that means.”

“Well—” he looked around with a quick swipe of his eyes, seeing no one else in line, he continued to speak, “Medium roast has more caffeine than dark, its roasted less than dark roast thus giving it a lighter color, and yet both can have amazing flavor albeit dark has more of a bolder more outward flavor than medium, which tends to be a tad more acidic than dark—though it depends.”

All the while he was rambling on about the intricacies of coffee types, the imp was staring at his barista, noticing the way his beak audibly clapped as they opened and closed, or how his arms unconsciously swayed around like he was guiding a moving plane, or to how his feathers swayed ever-so-gently in every movement of his feminine face. Yet despite his feminine tone, to his flamboyant movements, and the gentle angle of his hips pushed to the side as he talked—this was in fact still a man, not an imp, but what seemed to be a Goetian. Yet why was he working in a café owned, staffed, and for imps? His eyes dilated as he heard a faint hum in the background become louder, his ears now adjusting.

“Sir? Did you decide? Most people usually get dark roast here.”

“Dark roast then.” He said with a gentle gulp, breathing out through his nostrils, his tail curled down below and grabbed one of his own ankles, so as to keep himself from fainting let alone any rash reactions. The owl tapped at the buttons before asking,

“And a name?”

“A what?”

“A name, Sir. To call out.”

“It isn’t even fuckin busy. Why do you need a name?” He exclaimed, his tail tightening against his leg.

“I—Uh.” He stumbled, the feathers on his throat ruffled in a slow wave upward toward his chin, he chirps and replies in a short stutter. “To—c-ca-call out, Sir.”

“Blitzo.”

“B..litzooo…” he mimics in a slow manner, sounding it out so as to type it correctly into the register.

“Four dollars, Blitzo.”

“You don’t have to say the o.”

“What? But you said—”

“The ‘O’ is silent.” Blitz explained with a sudden look of distain on his face. He crossed his arms and his tail now flicked down like a frustrated cat with their owner. Stolas nods, pressing a button to open the register. Stolas looks up from the register as he feels his stutter begin once more. He closes the upper set of eyes, while the lower look at Blitz, his feathers ruffled down as he began to speak.

“O. No O. Yes, Sir. I mean Blitzo. Blitz.” He said gripping a quiet fist beneath the counter to push his fumbling frustration into hiding. Blitz gave him the money and he closed the register shut, before pouring the imp a small cup of coffee.

“Here you go, Sir.” He said handing him a small paper cup now freshly warm with joe. Blitz took it and sniffed it, before taking a sip, sipping longer soon after. Stolas watched as the imp wiped his lips, giving a gentle smile, before he turned away and started heading to the door.

“Thanks, Bitch.” He exclaimed as the door shut behind him. Stolas sighed and stood back up behind the counter, now shutting both pairs of eyes, and thought back to what had happened in his book.

Bitch. Is that what he was now? Just an imp’s bitch?

💖💖💖

The next few days he continued to see Blitz-without-an-o. In every new day with him, the imp continued to be snarky or rude, but soon enough the owl noticed he would be awe-struck and silent. He didn’t seem scared, he just seemed frozen, as if unable to find the words. He too was confused, though his snarkiness became less of an attack on himself as a person or as a worker but more just as a way that Blitz seemed to act. Honestly, Stolas started to find that snarky attitude rather endearing.

With each new day, the bird would try and have a bit more of a conversation, but the imp would either cut him short by just leaving without saying anything or just not answer. Yet he kept eyeing him, why exactly he hadn’t found out yet. He could feel his staring, it wasn’t something he caught him doing.

Four weeks later, near the end of his shift, he saw Blitz come in with a small red mug with white dots on it. It was hand-painted. He placed it on the counter and smirks.

“Coffee. The usual. Whatever you have ready.” Stolas eyes the cup and smiles, picking it up to further examine it.

“This is rather cute, Blitz.” He turns around to start filling it with coffee. Blitz felt a sudden sharpness in his chest. Warmth rose from his cheeks to his chest down to his jean covered crotch. Fuck. Cute? Why is it cute? When Stolas turned back around, Blitz took the mug and turned away, so as to hide his now bulging confusion.

“This isn’t fucking cute, bird. Fuckin queer owl thing.” He said as he started to walk out the doors. Queer. That word struck him like a sharpened sword. His usual attitude now left a sour taste, stinging beneath his eyes as he slammed the register closed and hid behind the bar as tears ran down his face in silent breath.

💖💖💖

The moment after the door shut felt like a millennium. His heart’s pumping filled the empty air with a thumping white noise. It rang his ears ever since he saw that stupid owl. He stood there every day for the past few weeks ordering the same drink, again and again, before he went off to work. Yet he didn’t know if it was the brew or the atmosphere, but the calmness that seeing Him gave him was something else. He just felt like something was right between them.

So why did I have to fuck it up?

Blitz shut the front door of the café, his blood boiled up, and he downed the rest of his drink so as to cool his raging heart. That owl had it coming, making compliments, it isn’t cute. He isn’t cute. Nothing he makes is cute. Its badass, sure. Its fucking amazing, yeah. This. Was. Not. Cute.

Cute. When he said that, he felt such a swirl of anger around him, so why did that get him hard? Surely just the blood rushing around in his fury, yeah, that was it. That was it. Blitz felt a disturbing urge to look back at the mess he caused, like some proud painter. He knew it was horrible when he heard the sudden rush of footsteps mixed between choked-up sobs and dismaying hoots. Yet, he looked.

There he was, despite being bent over, hand on the wall trying to catch his breath, the bird stood still over the bar. Why did I say that? He looked at the man, who merely served him drinks with barely idle chatter, and could only think of the pins on his apron and the tears running down his matted face.

💖💖💖

Laying in this bed felt like a comfort that one ached stayed eternal, like the laying in the yolk of an egg or the cool breeze of first Autumn’s Day. Finally, after some time he got out of his velvet shell, soon soaking the membrane away, and dried his feathers after some preening. Outside, the leaves had changed a gentle orange, with some already fallen to the dirt below.

He stood there in the kitchen, holding a glass of water, as he made note of his surroundings. It was not like his palace like before. He had everything he needed in a small area. Once one was to enter the apartment, on the left was his kitchen quaint and with anything he needed to prepare his meals. On the right was a closet and in front of it a small row of various shoes or slippers. Forward, past the kitchen was a small living room with a bookshelf surrounding the purple couch that was there. The TV was a small box and around the entire apartment were various plants; succulents, vines, hanging plants, as well as the assorted candle in each room or on every nook when appropriate. An empty doorway led to a bedroom, with a king-sized bed, with rich red velvet blankets, candles, flowers, books, and closet as well. The only windows were the small rectangle on the most east wall of the bedroom as well as the sliding door for the balcony. On the balcony, Stolas grew a small garden of herbs, spices, vegetables, and some fruits. Albeit small, he made due with his allotted space with precise planning and placement.

On the countertop, beside his various coffee makers in his coffee and tea nook, was a small stack of cookbooks and beside those a notebook. He turned through it and read the page: tiramisu. He thought a moment, his magic would be such a helpful thing to him during moments like this, and yet his own wit and slender fingers would have to make do. Why he felt compelled to live to his namesake he knew not. Yet, despite this lingering worry that stayed behind the starry recesses of his mind, he knew he couldn’t dally around just thinking of the possibilities of ‘what could be’s’ or ‘what should have beens’. As he read through the ingredients, he decided it be best to go out and make do of his day-off. The fall day awaited him, where he could think freely away from the worries that besought him.

He sauntered down the sidewalk. Stolas carried with him a brown knitted backpack and wore a lavender sweater, with a blue scarf, matching purple beret, and dark purple pleats. He adjusted his black circle glasses that laid atop both sets of eyes. He carried with him a torn piece of note-paper, on it was his ingredient list. As he stopped by the market, he mentally checked off what he got and what he needed to get.

Seeing these people, these sinners, some hellborn possibly, all for the most part acting so cordial to one another just brought an umph to his chest and made him hoot and chirp. He hummed to himself as he greeted passerby’s. Those he recognized having lived here for over four months now he gave the comfort of hugs, handshakes, or more extended pleasantries. Stolas opened the door to a rather divine coffee roaster that was only a few streets further than his place of work. To him, some places were little pieces of Heaven, small divots in this home everyone else called Hell.

---

This is unfinished. This is merely what I have thus far and feel ready to publish.

Stay Tuned for more to come. 💖💖

#stolitz #gay #fanfiction #my fanfic #helluva boss #stolas #blitz #helluva boss blitzo #helluva boss stolas #barista #cafe #my art

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brown-little-robin · 26 days

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how my scheduled posts work

January: snow, citrus fruit, things I think will help me get through the long winter, encouragements

February: black and white art, pen illustrations, and such. I don't remember why I started doing that, but it's tradition now

March: flowers start to appear. the color pink creeps in. postage stamps and trinkets spill over

April: flowers proliferate. the tulip festival happens in my hometown, and for that week/weekend I reblog 1 million pictures of tulips. it's my way to celebrate from afar

May: the pink theme from march reappears even more vividly; opalescence and sculptures abound

June: light blue and light green—pastels, pokemon, and water

July: greenery of all sorts, ceramics, frogs, and vivid colors

August: forest scenes, purple and green, special treats just for me (it's my birthday month!), reminders about life and taking it one day at a time (birthday month reminders :])

September: yellow brown and golden things: honey, bread, hamsters, bees, sunlight. I love september

October: darker and more orange tones than september; wild things. halloween does color my october posting, I admit. forest animals feature strongly

November: preparing for winter, my queue begins to consist of comfortable things (fabric art, plushies, artworks of hugs). also, sublime if barren landscapes, to embrace the november feel(tm)

December: cozy. house paintings, fabric arts like sewing, knitting, quilts, & plushies, and Advent stuff.

This is synesthesia related (for instance, putting blue things in June, scheduling green things for days with "5" in them) but also related to what I think I'll need/want in each month, and what other people will need/want in each month.

#this shifts a little every year obviously #but I thought I'd share what my queue has looked like for the past oh... two? three years?#something like that #Robin speaks

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monkawonka · 1 year

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Finally got around to visiting my local guild to pick up these guys. Schools really messed up my schedule...

#pottery #pottery mugs #frog house ceramics #ceramics #ceramic #monka makes art #monka mumbles

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lizzisimss · 10 months

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Gonzales Family Home

CC used (list below) Garden Essence in Willow Creek 40 x 30 8 bed, 3 bath $276,606

This build is part of the Lizzisimss Save File.

Aira – https://www.patreon.com/airacc

Birdie lamp

Frog incense

Froggy cushion

Ghibli clay 2

Ghibli painting

Heart night lamp

Mushroom plant

Tablet PC

Toast light

Vanilla flower candle

Vanilla recipe book

Woodenland bear holder

ATS4 – https://www.patreon.com/aroundthesims

Kitchenrack condiments

Kitchenrack utsensils

Brazenlotus - https://www.patreon.com/BrazenLotus

The trouble with plants

Whatever you want

Steezy Skis

Heavy Metal Shelf

Clean sweep

Laundry Made Essentials

charly pancakes - https://www.patreon.com/charlypancakes

The Lighthouse Collection merged

Diaper days

Dinna merged

Lavish Merged

M & S Constructions part I merged

Miscellanea Merged

Modish Merged

Munch merged

Smol merged

Soak merged

Tarot posters simblreen treat 1 2020

Felixandre – https://www.patreon.com/felixandre

Fayun part 2 and 2

Georgian set

Gothic revival interior

London exterior

Greellamas – https://www.patreon.com/greenllamas

KERV

house of harlix - https://www.houseofharlix.com

Orjanic

Bafroom

Baysic Bafroom Merged

Baysic Merged

Harluxe Merged

Jardane

Livin’Rum Merged

The Kichen

Tiny Twavellers Merged

harrie - https://www.patreon.com/heyharrie

Brownstone collection complete merged

Brownstone collection part 1 & 2 merged

Brutalist bathroom

Country collection

Octave part 1, 3 and 4 merged

Porto

Shop the look

Spoons part 1

Stockholm

Kiwisim - https://www.patreon.com/Kiwisim4

Blockhouse

Piha

KKB – https://www.patreon.com/user?u=15789815

Citrus Room

KARLSTAD kitchen

leaf motif - https://leaf-motif.tumblr.com

2202 Magnolia Bathroom

Aubrey office

Basil chair

Botanic boudoir

Calliope bathroom

Devon kitchen

Floret grove

Heirloom kitchen

Ivy hallway

Keller bedroom

Little ceramics

Old hat

Simblreen 2021

Starlight crystals

Sunbeam study

Sunny corner

Twee tablewar

Winter village

Patron gift 1, 2, 5 and 7

Lilis-palace – https://www.patreon.com/lilis_palace

Folklore set off the grid

Littlecakes – https://litttlecakes.tumblr.com/downloadspage

Record Player

I want to believe poster

Twinkly lights

littledica - https://www.patreon.com/littledica

Deligracy merged cottage living update

Countryside cabin merged

Eco kitchen stuff pack merged

Greasy goods merged

Lava lamp merged

Modern rocking chair

Sleek slumber stuff pack merged

Roman holiday merged

Sweet treats merged

Deligracy delicato stuff pack

MadameRia – https://www.patreon.com/MadameRia

Lucky Man Folded Shirts Override

Madlen – https://www.patreon.com/madlen

Kei first aid

Kei plushie

Brizo soap dispenser

Lorens painting

Numi backpack decor

Marvell –https://marvell-world.tumblr.com/download

KC Salt & Pepper

Upcycle books

max 20 - https://www.patreon.com/Max20

Master bedroom

Child dream kit

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August 2021

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The office mini kit

Tidying up

Auntie vera bathroom merged

Coldbrew coffeeshop

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Oak&Concrete Kit merged

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PetitsPirates

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2nd wave mergedpat

Beam parte2 v01 mergd

Cross merged

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lightwritesym · 1 year

Text

TOTK Prequel Fanfic: In Three Years... [PART 1]

It’d been a few years since Ganon had been defeated–three years to be exact. After visiting all regions of Hyrule, Zelda and Link return to Hateno village to rest for a few months. Rebuilding efforts are underway and the Princess–now twenty years of age–couldn't be happier, especially now as Link is back at her side. The Silent Knight himself felt just as content; he was always happy so long as his Princess was safe and sound.

But the Princess wasn’t safe from her regrets.

Link’s house was simple and quaint, with only one floor and a loft. It was those little touches of color and light that Zelda brought into the residence–with Link’s permission–that made it feel homely for her. It might not look like much when you first open the door, but light the fireplace, bring out the eye-catching ceramics, add a few wildflowers in a vase for color, and it transforms into a place of warmth and comfort.

Zelda loved it so much that she asked Link if a cooking pot could be fitted in his home so she could learn to make all the unique dishes they had in their travels. He agreed to the idea, but only under the condition that she would follow a recipe and not her own. It was the first big addition to the house after a series of small ones and the princess was looking forward to doing more in the future–with Bolson’s help, of course.

She liked living the simpler life–but why? Zelda wondered this until she thought back to her early life in the Castle.

The cold, stone walls surrounding her.

The servants bustling in and out of her room.

The giant banners reminding her she was royalty.

And of course, the expectations that came with.

But here in Hateno Village, everyone showed nothing but unrequited love for their princess. The first day she moved to the village, she was given new clothes to wear, food to eat, and flowers to make her smile. The Mayor saw to it that every one of her needs were met, so long as the people could help it. All the elders taught her useful skills, such as sewing or preparing ink to write with.

But the children–goodness, those children!

They were especially fascinated with her highness, particularly for her knowledge of the wild; all it took was one small lesson on the different types of frogs there were on a rainy day, and the questions all came flooding in–the princess never felt so elated to answer them! It took parents calling their tiny scholars home for Zelda to finally catch a break. The Mayor’s daughter, Karin, gave her a big hug before running home, expressing how excited she was to learn more from the princess.

“Goodnight Miss Zelda!” The girl had said. It filled the princess with contentment; never had she felt so overwhelmed with open arms and joyful faces. Hateno Village was truly the place to call home.

But…

The more she pondered those smiling faces, why did it make Zelda feel more and more–guilty?

“Princess?”

Zelda shook her head out of her reverie. She was seated at the dining table, book in hand, with a half-empty plate beside her. “Y-yes?” she stammered. How long had she been staring off into space?

Link was standing by the door.

“I’m going to grab some rice and eggs from East Wind.” He said. “Do you want anything?”

“Oh–Milk,” Zelda said, forcing a smile. “I know I’ll sleep better after a warm cup of milk.”

Link nodded. He turned and reached for the door handle when he paused. Zelda looked up at him, anticipating a question from him. Instead, he shook his head–

“I won’t be long.” Link said before the door shut behind him.

That much was true. He wouldn’t take longer than ten minutes, which was all the time Zelda needed to get ready for bed.

Closing her book, she left it on the table to get changed up in the loft.

But as she undressed, the princess became lost in her thoughts again; this always happened after traveling through Hyrule for months. On the road, Zelda was never so distracted. Obviously, her mind had been occupied by the rebuilding efforts and the needs of her people that she hardly had the time to sit down and just be on her own. At some point under all that stress, Zelda was practically begging for a break from her duties–

But now that she and Link were taking an extended break after three years of almost non-stop travel, she suddenly felt–unease? Was that the right word?

Zelda wasn’t so sure; it wasn’t that she felt unsafe by any means, especially not with Link at her side, but those voices of doubt that once plagued her mind a hundred years ago somehow resurfaced, taunting her. She thought she was beyond those voices but seeing those faces–the faces of her current subjects, so few in numbers–they all had to adapt to living on the edges of the world because Zelda couldn’t stop the Calamity in time. The way they were living now, vulnerable to weather or monster attacks out in the wild, was because she had failed them long before they were born and they didn't even know it. The villagers were so welcoming to a long lost princess–

But if they found out that she was responsible for the kingdom’s downfall, how would they react? How would they treat her then?

Zelda thought about the elders of Hateno and the stories they told of their families; how their parents clamored to escape central Hyrule and the loved ones they lost amidst the chaos. To this day, none of them know if they have any surviving family members around the kingdom. If they somehow did, they're too old to travel alone and are far more vulnerable to the elements and monsters.

“It took a few decades for the village to feel safe here,” Uma had said to Zelda a day ago. “My husband wanted to start a family but I had that feeling in my heart that we needed to wait until the world was a little safer. My darling was upset with me–he thought I’d lied to him about wanting to settle down, but that was far from it.” The old woman sighed. “After five years, when those bokoblin hordes migrated towards the west, we all breathed a sigh of relief. My husband felt so guilty and apologized thereafter. We had our baby the next year and became the family we’ve always wanted.” Uma had smiled fondly at the last sentence. “Take it from an old woman–at some point in your life, you’re going to have to make sacrifices for the people you love, even if it hurts them.”

Those last words resonated within Zelda–why?

The princess laid awake under the covers, dressed in her nightshirt. It was all she could do while her mind raced with all the kingdom’s grievances post-Calamity.

Then she heard the front door click open followed by footsteps.

“Princess?”

It was Link. He was back from East Wind.

But rather than greeting him, Zelda remained still under the covers. She heard him call her again, then his footsteps walking up the stairs. She closed her eyes, and took slow breaths. She didn’t see him, but after a few moments of silence, she heard him descend to the bottom floor.

She hoped Link didn’t feel bad.

The night brought on a chill. Regardless if Zelda had the sheets on her person, her skin prickled as the core of her body shook violently–did Link forget to add fuel to the fire place?

Perhaps the window needed to be shut–but was it not already closed? Zelda remembered doing so.

Why was she so–

Cold?

Shaking, Zelda propped herself up on her hands and called for Link.

“Link–”

AHHHHHHHH!

Screams.

There were screams everywhere.

Zelda shot up from bed and looked around–it was dark, but from the cracks in the window, she could see a glow of red wisp seeping through. The Princess gasped and jumped out of bed, backing away.

“Link?” She called again. When no answer came, she ran downstairs to find the first floor of his house empty. Even the furniture was gone, all except–the dining table and the vase full of silent princesses, now wilted. Zelda looked at their pitiful state.

“But… these were just picked–”

The door burst open, but Zelda had no time to react when Link, in his tattered champion's tunic, grabbed her hand, and hauled her outside his house. She yelled in protest, but the Hero wasn’t listening–she didn’t even have a chance to look at his face. She tried to pry his hand off of her arm until she realized–they were no longer in Hateno, but a burning Castle Town.

And Zelda was no longer in her nightshirt, but her ceremonial dress. The sky burned an angry red color, and the sun’s rays felt more like a burning blaze than a gentle warmth. The Guardians, she saw, aimed at innocent, helpless, lives. Families–mothers, fathers, grandparents–and children–All vaporized in the blink of an eye.

It was all Zelda could do to not scream, but she had to keep running with Link.

They made it past the gates of Castle Town, but rather than veering off into the east, Link kept running straight ahead.

“Link! Where are we going?!” Exclaimed Zelda.

But he didn’t respond.

When they crossed onto the Sacred Grounds, Zelda finally ripped her arm free from his grip. She massaged her sore forearm and noticed the red marks where the Hero’s fingers had grappled her.

Link stopped just a few yards before her, his back turned to her.

“We have to find Impa!” The Princess called out to him. “She said she’d–wait for us…” Zelda trailed off. It was then she realized–how quiet the world became. Not even the wind blew.

But the sky was still red.

And Zelda felt even more cold.

“You failed.”

She looked up at the Hero.

“W-what?” she gasped. “Link–how could you–”

“Is it not true, princess?” He sounded so–so–Robotic. “You failed to unlock your sacred power–you failed to stop the Calamity.”

Zelda stood frozen in the center of the Sacred Grounds. She always felt weak and helpless–but Link never judged her. He would never say these things to her–unless this is how he truly felt about her.

“You’re–you’re not the Link I know.” Zelda said, growing in confidence. “The Link I know, he–he would never say these things because understands me!” She pointed at the imposter. “So tell me right now–who are you?!”

The puppet of Link started to chuckle in his voice–then the chuckle crescendoed into an evil cackle–and finally, maniacal laughter until his body slowly disintegrated into gloomy red wisps.

But now… there stood a familiar figure in the distance. Zelda’s eyes widened in shock.

“F-father?”

King Rhoam walked towards the Sacred Grounds from the south. Wait–

How did he escape Hyrule Castle? That was the last time Zelda saw him before he…

She shook her head.

“This–this must be a dream.” She said to herself.

“Oh no, Zelda.” said his voice in her head. “This is no dream, princess.”

The Princess looked up to see her Father standing before her–without a face. She backed away.

“I-I’m asleep and dreaming–” she told herself when she bumped into someone behind her. She spun around to see Urbosa–also faceless.

“No–this is reality.” She heard her voice in her head. “You did fail–one hundred years ago.”

“Now look at us–” said Mipha’s voice in Zelda’s head. The Champions appeared around Zelda, also faceless.

“Look at them.” said Daruk’s voice in her head.

Zelda soon found herself looking in every direction, seeing standing, faceless bodies of Hylians, Zoras, Gorons, Ritos, Grerudos–all Hyruleans, all of Zelda’s people. They all perished in the Calamity and Zelda now saw how many suffered.

“This is all because of you.” Revali's voice said in her head.

“Because you failed.” King Rhoam’s voice said. “And now you must pay the price.”

Zelda tried running in one direction but was blocked by a wall of faceless bodies, closing in on her. She tried running in another direction, but to no avail.

She was trapped–she had nowhere to go.

Zelda fell to her knees, tears falling from her eyes as she begged–

“Father! Urbosa!”

They all closed in on her.

“N-no! Please!”

And closer.

“I couldn’t–!”

And closer…

“Forgive me!”

And closer–

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

Link sprang up from his cot and grabbed his knight’s sword before running up the stairs in one swift motion. His heart was beating fast–who or what got in his house? How could he not have heard–

He paused at the top of the stairs, only to see Zelda screaming and writhing in bed. Without a second thought, Link dropped his sword and hurried to her bedside. He reached for her flailing arms, trying to keep them from hitting him.

“Princess!”

“NO, LET ME GO!”

Her eyes were still closed as she fought him. Finally, Link pinned her arms down at her sides as he said–

“Zelda, open your eyes!”

When Zelda opened her eyes, she saw Link looking over her–then screamed at the sight of him. He stepped back, hands raised in defense in case she tried striking him–not that she would ever do that to him, but with the state she was in, Link wasn’t so certain. He kept his distance.

"It's okay.” He said.

Zelda's eyes had so much fear in them. She was a sweaty mess and her hands gripped the bed sheets so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"It’s okay," Link said again. “It’s me.”

After a moment, Zelda slowly looked around the room. The fireplace was still lit, but the fire burned low. And the moonlight glowed a pale white through the window.

No red sky–no faceless people.

And Link was here with the most concerned expression she’s seen from him.

Zelda felt for the center of her chest–her heartbeat was finally slowing down as reality settled in. Then she broke down crying into her hands.

Before Link could say anything, there was an urgent knock on the door. Zelda became fearfully quiet.

“Link!” called a man’s voice from outside. “Is everything alright?!”

Link took one look at Zelda before hurrying down the loft to answer the door. When he opened the door, Thadd, Nack, and Rhodes greeted him with pitchforks and a farming hoe.

“We heard screaming,” said Thadd. “It sounded like the Princess. Is she alright?”

“...Ah.” Link hesitated to reply. “She’s, uh…” He stopped when he heard sniffling up the loft. He sighed, turning back to the men.

“She will be alright. I can’t say anymore than that.”

The men didn’t appear all too satisfied with that answer, but they weren’t going to argue with him. Not at this hour anyway.

“Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help,” said Nack. “You know I live close.”

After saying their goodbyes, Link quietly shut the door. He didn’t hear Zelda crying anymore, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t upset. He took the stairs to the loft and when he made it into her field of view, he saw her curled up on the bed, clutching onto her pillow.

Link carefully approached her and knelt down by her bedside. He took her hand into his.

"It was only a nightmare." He said.

"No, it wasn’t…!” She cried. “It was the Calamity! All those people–the ones we saw in Castle Town when the Guardians cornered them and they… they…!"

Link reached for the bedside drawer to pull a clean cloth; he held it up to her.

“Here.”

Zelda slowly craned her head up and took the cloth with a shaky hand. She sat up slowly, wiping the sweat and tears off her face. Link gave her a moment to compose herself. She dropped her hands into her lap and took a ragged breath.

“That’s not all,” she said. “It wasn’t just Hylians, but all the other races and…” She looked down at the cloth in her hands. “Our friends... My father… they said I had failed them…!”

Her face twisted with grief as the tears began to flow once more. Link sat by her side.

“I know there’s no changing the past, but I can’t help this–this feeling of guilt when the people of Hyrule are still struggling…” She closed her eyes, recalling what the elders of Hateno had told her and the people's plethora of needs. The burden weighed on her heart like lead.

“How can I protect the people if I’ve already failed them once…?”

Zelda felt Link’s hand atop of hers again. She looked up at him with a tear-stained face; there was a tenderness in his eyes that soothed something in her soul.

“My Princess,” He said softly. “Before I was appointed to you, I had made the decision to not speak. That decision has taught me to be grateful for becoming a Knight of Hyrule–but it has also taught me to listen. Of all the people whom I’ve had the pleasure–or displeasure–of meeting, none of them compared to the struggles that you’ve endured.” Link closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the times Zelda had been berated and yelled at by her father. “You did everything you could to fulfill your destiny–even if the attempt was futile, you still tried because you had hope that something would come of it. You did it out of love for your people, and because of that-you yelled at me in frustration, but I understood why." He chortled slightly at this before turning solemn. "You don't realize how many people love you or, at least, learned something from you-I know I have.” His brows furrowed with self-reproach. “During the trial of the sword, I failed so many times for days on end–every time I reawakened before the sword’s pedestal, I… I thought that the sword was wrong in choosing me. I was ready to give up until I remembered all the sacrifices you made–how you never stopped trying, no matter how futile the attempt was.” Link shook his head. “I wasn’t going to let your efforts go to waste. I was determined to keep trying, no matter how long it took, so that I’d be strong enough to defeat Ganon. I wanted to defeat him, to free you, because…”

Link stopped.

He told himself he would never mention this to anyone, let alone Zelda. The words that lingered on his tongue would make him a burden to her, something he forbade himself to become; he was her knight and that is how it should be, nothing more than that–

“...Because what?” Asked Zelda. She looked so helpless–she needed comfort, and he was the only person who could give her that. But if he said these words, their relationship would forever change. Was Link prepared to go through with it?

Yes. He most certainly was.

“...I wanted to see your beautiful smile again.”

He couldn’t even look at her while saying those words.

Zelda was speechless–this was how he felt all along?

All these years, she thought Link was only trying to save face because of her royal status–but hearing him open up, realizing that she’d always been on his mind from the moment he was at her side…

It made her cry even more.

Link appeared worried and was beginning to regret everything he said so intimately to her highness when she leaned into his chest.

“Link, hold me–Please…” She begged.

How could he say no?

He held her close in his arms, and Zelda never felt so safe and relieved.

[END OF PART 1]

#fanfic #post botw #prequel #tears of the kingdom #fanfiction #zelink #zelda #link

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lullaebies · 1 year

Note

do you have any modern helaena headcanons?

Disclaimer: I'm not a very modern AU type of person - one of the reasons I lean into HOTD and ASOIAF is because I find the setting and rules in place intriguing, but I certainly like reading modern interpertations! I would also like to rec @fatherforgivethem for some cute modern hcs, I really warmed up to theirs! Modern Helaena Headcanons ✧ Helaena is a wildlife girl! She likes animals of all types since she was little, catching frogs and observing fireflies in the lake at the backyard of their vacation home (they definitely have a vacation home, rich ppl). She and her brothers fight about the TV because she wants to keep watching National Geographic, lol. She once rescued a bluish grey little lizard she found hurt on the street, and it remained with her after it healed. (of course, it's Dreamfyre). ✧ She's a knitter and from the moment she learns how to knit that is all anyone gets out of her as presents. She makes the ugly sweaters for Christmas, or gloves, or whatever she feels at the moment. She made Aegon and Aemond a get along sweater once, which Daeron shoved himself into as well. Obviously, she had to be added to the fray. They ruined that one on the day they got it. ✧ She wants to be a primary school teacher. She finds that her shyness dissipates besides younger children, and with all the troubles and shenanigans her extended family has been through she learned how to treat with children easy. ✧ When she's old enough to work as a teacher, she gets charge of a music therapy program in her school. She sometimes brings [forces] Aegon into the fray by making him play the guitar. She's well regarded for it, it helped quite a few kiddos. ✧ The type of person that never answers calls. It takes her two hours to realize someone called her at all. Alicent had more than a few heart attacks about it - Aemond and Aegon had drove around looking for her as well a few times. At the end they'll find her in some vintage shop absorbed in some book or looking at ceramics she wanted to bring back home to one of them or mother. They can't even get angry, it's seriously upsetting and wholesome at the same time. ✧ Plant mom! she grows plenty of flowers in her room, and they decorate the vivarium Dreamfyre is kept in from inside and out. She managed to get some plants to all the rooms in the house. ✧ She doesn't know how to cook at all - she burns pasta, bless her soul. She relies on Aegon for like college-like five minute food, Aemond for actual meals, and Daeron is just a baby that shares snacks with her. Alicent had made way with her in baking, however - though the cakes are always not quite well leveled and bit off in their icing isn't perfect, everyone eats it without complaing [if you complain you may get into a fistfight with one of the brothers lmao].

#helaena targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #my headcanons #answered

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eggyoneshots · 2 years

Text

roof confessions

a/n: now see im reviving this fandom with @galalunaboyfriend and what better to start off that than a lance x reader fic also god this formatting sucks but ill suffer thru it

He really didn't understand why you insisted on calling him instead of just sending him a text. He didn’t know why he always answered either, but frankly if he dwelled on it, he’d probably realize things he wasn’t ready to admit to himself even. He always asked why, but you just changed the subject, or said “wouldn’t you like to know” before changing the subject, so he figured you’d spill eventually. Maybe. Lance wasn’t even sure, you were as stubborn as him, which is a genuine feat. However, despite you being his closest friend that didn’t live in the same house as him, he was not tolerant of being phoned by you at 3 in the fucking morning on a school day to talk about a fucking frog figurine you saw over six hours ago, especially when he was resting ever so peacefully for once in his life. Still, he looked at his phone, angry and exhausted, pressing the answer button. You’re lucky he likes you. “YN. It is..” He pauses, staring at the clock for a solid minute, trying to remember how to read. “It’s 3:07 in the morning. On a t.. Tuesday? I don’t remember.” He sounded horrific, considering you woke him up before his usual time. He’s a routine follower, and you interrupted it.

“It’s- It’s important, I swear.” You sounded just as tired, but obviously you were excited to share something. However tired he was, he knew you’d still tell him regardless of his desire to go back to sleep. He rolled over, staring at the ceiling, ready to go through whatever verbal torment you had ready. “Ok ok, so, this was..” He heard shuffling, then the sound of something plastic being put down. “I saw this at like, 6pm, it was in the window of this like, antique shop or something, right?” You paused, staying quiet. Were you expecting him to respond? He grunted, giving you a tired ‘right.’ “Right, and this.. This ffffuckin’ frog, it was… ceramic or something, I dunno, but it was like, staring right at me as I was looking, and I just knew I had to get it.” Lance raised a brow at the sound of you tapping your window. “Look through your window, trust me dude.” He blinked, sitting up sluggishly. Sure enough, you were standing at the window, phone up to your ear, holding.. A ceramic frog. It was small, the size of your palm, and it was just. .staring at him. He kind of gets the appeal. “Look at this thing. It’s so silly.” Lance moved to stare at you after a moment, glaring. “What.”

“You called me at 2am for.. A frog.” You nodded from across the window, giving a sleepy grin. “..You couldn’t have just.. Texted me? Or, preferably, wait for tomorrow morning.” You shrugged, putting the frog down on your windowsill with the other collectibles you had. Did you really keep that rock that he admitted to grabbing from the ground, then used as an apology? (He still felt bad about how he treated you when you first met.)

“I like hearing you talk.” He blinked, slowly processing what you said. Meanwhile, you looked like you wanted to drop dead on the spot. He suddenly felt awake, eyes comically widening. “Hey wow, I’m so sleepy suddenly, ok bye goodnight!” You clicked the hang up button before he could even respond, making him stare at his phone with a completely shocked expression.

“WHAT-” He almost screamed, watching you disappear to your bed, which was out of sight from the window. He never typed so fast in his life, thankful you texted him sometimes. ‘HELLO?’ ‘YOU CAN’T DROP THAT ON ME THEN DISAPPEAR FOR THE NIGHT??’ ‘So help me I’ll break in through your window.’ ‘YN.’ ‘ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW.’ He stared at his phone, waiting for maybe two minutes total until you responded finally.

‘roof meeting’

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He tossed on a hoodie, not realizing it was one you got him because he said it ‘looked comfy.’ Opening his window, he crouched on his windowsill, crawling onto his roof, waiting for you. Eventually, and knowing you it’s because you were doing your usual ‘anti-anxiety routine’, which he caught you doing before a test once, you crawled from your window, sitting across from him on your roof. He just stared at you for a minute, unaware his face was sort of red, before finally breaking the horrific silence. “Are you going to explain, or are we going to sit here until it’s morning?” You made a face, tapping your fingers against your knee. “Well?”

“I’m thinking, damnit!” You looked at him finally, your face basically cherry colored. He let out a sigh, crossing his arms and looking you in the eye. “You know staring at me like you’re going to kill me isn’t helping, right?” You shrunk into yourself slightly, trying to avoid eye contact with him. Honestly, if you were struck by lightning or something right now you would not complain in the slightest. “I just- uh..”

“You just.. What?” He wasn’t mad. He just.. He didn’t even know. Maybe it’s because you usually tell him pretty much everything.

You groaned, rubbing a hand over your face. “It’s just- ugh, I like hearing you because it’s like.. comforting?” You weren’t looking at him as you spoke, afraid of his reaction. “Like, you’re kind of this source of comfort for me, and like.. being around you is nice, and I like you a lot more than I should, and I just really love you in general-” You were rambling at this point, not noticing the almost starstruck look on Lance’s face. You.. loved him? That’s not- There’s no way. He was barely listening at this point, head swimming. You weren’t even looking at him right now, hyper focused on the ground below.

The minute he finally finished processing what you said, he tried, tried, to get your attention. “Yn.” You clearly hadn’t heard him at all, considering you were still rambling. It would’ve been nice, if it wasn’t for the fact he needed you to be quiet for once and listen to him. “Yn.” Even when he was louder, still nothing, not even a glance. “Yn!” You looked at him for a millisecond, but kept rambling. Alright. “YN!” You finally stopped, looking at him, sometimes, fidgeting nervously. “Are you serious?” He’d rather not dodge asking, and get to the point. You looked like you were going to die on the spot. “Yn. Answer me. Please.” He sucked at this. He really did. This is like one of those scenes in those stupid drama shows Ilana watched. Just with less crying.

He kept staring at you, waiting. He was honestly hoping you were serious. What. That’s extremely new, did he.. You were essentially part of the family, even if you weren't like them. He’d witnessed you patch them up after every battle, made sure Oktus hadn’t broken or anything, even when Tashy 497 (Tarax would always be its name to him, but he wouldn't admit that) was dying, you were there for them, somehow knowing what to say perfectly. You opened your mouth, pretty much visibly thinking over what to say. “I.. I am. I’m dead serious.” You looked away for a moment, taking a deep breath. “I’ve.. felt like this for.. months. Almost a year, actually. I just didn't think you’d ever really.. figure it out. Or feel the same.” You blinked, coughing into your fist. “Not- Not that I think you do, if-if you don’t it’s fine, we can still be friends, and I-”

“I do.” It came out before he could stop himself, throat almost closing up. SMOOTH ONE, LANCE. You looked at him, eyebrows shooting up. Huh wuh. “I.. I do, uh, feel the same. I just..” He stopped, brain coming to a halt on how to finish the sentence.

“Don’t know how to show it?” He was always grateful you knew how to talk about this stuff.

“Yes. I.. never really.. went through anything like..” He paused, making an awkward hand motion between the two of you. “This. Admitting it, even feeling anything like it. Not.. Not like this, at least.” He felt like blowing up. Please, if there’s any divine being out there, please blow him up for letting him admit this. “But, even if I’m not really, you know, experienced, I guess, I.. I still want to try.”

“You’re.. you’re sure?” You looked almost surprised, but at the same time hopeful. He wasn’t kidding. He wouldn’t joke about this, he wasn’t that kind of person. “We- We don’t- You don’t have to, I-I don’t want you doing anything just because of what I said.”

“I’m more than sure, YN.” Lance smiled at you, face turning slightly pink. “I can’t promise I’ll be any good at.. Anything in this case, but I want to try,” He looked away for a second, face turning darker pink. “For us both.”

You smiled, your own face becoming pink. “Alright. Alright!” You gave a toothy grin, feeling elated. Who knew calling your best friend to talk about a frog you found would end up like this. You weren’t complaining though.

#lance lunis #lance lunis x reader #sym bionic titan #sym bionic titan x reader #ill make the tags my damn self.

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